Excerpts:

The quiet, rhythmic thumping of the tribal drum barely sounded beyond the clearing. Tapping it softly with a stick, he held it close to his chest, dancing in circles around the fire. The evening was cool, and though sparsely covered in a deerskin loincloth and moccasins, he felt warm. The necklace made of colored nuts, bones, stones, and seeds bounced back and forth against his bare chest.

                                                            Chapter 1

"God is with us today to watch over and comfort these three young people…Jessica, Melissa, and David… as they suffer from the loss of their beloved parents…." The chaplain continued on to speak of life eternal, the remembrance of souls past and how they live on in all of us. He spoke of God’s will and the comforting peace of the hereafter. The words were quietly solemn, but given in a soothing, nurturing tone. They came to Jess, feeding her hungry soul, yet they couldn’t stop her tears. She was trying to show a face of strength for Deek and Missy. Lord knew how much they needed that from her, but she just couldn’t. Not yet.

As she walked up to the caskets Jess suddenly realized how few people there were at their parents’ funeral. Of course they were the only family members present -- she, Deek and Missy. Uncle Fred in Oklahoma was too old to travel. He was the only surviving relative on their dad’s side. Their mom’s relatives lived in California. Jess and the twins had never met any of them. Supposedly when Mom married Dad, her family so disapproved that they cast her out of the family and the will. Despite all the sacrifices and heartache, she never regretted—not once during all those years of marriage— making that choice. The tears streamed down Jess' cheeks. It's so unfair. Only forty-three years old and life stolen away in a quick second by a careless driver. They had been on their way to an anniversary dinner, celebrating their twenty-third year together. The coroner told Jess they couldn’t have suffered. The impact from the oncoming truck caused instant death. The cruel twist, in her mind, was that the truck driver walked away with only a broken toe. That happened when a heavy-duty flashlight fell down from the dashboard during the accident.

Missy touched her arm, which tore Jess away from her troubled thoughts. "Jess?" Missy whispered. "I think the chaplain wants to talk to us now," she added while pointing toward the podium.

Jess drew a deep breath. One step at a time, she told herself. That will get you through this. One step at a time.

* * *

"Just what the heck are we going to do in some cowshit town in Oklahoma, huh?" Deek yelled.

"Don’t you swear at me, Deek Clinton," Jess scolded. To be honest, she felt just as angry and frustrated as he sounded, but she couldn’t let him know it. She was, after all, head of the family now.

"Awe, come on, Jess," he pleaded. "You know I’m right. This is a city in Ohio. We are city kids. What do we know about cattle? How are we gonna fit in? Puttin’ on a pair of boots and a Stetson won’t change us any and you know it!" He was yelling again as the anger built. "Well, I’m not going!" he finished and stomped off to his room.

Jess sighed and then glanced over at Missy sitting curled up in the window seat. She hadn’t said a word. Just stared out through the glass panes. That silence worried Jess more than Deek’s torrent of angry words.

"Missy?" she said so softly it came out like a whisper. "You okay?"

Missy just shrugged her shoulders and it seemed there would be no conversation, but then…"Do you think God had a reason for taking Mommy and Daddy?" The voice was strained.

It was painfully sad, Jess thought. Missy hadn’t called their parents "Mommy and Daddy" in years. Jess felt her heart tearing. This whole ordeal was getting no better. In a matter of one week they’d lost their parents and a place to live. No one was coming forward to offer them a home. Especially not Mom’s family, Jess thought bitterly. Only Dad’s Uncle Fred had called and said they should come to the ranch and live with him.

"The Clintons are a family," he had told her on the phone. "You all belong here now. It’s what your dad would have wanted." His words had been unsteady as if he would cry at any moment. Jess had been so grateful.

Now, she had doubts. She kept thinking desperately there might be a better solution, but mostly likely not. In the meantime Missy was challenging her with deep, philosophical questions. She sighed. Being a surrogate parent was an impossible job for a twenty-year old. She sighed again, even louder. One who had to abruptly stop her college career. Yes. Impossible! But necessary.

