An Appalling Betrayal of Trust

By Richard Lee Liddell

This story is a saga about two young people who are inevitably drawn close together like two magnets who eventually become friends with benefits after discovering their hopes, dreams and aspirations for a promising future together are uniquely aligned with one another. The male protagonist in the novel is engaged in pursuing a monumental task of building up a lucrative, cattle enterprise like his forefathers had accomplished in Montana. He gambles and ends up taking a risk in purchasing an old, dilapidated homestead in a land, auction, estate sale which was located within the Panhandle National Forest in northern Idaho.

The lovely debutante in this melodrama enters the picture as an attractive, blond maiden who is a female jockey who is assisting her father in running a horse ranch where they raise, train, breed and race thoroughbred horses at Emerald Downs near Seattle. This is the story about virtue in peril, dealing with her trials and tribulations in discovering where a girl's heart and future belongs in the tapestry of passion, hope and courage, an inexorable struggle for redemption.

The need to purchase some saddle horses to assist in driving his Black Angus cattle up to the government, range pastures for summer grazing was the primary impetus for the meeting with the female debutante as the rancher desperately needed saddle horses.

One lonely night sleeping alone in the comfort of her bed, she was abruptly awakened by a mysterious intruder who snuck into the bedroom and repeatedly raped her and subsequently disappeared in the darkness without leaving a trace of evidence behind him. As a result, she knew she ought to report the incident to the police and then run quickly off to the local hospital for a medical examination. Investigators would ultimately have to interview all the possible, male suspects who work or reside on both her husband's and her father's ranch during the last year.

Regardless, the police would be waiting patiently to receive the DNA results before determining whether the alleged assault was perpetrated as a forcible rape or whether it was an amorous rendezvous for two consenting conspirators who planned, organized and flawlessly executed a clandestine tryst while the husband was away at a convention.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 7, 2024
• ISBN: 9798886541526

Book preview

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An Appalling Betrayal of Trust

Richard Lee Liddell

Copyright © 2024 Richard Lee Liddell

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2024

ISBN 979-8-88654-139-7 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88654-152-6 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

This author was born in a middleclass family during World War 2 in Spokane, Washington in 1943. Dick received his BA degree in History from Eastern Washington University, acquired a Fifth Year in Special Education from the University of Idaho and then received his MS Degree in Education from Portland State University. While teaching in Kentucky, he earned a Superintendent, Principal and Supervisor of Instruction credentials from Murray State University in Murray, Kentucky. Subsequently, he was accepted into a Ph. D. program in Education at the University of Washington in 1992.

This is a love story about lust, love and marriage where a couple meet and ultimately marry from diverse backgrounds with the hope of fulfilling their dreams and aspirations for achieving their personal goals in life.

Following in the footsteps of his Dad, the male protagonist in this story leaves the family farm in Montana in search of property to build a cattle empire like his Dad had accomplished years ago in Montana. As a result, he purchased an old, dilapidated and decrepit, pioneer homestead that desperately needed to be restored, rejuvenated and refurbished from the ground up to resemble its former prominence. This parcel of land consisted of 4500 acres of fertile land nestled down in a valley not far from the Rocky Mountains near the border of Montana and situated in the Panhandle National Forest in northern Idaho. The previous owners had fortunately secured a land-lease agreement with the Department of Interior to lease 2500 acres of adjacent land to the homestead property which would be utilized to graze a herd of Black Angus cattle during the long, summer months. Crops like Alfalfa, Potatoes and soft, white wheat would be the main crops grown on the fertile fields in the lush, valley terrain.

The younger brother in the family joined his older brother because he had to drop out of WSU and joined the Rodeo circuit because he spent most of his college funds wining, dining and seducing young, college coeds in Pullman while enrolled in the Veterinary program at WSU. By running out of his college funds, he didn’t have the courage to inform his Dad where he had spent his college funds. Therefore, he had no other alternative than to drop out of school and joined the Rodeo circuit riding Brahma bulls and wild Mustangs in the hope of earning funds to replace his school funds he had wasted frivolously which were originally designated for his Veterinary program at WSU; unfortunately, he discovered that the ground is an unforgiving surface which sent him off to the hospital to undergo medical treatment for broken ribs and limbs. In addition, he discovered that there are living and traveling expenses incurred in participating in the Rodeo circuit plus his habitual womanizing activities, not to mention getting unlucky draws at rodeo events which all impeded his efforts to recuperate the funds he had previously used on subduing sexy coeds at WSU and still didn’t have sufficient funds saved to cover his expenses he needed to return back to WSU and finish his Veterinary program.

