Coming Up Roses Read Online Free PDF

"Miranda?"
    No answer. For an instant, Kate thought the child might be playing, that she had deliberately sunk to her knees to hide herself in the grass. But that wasn't like Miranda. And there had been something unnatural about the way she dropped from sight, almost as if the ground had suddenly disappeared…
    "Miranda?"
    Kate broke into a run. How could she be so stupid, so careless? It stood to reason that where one found the foundation of a house, one also might stumble across an abandoned well.
     
    * * *
     
    Zach walked down the mud-slicked slope between two rows of newly erected vine trellises. In his mind's eye, he saw not the tender little vines on this small patch of hillside, but mature vines, what grape growers called old wood. In his imagination, he envisioned acres of them.
    Someday, he promised himself. Come next February, he would harvest these vines, grade them, and put them into cool sawdust storage until grafting time next spring when the vine propagation would begin all over again. It might take a number of years and backbreaking work, but one day he'd have plenty of fruit-bearing old wood and a vineyard to rival those he had seen in France during his honeymoon with Serena.
    This climate would grow grapes. Even left neglected in people's yards, vines thrived here. By God, if they could survive and bear fruit when left to their own devices, he could make a success of this venture. He just knew he could.
    Not that he had his eggs all in one basket. He already had several acres planted in wheat and several more in alfalfa hay. If the grapes failed or the market didn't support a winery, he'd have something to fall back on. He also had a substantial amount of money in the bank, if he needed it, proceeds from the sale of the first house he had built for Serena right after they married.
    Serena. Zach brushed his knuckles along his scarred cheek. Now that he had moved from the Applegate Valley , he seldom thought of her.
    At the base of the slope, Zach left the vineyard behind and lengthened his stride, heading for the house. This was his favorite time of day, the grueling work hours behind him, the evening ahead. He looked forward to a good home-cooked meal, compliments of his new housekeeper, Ching Lee, a Chinaman who had finally given up on mining as a way to make his living. After supper, Zach planned to indulge himself by reclining in his rocker near the fire with a book, Nosy snoozing at his feet. No matter that he usually found the big house ominously quiet and lonely at night. Sooner or later, he'd find himself a nice, homely woman who looked for more in a man than a perfect face.
    As he stepped onto his back stoop, a distant ruckus made him pause before opening the door. He turned into the unseasonably chill wind and gazed across the yard, glad for the turned-up collar of his sheepskin jacket. A buckboard bounced and careened up the road to his place, and unless his eyes deceived him, Kate Blakely was driving it, doing none too expert a job. If she didn't slow down, she'd break her damn-fool neck.
    Something was wrong. A person didn't run a horse like that unless she had good reason. He retraced his steps into the yard and headed for the road to intercept her. When Kate saw him, she stood and hauled back on the reins, bringing her swaybacked old mare to a skidding halt. The buckboard rocked crazily, giving Zach reason to suspect it was so rotten in the seams that it was held together by a prayer and precious few rivets. The mare, clearly unused to such an abusive pace, wheezed and blew, her lathered sides laboring for every breath.
    "You'll kill that horse, pushing her like that," he commented as he drew up beside the wagon.
    Kate just stood there, her face deathly pale, her mouth working but no sound coming forth. Zach was about to ask her what was amiss when she took him completely off guard by jumping to the ground. He snaked out an arm to catch her.
    "Mir–Miranda," she said between gulps of air.