Hummingbird Lake

TWENTY-ONE





August arrived and with it, the annual summer arts festival. Every rental in town was booked, all the campgrounds reserved. Eternity Springs bustled with the arrival of artists and tourists, and townspeople simmered with excitement over the frequent and gratifying ka-ching of cash registers. Celeste’s economic improvement plan was proving to be an extraordinary success.

It was always Sage’s favorite week of the year, and this year she looked forward to it more than ever before. Colt was due back today from a two-week consulting trip to factories on the West Coast. She’d missed him terribly.

“You need to settle down,” Sarah scolded as Sage checked the street yet again for a sign of his truck. “This is supposed to be our chance to relax.”

“She’s right,” Ali Timberlake agreed. “I’m getting tired just watching you.”

Sage, Nic, Ali, Sarah, and Celeste had met at the Mocha Moose for lunch prior to delivering the Patchwork Angels’ entry into the textile competition. Judging would take place tomorrow, with the winners announced the day after that. Sage was convinced they’d at least place in the contest. Of course, as always, she was shooting for the blue ribbon.

“You guys shouldn’t be surprised.” Nic dipped a carrot stick in ranch dressing and took a crunchy bite. “She’s this way every year before the judging.”

Celeste asked, “Which painting did you decide to enter, dear?”

Sage’s mouth twisted. Colt had urged her to hang one of her black-and-red paintings, and while she’d made progress since beginning therapy, she still had a ways to go. She wasn’t about to show the world the black-and-reds. “I settled on the one of Snowdrop.”

“I love that picture,” Nic said.

“Me too,” Sarah added. “You know, a real friend would paint Daisy and Duke for me as a pick-me-up since I’m so distraught over Lori leaving for college.”

Sarah said it as a joke, but no one laughed. With the red-letter day less than a month away, Sarah had become as big a basket case as Sage. Ali sighed and said, “Why would she paint your dogs? If Sage does a painting for you, it should be of Lori. I sent Caitlin to the photographer for a set of going-off-to-college photos.”

“I’d rather have my dogs,” Sarah said glumly. “I get along with them. They still love me.”

“Now, Sarah,” Celeste scolded.

“Don’t be stupid.” Nic polished off her turkey sandwich with finger-licking pleasure. “Lori loves you. You love Lori. What we have here is separation anxiety in full swing.”

“No.” Sarah hooked her thumb toward Sage, who had risen to check the street for Colt’s car once again. “That’s separation anxiety.”

“Stop it.” Sage gave her hair a toss. “There’s nothing wrong with missing the man I love.”

“No, there’s not,” Celeste agreed. She dabbed her mouth with her napkin, then added, “Nothing wrong with marrying the poor man, either.”

“Celeste!” Sage protested while the other women laughed.

Sarah stood and said, “This has been fun, but I need to get back to work. Let’s go deliver our baby to the contest, then Nic can get back to her babies—”

“They’re almost a year old,” Nic said. “They’re toddlers now.”

“—and I can go argue with mine,” Sarah finished. “If we wait too much longer, Colt will be back in town and Sage will be too busy making her baby to tag along with us to enter our quilt.”

“I hate you,” Sage said.

Sarah blew her a kiss as Nic lifted the quilt, folded and protected inside a pillowcase, from an empty chair. Celeste swiped the check off the table and said, “My treat.”

As they exited the Mocha Moose, Sarah and Ali discussed their pending empty nests while Nic placed a phone call to Gabe checking on the girls. Sage refrained from calling Colt again for an updated ETA, but just barely. Soon they arrived at the remodeled old firehouse that served as the home of the Eternity Arts Association. The festival entries were being hung in the theater for judging before being moved to the exhibit tent when the festival opened. At the registration table, with fanfare, Celeste filled out the entry form for the Patchwork Angels’ quilt, named Journeys. Sarah handed over the fifty-dollar entry fee.

The quilt was hung, lighting applied, and the group admired their work. Sage was as proud of the group project as she’d ever been of one of her own paintings. “We’re gonna win the ribbon,” she said. “You can bank on it.”

With the quilt business done, Nic and Sarah departed, but Celeste lingered while Sage entered her painting of Snowdrop into the local artists competition. After it was hung, Celeste studied it and smiled. “Your love for that little dog shines in your work. Have you sketched Colt yet?”