With his wife pregnant, the younger brother decided to settle down and return back to Veterinary School at WSU in Pullman, Washington and then commute to Pullman from his brother’s ranch north of Moscow to save him the expense of incurring dormitory expenses.

The female protagonist in the story is a naïve and innocent woman coming of age. She grew up on a horse ranch in Idaho and devotes her life to her beloved equines who run free on one of the largest, wildlife, horse preserves in the country. As an older teenager, she becomes the first female jockey to be accepted into the Jockey Association at Auburn and ride thoroughbred horses at Emerald Downs in Auburn, Washington and has been riding her Dad’s string of thoroughbred horses at the track in Auburn for the last few years.

This is a melodrama about virtue in peril, the trials, tribulations and triumphs in the wake of discovering where a girl’s heart and future belongs in the tapestry of passion, hope and courage, an inexorable struggle for redemption.

The two brothers flirtatiously compete for the girl’s undivided attention. There was a great deal of ostentatious bantering, posturing and flirtatious foreplay in an effort to woo the attractive and petite, blue-eyed blond into their beds for a one-night fling of heavenly bliss.

Right after the girl marries the older brother however, the blushing bride finds herself sleeping alone one night when her husband was out of town at a convention in Spokane, she discovers that an intruder has joins her in her spacious bed. As a betrayal of trust, the assailant rapes and ravishes the prissy maiden senseless and then proceeds to disappear in the night under the shroud of darkness just as undetected as he had arrived into the bedroom earlier that night.

The female protagonist is confronted with the dilemma of deciding whether to report the assault to the authorities or forego disclosing it. Intuition and conjecture informs her who the assailant was but evidence is extremely crucial in determining whether there is sufficient cause to support an accusation of Felony rape. Like the date-rape scenarios around college campuses these days, most accusations at colleges today are not reported to authorities simply because the female is required to prove that the sexual encounter was not consensual and that is the crux of the entire matter. If the girl can’t prove that the sex wasn’t consensual, there isn’t a legitimate bases for pursuing the case in a court of law.

Besides members of the press poking their noses adversely around at her friends, employees, relatives and family members, the girl didn’t support the notion of allowing police investigators to harass and interrogate her friends, employees or some of their neighbors to be notified and questioned as if they might be suspected of committing the heinous crime of rape. So To maintain good feelings and harmony within the local community, she felt that the despicable rape ought to be kept secret and under wraps in her closet For safe keeping in order to safeguard and protect everyone from suspicious harassment.

Chapter 1

The Quest

It was early March in the Panhandle of northern Idaho as the landscape was a brilliant green on a clear, sunny day though this early morning was cloudy, dark and gloomy with a dreary forecast for sporadic, rain showers in the area; though the landscape was normally emerald, green in early spring, the terrain however turned to dry and brittle during the hot and dry, summer months. The two brothers in the vehicle were headed to an old homestead property that was nestled snuggly within a valley right up against the foothills of the Rocky Mountains about forty miles south of scenic, Lake Coeur d’Alene. As a contrast, the mountain foothills to the east were still covered with a blanket of deep, winter snow which would likely melt in a few weeks.

It was barely dawn as Randal drove along the Interstate highway thinking inwardly that happiness in life is living out your dream; fulfillment in life comes along as you gradually watch that dream come to fruition, with blood, sweat and tears. Randal was a visionary of sorts who was committed to a long, lingering dream to leave the family ranch in Montana and build his own cattle enterprise; he was in the process of turning his idea from abstract to reality. He was in the process of laying the foundation for that lingering dream when he took a risk and purchased some property last summer that would hopefully turn out to be an enriching and rewarding experience for him, a cattle ranch like the family ranch he grew up on which was about an hour or so north of Missoula, Montana. To start with, he had already scratched and tilled the unfurled soil last fall and planted his first crop, a thousand acres of white, winter wheat. This early spring the real work begins as he’s intent on tackling the ambitious task of restoring an old, dilapidated, pioneer homestead to its former, illustrious grace and do it from the ground up without any instruction or supervision, relying on the respectful passion he held for the earth and the animal husbandry he loved that was in his DNA, his bones and in his heart. It was an ambitious and challenging task to say the least for any aspiring, young man to undertake alone.

