LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter Four

      As Winnie drove over the cattle guard on her way to the Lamberts’ ranch later that afternoon, the car shook and rattled. She glanced at her son, buckled into his car seat in the back. His eyes were huge, his face serious. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

      He returned her smile, obviously reassured that nothing was wrong.

      “Those bumps keep the cows from getting off the ranch,” she explained. “Now we drive over a bridge and the car will shake again.”

      The wooden bridge crossed over one of several unnamed creeks on the property. She drove up the final rise, then stopped the SUV and looked down at the snow-covered ranch, remembering the first time Brock had brought her here.

      They’d just returned from a camping trip to Yellowstone, where he’d surprised her with a romantic moonlit proposal. He’d been anxious to make an official announcement to his family, but he’d taken the time to stop in this very spot.

      “Your daddy was so proud of this place.” In her mind she could hear Brock’s voice. This land has belonged to our family since the mid-1800s.

      Winnie had been impressed. Then and now. She’d grown up on a modest farm where they’d had a house, a barn that housed three milking cows, a shop and a shed for the tractor and farm equipment. But Coffee Creek had at least a dozen buildings, all painted white with green metal roofs. The network of outbuildings, pens, chutes and pastures filled the hollow of the wide valley.

      The main house had been built higher, perched into a grove of pines with a view of the flat-topped mountain locals called Square Butte. The home was a beautiful log structure, built Montana style with four bedrooms and a large kitchen and family room on the main level. It would have been a comfortable place to raise a big family. But it must feel rather empty to Olive now that she was alone.

      To the left, barely visible through a large stand of aspen, was Cold Coffee Lake, where Bob Lambert had built the cabins for his sons.

      We’re going to raise our children here, darlin’, Brock had told her. Live our lives and grow old together.

      In a movie, music would have foreshadowed the impending tragedy before them. But there had been a romantic country song on the radio at the time and it hadn’t crossed Winnie’s mind that Brock’s prophecy wouldn’t come true.

      She wiped a tear from her eye. “Well, Bobby. Ready to meet your grandmother?”

      He glanced up again at the sound of her voice, then started gnawing his favorite push car. An incoming molar was Bobby’s preoccupation today. Fortunately he was too young to share her apprehension for the evening that lay ahead.

      It would be a smallish gathering today, since the newlyweds were on their honeymoons. Fortunately Laurel, Corb and baby Stephanie would be there, so they wouldn’t have to face Olive alone.

      And maybe Jackson? As an honorary member of the Lambert family, he was usually on hand for family occasions.

      * * *

      THE MINUTE WINNIE stepped in the front door, Olive’s arms were out for the baby. Thank heavens Bobby didn’t make shy. Fascinated with the chunky necklace his grandmother was wearing, he went easily into Olive’s clutches.

      Um, embrace.

      Be nice, Winnie. How often would she have to remind herself to behave tonight?

      But it was difficult not to recall her first visit to the ranch, when Olive had flashed her eyes disdainfully over her bargain-basement sundress, mentioned an old girlfriend of Brock’s twice and barely glanced at the diamond on Winnie’s fourth finger when her son gave her their big news.

      Winnie rubbed the ring now, hoping this evening would pass much easier than that long ago one had. Laurel kept telling her that Olive wasn’t so bad. Maybe she’d grown softer and more understanding in the wake of Brock’s death. Not that Winnie had seen any evidence of that so far.

      No, more likely easygoing Laurel brought out the best in Olive, while she did the exact opposite.

      “Good to see you back here at the ranch.” Corb was the first to give her a hug, and Laurel was right behind him. They led her to the family room where Stephanie, two months younger than Bobby and not yet mobile, was playing on a quilt spread over the hardwood floor.

      “Gosh, she’s so cute.” Winnie crouched to give the little girl a kiss. Stephanie glanced up at her, smiled then went back to stacking her colored plastic blocks. “I remember the days when I could put Bobby in one place and he’d stay put.”

      Laurel nodded. “It’s nice. I’m not at all anxious for her to learn how to crawl. Corb’s gone crazy baby proofing the cabin. I swear he’d put in rubber walls if I let him.”

      “Might start a new decorating craze,” Corb said.

      Winnie and Laurel looked at each other, then laughed.

      “It could happen,” Corb insisted. “I have other great ideas, too, but before I get to them would anyone like a glass of wine?”

      Both Winnie and Laurel said yes, but Olive shook her head. She still had Bobby in her arms. She’d given him a tour of the family room and was now showing him a picture on the fireplace mantel.

      “This is your Daddy. Can you say Dad-dy?” Olive broke the word into two syllables and repeated them several times. Bobby stopped gnawing on his toy and stared at her, but he didn’t make a sound.

      “He doesn’t talk much yet,” Winnie said. “Just a few words. Mama and go are his favorites.”

      Olive didn’t acknowledge this, just went back to chanting, “Dad-dy. Dad-dy. Dad-dy. Can you say Dad-dy, honey?”

      Corb, Laurel and Winnie exchanged uncomfortable glances.

      “Sure smells good in here.” Winnie supposed Jackson wasn’t coming after all. The dining room table had two high chairs and four place settings.

      “Bonny made a chicken

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