"Missy, I don’t know how to answer your question. I’m just as confused as you are. Things just happened too fast for us to absorb it all, I guess." She reached out to put her arms around her young sister. "Maybe in time…." She cut it off. Everything she thought of to say came out like a cliché.

"Are we really going to Oklahoma?" Missy looked up at Jess with worried eyes.

"I don’t think we have a choice," Jess answered solemnly as she glanced around the room. Boxes, some full and some still waiting to be, were strewn about. They’d started the task of packing two days ago and needed to finish by Saturday. Jess had had to make the painful decision of vacating the apartment. She could hardly afford the rent, and bitter resentment filled her when she thought of the meager funds they had left. Their parents, while still alive, were not exactly a financial success. Mom had worked as a playground monitor and Dad spent his nights in a factory, his days trying to become a successful artist. His paintings were beautiful, Jess had to admit, but not striking or different enough to be noticed in the art world.

Maybe her mom’s family was right. Money and success are most important. At least that’s how Jess felt right now. Birds were chattering incessantly outside the window and the screams of children as they ran through the sprinklers added to the pleasant din. The sounds reminded Jess to be grateful, no matter how small the blessing, that summer meant no school time would be missed and the drive to Oklahoma should be easy.

Oklahoma…. What would life on Uncle Fred’s ranch be like? Would Deek adjust despite his angry protests? Would Uncle Fred be as kind and generous as he had sounded on the phone? Would their lives ever regain some sense of normal? So many questions. They made Jess realize how uncertain all their futures had become. In just one quick second everything had changed. She shook her head and began to cry. Just one second….

                                                               Chapter 2

Emma stood by wringing her hands in a constant, repeated motion. Her worried brow deepened the creases of the already weathered skin and the usually pleasant cornflower-blue eyes were now a reflection of painful concern.

"Is he…will Fred be okay, Doctor Willis?" she asked cautiously.

"Emmy, I can’t tell you much yet," he began, then turned to gently take her hands in his. "I’m doin’ the best I can."

She nodded and took a few steps back to sit down in a rocker where the nervous motion of hand wringing transferred to rocking, back and forth, back and forth.

Doc Willis tried again. "Emmy, why don’t you go on home and get some rest. The ambulance will be here any minute." She began to protest, but he held up a hand to stop her. "There’s nothin’ more you can do here."

Resolutely she nodded once more, then pushed off the rocker with her arms. When she was standing she glanced at Fred’s bumped and bruised form. "What in God’s name would make somebody do such a thing?" she cried and looked back at the doctor, but she left before he could say a word. She knew he didn’t have any explanation. No one did. It just didn’t or couldn’t make sense. Fred was the kindest man in Oklahoma. Everyone loved him. "Nope," she argued aloud. "It don’t make a lick a sense."

As she stepped out onto the porch, red lights flashing showed in the distance. They were just approaching Lazy K's drive. Emma guessed that would get the ambulance here in less than two minutes. She decided to wait.

As the lights neared Emma realized that another vehicle followed close behind the first. Sheriff Gentry. "Humph," she grumbled. "About time."

She stepped aside as the paramedics flew by with a gurney, but then placed herself back in front of the door before the sheriff could get through.

"Miss Emma," Gentry said gruffly and tipped his hat in greeting.

"Sheriff Gentry," she nodded with a mocking emphasis. Then before moving aside she added, "I do hope you’ll be investigatin’ this here case thoroughly."

"I’ll be doin’ my best, ma’am," he returned in a defensive tone while tipping his hat once more.

