Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
She’d fought for years to see Chance, even after she lost custody, but Justice never gave in. By the time Chance was old enough to seek her out on his own, he had acted as if she didn’t exist, breaking her heart all over again.
For that, I will never forgive Chance.
Many a morning I’d watched with contempt as a large crew of ranch hands began their day, so I scanned the massive structure that was the heart of Bear Claw Ranch, looking for lights or activity. Chance ran the business now, due to his father’s failing health. I didn’t know my brother well, and what I did know I hated, but I would have expected him to be up before the sun with such a vast operation to run. The only light visible was in a downstairs room. For some reason, all was quiet at the Bear Claw.
Speaking of quiet. I tilted my head and listened for the telltale signs my brothers were up and getting ready for school. Nothing.
I sighed then stood from my perch on the front porch and headed inside our modest cabin. My father had built it from the ground up while he waited for my mother to come back to him, and my mother had filled it with love and memories for the rest of us.
I scanned the open floor plan as I made my way back inside. The log walls had aged over the years to a rich amber. My mother always said the log walls were too beautiful to cover with artwork, so she’d left most of them bare, only hanging homemade quilts for ambiance here and there. Each room still had her influence in them, but the mantle over the massive rock fireplace was the center of our home. It’s size and central positioning in the family room drew your eyes from every vantage point, so that’s where we kept our family photos. Our treasures of a past we’d never forget. It housed every memory I could find of our parents, because love like that deserved to be celebrated—even after death.
Glancing at the fireplace as I made my way past, I noticed the fire had banked to embers. Winters in Montana were more than a force of nature, they were a living breathing entity. Massive fireplaces like ours were mandatory if you wanted to last out the winter without frostbite and still have money left in the bank with the spring thaw.
As I stirred the embers and placed more wood on top, I studied the remnants of our family. A knot formed in my throat as it always did when I looked at the ghosts of my parents.
I stopped being a child the day she died. Instead, I became both mother and sister. Of the three of us, I was the only one who remembered both of them clearly. Jake had only been two when our mother died. He’d clung to me for most of his second year, as younger siblings often did, so when my mother died, he’d barely noticed. But Josh, he’d grown up without even her scent as a memory.
I still couldn’t hear movement from the boys’ rooms, so I trudged down the hall and banged on their doors. “Jake! Josh! We leave in thirty minutes. If you want a ride into town, get the lead out!”
Moans could be heard from behind both doors, so I headed to my room for a thicker coat. I’d taken over the master bedroom when my father died, giving Josh my old room so they could have privacy, and hopefully stop beating on each other.
I checked my reflection in the mirror before leaving my room. Same light green eyes, same long, blonde hair as always. I pinched my cheeks for some color and rolled my lips. Better, but not great. I glanced at the bag of cosmetics on my dresser and wondered if I should try harder. My best friend had been after me to spice up my wardrobe. “You own a bar,” Jamie had griped. “Dress like it instead of a coed fresh out of college.”
I scanned my attire. Tennis shoes, skinny jeans, and a University of Montana hoodie. I had no makeup on, and my hair was tied up in a high ponytail. I did look like a coed.
At twenty-three, I could have been fresh off a campus, but my father’s illness had cut my collegiate career short. Instead of barhopping with friends in Bozeman or Billings, hoping to meet the guy of my dreams, I ran my father’s Big Sky Saloon while I tried to keep my brothers from killing each other—or impregnating the local cheerleaders.
Maybe some mascara would help?
I heard the shower start, so I figured I had time for the full effect. Grabbing my cosmetics, I dug through until I found what I needed and applied a coat of veneer to ward off my best friend’s unwanted advice. When I was done, I looked like a different Skylar James. I’d gone a little heavy on the eye shadow and given myself a smoky eye just for kicks. Hopefully, Jamie would approve. I looked better, but not car stopping because of my outfit.