sunlight revealed a room crammed with books, magazines, and pamphlets. A gun cabinet took up one entire wall. From what Sara could see through the grimy glass, it housed an arsenal of rifles. "Gracious," she said, drawing Kendal closer.
Chase regarded the cabinet with a frown. He shook the lock that kept the cabinet shut, felt above it for a key, then turned to Linc's desk to sift through the drawers, but he came up empty-handed.
"What's inside the other rooms?" Kendal asked, enjoying the suspense.
"More work," Chase muttered. He visibly braced himself before opening the second door.
Right away, Sara realized that the room had once been his. A narrow bed took up one wall. Mismatched furniture lined the other three. Even with blinds filtering the sunlight, she caught sight of half a dozen wooden sculptures.
"Look, Kendal," she called, drawn to inspect the carvings more closely. "Did you make these, Chase?" she asked in amazement.
He remained at the doorway with an odd expression on his face. "Whittled," he confirmed.
Sara ran a finger over a replica of a squirrel, realistically carved, right down to the mischievous gleam in the agate-chip eyes. "Who taught you to do this?"
"My grandfather," Chase admitted. "I'm surprised Linc kept all this stuff," he said gruffly.
"How could he have thrown it away?" She and Kendal moved around the room, admiring the other carvings—a bear, an eagle on a tree branch, and a beaver with a hatch-marked tail.
"Can we stay here, Mom?" Kendal pleaded.
Sara glanced at Chase. "We will, honey, until Chase gets the truck running."
"This here's the main bathroom," Chase called from across the hall. "Needs work," he added.
Sara peered past him, taking in the yellow tiles, rusty fixtures, and ceramic bowls.
"This was my mother's room," he added, recapturing her attention as he opened the last door.
Sara stepped into a room with cream-colored curtains, double bed, antique armoire, and family photos in gilded frames. The patchwork quilt drew her deeper. Its pastel roses had faded, but its charm had not.
She turned to smile at Chase, but the door stood empty. Chase was gone. His mother's death—the details of which weren't known to her—obviously still bothered him.
Sara stepped over to the family portraits to inspect them. The young woman featured in several of the black-and-white photographs had to be Chase's mother. Her complexion was darker, but her nose and eyes were identical to his. Chase bore more resemblance to his father, a strapping man with light-colored curls and a winning smile. Heavens, was that baby in his lap Chase?
Studying the bright-eyed cherub she could see that it was. A wondering smile touched her lips.
"Mom," Kendal cried, wandering in with moccasin boots up to his thighs. "Look at me!"
"You need to ask Chase before you help yourself to his things," Sara cautioned. Hearing his voice out front, she hurried for the front door.
"Jesse, what'd you find, boy?"
The dog panted and danced at his feet, but unless Chase could read his mind, there was no telling what had gone on between the dog and the squatter.
Sara pushed through the door as Chase deposited their possessions on the porch. "I'm going into town," he said, brusquely. "Need to get the power turned on before nightfall. I'll get us some food and cleanin' supplies, too."
"Shouldn't we go with you?" she asked, worried that the squatter might come back.
"Jesse'll keep watch. I just need a minute ..." He didn't finish his sentence, but she could tell that this homecoming had rattled him.
It put a strangely tender feeling in her chest to discover that he was human. "I'll help you," she heard herself offer. "You've done so much for me and Kendal. Let me help you clean this house up."
He contemplated her with a frown. "It's gonna be a lot of work," he warned. "You're probably not used to that."
"I don't mind," she reassured him.
He glanced at the cracked pots on the steps. "Okay," he agreed. "I'll be back
Chase regarded the cabinet with a frown. He shook the lock that kept the cabinet shut, felt above it for a key, then turned to Linc's desk to sift through the drawers, but he came up empty-handed.
"What's inside the other rooms?" Kendal asked, enjoying the suspense.
"More work," Chase muttered. He visibly braced himself before opening the second door.
Right away, Sara realized that the room had once been his. A narrow bed took up one wall. Mismatched furniture lined the other three. Even with blinds filtering the sunlight, she caught sight of half a dozen wooden sculptures.
"Look, Kendal," she called, drawn to inspect the carvings more closely. "Did you make these, Chase?" she asked in amazement.
He remained at the doorway with an odd expression on his face. "Whittled," he confirmed.
Sara ran a finger over a replica of a squirrel, realistically carved, right down to the mischievous gleam in the agate-chip eyes. "Who taught you to do this?"
"My grandfather," Chase admitted. "I'm surprised Linc kept all this stuff," he said gruffly.
"How could he have thrown it away?" She and Kendal moved around the room, admiring the other carvings—a bear, an eagle on a tree branch, and a beaver with a hatch-marked tail.
"Can we stay here, Mom?" Kendal pleaded.
Sara glanced at Chase. "We will, honey, until Chase gets the truck running."
"This here's the main bathroom," Chase called from across the hall. "Needs work," he added.
Sara peered past him, taking in the yellow tiles, rusty fixtures, and ceramic bowls.
"This was my mother's room," he added, recapturing her attention as he opened the last door.
Sara stepped into a room with cream-colored curtains, double bed, antique armoire, and family photos in gilded frames. The patchwork quilt drew her deeper. Its pastel roses had faded, but its charm had not.
She turned to smile at Chase, but the door stood empty. Chase was gone. His mother's death—the details of which weren't known to her—obviously still bothered him.
Sara stepped over to the family portraits to inspect them. The young woman featured in several of the black-and-white photographs had to be Chase's mother. Her complexion was darker, but her nose and eyes were identical to his. Chase bore more resemblance to his father, a strapping man with light-colored curls and a winning smile. Heavens, was that baby in his lap Chase?
Studying the bright-eyed cherub she could see that it was. A wondering smile touched her lips.
"Mom," Kendal cried, wandering in with moccasin boots up to his thighs. "Look at me!"
"You need to ask Chase before you help yourself to his things," Sara cautioned. Hearing his voice out front, she hurried for the front door.
"Jesse, what'd you find, boy?"
The dog panted and danced at his feet, but unless Chase could read his mind, there was no telling what had gone on between the dog and the squatter.
Sara pushed through the door as Chase deposited their possessions on the porch. "I'm going into town," he said, brusquely. "Need to get the power turned on before nightfall. I'll get us some food and cleanin' supplies, too."
"Shouldn't we go with you?" she asked, worried that the squatter might come back.
"Jesse'll keep watch. I just need a minute ..." He didn't finish his sentence, but she could tell that this homecoming had rattled him.
It put a strangely tender feeling in her chest to discover that he was human. "I'll help you," she heard herself offer. "You've done so much for me and Kendal. Let me help you clean this house up."
He contemplated her with a frown. "It's gonna be a lot of work," he warned. "You're probably not used to that."
"I don't mind," she reassured him.
He glanced at the cracked pots on the steps. "Okay," he agreed. "I'll be back
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