"Yep. You just do that," she spat out before turning and descending the stairs. She marched across the yard to the barn where her horse was waiting. She wanted to stay and make sure Caleb Gentry asked all the right questions, but knew he wouldn’t have stood for it. Just because she was his great aunt, it didn’t hold water. He was sheriff, he once told her, and would do things his way. She’d started to argue, but then he’d gotten real angry, warning her to stop meddling. That just about beats all. Me? Meddlin’? That just riles, that’s all. As she saddled Lady, Emma recalled the time her sister-in-law, her dear brother’s wife Ester, had given birth to Caleb. Emma had felt joy and happiness, as did everyone in the family. Yet, as years went by, that joy turned to sorrow when Caleb got into one scrape after another, tearing his mama apart with grief. She died five years ago, probably more from worry of Caleb than that stroke, Emma suspected. Of course she was just a "meddlin’" old woman according to Caleb and his so-called friends. But she was nobody’s fool. She knew that badge didn’t mean squat, unless you earned it. And he was playing both sides of the fence, she suspected. Or her name wasn’t Emma Jane Thomas, born and raised in the proud land of Oklahoma. Her family roots went clear back to the Homesteader’s run of 1889. She was proud as a peacock about that. And no sniveling, snot-nosed, wet-behind-the-ears, young pup was gonna tell her what to do. "No siree dobbins," she muttered as she hoisted herself onto Lady’s saddle and road home.

* * *

Emma threw her jacket over the chair and walked to the kitchen. While putting the water on, the sudden, shrill ring of the phone nearly caused her to drop the kettle from her hand.

"Hello?" she said hesitantly, not accustomed to very many phone calls.

"Emma?" It was Mac Yearling who worked at Lawton General.

"It’s me."

"They just brought Fred in a few minutes back," he began, then cleared his throat before going on. "Emma, he’s lapsed into a coma, not respondin’ to anything."

She wasn’t sure what to say. She felt numb, like her mind had vacated her body and she was floating, observing herself from above. The whistling teakettle abruptly brought her back down. "A coma," she repeated before sitting in the chair. Her knees were knocking.

"The doctors are goin’ to run some tests, MRI and anything else they need."

"MRI?" Emma repeated in a flat tone.

"Yes, Emma. It's much better 'n a CAT scan. With this I kinda imagin' they can catch everything from fractured bones to internal bleedin'. Of course we won’t know much more till mornin’," he offered. "Is there… are you okay, Emma?" His concern was truly genuine since he cared for Emma deeply. They’d been friends for decades. Went to Chickasha Elementary together up to ninth grade when he had to drop out at fifteen to help tend the cattle ranch. Later on Mac had lost the only home he'd ever known, forcing him to move to Lawton where he got a job as an orderly at the hospital.

Emma was fortunate and had finished high school. Afterwards, her daddy, Emmit Thomas, sent his only child on to college where she studied music. Though she could have had a promising career with the New York Philharmonic, Emma chose to come home and care for the ailing Emmit who had had several strokes, leaving him partially paralyzed. Yes—Mac felt deeply about this—she was one, exceptionally great lady. He was only sorry he hadn’t gotten the opportunity to marry her. He sighed at the thought. He always knew how much of a sacrifice she’d made—to settle for giving piano lessons to the locals, to remain a spinster—all in taking care of Emmit who lived for nearly twenty years before that final stroke. Still, she was only sixty-five. She had time left for marriage. Yet, so far, he was too much a coward to bring the subject up, he admitted shamefully.

"No, Mac. I’m fit as a fiddle. Just a bit tired. Best get some shut eye, I guess," she explained. "I’ll call in the morning," she finished. As she hung up the phone the day’s trauma finally got to her and so she cried. Not her usual behavior, she knew and that angered her. She needed to be strong. That was the only way to make certain this whole mess was cleared up. Fred’s attacker would be found, even if she had to go out and—lord, she was tired! "Best go on to bed, Emma Jane," she told herself. "Tomorrow’s gonna be a right busy day. Yes siree."

                                                         Chapter 3

They’d just passed through St. Louis and Jess could now feel the ache in her arms, back and neck intensely. Her eyes were heavy, too. She needed to rest. "All right guys. We’re gonna stop for a little bit at the next road rest."

"Yea!" Missy exclaimed.

"About time," Deek muttered.

