Chapter 1


I stood on the top of a hill that overlooked most of my land. I had arrived earlier that day and had spent most of it learning what was now mine. The sun was setting, sending a soft light over the meadows below me. The sky was a light purple fused with pink that rippled outward like the waves of the ocean. The wind has stared to pick up around noon and you could see the black outline of the trees swaying and rustling with the wind. I felt a smile seize my face and I knew I was home. The corner of my full mouth twitched downward in remembrance of why I had left, my father, but he was gone now and I felt a faint pang of regret. I knew that I should have come home sooner. I was surprised to see the soft mist escaping my mouth and realized that I had just said that out loud. I shook my head to try to clear it, fingering back the black hair that had fallen in my eyes. All this was mine now. Did I want it? That was all I had ever wanted when I was younger, was this'�..place. It, literally, was a heap of junk. I mean it used to look beautiful; it had been grand when I was a kid, when my mother was still alive. We had bragging rights for generations, but through my fathers hands it had fallen into disrepair. I turned so that my back was now to the setting sun that illuminated the land before me. In the distance I could see the faint outline of my house. I closed my eyes in remembrance. A soft smile took hold of my face as memories roamed around my head. It was a big grand three story house, but the roof sagged from years of keeping out rain and the wood beams bent with the weight of its burden. It was just an old, old house. Even the farming equipment was rusty from years of sitting from neglect. The planter had corn seeds that had to be over fifty years old. Over twice as old as I am now. When I was in high school, like everyone else, I had ambitions. I thought that I could do anything. Money wasn't a problem. I had lived a comfortable life with my father. I had had a few girls. I was by no means a virgin as Danny seemed to think.
Danny. God I had missed her I thought opening my eyes and looking up. I could just see the light cast from her front porch in the distance to my left. The lone light twinkling like a lone star on the horizon. It must be what? Five, six years since I've see her last. We had been in the same class growing up. Her family owned a couple hundred acres on a farm no far from ours. Actually, their farm was the closest thing to ours. We, well I guess it's just me now, owned right near five thousand acres on a farm north of Pinedale, Wyoming. Being so far from civilization brought me and Danny closer as kids. We spent a lot of time together getting into trouble. We were mostly home schooled. Me, Danny, Jamie and Dax were the sons of a man that worked for my father. We had had a teacher whose name was Mrs. Fox. She was a widowed woman who had decided to stay at our farm after her husband was murdered by robbers some time before I was born. She had taught us, god she had been a cranky old bat, but she loved Danny. She had kind of been like a second mother to the both of us, but Danny had been her favorite. Danny had been most impressive of us by far and still was, with her fiery attitude and matching red hair and sharp green eyes. She could fix just about anything too. I mean it. You give her a pile of wired and she could build a radio. With her smarts and my brute force we created an interesting team. She always hated it when I defender her. She didn't like people to think that she was weak. I think in a way she had to be strong. Especially with her father being such a heavy drinker and all. I know that she was beat as a kid. That was why she spent so many days sleeping over in our barn. She told me once that she would have run away a long time ago if it wasn't for me. It mad me feel special and especially like protecting her.
I was startled out of my thoughts by the distant howl of a wolf. It was getting dark, I decided, a deep frown now rooted to my face. So, I clambered my way into my old, very rusty pickup truck and drove away thinking that there couldn't possibly be any parts left under the hood with the noises it was making. God, I really didn't think that this old pile of junk would start up when I had first tried it. It had to have been sitting for at least five years. It was even in the same spot I had left it when I had gone off to college. I had to do some repairs, obviously, to get the old girl to run when I had arrived. I was really afraid to see if anything else worked anywhere on the property. All the wiring in the house was original; the wires ran around the outside of the rooms on those glass bulbs. If this place ever caught on fire, it would never stop burning.
When I got the news that my father had died I quit my job in New York City and went straight home. Joshua Nicolas Hamleton. That was his name, my fathers. He was born on November 6, 1956 and had died on November 20, 2006. He had been a beloved father, husband and friend, or at least this is what his grave stone had read. He had died at the age of fifty, three days before Thanksgiving and I hadn't seen him in five years. I arrived around sunset two days later, the day before Thanksgiving. As I approached the farm, all I could remember was my father telling me that cheesy line from the Lion King, 'everything the light touches, will one day belong to you'�. Or something like that. I had never liked the man, but he was my father. What more could I do? I mean you got to love the guy, no matter how much you really want to hate him.