Thinking of the nude pencil sketches she’d done without his knowledge while he lay sleeping, Sage opened her mouth to say no, but she couldn’t lie to Celeste. “Artistic things. Nothing for public consumption.”

Celeste chuckled, “Drawing nudes of the man? I’ll bet they’re … powerful.”

Sage felt her cheeks flush with heat, then was happy to see a distraction walk into the room. Waving, she said, “There’s Rose.”

Her sister carried a gift-wrapped box tied with pink-and-blue ribbon. Seeing Sage’s wave, she crossed the room to them. “I stopped in to see the quilt the Patchwork Angels made. Is it hung yet?”

“It’s around on the other side.”

Rose studied the painting of Snowdrop and smiled. “You are truly talented, Goober. That makes me want to pick her up and hug her. Of course, I take full credit for the fact that you’re a superstar painter, since I forced you to take those art classes when we were girls.”

Sage looked at Celeste. “She wanted something to keep me busy so she could hang out with her boyfriend at the tennis center.”

“Sometimes seemingly small decisions can have far-reaching consequences,” the older woman observed, then gazed pointedly at the box in Rose’s hand. “You have a baby gift for someone?”

“I do. I’m on my way to the post office.” Rose stood proudly as she added, “It’s a baby gift for Brandon.”

Sage couldn’t hide her surprise. “That’s a big statement from you.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“You’ve forgiven him.” Celeste reached out and gave Rose a hug. “I’m so glad for you, Rose.”

Sage saw her sister soften as she hugged Celeste in return. “You knew exactly what to say and when to say it to show me the error of my ways, Celeste. ‘Grudges are germs to the doctor who nurses them.’ ”

“Cute,” Sage said.

“That was the catchy part.”

“No, fishing was the catchy part,” Celeste corrected. “For me, anyway.” To Sage, she added, “Your sister isn’t much of a fisherwoman, but she did open her heart to possibilities while making the effort.”

Rose nodded. “I can see why those guys at the outfitters shop say fishing can be a religious experience. Celeste took me up above Heartache Falls. It was so peaceful and beautiful and uplifting.”

“God’s country.” Celeste all but glowed as she said it.

“I realized that I’d been thinking too small. Life is big. I need to look at it in a big way. The first step in doing that was letting go of small. Holding on to my anger at Brandon was small. So”—Rose lifted up her package—“I’m going big.”

Celeste clapped her hands. “Excellent. I’m so glad. Rose, you have come a long way and, I’m proud to say, have earned this.”

She reached into her tote bag and withdrew a small white jewelry box, which she handed to Rose. Rose lifted the lid and said, “Oh, it’s pretty. It’s an angel’s wings on a chain.”

“My design,” Sage said, narrowing her eyes. “You gave her an Angel’s Rest medal?”

“A blazon, dear.” To Rose, she explained, “This is the official healing center blazon awarded to those who have embraced healing’s grace. Wear it next to your heart, Rose Anderson. Carry the grace you found here with you along whatever life path you travel.”

Rose’s expression went bright with delight. “It’s lovely. Simply lovely. What a positive sentiment and statement it makes. Thank you, Celeste. I’ll wear it with pride and pleasure.”

She slipped the chain over her head, preened a moment, then added, “Now, if you guys will excuse me, I want to take a peek at the quilt, then get to the post office before it closes for lunch. See you all later.”

As Rose walked away, Sage crossed her arms. Her toes began to tap. “I can’t believe you gave her an Angel’s Rest medal.”

“Blazon.”

“She’s not a permanent resident. Why does she get one?”

“She earned it.”

“By sending a baby gift?”

“It’s a huge step for her.”

“I’ve made huge steps.”

“True, and I have faith that someday, maybe even someday soon, you will fully embrace healing’s grace and earn a blazon, too.”

“But not yet?”

Celeste patted her hand. “I need to move along. I have an appointment to get my hair cut in a few minutes, although I’ll probably stop back by here afterward—I love to see all the contest entries come in. It’s so exciting. Good-bye for now. I enjoyed our lunch, dear. Have a great afternoon.”

Sage pursed her lips. Her toes continued to tap. Her gaze on her departing sister, she barely noticed who walked in the door.

Colt sauntered up carrying a canvas bag. “Hey there, beautiful.”

She hardly spared him a glance. “Rose got an Angel’s Rest medal.”

