Hidden Trails Read online

  Table of Contents

  Hidden Trails (Clearwater County, The Montana Trails series, #4)

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

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  Further Reading: Romancing Redemption

  Also By Bonnie R. Paulson

  Hidden Trails

  Book #4

  Montana Trails series

  By

  Bonnie R. Paulson

  Hidden Trails

  Book #4

  Montana Trails series

  By

  Bonnie R. Paulson

  Prologue

  Drake

  Uncle Will plopped into the plush micro-suede easy chair across from Drake’s office desk. He sighed, lifting the worn sole of his black tennis shoe and resting it across his knee. “I’ll never get used to the comfort in here. It’s so much better than even at home.” He glanced around the amply furnished office and then at Drake. “It’s pretty lonely though. I brought you some mail.”

  Drake glanced up from a financial marketing plan he’d been perusing and studied his uncle. “Mail? You haven’t gotten my mail in a couple years.” He’d moved out of his uncle’s home a long time ago, well not like a decade or anything, but long enough he couldn’t think of anyone who wouldn’t have his address.

  Except the people claiming to be his parents.

  He set his bone pen on the desk and folded his hands. “Is it from them?” He didn’t need to name any names. Uncle Will knew Drake wasn’t interested in the Bensons. There weren’t many people Drake couldn’t stand, but his parents ranked at the top of the short list.

  His palms itched as his breath quickened. Why couldn’t they just leave well enough alone? Why did they have to wait until he’d settled so comfortably into his life? Why couldn’t they just stay out of it? They were absent so long, he’d grown adapted to the sensation of abandonment, to where it didn’t hurt or bother him as much. Then they’d contact him and stir the whole messy pot of emotions.

  Uncle Will extended a creamy peach envelope clutched in his fingers. “It is from your family. But remember when you mentioned at dinner a few nights ago that you wouldn’t mind if they disappeared from this earth?” He arched his eyebrows, concern marring his otherwise stoic expression. “Son, you need to be careful what you wish for.”

  He didn’t wish for anything. Not anymore. Not when he could buy whatever he wanted. Drake had given up longing for anything – except one thing. One person. But she was so far out of reach. He would have to deal with the family issue before he’d ever be able to wish for her.

  “Did you read it? If you read it, just tell me what it says so I don’t have to deal with my mother’s insipid whining.” Drake ignored the envelope his uncle placed carefully in front of him.

  Carefully shaking his head and frowning, Uncle Will said reproachfully. “Drake, I don’t read other people’s mail. I just know something’s off. The letter is thick and it’s addressed to you – not in your mother’s handwriting.” He leaned forward, tapping the top of the padded rectangle with a firm finger. “And I don’t mind saying, it has the scent of apricots about it.”

  “Apricots?” Curiosity piqued, Drake stole a glance at the envelope. Thick. Good news never came with thick mail. So many people had turned to email, getting snail mail was uncommon anymore.

  Drake picked up the missive and turned it over. The slanty writing had more of a quiver to it than he remembered, but he’d recognize Emma’s letter B anywhere.

  He hadn’t heard from his older sister in forever. To be fair, he hadn’t encouraged communication with her after the first year. Talking with her was too painful, too drawn out.

  When she’d stopped asking when he was returning, he’d stopped wondering when he would see her again.

  With an ivory handled letter opener he’d gotten from his uncle at graduation, Drake slit open the top crease of the envelope. About five pictures fell onto the desk and then he pulled out a tightly folded collection of paper, maybe four or five.

  “Do you mind, if I read this to myself first?” Drake didn’t want to read anything out loud and be surprised. Who knew what bomb his sister had hidden in there? She wasn’t known for subtlety.

  Of course, he would share it with Uncle Will. Their relationship didn’t have many secrets. Drake just didn’t want to read it before he’d had a chance to assimilate the information.

  Thankfully, his uncle loved Drake almost more than his own children. He nodded and pulled out a novel he’d rolled up and tucked into his back pocket. “Take your time, I’ve been dying to see what Ole’ L’Amour is going to do to this hero.”

  Drake,

  It’s back.

  I’m not getting treatment.

  I love you.

  Emma

  Like a horrible haiku, her simple words smacked of energy depletion and effort. How hard had it been for her to talk of “it” like an old friend?

  She didn’t have to name it.

  It had ruled the majority of the lives for so long, it had almost become part of the family. Resentment jammed through him. Of course, the corrupt cancer and its stinging grasp would reach him in Wyoming.

  Drake flipped through the pages she’d included of medical reports and tests and even photocopies of scans. Anger twisted his mouth. Why couldn’t he escape the bitterness of her diagnoses from so far away? Why did the pain of her declaration of no treatment hurt so much? Because having her alive and accessible meant he’d have the chance to see her again. When he was ready.

  Not when the cancer was ready.

  Once again, Emma’s disease ruled his life. Once again, the cancer claimed his freedom and stole away his choices. Shortening the time he had to adapt to the idea.

  And Emma wasn’t innocent. By choosing not to have treatment, she was choosing to speed things along. Choosing to give in.