In the blue, gray, morning dawn, Randal and his brother watched the night gradually give way to a weak, dour looking, overcast day with shy and pale light that gradually peeked upon the darkness in the early morning well after midnight hours, casting a gloomy haze over the landscape that now hovered languidly over the freeway with a dismal, misty rain splattering lightly down upon the slab of Interstate Freeway, making a sheen of glassy water glitter and gleam over the Freeway asphalt as though the road were flooded when, in reality, it was slippery and wet, early dawn shining on the mirror like pavement; beneath the canopy of darkness, the murky droplets of rain lightly spattered down upon the windshield in a fine, misty spray as the windshield wipers swished tirelessly back and forth to wipe the windshield clear and clean, turning everything in sight into a steel, gray, monotone color saturating the ground, his piercing gaze taking in the drab, looking landscape. Ahead, long streamers of radiance floated on the glittering asphalt like tropical seaweeds on a laden sea.

It was a day of dampness, heaviness, a day without color, a haze like cold steam floated upwards from the road in cloudy puffs.

The two brothers had stopped momentarily for a few minutes in the quaint, tourist city of Coeur d’Alene, Idaho to pick up something to drink and snack upon. While gathering up their snacks, the younger brother Michael found himself easily distracted and quite interested in picking up a young, attractive female which was typical behavior for him, logic always vanishing in favor of appeasing a physical need; Michael had a serious ailment alright, a compulsive affinity for chasing after a pretty skirt, a horn dog wanting sex with any attractive female at any time, at any place.

Randal could tell that Michael was lamenting over old regrets and remorse’s that woke and stirred under the lecherous surface of his roguish nature. Come on, Don Juan, Randal snarled sharply at Michael with impatience and a bit of annoyance; Hey, we have better things to accomplish this morning beyond wasting our valuable time chasing after young, pretty girls. Get her phone number and then let’s hit the road, Jack.

If the issue were left up to Michael, Randal was confident that Michael and the pretty girl would be in the backseat of the truck now making out with each other and eventually ending up dallying around in the forbidden fruit of celestial bliss with one another, a rousing tempest of two grueling bodies having bone-numbing sex, wasting a valuable hour or more of precious time in the morning indulging in the slippery syrup of fornication in the backseat of his truck. Michael likely expected Randal to take a turn with the sweetie, but he wasn’t inclined to take the risk of catching a case of Herpes, Syphilis or Gonorrhea. Randal had much higher standards than Michael, being extremely particular in the selection of girls he chooses to sleep with, certainly not with any common street, walking strumpet, prostitute or hoar.

Randal had always lectured his younger brother about the hazards of sleeping with pretty girls he doesn’t know well due to sexually transmitted diseases.

With his steamy, hot, Styrofoam container of chocolate milk in hand, Randal took a delicious sip and then placed the hot container down into the drink holder in the console between the two of them. Randal turned on the ignition switch and the engine roared vigorously to life. In a few minutes, Randal switched directions and turned away from Interstate 90 in Coeur d’Alene and headed south towards Moscow and Lewiston, Idaho on a narrow, two lane, State Highway 95. The guys had earlier missed the rain in Coeur d’Alene but now it was misting lightly again, making them feel wet from their bones out. They drove anxiously along the dreary, two lane Highway searching earnestly for a gravelly road that intersects the highway off to the left that leads into a pine, studded forest, leading to the 4500 acre parcel of land certified as early homestead property claimed by the first pioneer settlers arriving in the area years ago, estate property that Randal had purchased early last summer in a land, auction sale, a cattle ranch that was nestled snuggly within the newly, expanded boundary of the Idaho Panhandle National Forest.

