Read Online Murder Fir Christmas by Joyce Lavene, Jim Lavene - Free Book Online
Authors: Joyce Lavene, Jim Lavene
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She smiled at him as she got out of the truck. “I’d like to take a few things with me, if you don’t mind. I can get someone to take care of the truck tomorrow and get everything home after that.”
“I’m happy to help.” He grinned. “And this way if I ever get on the wrong side of the Wildlife Agency, you’ll owe me.”
“You’re right,” she agreed. “Let me get my stuff.”
While Matthew put the chains on his tires, Bonnie grabbed three essential bags that held toiletries and some clothes she’d need. She asked Sandie if it was okay if she left her truck where it was for now. Sandie told her it would be fine.
After putting her bags into Matthew’s truck, Bonnie carefully grabbed the wolf and got him comfortable in the back seat.
“We’re right back here again, huh, boy?” She stroked his head. “Trust me, we’ll get past this. You’re gonna be okay.”
Once everything was set, Bonnie called her brother and told him she was leaving Sweet Pepper. He had nothing to say but a bunch of snarky remarks that she ignored.
“You’re smiling,” Matthew observed as he got behind the wheel. “That must be a good sign. If you can still smile after everything you’ve been through since yesterday, things are looking up.”
She fastened her seatbelt and hoped the steep road to the valley was in decent shape. “It wasn’t how I’d envisioned coming home for good, but I’m sure it will all work out.”
He started the truck. “What are you going to name the wolf?”
“I’m not naming him anything. It’s not like he’s a pet I’m going to keep.”
“Yeah but he’s going to be part of your life for a few weeks. He needs a name. How are you going to call him if he doesn’t have a name?”
They had reached Christmas Tree Valley Road. A dozen signs showed pictures of cars and trucks at steep angles, some of them bent where they’d been hit by an errant fender. Bonnie could see the snow covered valley before her, and the snow covered road in front of her that dropped with a thirty percent grade.
“All right,” Matthew said. “Hang on to your hat.”
Because there were so many trees on the ridge above the road, very little morning sunlight reached the road. Afternoon sunlight would melt the snow and ice, leaving puddles that would freeze during the long night. People who made it into the valley today would have a hard time getting out again tomorrow.
Bonnie kept one hand on the door, but even though she was scared, she had to admire the serene, winter beauty of her home. Christmas Tree Valley didn’t have a big population—three hundred and sixty two the last time she checked. There were a few churches, their steeples still sparkling with white crystals, and the general store that doubled as a post office. The rest were houses and buildings. Interspersed with the houses and storage buildings were Douglas fir and blue spruce trees that reached for the sky.
She could pick out the tree farms because the trees grew in a more orderly fashion. Hundreds of acres were devoted to growing the best trees in the world. A large, wood-and-brass plaque at the general store had the names engraved of every family that had grown a Christmas tree for the White House. There were many names celebrated there. It was the brass ring that every farmer reached for.
“Did anyone have a tree for the White House this year?” she asked Matthew.
“Nope. Not for the last few years. It doesn’t seem to hurt business any—not like this snow and ice will. But people still like thinking about it. My brother and I have been getting a tree ready for next year. Our family has never grown one that went to Washington.”
“My grandfather grew one,” she said, her nose almost pressed against the frosty window to look out at the colorful scene stretched before her all the way to the mountains behind. “I think that was in 1950.”
He laughed. “Don’t toy with me. Like you said, you haven’t been gone that long.
“I’m happy to help.” He grinned. “And this way if I ever get on the wrong side of the Wildlife Agency, you’ll owe me.”
“You’re right,” she agreed. “Let me get my stuff.”
While Matthew put the chains on his tires, Bonnie grabbed three essential bags that held toiletries and some clothes she’d need. She asked Sandie if it was okay if she left her truck where it was for now. Sandie told her it would be fine.
After putting her bags into Matthew’s truck, Bonnie carefully grabbed the wolf and got him comfortable in the back seat.
“We’re right back here again, huh, boy?” She stroked his head. “Trust me, we’ll get past this. You’re gonna be okay.”
Once everything was set, Bonnie called her brother and told him she was leaving Sweet Pepper. He had nothing to say but a bunch of snarky remarks that she ignored.
“You’re smiling,” Matthew observed as he got behind the wheel. “That must be a good sign. If you can still smile after everything you’ve been through since yesterday, things are looking up.”
She fastened her seatbelt and hoped the steep road to the valley was in decent shape. “It wasn’t how I’d envisioned coming home for good, but I’m sure it will all work out.”
He started the truck. “What are you going to name the wolf?”
“I’m not naming him anything. It’s not like he’s a pet I’m going to keep.”
“Yeah but he’s going to be part of your life for a few weeks. He needs a name. How are you going to call him if he doesn’t have a name?”
They had reached Christmas Tree Valley Road. A dozen signs showed pictures of cars and trucks at steep angles, some of them bent where they’d been hit by an errant fender. Bonnie could see the snow covered valley before her, and the snow covered road in front of her that dropped with a thirty percent grade.
“All right,” Matthew said. “Hang on to your hat.”
Because there were so many trees on the ridge above the road, very little morning sunlight reached the road. Afternoon sunlight would melt the snow and ice, leaving puddles that would freeze during the long night. People who made it into the valley today would have a hard time getting out again tomorrow.
Bonnie kept one hand on the door, but even though she was scared, she had to admire the serene, winter beauty of her home. Christmas Tree Valley didn’t have a big population—three hundred and sixty two the last time she checked. There were a few churches, their steeples still sparkling with white crystals, and the general store that doubled as a post office. The rest were houses and buildings. Interspersed with the houses and storage buildings were Douglas fir and blue spruce trees that reached for the sky.
She could pick out the tree farms because the trees grew in a more orderly fashion. Hundreds of acres were devoted to growing the best trees in the world. A large, wood-and-brass plaque at the general store had the names engraved of every family that had grown a Christmas tree for the White House. There were many names celebrated there. It was the brass ring that every farmer reached for.
“Did anyone have a tree for the White House this year?” she asked Matthew.
“Nope. Not for the last few years. It doesn’t seem to hurt business any—not like this snow and ice will. But people still like thinking about it. My brother and I have been getting a tree ready for next year. Our family has never grown one that went to Washington.”
“My grandfather grew one,” she said, her nose almost pressed against the frosty window to look out at the colorful scene stretched before her all the way to the mountains behind. “I think that was in 1950.”
He laughed. “Don’t toy with me. Like you said, you haven’t been gone that long.
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