Well, the reason I disliked him so much was because he just didn't get it. He'�.God, I get so frustrated just thinking about it. He, well, he wasn't a bad man. I've got to give him that much. I really do believe that he had a good heart. It's just that everything else was wrong, basically. He just didn't care. It had taken me years to come to that conclusion. That he just didn't care about anything, but his dreams. He didn't care about anything if it didn't help him achieve his dreams. My frown deepened with sudden, unexpected anger. My knuckles clutched the wheel before me so hard that they were white. 'Had he never heard of tradition or pride?!'� I whispered sharply to myself, but I knew the answer before the question had left my lips. No.
That's why our land was in despair. The house and the barn were falling down, and there were no animals to be found anywhere. He was so obsessive with what he wanted. After I left and got that job, he actually tried to sell the farm for profit. God forbid he tells me what his dreams are though. I didn't know, he wouldn't tell me. I probably would have tried to help him if he had told me, but he didn't. He didn't trust me and it hurt. I was sad that he was gone. Don't take this all the wrong way. He was my father and I loved him, but'�damn. He was so frustrating.
I parked the truck back where I had found it, spent five minutes trying to close the rusty door, cursed, gave up and left it hanging open a sliver. Hope it doesn't rain, was all I could think of as I cautiously picked my way up the rotted porch steps toward the front door. God I loved this place I thought, and it was true, this place was amazing. I had always known that even though I didn't always believe it. I loved it because it was my home, because it held memories, good and bad and because it held my friends, my history. At times it had seemed like a prison and other times like an adventure or a pride. I didn't know what to think of it now.
When I went inside, I decided to make myself some dinner. There wasn't much in the old kitchen. A moldy loaf of bread and some canned beans, that after looking at the dates on them, told me that my father had bought them around three years ago. As I sat and ate my cold bean dinner I though about the kitchen and my father. My father had been more of a take out kinda guy. There was only one of those old big wood stoves and no microwave, nothing that hinted at any modern technology. I tried to make a fire, but I couldn't find any wood or matches in the room. After dinner, I tried to clean up a bit. Everything in the house was covered and dusty and old. The entire house smelled strongly of mold and moth balls. Not my most favorite smell I might add. Suddenly I stopped my face etched with shock. I took one more deep intake of air and let it out shakily. For a moment I thought I had smelt sunflowers. Sunflowers and lilacs. That was what I remembered about my mother. She had died when I was five, too young to remember her face, but I could remember her smell. I had, of course, seen pictures of her. They were all black and white, but you could tell that she had dark hair and light eyes. I had been told that they had been blue, like mine, but not dark. They had been light, the color of the sky on a cloudless, sunny summer day. She had died at twenty-five giving birth to my brother, who had also died that night. We lived quite a ways from the nearest hospital and when she went into labor, it has been obvious that she was having that baby here. I was told that complications arose, but how do you tell a five year old that his mother is dead? I had been born in this house and it had been fine. My mother had just told me that she had gone on vacation. I had believed this for a time, but that could only last for so long. Without stopping I reached up and brushed away a single tear that had dropped from my tear brimmed eyes. My father had been buried next to her. They had one of those entwining, heart shaped head stones. It had been a wedding present from one of my more humorless relatives I thought with a hiccup that was neither a sob nor a laugh.
I looked down at my hand, surprised to see it wrapped around a door knob. I had never been allowed in her room as a kid. My father had kept it locked, but I had snuck in before. I knew what to expect. I knew that, as soon as I opened the door I would be greeted by pink, flowery wall paper and a big grand four poster bed. My mother's jewelry set out on top of her bureau. When, at last, I opened the door, a small soft smile on my face, I was not greeted with my mother's things, but rather, a plasma TV and a new flat screened computer. I just stood there gripping the door knob as several emotions ran through my mind and features. The first was pure and utter shock. How could this be? The next was sorrow. Why? Where were her things? And, lastly followed by hatred. I took a deep breath and closed the door that shook the frame.
Suddenly, there was a faint knock on the screen door at the back of the house. It made me jump out of my thoughts and head for it. Before I could make it there however, I heard it open. If I had been back in my apartment, you wouldn't have hear anything. Thank God for squeaky doors. As soon as I heard that door open I was instantly cautious. I had lived in the big apple too long not to take caution when something strange happened, but as I rounded the corner to the kitchen, where the back door was located, I was just about knocked over as someone threw their arms around me. I knew who it was the second she hit me. Danny.
