Charlene Sands
Charlene Sands
“The new mama mare was ready for light exercise. Clint made sure to keep an easy pace for Tess’s mount, and they followed a path leading them out of the yard, back behind the house, where tall green grass had faded and withered some from the summer sun. They rode through a wild-apple orchard and farther to where the path was worn and wide and easy to track even with untrained eyes.He heard the rush of the creek first and breathed in the scent of fresh water next. The path opened up to a broad ex...panse of old, tired oaks. Twisted branches reached out and over the creek to touch and mingle with the neighboring trees on the opposite bank.“My father,” he began, gazing out at the view before him, “wanted to have this creek on his property. He’d settled this parcel of land because of it. I haven’t seen it since I’ve been back.”He didn’t know why he shared that with Tess. Usually he kept the history of the Double H to himself.“Your father often spoke of it, Clint,” Tess said, reining Sunshine close.MoreLess
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