River's End (River's End Series, #1)
Leanne Davis
Chapter One
Erin Poletti cursed when the pavement ended. She slowed her car; cringing as her low-riding, Honda sedan hit the ripples and valleys of the barely maintained dirt road. Her car struggled over the jarring series of bumps that left her feeling like she’d been put into a Margarita shaker. There was no rail or turn-out to separate her car from the drop-off that followed the river, a good twenty feet below her. As she drove further, the drop-off turned into thirty, forty, and eventually, fifty feet as the road continued up the mountain. She gripped the wheel tightly and hugged the side of the road, blinking her eyes to banish the gritty feel of sleep deprivation. She was almost there. She had to keep driving. Now wasn’t the moment to get lazy driving.
Rounding the corner, she stopped her car in the center of the road. There wasn’t a soul around her in a five-mile radius and no reason to pull off to the side. She stared out before her. There it was. The small town of River’s End spread at the base of the valley and nestled along the white water Rydell River that spilled over the valley floor.
It was as odd a landscape to her as a drive across the moon. She had never traversed the Cascade Mountain range, which dissected the state of Washington into two halves: the western and eastern sides. Seattle born and raised, she rarely drove thirty miles beyond the radius of the city.
But now, hours from Seattle, after having crossed an entire mountain range to escape the mess of her life there, she hoped to find a new one here with her brother, in River’s End.
At least she assumed the small streak of houses that were across the river was the destination she had in mind. River’s End was smaller than a neighborhood. A white church steeple was the only indication it could be a town.
Her hands tightened over the steering wheel and her stomach heaved. How could her life become so dependent on her brother? It wasn’t like that was a good thing. It was a place she never thought she’d go, asking her brother for help. Or seeking an escape. Help he didn’t know he would be giving her, and certainly, never willingly offer to her.
She pressed her foot on the gas and started down the rough road again. It was another half mile before the large timber sign with the words “Rydell River Ranch” came into view. The driveway curved right, then left, like following a woman’s hips, ever so gently, as she drove her car over the land. When the road turned abruptly, her view of the valley changed. She gasped. She never expected this kind of spread. She assumed she was heading to a godforsaken ranch with sagebrush and dust as the only relief.
Instead, before her lay a scene straight out of a picturesque calendar. Grazing horses raised their heads when her car passed, dozens of them peppering the gently rolling land. It sloped downwards gently toward the river in front of her. The tall mountains encircled the entire idyll in a bowl-like effect. Pine trees and cottonwoods dotted the landscape. There were white-washed wood fences hugging the road, which all took off in various directions to make up separate fields and pastures. She rounded another turn before the ranch came into her sight. Her stomach recoiled with nerves. Oh God, it wasn’t some dive she could easily blend into. It was exquisite, and she felt as if she discovered a secret yuppie mountain retreat.
There was a large, two-story, rambling, log house perched on a small mound that elevated it gracefully from the land surrounding it. It had a green roof to offset the natural colored wood and the big river rock chimney. A covered porch encircled the whole homestead with an elaborate front that dramatically enhanced the house to appear like a resort.
The driveway approached the housing site, and widened into an ample swath of parking, outbuildings, and further off, a grid of roads that all went in different directions. She nearly groaned in dismay. The few e-mails to her mother, which Chance rarely sent, made the Rydell River Ranch sound like it was a hapless, dirty, poor enterprise, and certainly not this sprawling complex that had barns and fields as far as the eye could see. Shit. This would not work out. She couldn’t crash here. She couldn’t even imagine getting out of her car here.
She slowed to a stop, and sat there with the bright March sunlight glinting through her windshield, and highlighting the film of dust. Where was Chance? How could he, her loser, ne’er-do-well brother, end up working at an outfit like this? They appeared to have real money and real work to do; why would they risk that on a man like her feckless, opportunistic brother? It didn’t make any sense. And it stole away any prospects for her to count on.
Leaning her head against the steering wheel, she realized she had nowhere left to go. And nowhere to stay. She had come here to stay with her brother, no matter how much she loathed the idea. In the few bits of correspondence he had with her mother over the last few months, Chance made it sound like he was kicking back and lazing around an old, rundown dude ranch. The only feature that drew her here was because the owners gave her brother his own place to stay in on their land. A place she prayed he’d let her stay too.
But people who kept spreads like this had to have money. As well as high standards. Why then, would they allow her nefarious brother to live there?
Sensing movement through her windshield, she spotted a man coming through the wide doors of the barn. He stopped when he noticed her car and raised a hand to shade his eyes from the merciless glare of the late morning sun. Was it her imagination, or did the sun shine harsher here than it did in Seattle?