This old, homestead property conjured up memories about the hard, harsh and grinding, living conditions endured by the early, pioneer settlers on the homestead in those early days of settlement. This property was originally registered as a pioneer homestead years ago before the Department of Interior elected to expand the original boundary of the Idaho Panhandle National Forest that lies in Benewah County, moving the boundary line further to the West to encompass a large section of dense, forested wilderness; the newly revised expansion of the National Forest now completely encircled the deeded Double D property and a number of other privately owned homesteads bordering along the newly, designated boundary line that now bordered State Highway #95 north and along the Benewah, County line from here and a short ways further south in the southern direction towards Moscow.

A few miles back, they were passing along the Coeur d’Alene Indian Reservation and now they were proceeding south towards Moscow, Idaho. Fortunately, the previous Double D owners had the insight to secure a ten-year land-lease agreement with the Department of Interior for the right to lease an additional 2500 acres of adjacent, government, range land that lies along the eastern slope of this homestead property. This government range was encircled all around by a fresh hint of green like a whisper, a barometer which suggested that spring was in the air. Looking all around, there was a densely forested, mountainous terrain with majestic stands of Oak, Douglas Firs, Western Hemlock, tamaracks, all varieties of whispering, lofty Pines and towering, virgin cedars that had stood over ages of sun, snow, wind and fire which seemed to hover over the mountains peaks like a heavy, dense fog, enveloping the entire landscape with the pristine purity and freshness of newly generated, life-supporting gas known as oxygen that is created from the process of photosynthesis.

Randal and his brother happened to be listening to a radio station playing country-western music to keep awake, a wailing sound from the mournful, gloomy weather conditions outside while listening to the melodious, mournful voice of Keith Urban’s singing, Tonight I Want to Cry. Randal unnervingly muttered to Michael, God, just listening to that sappy song makes me cry as the painful lyrics are too much for me to listen to on this gloomy, early morning. Why can’t you find something else by Blake Shelton; Hell, right now I’d settle for Taylor Swift’s which would be a little more uplifting and cheerier for this dreary morning, anything to brighten our spirits and keep us alert and wide awake. Besides, Taylor Swift is young and sexy as hell, full of vim and vigor, brimming with unassuming alacrity, a wild and bucking filly in bed and the mustering call for physical endurance which is exactly what the doctor ordered for me. I can only hope that my heart can endure the physical strain and stress she would exact on me in bed but what a hell of a way to go if you get my drift!

Michael smiled and retorted, Okay buddy, here’s something I guarantee will cheer you up; I have just what you need so here’s what the doctor prescribed for you, the antidote for what ails your poor, forlorn heart. Michael proceeded to play an old, familiar song from the nineties he knew would meet Randal’s need. The popular song began blurting out with the words, All I want to do is make love to you, a rock and roll song made famous by two, Canadian sisters and their band Heart when they were in Seattle recording the song. How is this maestro, something sweet and tasty for you? Like the lyrics go, I wouldn’t mind if one of those sisters would stop to pick me up one late, rainy night along a darkened roadside and take me off to enjoy a rapturous night of marathon, monkey sex until I’m replete, fully sated and spent. We could entertain ourselves at some all night, sleazy motel. Either Ann or Nancy would suffice for that cozy affair; if not, I think Taylor Swift is hot to trot and perform fantastically from the rumors I’ve heard."

Ah, hallelujah, that’s great! That’ll suffice in giving me my emotional fix this morning, Randal replied cheerfully. Entreating earnestly, Now all I really need from you is to find me a pretty girl to go along with the music; I don’t think you can fix me up with a pretty and sexy mistress like Taylor Swift, can you, Michael?"

"Hell, no, Jose, you must be kidding or out of your freaking mind, big brother. If I had Taylor Swift under my body, I’d fuck her senseless all night first. To answer your question, Randal, no way; that’s request doesn’t come under my job description so Forget it, Buddy; what in the hell do you think I was doing for us this morning at Coeur d’Alene anyway? If you recall, you put the kibosh on that lovely cutie without any consideration. So, you’ll have to find a girl on your own just like I do. You must be losing your touch since we had a pretty girl who wanted to come along with us for entertainment purposes when we were back at Coeur d’Alene. If you were a handsome man like me, you’d have little trouble resolving that sexual depravity. I’ve always had plenty of girls swarming all around me, eagerly willing and ready to make me happy, thank you Jesus.