  Like hell. He’d go back and shake some sense into her. Drake would go back and do what needed to be done. Judging by her reports, things were progressing a lot faster than they did when they were younger. He glanced up at his uncle and stood. “Looks like I’m going home.”

  Chapter 1

  2006

  Stefanie

  Stefanie traced the whorls and lines of the wood grain in her father’s desk with the tip of her finger. Over the span of her life the character of the wood had softened, faded with wear. She adjusted her cheek on the side of her bicep as she lay across her arm on the desk.

  If she closed her eyes and breathed in slow, she could just smell her dad’s favorite soap with a hint of pine. He used to push his palm to the wood and then slap out of a rhythm only he could hear. She’d loved that.

  How many years had she sat there with Dad before he’d died? Even more since he’d gone? She tried so hard to stay on top of the books but money had to come in in order for it to go out.

  Instead, all it did was trickle in and gush out. And there was nothing she could do to control it.

  She didn’t own Bella Acres.

  Her brother did.

  She didn’t have financial control over its upkeep and bills.

  Her brother did.

  Nate’s most pressing concern – even over the welfare of their home – was his wife’s declining health.

 
Stefanie got it. She did. But if they weren’t more careful, Emma would die in the backwoods of Clearwater County while the rest of them begged for food on the dirt roads in the small town of Taylor Falls.

  She sighed, unwilling to move. Maybe they could rent out the back quarter - no that wouldn’t work because access would have to go through the rest of the property which would require more fencing.

  More fencing meant more money they didn’t have. Sliding up from the desk, she plopped her elbow onto the edge of the desk and rested her chin in her hand, twirling the click pen she couldn’t get to work right. The stupid thing would write for a little bit and then fade, then write a bit more, then fade.

  They didn’t even have enough money to buy properly working pens.

  A soft knock on the door announced her brother, Nate. He strolled in, his smile questioning as he perused the office, probably checking for something else to sale. “I’m surprised you’re in here and not packing.”

  Stefanie scoffed, leaning back in the seat and pushing herself side to side. “Why would I be packing? We’re not supposed to go on the market for another four months. That’s taking preparedness a little too far, even for you, Nate.” She maintained a joking tone, but inside bitterness at her brother’s cavalier attitude over the impending sale of their home ate at her like acid on leather.

  Nate claimed the seat across from her. Crossing his ankle to rest on his knee, he picked at a string on his boot and avoided Stefanie’s gaze. He cleared his throat. “Emma’s getting worse - fast. I’m opting for voluntary auction, but the bank will only do one every quarter. That puts the next one in four weeks. Not four months.” He looked up, piercing Stefanie with his eyes. “I need the money sooner rather than later, Stef. You know I wouldn’t be doing this, if it wasn’t... about her.”

  Stefanie got it. She hadn’t lived with Emma all those years and not grown to love her. Understanding didn’t stop her gut from feeling like he’d just punched her.

  Her home. She only had four weeks. She swallowed the tears climbing up her throat. “I don’t want to lose Emma either, Nate. I just don’t want to lose our home. This is all we have left of Mom and Dad.” She sniffed. He couldn’t see her cry. He couldn’t know how much it hurt. Stefanie couldn’t deal with looking weak and vulnerable.

  Nate’s eyes hardened at the mention of their parents. “They should’ve thought of that. They didn’t leave us money or insurance or anything to help us keep the land. I’m sorry, but I can’t hold on to the memory of dead people when I’m trying so hard to hold on to my living wife.” He jumped from the chair, thrusting his hand through his hair. Bleary-eyed, he had the look of a man desperate enough to sell his soul. “I’ll do what’s best for this family. And Emma is our family.”

  Stefanie held out her hands and nodded. “I know.”

  And she did.

  Even with that knowledge, though, losing the land wasn’t an option – at least not as far as she was concerned. “I’ll see what I can do to help. I wish we could save this and save Emma and have more money than we know what we can do with.” The longing to, for once, have enough for everything consumed her and she almost missed Nate’s response.

  He snorted. “You know what? I wish we had more than enough for everything we need or want. Not because I care about this ranch, because this ranch won’t keep Emma alive. Medical help will. I need money to keep her going. We waited too long...” His emphatic words faded and he stared into the dim corner of the office. The worst kinds of regret shadowed his eyes.

  “I wish for that, too.” Stefanie whispered, softly drumming the desk with her fingertips.

  Nate turned pain-filled eyes her way. “Be careful what you wish for, little sis. You might get more than you can bargain for.” He ducked out the room, leaving Stefanie to glower pensively at the pile of ledgers and dull pencils.

  Slamming her hand on the top of the desk, she ignored the biting sting of the contact. She bit her lip.

  She didn’t know how, but she was going to save that land.

  Chapter 2

  Drake

  Sunlight glinted off the metallic gunmetal gray hood of the Cadillac Escalade as Drake pulled into the long drive of Bella Acres. He turned down the stereo blasting Chris LeDoux and studied the land around him.

  Worn and faded siding covered the barn walls. Deck railings sagged as if matching the sagging skirts of the deck itself. Portions of the roof had fallen into disrepair and a window in the top level had been secured with duct tape across a long crack.