My mind screamed and my face took on a long forgotten, wide smile. As soon as I stopped tripping over myself from the impact of our greeting, I hugged her back tightly.
'Lover boy,'� she said with a smile rivaled only by my own, 'you're back'�.
'Don't call me that,'� I scoffed forcing myself to pull away from her. I read had meant it to come out sternly, but the huge smile on my face prevented that. I was looking her over, head to foot. She had grown, the top of her head was level with my nose and I wasn't short at my six feet. I still had a couple of inches on her though. The thought only made my smile wider. When we were kids, Jamie, Dax and I, Danny had ruled over us. She had been at least a foot taller than any of us and had loved every second of it. There was no doubt in my mind that she still reigned over Jamie and Dax.
'oh, come on, you know it's true. I mean you would still be here if it wasn't for her,'� she said, 'What was her name again? Jinny?'�
Years of living in a big city h ad taught me to read faces and I could tell that she was searching mine for something. What it was I couldn't tell you. She was upset about something too and was trying to cover it up with humor. I wanted, very badly, to know what it was.
'Jenny,'� I sighed, 'and don't remind me. I don't want to talk about it'�. The smile was now entirely gone from my face. This was a touchy subject for me. Jenny had been my girlfriend for the past four and a half years. She had been all legs and boobs, one of those perfect bleach blond haired, sky blue eyed, porn star worthy girls that was way out of your league and you both knew it. I had drooled over her all through college. I had been so obsessive over her that I didn't sleep, eat or bathe for just about the entire first semester until she said 'Hey'� to me one day. She had been in some of the same classes as me. I had spent most of my days just staring at the back of her curled, fake haired head. Over the next two weeks one think lead to another. We would bump into each other her or there and then we started going out. She had been the one who had gotten my job at John Deere. She had just walked up to 'Daddy'�, begged and pleaded, pouted a little bit and I had become the new CEO. Things had gone smoothly until a few months ago when I had found out that she was married and pregnant with his kid.
'Come on,'� she said. I could tell from her body language that she did no like my turn in attitude and was trying to get my spirits back up. 'The day you graduated she showed up and you drooled over her all through college. You wouldn't even have a job if it wasn't for her and her connections'�. She was reading my mind.
'I didn't know she was married,'� I said a little exasperatedly. To my horror, I could feel the corners of my mouth turning up in a small smile.
'So it wasn't you who knocked her up?'� she asked slyly. She was teasing me, but I didn't realize it at the time.
'No!'� I half shouted at her, I had no idea why I was being so moody. 'Sorry, I just don't want to talk about it,'� I said apologetically. The last few weeks had been Hell. I had just wanted to die. Everyone had thought that the kid was mine, including her father who didn't know she was married. The only reason she had told me in the first place was because she was starting to show and didn't want me to think it was mine. She had just expected me to be fine with it. The day she turned eighteen she had taken off to Europe where she had become a very popular porn star and had married a very wealthy French fashion designer. Her father, of course, knew none of this and when he found out, was'�Angry would be a major understatement. He had disowned her and she had gone crawling back to France with her Pierre.
'of course his name is Pierre'� I had said to her, fists balled, red faced, 'what else would it be?'� she had been so stupid, had no idea that I was ready to kill her on the spot. I still don't know what stopped me.
'Are you mad at me?'� she had answered back, with her big eyed, pouty lipped face on.
'Am I Mad?!'� I had screamed, 'Am I mad? Yes I'm fucking mad. What did you think I was happy for you?! No! Nevermind! You are to incapable of logic, grown up speech.'� I had stormed out of the apartment and having nowhere else to go, spent the night on a bench in Central Park. It's not something I recommend.
'Fine,'� Danny said in a light voice, like it didn't bother her that I wouldn't tell her about Jenny, that I had yelled at her, but I had a feeling that it did bother her a lot more than she let show. 'How are you anyway?'� she asked sincerely. I found myself very happy that there was a touch of concern in her face.
'I'm fine. You know I didn't like the man very much,'� I told her simply changing the topic. I didn't know whether she had been talking about my father or Jenny, but either way I didn't have the strength or time to go into further detain on either topic. She must have seen something in my face because she decided to push the current subject. I had always hated how she could read my expressions.
'Yah, no one did, but he was your father,'� she said in a soft inviting voice. She was trying to get me to open up to her.
