She stopped in the middle of the road and wrestled with the ashtray, pulling it out. She opened her car door, a good spot, and emptied the ashtray onto the road.
Darn.
Her last cigarette was still smoking.
Oh well.
She tapped the ashtray on the road, getting all the dead, jammed butts out of the bottom. She closed her car door, put the ashtray back, pushed in the cigarette lighter and dug into her purse for another cigarette.
Oops.
A pickup truck drove down River Road from behind her.
She accelerated away from the scene of her crime, the lighter popped out, and she lit another cigarette. She reached the dead-end and turned onto her daughter’s driveway, that big rock with the chiseled sign, “Potter Ranch,” just like that handsome older man had described.
Olen.
Hmm.
Carolyn’s driveway was real cobblestone and in good condition, everything the way he’d described it.
She drove over a crest and downhill toward the house, more impressive than her daughter’s descriptions. The cleared driveway circled down by a beautiful barn and back up to the house where a parked car had been buried by snow. She parked behind the snowbound car, near the bottom of the steps, and opened her car door.
The sound of thunder mingled with the sound of rushing water, not that close. The thunder grew louder and a giant black horse rounded the corner of the garage at a full run. Jason sat on top, leaning forward in the saddle as the horse rushed past.
Ellen pressed into the side of her car and the breeze from their passing lifted her skirt.
Right behind, Carolyn rushed past on another horse, leaning forward, riding hard. Both horses slowed and disappeared through the open barn door.
That filthy mutt charged around the corner, tongue hanging out the side of his face, and plowed into Ellen’s legs, saying hello, jumping up with his dirty paws.
“Get away from me, you . . .”
Ellen brushed herself off and walked toward the barn, not knowing what else to do. Two steps later, Carolyn exited the barn and hurried to meet her.
Luckily, the mutt went into the barn to be with Jason.
“Hi, Mom. We’re so glad you could make it.” Carolyn took Ellen's arm and turned her toward the house. “Jason will be up in a few minutes. He’s helping John feed and curry the horses.”
“John?”
“John Crow. He lives up near the waterfall.” Carolyn pointed uphill in a direction past the house. “John’s been taking care of this ranch since Jason’s granddad was a baby.”
“Who’s car is this?”
“That was Tom Kirby’s car.”
“Oh? Is he here too?” Ellen opened her trunk, handed Carolyn Jason’s Christmas present, pulled out her suitcase and closed the trunk.
That question seemed to bother her daughter.
“Is he here?”
“Not anymore.”
“Not anymore?”
“He got himself tangled up with some local business and now he’s buried behind the barn.”
“What?”
“I called down to his office the day after Christmas.” Carolyn led her into the house.
Ellen dropped her suitcase on the floor, overwhelmed by the warmth and beauty of her daughter's house.
Carolyn closed the front door, set Jason’s present on a table in the entry, picked up Ellen’s suitcase and led her upstairs. “They called me back a few hours later and said there was no will and that they found several irregularities with the way Tom was running the company. It seems I own some stock from an investment my husband made. They’re drafting a proposal for me to consider buying a controlling interest in the company.”
“What?” Ellen followed her daughter into a nice room at the top of the stair with a king-size bed.
“This room belonged to Jason’s uncle. He died about ten years ago; not in here, of course.” Carolyn set the suitcase on a bench at the foot of the bed and turned toward Ellen, expecting something.
Ellen allowed a brief hug from her daughter.
Carolyn crossed the room and opened a curtain where a set of French doors led to a small balcony. “If you need to smoke, please do it out here. The smell of smoke is hard to get rid of.”
“What?”
How dare she . . .
That mutt trotted in and nibbled Ellen’s hand.
“Get away, you . . .”
“Come on downstairs. Jason’s back from the barn.”
Ellen followed her and the mutt downstairs where Jason had already torn open his present. Her selfish daughter had just robbed her from being a part of that.
“Thanks, Grandma.” Jason set the telescope on the table and rushed to hug her.
“You’re welcome. Merry Christmas.” She stroked the back of his head. His hair was longer.
“Oh, Mom,” said Carolyn. “That looks like an expensive one. You shouldn’t have.”
Ellen smiled. It was.
Jason picked up and held the telescope like a prize. He looked through it into the living room. He looked at Ellen. "This is so cool. Thank you, Grandma." He held the telescope in one hand and hugged her again.
"You're welcome." She pushed him away and looked into him. "There's a full moon tonight. Let's go out and set it up. I'll bring the tripod."
Jason looked at Carolyn, both of them thinking about it. They had some kind of private joke.
He finally said, “Not tonight, Grandma. I like it better when the moon’s not all the way full.”
THE END
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If you enjoyed Meadowlarks you will certainly enjoy TREASURE: Temple of the Crystal Skull. This novel was published by Severed Press, a leading publisher of science fiction and horror, ranked the #1 publisher of horror in 2014.
Diane Donovan from Midwest Book Review, wrote,
Think Clive Cussler combined with Indiana Jones for an idea of the atmosphere and adventure that Treasure promises to its readers. Then add a dose of espionage-style thriller components as the characters interact and Michael discovers that his beloved Katrina is threatened on more than one level.
The fast pace of the adventure, combined with the myriad of special forces
