When the spring thaw settled in and Abegail came into Slater to retrieve her son, she left the post office and emporium permanently in the care of Martha and Thaddeus. And it was to the Water Creek Ranch on the hillock below Hahn's Peak that she returned, not to Bally House. That same spring, when Wally Holland left for Denver, he didn't return. He did, however, make good on his promise to take Abegail's paintings with him and they, indeed, did sell very well in Denver—and art dealers throughout the region started to take notice of this new talent hidden away in a remote Rocky Mountain valley. It wasn't long before George Vaughn had taken notice of Abegail's success and had both established her with an art broker in Chicago and featured her paintings in the upscale furniture department of Vaughn's department store. The arrangement was quite lucrative for both of them.Abegail had grown into a strong, independent woman, spurred by having lost nearly everything, including her husband an
When the spring thaw settled in and Abegail came into Slater to retrieve her son, she left the post office and emporium permanently in the care of Martha and Thaddeus. And it was to the Water Creek Ranch on the hillock below Hahn's Peak that she returned, not to Bally House. That same spring, when Wally Holland left for Denver, he didn't return. He did, however, make good on his promise to take Abegail's paintings with him and they, indeed, did sell very well in Denver—and art dealers throughout the region started to take notice of this new talent hidden away in a remote Rocky Mountain valley. It wasn't long before George Vaughn had taken notice of Abegail's success and had both established her with an art broker in Chicago and featured her paintings in the upscale furniture department of Vaughn's department store. The arrangement was quite lucrative for both of them.Abegail had grown into a strong, independent woman, spurred by having lost nearly everything, including her husband an
And, indeed, when the two strapping sons had disappeared through the log arch leading out towards the road down into Slater, Fernand Wolf lowered the barrel of the shotgun and slowly sank to the floor of the porch. Abegail barely had the strength to drag the massive man back into the ranch house and onto his bed.She nursed him for two weeks before he was clear of whatever fever had attacked him. She had seen right away that it wasn't anything like the Spanish flu that had taken most of her family, and she reasoned that the ranch's well must have gone bad. She melted snow for drinking water, stripped him, sponged him off several times a day, wrapped him well in blankets, and applied all of the herbs she had learned to employ that might help make him well.Then on Christmas day, marked that year by Abegail only as a date on the calendar, Fernand Wolf showed that he was strong enough to rejoin the world by pulling Abegail down on his bed, rolling on top of her, and kissing and stroking
She prepared for him one day after he had ridden the range all day, checking the fences that had become necessary to separate his cattle grazing areas from those of the sheep of neighbouring spreads. If sheep got onto cattle land, they grazed the grass so short that the grasses were killed and no longer good for feeding cattle, so the cattle ranchers had to keep constant vigil on their grazing lands."Fernand, you look so tired and worn," Abegail called out to him from the porch. "You really should stop riding the range yourself on horseback. I worry about you.""The day I can't ride a horse into the ground is the day I die," Fernand said grumpily. But as he descended from the saddle, he noticed that Abegail looked particularly beautiful this afternoon and was wearing one of the dresses that made his juices flow.Abegail drew him a warm bath, and as he was soaking and almost dozing off, she came and stood before him and disrobed. By the time she had finished, he was in full arousal, a
"Pete showed such promise at his work at the saw mill that I offered him the job of opening my company offices here in Denver. And he's made all of the difference. We would never have become the premier architectural and construction firm in Colorado without his drive and ambition."Abegail who had known quite a bit about Pete's drive and ambition in a different vein, recovered quickly, and, after saying a few niceties to Pete and learning that he had become quite the politician in Denver and was even contemplating running for public office—with the backing of his new wife's father, a political kingmaker in the western states—she turned her complete attention to Wally Holland and the plans he'd had drawn up for the Water Creek ranch lodge and the stable buildings.Her reaction to the situation must have pleased Wally greatly, as he warmed to both her and to his presentation of the plans.At length, after she had poured over the plans, Abegail sighed
Estelle's husband was nowhere to be seen. He had become very taken with the activities of Adolf Hitler and the Nazis in Europe and was using his extensive prestige in the United States as the modern adventurer darling to promote U.S. isolationism in the disturbing gathering of storm clouds across the Atlantic. Estelle had decided that she couldn't stomach his politics—at least not as much as she could stomach the masterful lovemaking of the famous rugged adventure author, J. Henry Kolester.Besides Abegail's now-feeble minister father, of the surviving family members on both sides, only Fernand's son, Jezzie, was not at the wedding. Fernand had established in no uncertain terms that Jezzie would not be there; he was to keep to his side of the extensive Wolf holdings if he didn't want Fernand to pull the financial underpinnings from under him. And Jezzie might have a mean-streak still, albeit it reputably was being muted with maturity, but no one ever accused him of bein
"Yes, I know, Abegail," Kolester said, and he gave her that big, handsome, melting smile he was so well known for. "The elk in your paintings are what first attracted me to you.""My elk?" Abegail said with a little frown. "That's quite a compliment for a woman, you know.""Ah, your beauty needs no compliment, my dear," Kolester said smoothly. "It exists above description. There, in fact, is no description that could do justice to your beauty.""So, now you are mocking me," Abegail retorted, her eyes dancing, telling him both that she was in good humour and that he'd struck deeply with his arrow."It is the spirit of the elk that moves me. Have you not seen that in some of my writing?""Yes, I have. I've seen that you've used several beasts of the wild, like the elk, for your images of perfection.""Ah, yes, you do understand then. I see them as everything I must possess. That's why I want to hunt the elk—not for the sport of killing them, really, but for the need to possess them and
At length, he moved her again, on her belly over the saddle, and he kneeled behind her between her spread legs and fucked her long and deeply, all the while making love for her with the poetic murmurings of his rich baritone voice. He possessed her fully and several times and in various positions in front of the crackling fire throughout the chilling spring night. Her young, masterful, virile oak.The next afternoon, Abegail and Kolester were riding over the last ridge and within sight of the Water Creek Ranch compound on the hillock below them, when the riders who had been sent out to find them did find them. They spoke briefly and breathlessly to Abegail, who, leaving all of them behind, spurred her horse on a hell-bent, fury-tumbling ride down the mountain slopes. But she was too late. Fernand Wolf was already gone when she reached the lodge. His horse had been spooked by a rattlesnake at the far reaches of their fenceline, and the horse had thrown him and then landed on top of him