Read Online The Haunting of Autumn Lake by Marcia Lynn McClure - Free Book Online

mind somehow—distract him from his miserable pain. It was all she could offer, and she felt quite inadequate because of it.
    Quietly Autumn returned to her chair. But instead of picking up her sewing, she chose her sketchbook instead.
    Exhaling a sigh, she seated herself near the window once more, flipped through her sketchbook—past all the sketches she’s made of Jethro in preparation for painting his portrait for her mother—and, on an empty and waiting page, began to sketch the sleeping and so badly injured cowboy whose face had haunted her dreams since the moment she’d first gazed into the deep, dark blue of his oh-so-fascinating eyes.
    ❦
    “How’re you feelin’, son?” the man asked as Gentry forced his eyes open.
    The light coming through the window was warm and orange. Gentry glanced toward the chair where the girl named Autumn had been sitting before. He was disappointed to see the chair stood empty.
    “You look a might better than the last time I saw ya, that’s for sure,” the man chuckled.
    “Thank you,” Gentry said. Through tired, narrowed eyes, he stared up at the man standing at his side. “You’re that girl’s daddy, ain’t ya?” he asked. His voice was raspy and dry from lack of drink.
    “You mean Autumn?” the man asked, smiling. “Yep. I’m her daddy all right.”
    Gentry swallowed, but the dryness of his mouth did little to soothe the pain in his throat. “She looks like you some,” he mumbled.
    Again the man chuckled. “That’s what folks say,” he said.
    “How’re you feelin’, Mr. James?” another voice asked.
    Gentry looked to the other side of his bed to see the old doctor standing there. Even turning his head just slightly caused it to throb.
    “Better, I think,” he answered.
    “Well, I don’t know what ol’ Doc here will say about it,” the man who looked like his daughter began, “but Autumn insisted that I drop this off for you before I headed home today.”
    Gentry watched as Autumn’s father set a big jar full of caramel-colored liquid on the table next to the bed. He smiled, even though it hurt to do so.
    “Apple cider, I’m guessin’?” he asked. He’d have chuckled if he’d thought his body could’ve mustered it.
    “That’s right. Fresh pressed from Ransom Lake’s orchards,” the man answered.
    “Ransom Lake, is it?” Gentry asked. “Well, I thank you, Mr. Lake…for the cider and for your help the other day in town…for gettin’ me in to the doc here and all.”
    “You’re welcome, son,” Ransom Lake said. “Now, what’s say you have sip or two of this cider? It’s nice and sunshine warm. A little apple juice in you might be just the thing.”
    Gentry nodded a little and tried to lift his head. Gratefully he found that, unlike earlier in the day when he’d needed assistance, he could lift it on his own—though Ransom Lake still had to hold the jar of cider to his lips.
    At the very first sense of the flavorsome cider on his tongue, Gentry’s entire being was suddenly flooded with an odd sort of joy and renewed energy. In all his life he’d never tasted anything so ambrosial—so exquisitely sweet and refreshing. He found that a mere sip of the cider gave him the strength to sit up on his own—to grasp the jar with one trembling hand and savor another swallow of the cider that was every bit as delicious as the girl had claimed.
    “She wasn’t exaggeratin’,” he mumbled. “I never tasted anything so good, Mr. Lake.” He looked up to the man at his bedside and nodded. “Thank you, sir. Truly.”
    “Thank my daughter next time you see her, cowboy,” Ransom Lake said. “She dang near talked my ear off ’til I promised to run it on over to ya.”
    Gentry nodded and smiled. He did feel better—as if the cider had some medicinal healing property.
    “Thank you, sir,” he said. “I truly am grateful.”
    “You’re welcome,” Ransom Lake said. Then firmly patting Gentry’s good shoulder, he added, “Now you