Colt looked toward the door, then back at Sage. “Okay. Hey, I missed you, too. Yes, the trip went well. Thanks. I knew you’d be on pins and needles waiting for me to get home and that you’d throw yourself into my arms and smother me with kisses, so I hurried and risked my life driving too fast over Sinner’s Prayer Pass.”

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“Ouch.” He clapped a hand against his chest and said, “If I start to bleed out from the wound, would you tell my brother that he gets my baseball card collection?”

Sage had the grace to be embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I was distracted.” She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him soundly on the mouth. “Welcome home, Rafferty. I missed you.”

“That’s better.” He went back for another kiss, this one enthusiastic and long enough to cause some catcalls in the theater.

“Why don’t we go home?” Sage suggested when they finally stepped apart.

“Sounds great.” He slipped his arm around her waist. “Let me take care of something here real quick and then we’ll go.”

He steered her toward the registration table. “Hello, Marlene. I have an entry for the local artists competition.”

“You do?” Sage was surprised. She hadn’t noticed him working on anything before he left town.

“Since I couldn’t put my hands on you, I put them to work thinking about you.” He set the bag down, reached inside, and drew out a cloth-draped shape. He removed the cloth to reveal the graceful figure of a woman with wings on her back and a butterfly in her palm.

“That’s fantastic, Colt,” Marlene said. “It’s Tinker Bell.”

“No.” He grinned down at Sage. “I call it Paradise.”

“Well, I thought for sure Marcus would win with his photograph of the mountain lion at the edge of Hummingbird Lake, but with your Paradise, you’ll give him a real run for the money.”

“Excuse me?” The question burst from Sage’s mouth.

“Nothing personal, Sage. Your little dog painting is nice, but this …” She gestured toward the carving. “This is powerful.”

“Powerful.”

“Delicate, but at the same time, strong and beautiful. Powerful.”

“Thanks, Marlene.” Colt filled out the registration form, took a folded check from his pocket, then handed both items to Marlene. He winked at Sage and asked, “You ready?”

She stared at the carving. “He’s powerful,” she muttered. Her foot started tapping. “She got an Angel’s Rest medal.”

“A blazon,” Colt corrected. When Sage lowered her brow and glared at him, he said, “C’mon, Cinnamon. Lighten up.”

“I hate it when people say that to me.”

He actually had the gall to laugh. “You’re not afraid of a little friendly competition, are you?”

If Sage were a cartoon figure, steam would have been coming out of her ears. “Afraid of competition? Me?”

Colt shrugged. “I didn’t think so. Maybe you simply don’t agree that my pixie is more powerful than your Snowdrop.” To Marlene, he asked, “Who are the judges this year?”

“I’m one of them,” she replied, her smile bright.

Sage focused on the carving. It was beautiful. She knew it represented her. Delicate but strong. That’s how he saw her. He carved this because he wanted her to realize how he saw her. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

His innocent look didn’t fool her. “You’re trying to goad me into taking another step along Recovery Road, aren’t you?”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“You think that I’m too competitive to hand you the blue ribbon by keeping my most powerful work in reserve.” She gestured toward his carving. “That is your way of issuing a challenge to me.”

“Honey, if I wanted to challenge you, I’d say it. When have I ever held back from saying anything to you?”

“You’re sneaky smart, Colt Rafferty.”

“You’re paranoid. C’mon, let’s go. I have a to-go order placed at the Bristlecone, and I brought a sublime bottle of wine with me from California. I’ve been dreaming of watching the sunset from Reflection Point since my second day away from town.”

Sage took one last look at the carving, then turned and left the building with Colt. They picked up his order at the Bristlecone and headed for the lake. But as they discussed his trip and she caught him up on the happenings in town, her thoughts drifted to his carving. While they ate their dinner and enjoyed the wine that proved to be as good as he had promised, she pictured the Angel’s Rest necklace hanging around her sister’s neck. When they walked hand in hand down to the end of the point to watch the sunset, Sage watched a yellow butterfly dance on the air, then alight on the trunk of a fallen tree, and her thoughts returned to her painting of Snowdrop. Of Colt’s carving. Of her sister’s necklace.

He did distract her completely while he made slow, sweet love to her, but when he drifted off to sleep, she lay awake thinking.

At two in the morning, she slipped out of bed and went into her studio.

