When we left Beth, she had wrecked her car and ended up at the Domino Ranch, the home of her recently deceased father. She's met Charlotte, the housekeeper, and Beau, the ranch foreman.

Beth woke with a start, and it took her a moment to realize that someone was knocking on her door. Just as she sat up, the wooden door opened with a slight creak and Charlotte poked her head in.

“Breakfast is ready,” Charlotte said.

“Thanks, but I don’t usually eat breakfast. I think I’d like to get my bags from my car. And I need to do something about my car. I just can’t be without my car. And I need to figure out what I’m doing here.” Beth sighed heavily, “I’m sorry. You’ve been very nice to me. I know I was a little goofy last night. I’m used to being more in control. I’ve really got to get some things taken care of.”

Charlotte nodded slowly and seemed to consider the options. “Fair enough. I can call Cletus up at the station and have him tow your car to his shop and take a look at it. And I’ll take you to town after I finish cleaning up from breakfast, so you can get your bags. How does that sound?”

“Don’t think I’ve ever heard the term ‘reputable’ connected to that boy, but if you’re asking me if he’ll do you right, he most certainly will. He grew up in these parts and knows better than to try to pull something over on a Pickard!”

“Then I would appreciate it if you would call him,” Beth said as she reached for the robe draped over the foot of the bed. “I’m going to freshen up and then I’ll be down.”

Once she was alone, she looked through the big walk-in closet and found a pair of jeans that looked like they would fit, and found a plain teal blue t-shirt that she thought would work. It was better than most of the t-shirts that filled the closet, emblazoned with various local feed store names and farm supply store logos. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would go to the trouble of having a cedar-lined closet, and then fill it with garbage like that.

Once she was satisfied with her choice of clothing, she decided a nice, long shower would help her feel better. Her head still throbbed and she could feel the egg rising on her forehead. She let the hot water run over her body, and lathered up with the peach-scented shower gel that she found in one of the drawers. It felt so good, but she knew she had to get out and face the day. The Egyptian cotton towel was top drawer, and she was surprised to see that all of the towels and linens were monogrammed with a “P”. And the sheets had definitely been a very high thread count. Her father had never seemed the type to pay attention to that sort of thing. She couldn’t help but wonder who the woman was – though the main living area of the house had been very masculine, this room had definitely felt a woman’s touch. It was a little disconcerting to think about her father’s affairs.

She explored the cabinets and was surprised to find a wide variety of makeup and toiletries. After she had made use of them, and was fairly satisfied that she was presentable, she decided she could put it off no longer. She headed out of her room, and made her way to the kitchen. The sounds told her Charlotte was cleaning up before she turned the corner. She smiled as she recognized the theme to “Green Acres”. Her eyes widened when she saw how big the kitchen table was – it would have easily sat at least a dozen people. There was a beautiful crocheted lace doily runner, and the centerpiece was a large stoneware crock filled with cut flowers.

“Wow!” she exclaimed, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a kitchen table that big before!”

“And we make good use of it, too. Your father was fond of having meals here. They were always big affairs – lots of good food and good company, he used to say.”

Charlotte wiped off her hands on the dish towel and untied her apron. “Can I talk you into some breakfast now, child?”

“No, thank you. Did you call the mechanic about my car?”

“I did. Said he’d already seen it and towed it to town.”

“I see,” Beth was irritated that someone would tow her car without checking to make sure she wanted it towed, but she chose to keep her thoughts to herself for the moment, “Did he say how bad it was?”

“No,” said Charlotte as she flipped the coffee maker off. “Thought you’d want to discuss that with him yourself. You ready for me to run you to town now?”

On the way to town, Beth watched the sides of the winding blacktop, curious to see where she had wrecked. Sure enough, just a short ways down the road, there was a spot where the grass had been smashed down and ruts marked where her car had been. A small sapling hadn’t survived the wreck, and was leaning awkwardly with a large gash in its trunk. Just about three feet in front of the tire marks, there was a woven wire fence stretched tightly between thick wooden posts.

“That must be where I wrecked last night.”

“Looks that way. I’d say you were lucky. Been goin’ a little faster and you’d a gone right through that fence.”

“That would have been bad.” Beth said, turning back to look at the spot.

“You bet it would have. That’s the pasture where your daddy’s polled Hereford bull is. He’d plow you over in the blink of an eye,” Charlotte said, “And Beau would have had your tail if he’d had to go round that bull up!”

The two chatted for the remaining twenty minutes or so, mostly about safe topics like the weather. Charlotte shared a few stories, but Beth felt a little odd that the man described seemed so much nicer and friendlier than the cold, hard father-figure she had known. They topped a hill and the little town of Moscow was spread out before them. The first thing Beth noticed was the three church spires that dotted the “skyline”. As Charlotte drove her Suburban down Main Street, Beth counted three taverns, two antique stores and a café. Several storefronts were obviously empty. The only new building in town appeared to be the bank, which proudly proclaimed, “Free Cooler with New Account” on a neon yellow banner hanging on the front of the building.

She couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows when she saw the service station. There was one gas pump, and it looked like it had been there since the 1930’s. There was a hand-painted sign hanging above the one service bay that said simply “Mechanic”, except “ech” was nearly worn away, so it looked like, “M anic”. Her maroon Toyota was the only car in the lot. She turned and looked back down Main Street, and realized that there was not another car on the street. There appeared to be a law that everyone in Moscow was required to drive a truck. Preferably four wheel drive. And rusty. Charlotte beeped the horn twice and put the Suburban in Park. When they got out, Beth noticed that the keys were left dangling from the ignition switch. She started to say something and then stopped herself. Better to watch, listen and learn.

A grease-covered man who appeared to be in his late fifties came out of the service bay, wiping his hands on a red rag. “Good mornin’, Miss Charlotte.”

“Good morning, Cletus.” Charlotte motioned towards Beth, “This is Beth Pickard, Mr. Pickard’s daughter. It’s her car that you towed this morning.”

Cletus nodded at Beth, “Pleased to meet ya, Miss Pickard.”

“Please, call me Beth. Thank you for towing my car. It doesn’t look too bad, but it does look like it needs some work.”

“Yes, ma’am, but not much. Just put a hole in the oil pan, and your bumper’ll have to be replaced.” Cletus scratched his head, leaving a greasy shock of hair sticking straight up. “Have to order the bumper. Should be done in, oh, two weeks. Mebbe three.”

Beth raised her eyebrows, “Two or three weeks? Why so long?”

“Oh, I just don’t want to promise somethin’ I cain’t deliver, Miss Pickard. And Frank Holloway is puttin’ up a new barn that I told him I’d help with. I done promised him, so I gotta do that first.” Cletus smiled, his two missing teeth making him look like a jack o’ lantern.

“You can drive my Suburban anytime you need to,” Charlotte said.

Beth hated the idea of being dependent on someone else, but after looking up and down Main Street again, she decided she really didn’t have much of an option. She sighed and said, “I guess that’ll work. Can you give me an estimate before you start the work?”

“Well,” Cletus said, drawing the word out, “It’ll be hard to know how much ‘til I get in there. Want me to give you a call when I got it tore up?”

She looked at Charlotte, who was smiling her encouragement. She gave up, “Just fix it, please. And call me as soon as it’s done?”

Charlotte stepped in and took over, explaining that Beth would be staying out at the ranch. Cletus volunteered to drive the car out to the ranch once the work was done, and the arrangements were complete. Cletus offered to get her bags for her out of the Camry but, after she considered the probability that he would end up leaving quite a bit of grease on her luggage, she chose to do it herself. After her bags had been transferred to the Suburban, the two women hopped in and headed for the ranch. As they drove, Charlotte pointed out various things that she thought would be of interest to a newcomer. Nearly every house they passed had some connection to Domino Ranch, and it became apparent that Jonathan Pickard had been a popular figure in this little town. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was what had drawn him to this area – the whole big fish in a small pond theory. The man she knew loved power, and loved wielding it. But these stories indicated a different type of person.

After they returned to the ranch and Beth had gotten the luggage into her room, she dug through her briefcase for the document that had dominated her thoughts for the past two weeks. Once she had it in her hands, she wanted to read it again. And she knew exactly where she wanted to be when she read it. She headed down the hall for her father’s library, which she had noticed that morning.

She stood in the doorway for a moment, took a deep breath and then moved to the big oak desk that dominated the room. She sat carefully in the leather chair. She placed the document squarely in front of her and closed her eyes for a moment. The faint scent of leather and fine cigars and old books evoked memories of her father. She had never realized before that she associated those smells with her father. She quickly wiped her eyes, before a tear could fall.

She blinked rapidly, took a deep breath and looked around the room. The old-style globe to her right was fascinating. It was the type of thing that made you want to dream of destinations unknown. She ran her fingers over the surface, feeling the bump of the mountains and the smoothness of the vast oceans. She reached the equator and felt a seam. She flipped the globe open, and found a half empty bottle of Chivas and two glasses. Now, this was the father that she knew. She closed the globe, but made a mental note that this was the place to come if things got a little too tense.

The walls were lined with shelves, full of books. Most were beautiful, old, leather-bound volumes. She suspected that many of the books had been chosen purely for their value, because the only thing she could remember her father reading was the Wall Street Journal. The two large windows allowed in lots of light, which contrasted nicely with the dark wood that lined the room. Each window had a simple pedestal in front of it, with a Remington statue on each one. She was a little surprised they weren’t covered with glass. Then she wondered if they were insured.

OK, enough procrastination, she thought, and turned her attention back to the document in front of her.

With it, her father had taken his last stab at controlling her life.

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