'What are you doing?'� I asked. I had to stop this conversation before I got in over my head. During the conversation, we moved into the kitchen and she busied herself by lighting a fire in the stove. I have no idea where she had found the matches or wood. The only think I could think of was that she must have looked in the pantry off to the side of the kitchen. I had forgotten all about it till now. Once she had the fire lit, she started scouring the cupboards for something. She obviously found it because she now took out two mugs and set a tea kettle on the stove. Where she was finding these things was beside me.
'I'm making tea. It's cold out.'� I almost laughed because she looked like she truly meant it.
'Don't you laugh at me Guy Michael Hamelton,'� she said warningly as she took the whistling tea kettle off of the stove, 'unlike you, I haven't been living up north for the past five years in New England area and this is cold.'�
I smiled. I had gone to college in New Hampshire and it got cold there, nothing like this. 'Of course it is. I never said it wasn't. By all means why don't you make yourself at home?'� She always had a sharp tongue on her and I found myself adoring her for it. Unlike mine, her family had been poor and she had to fight for everything she wanted. She was strong and confident and sure that everyone knew that she could do whatever she wanted on her own. All of a sudden, I felt the greatest urge to prove her wrong. To prove to her that she did need someone. And that that someone was me.
It was kind of funny because my father hated hers and hers hated mine. My father believed that their land was ours and vice versa. So, they had been in a war all of their lives. Yet, Danny and I had never hated each other. Just the opposite. In face, we had become best friends. Our parents hated it. Both of our fathers blamed the death of our mothers on each other. We thought it was funny. Not that our mothers had died, but that our fathers had blamed it on each other. I mean, they didn't have anything to do with our mothers' deaths. I remember that we used to joke a lot about what would happen if we hooked up. Not that we ever would, but if we did, that it would be like Romeo and Juliet. We used to laugh over that all the time.
Suddenly, I was startled out of my thoughts by a steaming mug being set on the worn table in front of me. I just sat and stared at it. It didn't look like any tea I had seen before. It was dark, murky brown and I could smell the rancid smell of it from where I sat. It must taste terrible.
'And what is this?'� I asked cautiously. I had lived in New York too long to not be weary of the unknown.
'Well, it's not poison,'� she said with a sly smile. I took a cautious sip.
'You could've fooled me,'� I choked looking at the mug with apprehension. If I knew anything about Danny, I knew she was going to make me drink that, but I wouldn't give up without a fight. That's how bad this foul tasting drink was. She crossed her arms and looked down at me. She had her left eyebrow arched and looked at me with stubbornness and humor in her eyes.
'You know that you're not going anywhere till you drink that,'� she said, 'And it tastes worse cold,'� she added after a moment when all I did was glare at the still steaming, cracked mug.
'How could anything taste worse?'� I asked, 'No, don't answer that.'� I really didn't want to know what was in it. 'Just tell me one thing, what is it supposed to do?'�
'Help,'� she said simply. You could see the stubbornness in her jaw, hiding in the shadows cast by the dim lighting. 'Yeah, with what? Making me want to die?'� I shot back. I was surprised by my sudden sharpness, but I was tired. It had been a long day.
She smiled at me knowingly, 'Just drink it.'�
'Fine,'� I said. I was starting to sound like a two year old. I tipped back the mug and drained the foul tasting liquid in one gulp.
'Now that wasn't all that bad was it?'� she asked with a small smile played across her lips. Suddenly I realized'�'�.
'Are you laughing at me?'� I asked taken back.
'I can't believe you actually drank that,'� she laughed out amusingly.
'What was it?'� I asked, shocked. I was looking at the empty mug. She had never tried to kill me before, but I wouldn't put it past her.
Suddenly she burst out laughing. I just sat there and glared at her. I wasn't at all amused. By the time she finally stopped laughing she was gripping her sides from the pain that only so much laughing can cause. I got up, rinsed my mug in the sink and jumped up on the counter with a cup of water. I just had to get that taste out of my mouth.
She sat down in my vacant chair and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her stained gray t-shirt. She was dressed in her usual overalls and sneakers. As a mechanic, most everything she owned was stained with unknown splotches.
'Stop looking at me like that. I didn't lie to you, that really will help you, it's good for you. It's called gun powder tea. It's made from cinnamon.'� She got up and walked over to me. The huge smile still glued to her face.
She was going to do something sneaky and I knew it. She leaned over me as if to kiss me and in one swift motion stole my hat off of my head. I thought for a second, I really did, that she was actually going to kiss me. I just sat there dazed; mouth agape until she chucked the salt shaker at me. I jumped off the counter and raced after her.
