Page 77 of Orphan Girl's Mountain Men

So we took everything we had and buried it.

You're a clever girl—your mommy's and your daddy's girl—and I know you'll follow the clues.

When you find the vase, perhaps you could set it back in its place—for Daddy and me. In the lodge, I mean. Let it be both a gift from us to you, our beloved daughter, and a symbol of everything we cherished: the Ute, the mountains, the land… and most of all, you.

Alongside the vase you'll find everything else we owned. It's not much, but something tells me you'll need it—and that you'll know exactly what to do with it.

What else could this be? A legacy, yes. But the vase itself—that alone is enough to stir something deep in me. Of course I must find it, and set it in its rightful place in the cabin. That is the very least I can do.

A sacred trust.

There's that phrase again—and I feel it now. Deep inside.

A sacred trust not just to my mom and dad… but to the land itself.

Now, finally, I know where I belong.

I know who I am.

I know where I came from.

And most of all —

I know what I was born to do.

CHAPTER 30

Dean

Work's got in the way of our plans, and we've been busy moving the livestock around to give them new pasture to munch. We also needed to mend part of the fence that had rotted away to nothing, as they do after a while. In addition, we've invested some time in fixing the potholes in the tracks that wind through our property. This last is a thankless task, because it's an ongoing battle we can never win, but it's something you have to do each year, and you have to do it when the weather's good. Every summer (as now) we fill in the new potholes, straighten out the humps and bumps, dig channels to let water run off naturally into the ditches. Each winter the snow and rain comes down and through freeze-thaw action combined with the slow but sure pressure of gravity combined with the wind and the rain, and the vehicles driving up and down, new potholes emerge, and the old channels clog up.

A few days have gone by, and we've not heard from the Sheriff or that asshole Sinclair since the Sheriff came over with his sidekick to deliver his message. One bribe. One thinly veiled threat. It had felt good to send him away with a flea in his ear,but none of us thought that they would just leave it there. I have a feeling in my bones that sooner or later, one or other of them will be back. We'd discussed it, the three of us, and we'd agreed that the assholes might easily pick Hailey as the softer target next time. We had to tell her about Sinclair's false claims. If he finds an alternative witness that he can bribe to say they knew the land was his… well, it may not be much, but those twenty or so acres are Hailey's, not his. We can't stand by and let him take them off her through a fraudulent act. We have to warn her.

Now, as the four of us (Reed, Lennon, Grace and myself) sit at the breakfast table, I decide it's the right moment to make an announcement.

"It's time we talked to Hailey." Nods all around the table.

I am about to launch into my plan for how we tackle our upcoming discussion with Hailey, when Grace interrupts.

"Talk to Hailey about what?" She is just finishing up her second pancake along with draining her plastic cup of orange juice, before Lennon takes her into pre-school. As ever, she looks beautiful—as sweet as cherry pieI think to myself as I gaze down at her with affection. Nearly five now. How quickly they grow up. I wonder if she'll grow up to be as beautiful a woman as she is now as a child. She has her mother’s looks, but she'll look a little like Hailey, too. Ah… Hailey. Those long, slim legs, the high cheek bones, the delicate line of her neck, the way her shoulder blades move when she reaches for something up high. Her delicate scent of roses and sandalwood. I can almost imagine the smell of her… almost, but infuriatingly not quite. It's only been a couple of days, but I sure as Hell miss having her around. She's the sort of woman that?—

"Why are you staring at me, Uncle Dean?"

"Huh?"

"You've been staring at me, Uncle Dean. Why are you staring at me?"

"Oh! Oh… er… sorry Grace, I was totally lost in my thoughts."

"About Hailey?"

"Well… er… yes, I guess so." I blush bright red.

"Are you in love with Hailey, Uncle Dean?"

"I… er… no! No, of course not!" I splutter, my face now the color of our old barn, painted the traditional red that all the old county barns use around here.

Reed is practically falling out of his chair, he's laughing so hard at my discomfort. Even Lennon has a smile on his face. This is humiliating… yet I hate to lie, especially to these three people—the three people I love the most in my life. So… is it true? And if it isn't true, why am I turning so red? I shake my head. Now is not the time for introspection.

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