Colt opened his eyes and smiled into the darkness.

* * *

The summer arts festival opened to fanfare, funnel cakes, and a fish tank for the under-ten set. Spruce Street was closed to traffic and square white tents lined the space from First to Eighth, displaying the wares of artists and artisans from across the nation. On the south side of First Street, in the grassy park area where Angel Creek made a bend around the town on its way to Hummingbird Lake, a large tent had been erected to display the contest entries.

Colt sat on a park bench along Angel Creek that offered a view of the front of the contest tent, eating the breakfast burrito he’d purchased from one of the food vendors after separating from Sage at the front door of Vistas. It was nine forty-five. Contest entry closed and judging began in fifteen minutes. He expected Sage to show up any minute now.

It hadn’t missed his notice that she’d left the cottage with a portfolio this morning. He’d almost asked her what was inside, but instinct told him to keep his lip zipped. Encouragement or pressure or even goading wouldn’t help her to take the next big step in defeating her monsters, he knew. It had to come from inside her, and he was betting she’d pull it off.

At twelve minutes to ten he spotted her. She carried the dark brown cardboard portfolio she’d brought from home with her this morning.

“Attagirl,” he murmured to himself. When she hesitated at the opening of the tent, he quietly said, “You can do this. You’re strong.”

She moved forward, stopping at the registration table. He saw her set the portfolio on the ground, wipe her palms against her slacks, then speak to the woman at the table.

He groaned to himself when she suddenly shook her head and turned away, then started to leave. “Ah, Cinnamon. Buck up. You can do this.”

As though she’d heard him, she halted. He saw her shoulders lift as she drew a deep breath, then fall as she exhaled in a rush. She pivoted, marched back to the tent, set down her portfolio, and whipped out a painting. Done in shades of black and red. A nightmare painting.

“You go, girl,” he said, grinning. He polished off his burrito, licked his fingers, then stood. Good thing he’d shopped for an engagement ring while he was on his trip. Looked like he’d need it sooner rather than later.

Colt took a leisurely route back to his office. He browsed the booths, bought a birthday gift for his mother, and indulged in a second breakfast burrito since the first had been so tasty. He arrived back at his office shortly before his scheduled conference call at ten-thirty, and by eleven-thirty, he had another road trip scheduled and a fishing trip with Gabe Callahan arranged up on a private stretch of land above Heartache Falls where the trout were said to compete with Taylor River rainbows. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he said to himself, though his pulse sped up at the possibility.

At lunchtime, he exited the office building and sauntered back over to Spruce. When he arrived at the tent where Sage had items from Vistas on display, he was surprised to find her huddled up with Sarah, Nic, and Ali. All four women had concerned looks on their faces. “What’s up?”

“Some man is going around town looking for Marcus Burnes and making crazy accusations,” Sage said. “He talked to me about fifteen minutes ago. I didn’t know what to tell him.”

Sarah said, “I sent Lori and Chase to the sheriff’s office looking for Zach. Then a few minutes ago, Marlene ran by here in tears.”

“What was this guy saying?”

Sarah gestured toward one of Burnes’ photographs that Vistas had on display. “He claimed that Marcus Burnes isn’t his real name, that his real name is Donald Bebe and that he jumped bail in Oregon on …” She winced as she finished, “Child pornography charges.”

Colt’s brows winged up, and he looked at Sage, who said, “I didn’t do a background check or anything on him. I bought his photographs. He never claimed any formal training, so it never occurred to me to check.”

“Who is the guy making the claims?”

“He said he’s the father of one of the abused boys,” Ali said. “Someone he knows was here earlier this summer and he said he picked up a brochure about the arts festival. It has one of Marcus’ photos on the cover. Donald Bebe had a legitimate business as a nature photographer, too. The father said he recognized the work and came to Eternity Springs to have him arrested.”

Sage nibbled at her bottom lip. “I hope it’s all just a mistake.”

“Me too,” Sarah said. “Child porn is …” She shuddered.

“Evil,” Sage said, her tone flat.

“Well, this is all conjecture and gossip,” Ali said. “We’d be wrong to condemn the man until all the facts are known.”

The women looked at one another, then all looked at Colt. Sage said, “Go find out the facts for us, Rafferty.”

“Hey, it’s none of my business. Why don’t we—” He broke off abruptly at the sound of the screams.

