Darlene Graham - An Accidental Family

The dogs had trotted along and threaded underfoot and the boys were as bad as Granny’s billy goats, leaping around on the jagged rocks in the dark. Seth had to grab at a couple of shirt collars and haul them back from the ledge. Finally they all settled down under the vast night sky for some stargazing.

“Boys, look,” Rainey said. “That’s Arcturus.” She pointed. “And that’s Andromeda. Orion. And those— Granny calls those the seven sisters.”

While she was speaking a shooting star cut through the dark sky low on the horizon.

“Wow! Did you see that?” Dillon poked Seth’s shoulder excitedly. Maddy signed his wonder near Rainey’s face in the dark.

Even Aaron looked enthralled. While Rainey was watching Aaron, Seth was watching her. At one point they exchanged a glance of protective accord over the boys’ heads, and Rainey wondered what it would be like, how it would feel, to raise children with the kind of man who would take them up on a mountain to look at the stars.

Dear Reader,

Seth Whitman and Rainey Chapman form a family with three needy young boys under most unusual circumstances in a most unusual setting.

The Winding Stair Mountains in southeastern Oklahoma have an enduring mystery and beauty that civilization cannot touch. Just hearing the names of the landmarks in that area stirred my imagination: Black Fork Mountain, Talimena Drive, The Runestones.

I had to see this remote corner of my state up close. So with my best friend from high school riding shotgun, I took off on a road trip. As we checked out the towns, the historic sites, the flora and fauna, the dark rivers and hidden waterfalls, we discovered that the real treasures in southeastern Oklahoma are the people. The preachers and the cowboys and the artists who live there today are as fascinating as the outlaws and the Native American chiefs and the Vikings who passed through in the old days.

All this color and beauty and lore became like a kaleidoscope that I twisted and twisted until I came up with Granny’s mountain home and the town of Tenikah…the perfect place for Seth and Rainey to fall in love and find a family.

I’d love to hear from you! Contact me at P.O. Box 720224, Norman, OK 73070 or visit my Web site, www.darlenegraham.com. While you’re there, be sure to take a peek at my upcoming Texas trilogy.

My best,

Darlene Graham

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my lifelong friend, Susan Camp.

Thank you for exploring the Winding Stair Mountains

with me. Our adventures seem never to end!

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE FACE OF HIS BROTHER rose up to haunt Seth Whitman as he crouched alone in the dark. For some reason he always envisioned Lane the way he looked in the old black-and-white photo that hung on the wall of the field house, a cocky seventeen-year-old football hero, immortalized along with every other All-State player to graduate from Tenikah High. There was no black-and-white portrait of Seth’s face up on that wall, and he was glad of it. Since the day Coach Hollings had ripped his picture down, Seth had been the outsider and always would be.

The snap of a twig somewhere in the dark rock formations that surrounded him snuffed the memories. Alert to any sound that might be the movement of humans, he listened but heard nothing except the throaty roar of the river below, and from behind, the tinkle of seeping water inside the caves.

He eased back down into the dark niche to resume his vigil.

His sweat-soaked uniform chafed like leather beneath his Kevlar bulletproof vest as the fingers clutching the stock of his shotgun tightened into a choke hold. An old hatred burned suddenly alive again in the pit of his gut.

He sensed the presence of his brother’s murderers as palpably as he sensed the dying traces of summer in the air. Waiting for them was excruciating.

He swiped at a trickle of sweat slithering down his throat. The temperature had spiked above a hundred today, rare in the densely forested mountains of southeastern Oklahoma, even in August. When it got this hot, the trees seemed to wilt and the sandstone cliffs and winding blacktop roads refused to release their heat even after the sun slid behind the ridgelines. He’d bet his pickup that the temperature hadn’t dropped ten degrees since sundown.

Another twig snapped.

He pinpointed the sound to one of the smaller caves up the ledge, and made his way to the entrance with the deadly focus of a mountain cat. He shielded himself behind a rock, leveled his shotgun at his shoulder and yelled, “Freeze!” as he snapped on the halogen light mounted on the gun.

Snared in the cone of light were three boys. Middle school age, maybe ten or twelve. One looked slightly older. They were huddled just inside the mouth of the cave, the one in front wielding a knife in his bloodied hand. The way the big one pressed the other two back with one arm, glaring at Seth, reminded him of the time he and Lane had trapped three baby raccoons when they were kids growing up in these Kiamichi hills. The coons had toddled into the trap in one hungry clump, and when Seth bent down to peer into the cage, the male had herded the two little females behind his back and hissed. Seth and Lane had collapsed laughing.

But this wasn’t funny. The Slaughter brothers were up in these caves somewhere, and now he’d stumbled on a bunch of freaked-out kids.

“Police,” Seth said calmly. “Drop the knife.”

“Police, my ass,” the bigger boy snarled. “You want this knife, buddy? You come and get it.” Seth realized the boy couldn’t see beyond the glare of light.

He switched on his shoulder mike. “Jake, come in.”

When the radio crackled back with Jake’s voice— “Any sign of the Slaughters?”—the boy looked astonished.

“Drop it,” Seth repeated. The kid tossed the knife at his feet.

Seth hit the mike switch again. “No, but I found three kids in a cave. One’s hurt. Come on around.”

The boys looked roughed up—dirty, sweaty, scratched. The big one had bled all over the knife. The smaller two were bound, hands behind their backs, with duct tape.

Seth sheathed the shotgun at his back as he approached them. “Are you kids from the camp?” Big Cedar Camp was for troubled youth, but these guys looked too shell-shocked to be a threat.

“You’re a cop?” The tall one’s voice was deep one second, high-pitched the next. He was a good-looking kid, with even, darkly Hispanic features and well-developed muscles. Right now he was as agitated as the devil. “Then listen! Some creeps tied us up! You got to catch them.”

“First things first,” Seth said as he used the knife to cut the tape off the other two. One was thin as a reed, with messy brown hair and frightened brown eyes. The other was a little chunk—curly red hair, deep-set blue eyes that had a spooked look about them. Neither one said a word, but as soon as their hands were loose they started flashing sign language.

“Yeah.” The bigger kid nodded as he read his friends’ signing. “They’re twins or brothers or somethin’. Look-alikes. Big red beards.” He made a pulling motion at his chin.

There were more hand signals from the other two. “Yeah. Real weirdos,” the Hispanic kid agreed.