Randal knew that Michael had a mouth designed to lure the most virtuous of coed towards forbidden passion and sinful pleasures; he certainly wasn’t in the dark as he knew about his brother’s recent affairs that were a rich medley of disreputable, amorous exploits with beautiful, naïve and innocent, young coeds on campus in Pullman who placated his inexhaustible, sexual appetite for uninhibited sex while his young wife was patiently residing on his Dad’s ranch in Montana, waiting earnestly for a signal to join up with him on Randal’s ranch in Idaho. Michael wasn’t in a hurry to bring Windy over to Randal’s ranch; according to Michael, Hey, so what? I’m still sowing my oats as Variety is the spice of life or so that’s what I’ve been told. A dip in the slippery syrup of fornication does wonders for me and makes a man feel good and whole, giving him a real sense of vibrancy and meaning to life. On the part of the girls, they are often powerless to look away, to reject the luring excitement beckoning as the thrill exposes to them how the sex act can give them a fulfilling, meaningful and rewarding experience in meeting their basic, physical needs their bodies’ demand which is no less important than breathing, eating and drinking. Sex is a fundamental, biological imperative. From what I understand, Randal, abstinence is passé. In a way, I’m performing a vital, meaningful, civil service to all those lonely, forlorn girls. Hallelujah, it’s important to be of service, praise the Lord! I deserve a Presidential accolade or some kind of commendation for my call to active duty, an honored obligation I owe to my Country. I wonder if I even qualify for any Veteran’s benefits like a V.A. Home Loan. That, my friend, would come in handy someday.

In an amicable rejoinder, Randal concluded, Well Michael, I haven’t heard so much nonsense in my life. Don’t let all that nonsense go to your empty head, Randal cautioned him. I’m quite certain that all of the young women you’ve screwed are grateful for the service and sacrifice you rendered on their behalf. So, that lecherous hypocrisy is precisely what got you into serious trouble in the first place which ended up forcing you to marry Windy and father a small, infant son. That’s what happens when you allow your hedonistic temperament to overpower your good, common sense. That young teenager you attempted to pick up this morning in Coeur d’Alene was merely the culmination of a pattern of bad decisions and behavior you practice routinely. I remember when you were a clumsy, awkward teenager with unrestrained hormones and acting without any justifiable or discretionary finesse. Have you ever heard about using some prophylactic like a condom or something else to prevent an unwanted pregnancy? Of course not, that problem still remains, nothing has really changed from the past as you are still taking risks and taking advantage of girls in fulfilling your inexhaustible, sexual appetite for sex without considering the ramifications for that reckless carelessness. Like our sex, starved bulls on the family ranch, you’re locked behind a bard, wire fence when it comes to sexual matters. Believe me, you’re not doing the girls any favors, hell no; you’re simply using them for the thrill and joy of placating your own inexhaustible appetite for hedonistic sex just like some sex-starved bull. Who are you trying to kid anyway? In reality, you respond to girls like some deviant and predatory, sexual maniac. If you won’t heed my advice, you’ll have to accept the consequences for your actions the hard way, probably ending up supporting an illegitimate child for a long time."

Randal summarily discharged his thoughts of leveling any further accusations against Michael. After all, no one is perfect or a veritable saint he mused thoughtfully. In reality, the Bible states that we are all sinners.

Indeed, Michael recalled a couple of occasions when he indiscreetly had taken advantage of a couple of pretty girls at the same time merely as a means to fulfill an urgent desire to indulge in a marathon of wild, monkey sex with both of them. So, I’m still a young, immature kid sewing a few wild oats while I can. Forget about abstinence as I sure don’t pretend to be a Saint or someone studying for the Priesthood right now. Remember, I’m in Veterinary School right now; so, I’m not perfect or pretentious; we’re probably all sinners, you know. What’s wrong with dallying around with a lovely, innocent maiden on the side and dipping into the forbidden syrup of celestial bliss with a naive, virginal maiden who wants the same thing? We all get what we’re looking for, the pleasure and thrill of making love. Don’t we all want to spread love around the world? As they say, What the world needs now is love, oh sweet love. It’s the only thing that there’s not enough of. Hell, just listen to the words of this song by the Canadian band Heart. It was written for all of us horny sinners who are looking for someone to make love to. If that doesn’t cheer you up, nothing will.