I caught her at the top of the stairs with my John Deere hat was tight over her unruly hair. The only door that had a lock in the house was the bathroom door. She must've been heading there when I caught up to her. I caught her around the waist and we both fell over laughing, when she struggled to get away and had tripped me. As we went down, I noticed something sparkle. I looked up at her. She was smiling. Well, actually she was uncontrollably giggling, but I was on top of her, reducing her breath intake and the power of her giggles to gasps for air. We started to untangle ourselves after a while and I grabbed her hand to help her stand up. As I was letting go, I noticed something that mad me look over her with a shocked expression on my face. I couldn't speak, I couldn't think. She had a ring on her finger, on her ring finger. She was engaged.
Her smile faded and she whipped her hand back to her side. All I could manage to say was 'Wh-what?'�
She gave me a weak smile and looked down at her hand 'I'm engaged,'� she said so quietly I barely heard her but I felt as if she had screamed it at the top of her lungs.
I tried to say two things at once and it came out 'I note'�Who?'�
She stared at me for a moment, blushed and said very quietly 'Jamie'�.
'Jamie'� I repeated, shocked. I did not believe her. She couldn't marry Jamie. They would never do that to me. They were all wrong for each other. Why?!
'When?'� I finally managed to croak out. I suddenly found my mouth very dry.
'We started dating after you left,'� she continued very quietly, like I had never spoken. I found myself doubting that I had said anything at all; that my mouth had been to dry to get anything out. She couldn't look at me.
'The date is set for April.'� My mind raced. That's only six months away, five depending on whether the date is set early or late in the month. I opened my mouth to say something, I had no idea what it was, but I had to say something.
'Don't ask how,'� she said, suddenly very cross. Her eyes shone and I noticed, shocked that she looked like she was going to cry. My strong, brave, fearless Danny was going to cry. Before I knew what had come over me I went to her. She ducked her head and looked at her greasy, stained, worn boots. I put a gently hand under her chin and lifted it until her shining, gold flecked, green eyes met my own shining, cobalt blue ones.
I was pleased to notice the shocked expression on her face when she saw that I was smiling. I pulled her close and set her head gently on my shoulder as if she was made of the most fragile glass. I felt her start to cry. She was shaking softly, but she kept silent. She didn't allow herself to make any noise.
I bent and in one swift motion, lifted her into my arms and carried her into my room. I had refused to touch any of the furniture except for the stuff in my room and only after I had it all washed and scrubbed down. My father had lived in this house alone for many years and it was not at its cleanest. I wasn't surprised.
I sat on my bed with Danny still in my arms and held her close. In a matter of minutes, her hard shell had cracked to reveal a soft, very feminine, gentle woman who needed someone to look after her. I just sat in silence. Happy for the first time since I had left five years ago.
A little while later, her tears all dried up and she fell asleep in my arms. I gently laid her on the bed and pulled a blanked over her. I had to force myself to leave the room. I was afraid that if I left she would leave me forever. I went outside and sat in the rocking chair on the front porch. It was old and creaky, but it held. I felt weird. I didn't know what I felt. I just sat'�..sat and waited. I was waiting for my thoughts to come. My head was confusingly clear and couldn't for the life of me, figure out why. I don't know how long I sat there, but it was dark by the time I got up, dark enough for the moon to be high in the sky. The clock in the living room said it was about half past eleven, but I didn't know whether or not to trust it. It was late fall so it did get really dark early on in the evening. Something in me had been decided, but I didn't know what it was yet. All I knew was that I felt it. I felt as if I had come to a difficult decision and I would use every last ounce of my strength I had to stay with it.
The first thing I did was make sure Danny was still there. Relieved to find her still sleeping, I went down stairs into the kitchen and added more logs to the fire in the stove. I had been right, there was wood in the pantry, but the shelved were bare of food. I found her bottle of cinnamon in the spice cupboard above the sink. I hadn't even thought to look in that cabinet. What would I do with a handful of spices and no food? I started scouring the cupboards for something to make to eat, knowing fully that there was nothing there. I felt as if I was waiting for something to happen and I was only looking for food to preoccupy my time. I couldn't stand still. All of the hairs on the back of my neck and arms were standing on end. Then I hears it. The squeak of a foot on a squeaky old board. I jumped, not startled exactly, I felt as if I knew he was going to be there the whole time. I slowly turned to find'�'�.

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