American library books ยป Other ยป Love Story: In The Web of Life by Ken Renshaw (snow like ashes TXT) ๐Ÿ“•

Read book online ยซLove Story: In The Web of Life by Ken Renshaw (snow like ashes TXT) ๐Ÿ“•ยป.   Author   -   Ken Renshaw



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talkas though you are familiar with the place. Inspect the kitchen incase you have to describe it to someone. It looks as if it has beenrecently redone."

Inside, the house was attractively furnished. Isurmised that it was a vacation rental property by how the kitchenwas equipped with dishes and cooking utensils.

We got back in the truck and drove the mile anda half to the ranch through the pine forest.

The gateway to the ranch had two posts and alintel made of logs. The lintel across the driveway mounted severalsets of long steer horns. A wrought iron sculpture on the top ofthe lentil pictured bucking horses ridden by cowboys in Stetsonhats twirling lariats. In the center was a large letter R with abar underneath it, apparently the ranch brand.

The road from the gate wound downhill past ameadow filled with spring wildflowers to a slight rise where theranch house sat, a factory-made log house, with logs turned touniform size and machine-made notches in the corners where thewalls connected to the front. It was two stories high with twodormer windows protruding from the roof that extended over a largecovered porch. Four rocking chairs sat on the porch.

As we pulled up in front, I saw a woman sittingin one of the rocking chairs. She got up and came out to greet us,kissing Buster, and then turning with a hand out to introduceherself.

"Hi, I'm Sofia, you must be Dave Willard. Weare here to make sure you have a safe and enjoyablestay."

I was surprised at the strength in herhandshake, more like a man's than a woman's. Sofia was dressed in aplain blue denim dress, and a heavy silver and jade necklace abouther neck, and a variety of matching bracelets, and belt. Long blackbraided hair fell down the length of her back. A dark complexionand brown eyes gave me the impression that she must be NativeAmerican.

Buster laughed. "I haven't seen you in thatgetup since we left Taos! It looks good." He turned to me andvolunteered, "We were out there on a western shoot. Although Sofiais of Portuguese descent, she gets cast for some Indian roles. Thatwas her reservationโ€“diva costume. Wrong tribe for Rocky Butte,though."

"I think itโ€™s cute," replied Sofia.

"Here, Dave, I'll show you around. This is themain lodge, and there are six cabins nestled in the woods, three onthe other side of the meadow and three in the woods behind thehouse. Down below there, in the back, are caretakers, maids, andhands quarters plus a barn and five horses in the corral. Twomaids, who don't speak much English, and a wrangler, Ben, arethere. We gave everyone else a vacationโ€“security convenience tomake sure nobody would be going into town telling about ouroperation. If you or your guests would like to go riding, they cansee Ben. He also has a Jeep for rides to and from the airstrip orover to the lake where there is a swimming beach, and a fewrowboats and picnic spots. People don't need to be escorted, unlessthey want to be, anywhere on the ranch.

We then went over to a dilapidatedโ€“lookingpickup, with a camper shell on the back parked near the lodge.Buster walked around back and then opened the camper shell door.There was no roof on the camper, and the shell was filled with asatellite dish.

Buster volunteered, "This provides secure highspeed internet service. We are too far out in the boonies for cableor DSL. The rig also has a miniature cell site so you and yourguests can use their phones. The lodge has its own satelliteTV."

We went into the lodge. The walls werevarnished logs, the furniture, deepโ€“brown leather with the woodenparts made from whitish branches, something like birch. On thewalls and the floor were rugs woven in an Indian style. A largeriver rock fireplace filled one end of the room.

'Very Western,' I thought. 'Tina will like thefact that there are no mounted animal head trophies on thewalls.'

Buster showed me a bedroom off the kitchen."This is where we will sleep, handy to respond toanything."

Then, he went to a heavy wood plank door andopened it. "This goes to the wine cellar. We can use it as a saferoom. It has a heavy lock on the inside so nobody can get in. Ifanyone needs to take refuge, this is a good place.

"You and your guest will stay in the suiteupstairs. There is an office area up there with a small conferencetable. We put your boxes that the courier picked up at your officeup there. The satellite rig in the camper provides Wi-Fi so you andyour guests can have Internet access anywhere in thehouse."

Sofia invited us to follow her out onto theporch for lunch, carrying a platter of sandwiches. "I have icedtea," she said. "But there is beer in the fridge if you want it.Feel free to go into the kitchen and get anything you want at anytime day or night. This is your house."

"Thanks," I said. "By the way, where is the carI will drive?"

"Cody is bringing it up tomorrow."

After lunch, I excused myself to rest and getsettled in.

Sofia said, "Dinner at six, happy hour atfive."

****

Unknown to Dave, somebody was using this nightto visit CrystalAire airport and tamper with Dave'ssailplane.

Mr. S drove his white van with the lights off,in the light of the quarter moon, down the dirt road to where theenemy kept his sailplane trailer, thinking to himself,โ€˜I will destroy this agent of the forcesof evil, those who would move the world back into superstition andfear by promulgating false beliefs in the name of a false science.The attorney will die a deserved, terrible death.โ€™ Hechuckled to himself. โ€˜The Skeptimos Orderwill honor me for this feat.โ€™ He visualized the ceremony. Themembers in their hooded white robes, emblazoned with the flame redcrosses, would chant and place a wreathe of laurels on hishead.

Mr. S parked his van near the sailplanetrailer, went into the back and, pulled the black curtains over thewindows. By a dim light, he assembled his bombs. The first was aflare that made a poisonous smoke, one that was intended forkilling gophers

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