In response, Randal countered, I don’t have a problem with that scenario because I’m not married unlike you. What ever happened to those sacred, marital vows you professed to your bride Windy, to have, to hold and to cherish for richer or poorer until death do you part? Are those sacred vows you profess only meaningless word you repeat in paying lip service to your marital vows while dishonoring the sanctity of faithfulness you pledge to honor your bride, professions that are, for all practical purposes, meaningless words on paper you pay lip service to when you go through the motions of reiterating a sacred vow while exercising the prerogative of dallying around in the forbidden fruit of celestial bliss with any young, naïve, vulnerable and available coed on campus, indulging in fornication merely for the sheer joy and pleasure of it.

Hey brother, what’s wrong with getting a little extra on the side? Not only that but we know everyone does it, anyway, married or not; it’s good for my morale. I could have picked up a pretty, little thing at the store this morning in Coeur d’Alene but you poo-pooed that idea quick enough. I thought a cozy, little threesome would have been a nice, enjoyable treat for us. Just think of all that sweet, furry, little pussy we passed up today. Imagine what we passed up this morning; we could have been ravishing the sweetie in a torrid, hot orgy with a lusty, demure, looking virgin who was eager and hot to trot.

Well, how do you know she’s a virgin? I confess that I’m not exactly a pillar of morality, but I certainly know enough to stay clear of pretty, underage girls. First of all, you have absolutely no idea she was a virgin. There’s one imperative to remember: you’re forgetting something especially important, Michael. For one thing, you can easily get a woman pregnant and end up supporting that illegitimate child for an exceedingly long time; secondly, you might end up catching a venereal disease and that situation ought to put a kibosh on that unfortunate happenstance. Thirdly, having sex with a minor female may result in a legal charge of statutory rape even if it’s consensual. Furthermore, did you ever think of the ramifications for that pleasurable, sexual interlude? Besides, we have more important things to accomplish today than dallying around with a slim, sinuous and sexy female. Besides, you can do that on your own time in Pullman.

If you recall, Randal, you’re the one who just asked me to find you a cutesy female to make love to, remember? Alright, Saint Randal, you have convinced me to turn away from all my wicked sins about transgressing in the sins of the flesh, praise the Lord. May God have mercy on my soul for I’m a weak, scandalous sinner who loves life, who loves indulging in the pleasurable sins of the flesh?

Suddenly, Michael blurted out, Hey, Randy, where’s that bag of jerky I bought at the store before we left town. I can’t find it anywhere around here. I suppose you ate it, huh?

What do you think, Michael? I’m not your babysitter or nursemaid, thank God. As you can see, I’ve got my direct the steering wheel right where they belong so, if you can’t find it anywhere, you probably ate it, bag and all."

Ha, that’s real funny, Randy. Sitting on the passenger side, Michael quickly glanced down on the floorboards looking for where he stashed his bag of Jerky but couldn’t see it anywhere. Consequently, he turned around and looked beneath the truck console without success; therefore, Michael then turned his attention to check the storage compartment on the side panel of the passenger door for an empty bag without any success. Shuffling his feet forward, Michael suddenly caught sight of a tiny corner of the unopened bag of Jerky from under his seat. Well, well, what do you know, Randal? Here it is bag and all, tucked safely underneath my seat right where it belongs. Because of that snide remark you made earlier about me eating the Jerky, bag and all, I don’t feel inclined to share any of this fine Jerky with you unless you want the empty bag filled with warm air, good friend. I understand it’s supposed to be low on calories and short on proteins, a fantastic diet for you if you ask me, better even than Nutrisystem.

