Rekindled Read Online Free PDF Page A

own.”
    Larson couldn’t help but smile when the music box started playing a familiar Christmas melody. But it was the man’s enjoyment that deepened his grin. “I’ll take it, sir. And my wife will be all the more pleased when I tell her how I came by it.”
    Roberts fairly leapt with pleasure. He refused the money Larson held out to him, but finally took it at Larson’s insistence. Larson tucked the box inside his coat pocket and waited for the man to climb up before he started off in the opposite direction.
    With each minute, the sun dipped lower behind the mountains, taking its scant warmth with it. After an hour of riding farther north, Larson topped a hill and spotted the vague outline of what he’d been watching for.
    Ahead was a thin ridge of land extending eastward from the mighty Rockies. Jutting upward from the prairie, the ridge resembled an arthritic finger, twisted and bent. On the southern side of the crest was a sparse outcropping of scrub oak and boulders. Larson had camped there before. It would serve well to shelter him through the night.
    Darkness had descended by the time he reached the ridge. The moon’s silvery sheen reflected off the snow and provided enough light for him to make out his surroundings. He soon had a fire crackling and a parcel of earth cleared of snow where he could bed down for the night. Jerky and tack biscuits filled his belly. Coffee warmed his insides, even if it wasn’t as good as Kathryn’s.
    He imagined what she was doing right then and wondered if she was thinking of him.
    Reminded of the music box, he took it from his coat pocket and examined it more closely. It didn’t begin to compare with any in the collection Kathryn once had. Regret over yesterday passed through him again. The look of loss on her face when the box had shattered into pieces haunted him.
    Simple as it was, this box—in his estimation anyway—possessed a quality the others had lacked. It spoke of something more lasting. Something beyond what money could buy.
    He laughed out loud at the thought, and the sound of his laughter surprised him. Here he was, setting out for a business opportunity he hoped would bring him wealth, and he’d bought Kathryn something that bespoke the opposite.
    As he turned the box over in his hands, the lid fell open. He looked at the scratched and tarnished metal plate that Roberts had affixed inside. What had the old guy said this was for? He nodded, remembering. “Where you can make it your own.”
    An idea struck him. Larson pulled his knife from his boot and moved closer to the fire. He situated the music box on a rock and pressed the tip of his knife into the plate. He smiled when it made a slight indention. Not the highest quality of metal, but that served his purpose at the moment.
    Larson lost track of time as he knelt by the fire, making the gift his own. Making it Kathryn’s. He hoped she would be pleased and felt somehow that she might be. Even if the value of this gift wasn’t as impressive as his gifts one day would be, Kathryn had a soft spot for the elderly and would be pleased that he’d stopped to help the newcomer.
    When he finished, he put his knife back into its sheath and slid the music box into the inside pocket of his winter coat. The coat Kathryn had bought for him. He ran a hand along the sleeve and remembered their first Christmas together. Before giving it to him, she’d sewn their cattle brand into the inner lining along with his initials, making it mine, he thought with a smile. Not for the first time, he wished he’d done better by her. She deserved so much more than—
    A sudden whinny from his horse brought Larson’s head up.
    He remained crouched by the fire and scanned his surroundings. The spot he’d chosen far into the ravine provided shelter from the wind. Frozen scrub oak and snow-covered boulders bordered him on all sides but one. He squinted and focused on the night sounds around him. A rustle sounded off to his left, but