The gunshots had him tackling the women, forcing them to the ground in search of cover.


Gunfire.

Screams.

Jesus loves me, this I know.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The darkness threatened, black fingery shadows reaching toward her like B-movie monsters. She started to shake and shiver and shudder like aspen leaves in a gale, but Colt’s voice reached through the fear.

“Hang in there, Sage. It’s okay. We’re okay. This is Colorado. We’re in Eternity Springs. You’re home.”

Eternity Springs. Not Africa. Eternity Springs.

“What’s going on?” Sarah asked, and the same time Ali said, “The kids! Where are Chase and Lori?”

“Stay here,” Colt demanded. “I’ll find out.”

Even as he stood, Sage heard the calls. “Doctors. We need doctors.” As Sage climbed to her feet, Chase Timberlake ran up, saying, “Ms. Reese. Come quick. Lori’s been hurt.”

All three women gasped and the Vistas tent emptied, the women on Colt’s heels, running north on Spruce toward the crowd gathered at the Sixth Street intersection. As they arrived, Sage heard her sister’s voice firing off orders like a battlefield medic.

Rose knelt on the ground beside Lori. Her leg was bleeding. Zach Turner barked orders into a phone, cradling a bloody arm. Shoulder wound, she deduced. Marcus Burnes was on his side with what appeared to be a chest wound. A stranger sat restrained by Mayor Townsend and two others. He was crying, his face drained of color. “I didn’t mean to hurt the girl. Dear God, forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt the girl.”

“Somebody get my sister!” Rose shouted.

Sage moved forward. “I’m here. What do we have?”

“Leg wound, in and out. She’ll be okay. Same for the sheriff. Burnes is bad. He’ll bleed out without your help.”

Burnes. The child pornographer. “What about the doctor at Angel’s Rest?”

“Oh his way,” Zach Turner said, “but it’ll take him a few minutes to get here. Helicopter is on the way for Burnes.”

A child pornographer. An evil man.

Another evil man.

“You do it, Rose. I’ll take care of Lori. Nic, you want to see to Zach?”

While the veterinarian hurried over to the sheriff, Sage’s sister glared at her. “You’re the surgeon. You have a surgeon’s hands. He’s bleeding out.”

Jesus loves me, this I know.

Another evil man. Dear Lord, why?

Sage’s heart pounded. Her mouth went dry and her hands trembled violently. She shut her eyes.

Time hung suspended as a kaleidoscope of memories whirled through her mind. Africa. Her father. Standing outside the hospital in Dallas. Paintings in red-and-black.

Another evil man.

And I am neither judge nor jury.

Sage blew out a breath and twisted her head around, locating Colt. “I have to help him.”

“Of course you do, sweetheart.”

Stepping forward, someone slapped some latex gloves into her hands. She pulled them on, knelt, and set about saving the dying man’s life.


An hour later, having turned over her patient at the hospital in Gunnison, Sage ducked into their physicians’ locker room for a shower and changed from bloody clothes into a pair of clean blue scrubs. She exited the hospital and discovered Colt sitting on a wooden bench, waiting for her.

“How did you get here?” she asked. “It’s a two-hour drive.”

“A friend of Gabe’s has his own bird. The guy who owns Eagle’s Way.”

“Jack Davenport.”

“Yeah, that’s him. He was in town, so Gabe called him and he brought me down. I thought you might need me.” He paused, gave her a thorough once-over, then added, “I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

Sage smiled and took hold of his hand. “Oh, I need you, Rafferty. I definitely need you. But I don’t need you.”

“That makes total sense.” He touched her cheek. “You look good in scrub blue, Dr. Anderson.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think it really suits me. Prints hide paint splashes better than solids.”

“Ah.”

“I called home. Sarah told me Lori’s okay, and they were able to treat Zach’s wound at the clinic, too.”

“So I understand.” He hesitated a moment, then said, “The father has been arrested.”

“Yes, and Marcus Burnes will be, too, as soon as he’s out of surgery. Sarah told me the sheriff’s office verified the shooter’s claim. Marlene is brokenhearted.” Then, ready to have the unhappiness behind her, Sage asked, “So, Rafferty, how are we getting home?”

“Well …” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Celeste called and asked a favor. Seems she’s had her motorcycle here in the shop, and she asked if we’d ride it back for her. Would you mind?”