Randy was getting frustrated by now because the odometer on the truck’s dashboard indicated that the road to the ranch had to be coming up soon along this narrow stretch of highway. Let’s get our heads together, Michael. I know the road is near so let’s keep a sharp eye peeled out for the graveled road before we end up passing it. Speaking of that gravelly road, Michael, our gravelly road is coming up dead ahead; too bad it’s dark and rainy this dreary morning. Unfortunately, there’s no sure way or sign that will mark or identify the exact road we are looking for which leads off to the Ranch, so we’ll have to be careful not to bypass it or turn onto the wrong road. Fortunately, there are very few roads leading off to our left around this stretch of highway which eliminates the possibility of making many mistakes and creating utter confusion. I can’t stand the thought of having to back up this truck with the horse trailer behind me; that prospect would be a pain in the ass. Ironically, we’re almost as blind as a bat this dreary and rainy morning.

Sitting on the passenger side of the new truck with its new, cattle, guard racks on it, pulling a horse trailer with Michael’s quarter horse in it with another gilding his dad gave to Randal, Michael suddenly blurted out, Hey, I see it too. I’m fairly sure it’s dead ahead, coming up in a block or two. Maybe, you ought to slow the vehicle down a little before you’ll pass it. According to your description, I’m fairly sure this is the road we’re looking for; I see it coming up fast.

Randal heeded Michael’s advice and slowed down a little and then turned off onto a narrow, gravelly road that fit the description and immediately pulled up to a stop after clearing the highway. It’s our road alright, Randal remarked calmly. Hey, what is that dam thing dangling from that pine tree off to your right? I think that it’s an old, rickety, Double D ranch sign hanging from that pine tree over there. Let’s get it down and we’ll replace it with something clearly visible and easier to be seen from the highway."

As Michael opened the truck door, the air was heavily laden with the thick, rain, drenched, pungent odor of tart, Ponderosa Pines, not surprising since this is mostly pine, studded, forested countryside in the first place. Michael wasn’t wearing his wide, brimmed, Stetson hat though he had on his blue, Denim shirt, with pockets and a big, western belted pair of Wrangler Jeans along with his western belt and a trophy buckle and wearing his big, roughed-up, cowboy boots with spurs that gave him a cowboy air and why not? He personified the rough and tough cowboy lure. He had rugged features, long, deep, Canary, brown, colored hair with a beard and mustache, high, cheekbones, a chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, pronounced biceps and big, sure hands. Michael grew up on the family ranch north of Missoula, Montana; he was a rancher all his life, being around livestock ran in his blood as he enjoyed breaking, riding and training wild mustangs and herding cattle. He had been raised around farm animals all his life; it was in his DNA. In high school, girls considered him to be a dreamboat, a ruggedly, handsome, virile cowboy. After high school, he ran off to Washington State University to major in Veterinary Medicine but minored in the seduction of coeds as his priorities were seriously distracted like some horny teenager, long on urgent need and short on self-control and money to boot. Michael was on fire, burning with desire to score with naïve, cutesy coeds; you’d have thought he’d turn to ashes, but he was somehow incombustible and nonflammable. Consequently, he was forced to leave school a year and a half early before finishing the program at Pullman after he spent his college funds on so many young, naïve coeds, entertaining and dining them lavishly, entertaining the ladies in local bars, restaurants and hotel rooms until running completely out of his college funds. Michael wasn’t prepared to explain to his dad where he had spent his college funds, so he had to devise a scheme to recoup his losses. With no other available option, he decided to run off and chase after the professional, Rodeo circuit, thriving on the thrill, the danger and the excitement of riding wild, untamed, bucking broncos bareback, saddle bronc riding and mean, brahma bull riding events in the rodeo arena to earn enough purse money to return back to school and finish his degree in Veterinary Medicine, only to watch entry fees waste away, bad draws and bad luck in discovering that the ground was a hard and unforgiving surface, ending him up in the hospital more times than not with broken bones, limbs and rib injuries to compensate him for all his trouble and very little money left over to speak of for college expenses. The brightest accolade he earned was to win the Bull Riding title one year at the Pendleton Roundup in central Oregon. After spending lavishly on such things as drinking, gambling and womanizing between shows, he hadn’t acquired much in savings to allow him to return back to finish Veterinary School in Pullman, Washington. After learning that his girlfriend Windy was pregnant with his baby, he decided that it was time for him to settle down and raise a family, so he jumped at the opportunity to join up with his older brother in Idaho to rebuild a cattle ranch and restore it to its former grandeur, an estate which his brother Randal had purchased early, last summer. It was a convenient location for Michael because the ranch was only 60 miles north of Moscow, Idaho, a doable distance to commute to the Veterinary School at WSU in nearby Pullman, Washington that saved him the expense of residing on campus in dormitory housing.

