flexed her fingers, consciously relaxing. She would get
through these next few days, and Grayson would be gone from her life forever.
She may not be worldly, or have the sophistication of the movie people, but
she’d learned one thing over the years: she couldn’t control the actions of
others... couldn’t control the outcome.
So far in life, she’d lived her own truth,
and she wasn’t about to change now. Easing back on the throttle, she tuned the
radio to her favourite country western station and drove along the narrow,
tree-lined road.
* * *
The ghost town lay silently in the noon
sun. Danielle pulled up in front of the building next to the one where she’d be
working. No sense parking too close and risk getting paint spattered on her
truck.
She got out and stretched, surprised at
how calm she felt. A slight breeze stirred the tops of the Cottonwoods along
the creek, the air perfumed by their scent. Fireweed bloomed everywhere it
could gain a foothold; bright flower spikes adding splashes of colour against
the dark background of old buildings.
She tried to look at the old town
through fresh eyes, to see it as Grayson must have done. Had that really been
only yesterday? So much had happened... it didn’t seem possible.
Most of the buildings set back from the
main street were built with board and batten construction, or in many cases,
logs. She’d never taken the time to examine the construction techniques before,
but she did so now. The log buildings in particular fascinated her. Carefully
selected logs had been trimmed to fit, and skillfully dovetailed on the
corners. Naturally occurring clay, abundant in the area, had been mixed with
sand for chinking; much of it was still intact. Small windows had been set proudly
into thick walls, the glass rippled with imperfections. She touched one
thoughtfully and could only imagine how valuable glass must have been back
then.
“All right,” she said aloud.
“Interesting as it is, this isn’t getting anything done.” She hauled the ladder
from the back of her truck, extended it and placed it against the building.
Whistling a tuneless song, she set up her safety equipment and the necessary paraphernalia
to hold the paint cans and the rollers.
“The set-up is as much work as the
painting,” she observed aloud, checking to see that everything was in place.
“And I’m starting to talk to myself... not a good sign.” She dug into her
pocket for her ear buds, popped them in, and started to paint.
* * *
Jake stopped at the cattle guard and
looked around for the young fellow who’d been acting as security. Personally,
he’d thought that a security check was a bit over the top, but it hadn’t been
his decision to make. When the officious young man didn’t show up after a
moment, he continued through the gate, his mind processing the facts from the
meeting he’d just attended.
Well versed in the markets, Jake rarely
solicited financial advice. But these days, the financial landscape was
changing at the speed of a mouse click, and he wasn’t too proud to listen to
the opinions of the young guns where he banked.
The land crested half way between the
gate and the ‘village’ of temporary buildings. Jake slowed, pulled the Jeep off
the road and looked out over his land... the small portion of it that he could
see, at least. Jake thought he’d kept up to date with property values, but he’d
been surprised by the figures on the report. The value of the land had
increased dramatically, and now comprised half of his net worth. Over the
years, he’d become accustomed to the luxury of not thinking about money. He
worked hard, and knew that the ranch made a healthy profit every year, but the
bottom line interested him very little. He supposed he was an anomaly in the
ranching community, but it was true... he simply didn’t care, because he
couldn’t conceive of doing anything else.
He removed his hat and raked his fingers
through his hair. Was he too set in his
through these next few days, and Grayson would be gone from her life forever.
She may not be worldly, or have the sophistication of the movie people, but
she’d learned one thing over the years: she couldn’t control the actions of
others... couldn’t control the outcome.
So far in life, she’d lived her own truth,
and she wasn’t about to change now. Easing back on the throttle, she tuned the
radio to her favourite country western station and drove along the narrow,
tree-lined road.
* * *
The ghost town lay silently in the noon
sun. Danielle pulled up in front of the building next to the one where she’d be
working. No sense parking too close and risk getting paint spattered on her
truck.
She got out and stretched, surprised at
how calm she felt. A slight breeze stirred the tops of the Cottonwoods along
the creek, the air perfumed by their scent. Fireweed bloomed everywhere it
could gain a foothold; bright flower spikes adding splashes of colour against
the dark background of old buildings.
She tried to look at the old town
through fresh eyes, to see it as Grayson must have done. Had that really been
only yesterday? So much had happened... it didn’t seem possible.
Most of the buildings set back from the
main street were built with board and batten construction, or in many cases,
logs. She’d never taken the time to examine the construction techniques before,
but she did so now. The log buildings in particular fascinated her. Carefully
selected logs had been trimmed to fit, and skillfully dovetailed on the
corners. Naturally occurring clay, abundant in the area, had been mixed with
sand for chinking; much of it was still intact. Small windows had been set proudly
into thick walls, the glass rippled with imperfections. She touched one
thoughtfully and could only imagine how valuable glass must have been back
then.
“All right,” she said aloud.
“Interesting as it is, this isn’t getting anything done.” She hauled the ladder
from the back of her truck, extended it and placed it against the building.
Whistling a tuneless song, she set up her safety equipment and the necessary paraphernalia
to hold the paint cans and the rollers.
“The set-up is as much work as the
painting,” she observed aloud, checking to see that everything was in place.
“And I’m starting to talk to myself... not a good sign.” She dug into her
pocket for her ear buds, popped them in, and started to paint.
* * *
Jake stopped at the cattle guard and
looked around for the young fellow who’d been acting as security. Personally,
he’d thought that a security check was a bit over the top, but it hadn’t been
his decision to make. When the officious young man didn’t show up after a
moment, he continued through the gate, his mind processing the facts from the
meeting he’d just attended.
Well versed in the markets, Jake rarely
solicited financial advice. But these days, the financial landscape was
changing at the speed of a mouse click, and he wasn’t too proud to listen to
the opinions of the young guns where he banked.
The land crested half way between the
gate and the ‘village’ of temporary buildings. Jake slowed, pulled the Jeep off
the road and looked out over his land... the small portion of it that he could
see, at least. Jake thought he’d kept up to date with property values, but he’d
been surprised by the figures on the report. The value of the land had
increased dramatically, and now comprised half of his net worth. Over the
years, he’d become accustomed to the luxury of not thinking about money. He
worked hard, and knew that the ranch made a healthy profit every year, but the
bottom line interested him very little. He supposed he was an anomaly in the
ranching community, but it was true... he simply didn’t care, because he
couldn’t conceive of doing anything else.
He removed his hat and raked his fingers
through his hair. Was he too set in his
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