“Her Gold Wing?”

“Yep. She also said there’s something for you in the tour pack.”

“I’d love to ride her Gold Wing.”

He grinned, and those devilish dimples of his winked at her. “Good, because I already had it brought over. So, you ready to go?”

He held up the keys. She laughed, swiped them out of his hand, and started for the motorcycle. “I’m driving.”

“Oh, jeez.”

Her heart lighter than it had been in years, Sage almost skipped to the parking lot where Celeste’s ride awaited them. Before climbing aboard, she opened the tour pack, looked inside, and spied a small white box. Sage picked the box up, lifted off the lid, and gasped.

“Whatcha got?”

She grinned up at him, then strutted her shoulders and held up the Angel’s Rest blazon. “I earned my wings.”

“Well, aren’t you special.”

“That I am.” She slipped the necklace over her head and snapped the trunk closed. Flinging her leg over the bike, she accepted the helmet he handed her and said, “Climb on, cowboy.”

“Anytime you ask, Cinnamon. Anytime you ask.”

She started the engine and drove sedately out of town, but once she hit the open road, she throttled up and let out a joyous laugh.

She had slain a monster today. Conquered a mountain. Destroyed a fearsome foe. She didn’t expect that the nightmares were over for good, and she’d probably still suffer flashbacks from time to time. She’d never stop mourning the events of that horrible day. But now, finally, she knew that she’d survived them. “I’m a survivor, Rafferty,” she shouted.

“That you are, woman.”

“So marry me, Rafferty!”

His hands tightened around her waist. “What did you say?”

“I said marry me.”

He leaned forward. “You just asked me to marry you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“As we’re riding down the highway at seventy miles an hour?”

“Sixty-five. Within the speed limit. So what’s your answer, Rafferty?”

“Pull over.”

“Not until we get to Eternity Springs. What’s your answer, Rafferty?”

“Yes, dammit. I love you. Don’t wreck this motorcycle before I can give you a proper kiss.”

“I won’t. I love you, too. Now, hold on, Rafferty. I intend to give you the ride of your life.”


Colt spent the rest of the ride to Eternity Springs teasing her. She had to keep her hands on the steering, but all he needed to do was keep his hands on her. Putting his mouth on her was a nice little extra. As they flew down the road toward Eternity Springs, he made it his goal to torture her to the point that she’d surrender, pull off the road, and let him lead her into the trees for a little … nature hike.

It became a contest. A war. Yet another siege.

He should have known the woman was so filled with power that she’d withstand his sensual assault. Still, he could tell that he’d gotten to her. All that shifting she did in her seat wasn’t to help keep her balance.

When they finally crossed the Eternity Springs city limit, he heaved a sigh of relief. Forget her seat shifting. Sitting on this motorcycle with a log between his legs had grown downright uncomfortable. At least they’d be home in a few minutes.

With Spruce blocked off to traffic, he expected her to take Cottonwood on around the edge of town, and she did just that. But as they rounded the curve onto First and their route took them past the contest exhibit tents, she slowed.

She pulled off the road a short distance from the tents and said, “Let’s check the winners, shall we?”

He groaned. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow? The results aren’t going to change.”

“What’s the matter, Rafferty?” She switched off the motor and climbed off the bike. Removing her helmet, she shot him a saucy smile. “Are you afraid that this year I won the blue ribbon?”

Colt couldn’t take another minute of it. He yanked her into his arms, bent her over backward, and planted a blistering, extended kiss on her lips. Vaguely aware of the murmurs of the crowd, he realized they had an audience, and released her with a flourish. “Me, afraid, Sage Anderson? Not hardly.”

She stood with her shoulders back, her chin up, and that gorgeous hair glistening in the afternoon sun. “So, you really think your carving might have won?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Colt gave her a wink, and his grin flashed his dimples. “You might have won the blue ribbon, but darlin’, I won the prize.”


ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


New beginnings are exciting things. For this one I’d especially like to thank my awesome, talented, oh-so-keen-eyed editor, Kate Collins, and my agents, Meg Ruley and Christina Hogrebe, for their support and guidance and belief in this series. You ladies rock. Also, to my dear friends Scott and Christina Ham, who knew just the motivation to give me to find my way to Eternity Springs, and to Mary Dickerson for being my reader, my red-liner, and most important, my friend.