Damp, cold and wet, Michael easily managed to pull off the old, rickety sign from the pine tree and then darted back to the truck in a rush. Damn it; I should have worn my Stetson Hat and my fringe, leather jacket out there. It’s darn cold and damp out there. Wouldn’t you know it? This damn sign has several bullet holes in it as some gun, happy, juvenile delinquents have used it around here for target practice. I suppose teenage delinquents have nothing more constructive to do these days beyond looking for something to shoot at, dead or alive.

Randal was chuckling inwardly at the things that crossed his mind that morning and the things that lay ahead. He knew that the days ahead would be difficult and troublesome. There were obvious questions to be faced and a plan of action to be drawn. It all took serious thought but fortunately most of those intricate decisions had already been addressed in his mind. His hope of renovating an old, dilapidated cattle ranch could come to fruition in just a few months if everything falls into place in a timely and expeditious fashion without any unexpected complications or delays in the restoration process. His aspirations for a cattle ranch of his own evolved from a long, lingering, childhood dream he had before recently inherited his grandfather’s, silver, mining interests in Butte, Montana which accorded him an immense windfall of revenue from the sale of silver, mining stock. That inheritance graced him with the financial wherewithal to fulfill his long, held, childhood dream of owning his own cattle ranch; Since Randal received his grandfather’s inheritance, it was agreed that Michael and his younger brothers would inherit his dad’s ranch north of Missoula, Montana after his parents retired from the ranching business.

The thickly, wooded, lofty, Ponderosa Pines off to both sides of the graveled road were majestic, dark, bare and scraggly looking, virgin pines stretching into the sky with dwindling spikiness who’s over hanging canopy of branches above the road seemed to claw at one another like spineless, scrawny, skeletal fingers, casting, shifting shadowy silhouettes of light that moved over the ground like a conscious caress. Soon, this spring the branches will become heavily laden with a thick layer of pine needles which would form a dense coverlet so thick the vehicle would appear to be driving into a thicketed cavern of dense pine needles, driving the sunlight from view. Once in a while, a few Evergreens might be seen standing at attention as though they were cold, damp and chili.

Curious about the distance to the ranch from the highway, Michael nonchalantly blurted out, So, Randy, how far off from the highway is the ranch from here?

Randal allowed Michael’s question to hang in the air and smiled before answering. After a pensive thought, he muttered in a droll fashion, Oh, I suppose it’s about four miles as the crow flies. Fortunately for us, it’s a decent stretch of road, fairly straight and level until we approach the ranch where the road gradually curves off to the right and then slowly descend down to the left along a narrow canyon gorge between two steep, rocky escarpments. The mouth of the canyon then opens up onto a broad, level plane, flat terrain with tall, prairie grass. The basin widens out into a lush, verdant valley interspersed by two narrow, protruding, rocky and forested protrusions that divides the lush basin into three separates but uniform, size sections. However, there is a fourth upper range leading off to the southwest that is in higher and more fertile ground. Finally, there is a rather large pasture out beyond the barn which consist of 500 acres of tall, grassy pasture. All of the individual ranges are approximately the same size in square acres, probably consisting of about a thousand acres each.

That’s what I thought, Randal. Since this road is a small, gravelly road, I assume that it isn’t classified as County property, so we’ll be responsible for maintaining this road during the long, winter months, right?

A smug grin suffused itself on Randal’s handsome face before he remarked, Bravo, Randal remarked. "Bravo little brother, I’m afraid you’re very astute in that regard, Michael, but I don’t think it’s going to be a major obstacle