Read Online Homecoming Ranch by Julia London - Free Book Online Page B

breathtakingly beautiful. And so vast.
Too
vast. In Florida, one could hardly drive ten minutes without encountering another community. Madeline could get lost very easily out here without markers, without signs, without something to say where she was. Was that what her father had done? Put himself so far off the map that she couldn’t possibly find him and the family he’d had that didn’t include her?
    Speaking of family, if only loosely, made the knot in Madeline’s gut tighten. She’d come this far, she told herself. There was no room for nerves now.
    She got back into the car and drove up a lane lined with cottonwoods and spruce trees, all of which seemed to grow out of a carpet of black-eyed Susans and daylilies. Through the trees, Madeline could see another meadow fenced in by split rails. It was coffee-table book perfect, save one jarring sight—in that lush meadow, a line of portable toilets that had been set up next to a split rail fence. She could not imagine what purpose those toilets served in a place where there were no people, besides marring an otherwise perfect mountain vista.
    As her little car bobbed and bounced along the rocky road, she could see a glimpse of the house through a stand of alder trees. It was set back against the mountain and tall Ponderosa pines, situated next to a red barn with a steep A-line roof.
    Madeline’s heart began to beat a little faster. She didn’t know what she’d expected, really—when someone said ranch, she’d thought of dusty rodeos and low-slung houses baking in the midday sun. She hadn’t thought of
this.
It was impossible that her father had left her this. Impossible! Things like this did not happen to Madeline Pruett. She didn’t possess a single thing that she hadn’t worked hard to get, hadn’t put in long hours of study or work to have.
    When she pulled into the small circular drive before the quaint house, she could see the wear on it, but it was charming. The roof was a collection of steeply angled pitches over various rooms and floors. The ground floor of the house was built with stone, and the second story, which looked to have been added on at some point, was made of tongue-and-groove logs as big around as the wheels on her rental car. Large, plate-glass windows lined the front of the house, looking out at the vista of mountains rising up from the opposite edge of the meadow.
    The realtor in Madeline appreciated the charm. But the realtor in her also understood the remote location would be a huge obstacle to overcome. It was as far from anything as it could possibly be, far from the world, and it would take a feat of marketing genius to sell it.
    On the right of the house was a large room that had been added on to the original structure, judging by the difference in wood. It had a flat roof and crankcase windows, most of which were open.
    Madeline opened the door of her car and stepped out. In between the house and the barn was a grassy area enclosed by cottonwoods and alder trees. Faded Chinese lanterns had been strung through the trees, and three picnic tables were situated under the branches. From one tree, a tire swing spun lazily. She could picture her faceless sisters, growing up in this idyllic setting with toboggans and hayrides and sleepovers.
    The knot in her belly tightened again. And now, her head hurt.
    Madeline walked around the front of her car to the flagstone walk. That was when she saw the four dogs lying under the porch, their heads up, their eyes locked on her, She could just see them through the leggy daylilies that decorated the front of the house.
    Her heart began to pound with panic. Madeline had never had a dog. As a realtor, she’d had her fair share of bad encounters with overly protective dogs. Her standard checklist when showing a house included some guarantee from owners that their pets had been removed from the property or put into proper crates.
    The dogs lifted their snouts, sniffing the air, as if she gave off