  Drake adjusted the Rolex on his wrist. He’d been gone so long he hadn’t realized his sister had been living so poorly. Guilt riddled him as he parked the dark suburban, dust settling around the tires.

  A woman on a horse, her hat low over a bright blue bandana pulled up around her mouth, reined in at the front of the house. She wheeled the dark mare around and inspected the new vehicle, her eyes hidden by the brim of the hat.

  Long dark hair braided in a twist down her back. The tan duster she wore in the heat was splotched and dirty along the edges.

  Sliding from the horse, she looped the reins around the post and pulled her hat off while yanking the bandana from her face to wipe at moisture along her forehead.

  Stefanie Rourke.

  Drake would recognize her features anywhere. She’d grown into the slender height she’d had as a teenager, her curves subtle but womanly even as she tried hiding them under the masculine clothing. The angles of her face had molded her softer adolescent features into a vision of a younger version of her mother with high cheekbones, symmetrically arched eyebrows, and well-bowed lips.

  Had it really been years since Drake had seen her? His heart tugged him back. He hadn’t thought of many others since the last time he’d seen her at that damned party where he’d kissed her but she’d pushed him away.

  The red burn of embarrassment branded his skin and he reached for the gear shift. He didn’t need to stay there. He didn’t need to go through that again. She hadn’t wanted him then. Why would she want him now? Top off the anguish of rejection and he had to remember why he’d even grown brazen enough to kiss her in front of everyone that night.

  Emma had appeared in that clearing and retrieved him home.

  Emma... No turning back. No matter how much he’d rather avoid Stefanie. She’d always had a distinct skill at making him feel smaller than a foal. Not a feeling he was accustomed to anymore. He wasn’t insecure. He had one of the highest levels of confidence in the state of Wyoming.

  Too bad he was in Montana again.

  Sliding his sunglasses off, Drake tucked them into the breast pocket of his tailored suit. Uncle Will had been a firm believer in dressing the part you wanted in life.

  Well, Drake dressed it and then he’d earned it.

  Stefanie moved from the side of her horse, wiping her hands on the front of her snug-fitting jeans, a question high in her eyes as she watched his rig.

  The dark tinted windows prevented her from seeing inside. Drake had the upper hand where she was going to be surprised. Good or bad, he wasn’t sure he was ready to find out.

  Side-swept bangs framed her large blue eyes and Drake dragged a sharp breath across his teeth. “Here goes nothin’.”

  Climbing from the glorified ride, he allowed his suit to fall into place, refusing to adjust anything or seem unsettled in any way.

  Stefanie smiled, the sun bright on her face. She squinted as she came around the side of his door then stopped with a jerk. The smile faded and her eyes grew wide. “Drake. Benson.”

  “Stefanie Rourke. Fancy seeing you here. I thought for sure you’d be married and living with a bunch of kids by now.” He shut his door, pasting a pleasant expression on his face.

  He’d hoped she’d be there, at least a small part of him in the very back of his heart wanted her there. He wanted her to see what he’d become, see that there was more to the Bensons than poverty stricken, having ramshackle homes, and sickly people.

  Her ey
es darkened and her lips twisted. Stefanie lifted her chin. “I don’t need a man, Drake. Took you long enough to get here. Didn’t Nate call you six weeks ago?”

  Drake hid his surprise. He’d never received a call from his brother-in-law. They weren’t the best of friends or even mild acquaintances. The short of it was, Drake couldn’t stand Nate and the feeling was undoubtedly reciprocated.

  Stefanie turned on her heel. “She’s inside. She can’t move much, so don’t wear her out.”

  He watched her walk away with her braid swinging from side to side above her hips. Drake clenched his hands tight at his sides. He wasn’t even there long enough to constitute actually being there, and she’d already driven him into a dangerous level of irritation. Why did she get to him so easily?

  He crossed the grass to the steps, careful to tread on the cleaner parts of the lawn. Even the grass looked like it was giving up the ghost with its browning tips and rustling dryness as he passed.

  The stairs creaked with each step as he climbed. Using the railing wasn’t an option. Splinters weren’t his idea of a good time.

  Knocking on the front door, Drake tried not noticing the flaking paint and the missing shutter or the dead plants in the chipped planter to the right of the door.

  A soft voice told him to come in. At least he hoped that’s what was said. If not, he was going inside without permission. In Montana they shot people for that.

  He turned the knob then pushed then turned and pushed at the same time. After a moment, he put his shoulder into it and the door gave under his pressure.

  Drake stumbled through, a curse contained at his lips. He righted himself and refused to look around to see if Stefanie laughed behind him. The scent of lavender filled the air, most likely from a diffuser. Emma craved essential oils over western medicine. Always believed they would do more good for her than the humidifiers the hospitals wanted her to use.

  He stepped cautiously into the sparse interior. No pictures adorned the walls and all signs of rugs had long disappeared. He’d been there when he was younger and the memories contrasted sharply with the reality before him. “Emma, are you in here?”