Cover of Night by Linda Howard Read Free Book Online

Stop was, literally, the end of the trail. If you went any farther, you went on foot—and not easily.
    Trail Stop existed on a little spit of land that rose from the sloping valley floor like an anvil. To the right rushed the river, wide and icy and treacherous, with sharp, jagged rocks jutting above the spray. Even white-water rafters didn’t try the rapids here; they started their adventures about fifteen miles downriver. On both sides rose the Bitterroot mountains and the vertical expanses of rock that she and Derek had climbed, or attempted to climb and abandoned as too difficult for their level of expertise.
    Trail Stop was basically in a box, with one gravel road linking it to the rest of the world. The peculiar geography protected them from snowslides, but sometimes during the winter she would hear the roar of snow collapsing and rushing down the steep slopes, and she would shiver in reaction. Life here was complicated, but the inconveniences and lack of cultural opportunities were offset by the breathtaking natural beauty surrounding them. She missed being close to her family, but her money went much further here. Maybe she hadn’t made the best possible decision, but overall she was satisfied with her choice.
    Her mother came yawning into the kitchen and, without a word, went to the cabinet to retrieve a cup then back out into the dining room to get some coffee. Cate glanced at the clock and sighed.
Five forty-five
; her two hours of solitude had been cut short this morning, but the payoff was she’d get to spend some time with her mother without the boys clamoring for their Mimi’s attention. Here, too, there was balance. She missed her mother, wished they could see each other more often.
    Her face practically buried in the coffee cup, Sheila reentered the kitchen and, with a sigh, sat down at the table. She wasn’t a morning person, so Cate suspected she had set the alarm in order to have some mother-daughter time before the twins got up.
    “What kind of muffins today?” Sheila finally asked in a hoarse tone.
    “Apple butter,” Cate said, smiling. “I found the recipe online.”
    “Bet you didn’t find the apple butter at that dinky little store across the road.”
    “No, I ordered it online from a place in Sevierville,
Tennessee
.” Cate ignored the dig because, first of all, it was true, and second, she knew that even if she’d moved to New York City, her mother would have found something wrong there, too, because her core problem was that she wanted her daughter and grandchildren nearby.
    “Tanner’s talking more,” Sheila observed a moment later, pushing her blond hair out of her face. She was a very pretty woman, and Cate had often wished she’d inherited her mother’s looks instead of the mishmash of features she sported.
    “When he wants. I’ve almost decided he hangs back so Tucker can be the one who gets in trouble.” Grinning, she related the tale of Mr. Harris’s tools, and how Tanner had somehow figured out the basics of simple math so he knew he had only eight minutes left in the naughty chair.
    Her mother laughed, but her expression was full of pride. “I’ve read that Einstein didn’t talk until he was six, or something like that. Maybe I’m wrong on the age.”
    “I don’t think he’s the next Einstein.” Cate would settle for healthy and happy. She had no ambitions for her sons; standards, yes, but not ambitions.
    “You never can tell.” Sheila yawned. “My God, I couldn’t face getting up this early every day. It’s barbaric. Anyway, you can’t tell how a child will turn out. You were a total tomboy, always playing softball and climbing trees, plus you were in that climbing club, and now look at you: your entire career is domestic. You clean, you cook, you waitress.”
    “I run a business,” Cate corrected. “And I like cooking. I’m good at it.” Cooking was, for the most part, a pleasure. Nor did she mind waiting tables for her customers, because the