Lilac Wedding in Dry Creek. Janet TronstadЧитать онлайн книгу.

      This book is dedicated to my friend, David White,

       with love and affection.

       Chapter One

      Distant thunder rumbled as Jake Stone lifted his duffel bag onto his shoulder, closed his door and started walking down the hall toward the lobby of the Starling Hotel. It was a rainy day in March and he didn’t look forward to the long drive north to Dry Creek, Montana—especially because once he got there his older brother would start pressing him even harder to move back to the ranch, settle down and get married.

      Jake refused to marry some poor woman just to stop his brother from nagging him to death. The Stone boys had bad history when it came to family life, even if his brother chose to ignore it. As for moving back to Dry Creek, Jake had decided years ago that this nondescript hotel near the Las Vegas airport was home enough for him.

      He entered the lobby and glanced over to where the owner of the place stood behind the counter.

      “Well, don’t you look fine?” Gray stubble showed on Max Holden’s weathered face, but his eyes were lively as he looked up. “Going home to Dry Creek for your brother’s wedding is doing you good already.”

      Jake stopped and ran a finger around the collar of his new white shirt so he could breathe easier.

      “Got some stamps?” He finished walking over to the counter, dropped his duffel bag to the floor and reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out an envelope and handing it to the other man.

      Jake didn’t like to talk about the wedding. His brother was wrong if he thought getting married would change who he was in the eyes of their small hometown. Not that Jake blamed anyone for how they felt about the Stone family. Everyone knew about the years of physical abuse out at their ranch. All of the family secrets had been laid bare when his father was murdered and his mother had gone to trial for doing the crime. People naturally had wondered if the sons were more like their father or their mother. Neither answer had been good back then.

      Max took the long, white envelope from Jake and weighed it in his hand. “I figure two stamps should do it.” Then he glanced down at the writing on the front. “I hope this Cathy Barker appreciates all the letters you send. Who is she, anyway?”

      So much time had passed since Jake heard someone speak the woman’s name that he hadn’t expected the jolt that went through him. Max had never questioned the envelopes before.

      Secrets had destroyed Jake’s family as surely as his father’s alcoholism. If his mother had confided in their neighbors, then they might have understood what was happening. And she might not have served a ten-year prison term before anyone realized she was innocent and had only confessed to protect her teenage sons from facing suspicion.

      “We used to call her Cat,” Jake began and forced himself to set forth the whole story. “I don’t know how she feels or even if she gets the letters. I put my return address on every one, but she never writes back.”

      At that bit of information, Max’s jaw dropped along with the envelope.

      “You mean to tell me, all these years you’ve been stuffing those letters with cash—and don’t think I don’t know what’s in there—then asking me to mail them like they were your last will and testament. And you don’t even know whether or not they’re getting through to her.”

      Rain continued to pound against the windows as Jake tried to think of an answer that didn’t make him seem like a half wit. Nothing came to mind. It sounded foolish to admit that it eased his worries to send her money.

      “You’re sure about sending this?” Max asked as he looked down at the envelope now resting on his counter. “What if you have another dry spell? You might not always be winning at the poker tables like you have been. And, there’s a lot of money in there.”

      Jake glanced over his shoulder. The lobby was empty. But, through the main windows, he could see the figure of a woman walking down the street toward the motel, trying to hold a black umbrella open in front of her against the wind. As near as he could tell, it looked as if she was rolling a big suitcase behind her. He had only a few minutes before she got here.

      Jake turned back to Max. He’d have to talk fast. “If I keep my expenses like they are now, I have