Jess rolled her eyes. He’d been a real pain in the rear since they’d left Ohio this morning. He hadn’t said more than a dozen words, but all were given in a mumble or grumble. His gestures were the worst though, she noticed. He had gotten in the car, reluctantly buckled his seat belt when Missy reminded him, crossed his arms in front of his chest and with a determined scowl, just sat there, never once changing position or expression for twelve hours. Even when they stopped to get gas and use the facilities, he had remained still. Jess could hardly believe Deek could hold it that long. Surely he’d get out at the next stop. She worried he might get a bladder infection or something. That’s all they needed. She could barely afford gas, let alone a doctor. Well, I'll make him get out at the next stop, even if I have to kick him out the door, she decided.

"I’m gonna try and get a couple hours sleep when we get there. So you two can stretch your legs, but don’t wander off too far," she warned. "You don’t know what kind of crazies may hang around these places."

"Then why don’t we just get a motel?" Deek asked with sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Because I don’t have enough money," Jess returned in the same tone, then glared back at her brother. She was getting short-tempered from the tiring drive. She knew this didn’t help, but couldn’t seem to stop it. Why wouldn't he just try to make the best of things? He could be such a jerkface, to use his expression. Maybe once they got to the Lazy K, maybe then he’d come around, she hoped.

The rest area was one of those state welcome centers with a much more elaborate set up than other stops. The kids could hang out in the air-conditioned, huge tourist information building and cool off. She gave them each a couple dollars in change to buy some snacks and pop from the vending machines.

"Don’t go off any place alone, stay away from those deserted places and don’t talk…."

"To strangers," Deek finished. "Yeah, yeah. We know the drill." He continued his grumbling all the way out of the car and up the walk.

Jess lay back in the reclined seat and closed her eyes. "Welcome to Missouri. We’re halfway there, Uncle Fred," she said aloud to no one but herself. Maybe she’d sleep three or four hours….

* * *

It was a disturbing dream. All about a lawyer, and the will, and Uncle Fred. She was arguing in her parents’ behalf. "They did too have money. Not much, but some set aside for me and the twins!" she protested.

"I’m so sorry, Miss Clinton, but that’s all been absorbed by legal fees and bill collectors," the lawyer explained.

She began to argue once more but he cut her off. "And I’m afraid there’s more…."

He paused before going on. "Due to some legal red tape your brother and sister won’t be able to go with you to Uncle Fred’s. They must, for the meantime, live with your mother’s family in San Francisco."

"No!" she screamed. "You can’t do that!"

* * *

She woke up, drenched in sweat, her heart hammering, but glad to be back in the real world. She looked in the rearview mirror and could see both Missy and Deek curled up, sound asleep. Then she glanced around, her eyes catching sight of the blue sign with white lettering, "Welcome to Missouri". It was just a stupid dream, she assured herself before going back to sleep, hoping to finally get the rest she needed.

A tap on the window woke Jess and was followed by a deep voice. "Miss? Hey, Miss?"

Jess rubbed her eyes clear to see the person speaking. She recognized the tan uniform and badge of a highway patrolman. As she knew, the rest areas were regularly checked for vandalism. Jess rolled down the window. "Yes, sir?"

"Seems you have a flat." He gestured a finger to the back of the vehicle. "Back left tire." When she didn’t respond, he continued, "If you all got a spare, be glad to change her for ya."

She still didn’t say anything, so the officer got out his ID to show Jess, hoping to set her at ease.

"That would be very kind of you," she finally answered, then gave him the keys to the trunk.

Within minutes they were on the road again. It was nearly two o’clock in the morning, so by Jess’ calculations, they might get to the ranch by noon, if they limited their stops and didn’t run into major road construction. Uncle Fred had told Jess to get off the Bailey Turnpike at Chickasha about forty miles south of Oklahoma City. The Lazy K rested between there and the city of Lawton. It shouldn’t be too hard to find, she laughed aloud. It was only 30,000 acres, one of the biggest ranches in Oklahoma. She thought about calling Uncle Fred to let him know when to expect them, but decided it wasn’t worth waking him now. Maybe later, in the morning. After all, there was plenty of time. He’d be waiting, no matter what.