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Have I told you the story about my father and the time he came face-to-face with a cougar up on the east bench? Well, it was getting on toward dark, and. .

Now that singular voice had been stilled-mingled, Dan surmised, with that of Grandma Ellen’s as she had called for the old man to join her. Dan’s view of the orchard, so small and insignificant on a worldly scale, was obscured by the very real tears that now filled his eyes and filled his heart, empty for so long, until. .

Nicole slipped her arm gently through Dan’s as they stood, viewing the California valley, which now remained part of the whole-part of the heritage his forebears had forged with their blood. Blinking the tears away, Dan covered Nicole’s hand on his arm and looked softly into her eyes, unspoken words passing between them as they surveyed the landscape, newly discovered by the woman, but part of the soul of the man.

“Have I told you the story of Jack’s house?” Dan asked, nodding toward the old, weathered farmhouse. “It’s the fourth house in a series.”

Nicole smiled at Dan, listening to his life and family history and absorbing it into her character.

“In 1866, when he came out after the Civil War, Howard Rumsey drove his Conestoga up this valley and staked out his tent, not far from where the house now stands. In four months, he’d built their first home-a two-room log cabin. Three years later, after a mill had opened down the valley, he made the round trip each week to bring freshly milled lumber to build his wife a proper home. That home stood for nearly thirty-five years, and then, shortly after the turn of the century, Jack’s father built his home, a few yards from the first.

“Then, in 1945, after Jack came home from his generation’s war, and after his father died in ’48, Jack tore down both houses and built the house you see down there now. He took care of his mother there until she died-that house is over sixty years old and has seen its day.”

Dan turned to look at Nicole, taking her face in his hands, stroking her hair, and bending to kiss her softly. He thought how she had stood by his side, risking her life to save his, and he felt his love for this woman welling up inside him.

Nicole’s recovery from the gunshot wound had taken longer than anticipated, and her medical retirement from the FBI, required because of a collapsed lung that had not healed completely, had been a hard blow from which she had not yet fully recovered-a lifelong career dream shattered.

“Jack had only one child,” Dan said, “my mother. In his will, Jack left all this to me. It’s time, I think, for a fifth house, but. .” Dan stopped.

“But what?” Nicole asked.

“But it’d be empty, Nicole, unless you would share it with me. I know I’ve been hard-pressed to let go of the past, and you’ve been very patient with me. But I also know that you know I love you.”

Nicole returned Dan’s kiss, then laid her head against his chest for awhile, the two of them content to stand and watch the sunset gather over the western end of the valley. She’d noticed, the first time he came to the hospital after returning from Washington, that he had removed his wedding band. She had taken it as an admission that he had let go of the past and that he loved her.

“What will you do, Dan?” she said, not lifting her head from his chest.

“Well, for one thing, I’ll continue to write. There are a lot of stories left untold.”

“And?” she said.

“And Governor Dewhirst is not going to run again,” he said, a grin on his face.

At that, Nicole raised her head and looked into his eyes. “So you thought you’d remain in politics?”

“I’ve thought that perhaps I could contribute to the effort. I’m still a bit young to fun for governor, but I might try to keep my legislative seat for a few years.” He smiled. “We still have this secession issue to deal with. It’s not really a done deal yet. In fact I’ve received an invitation to meet with several state and national elected officials from Oregon, Arizona, and even Nevada. They want to discuss some options. That will be in January. I don’t have a handle on what they want, but I intend to listen. Nicole, since being elected, I’ve learned a lot. In many respects, the secession mania has been a diversion, helpful to the current crop of elected officials actually. California is financially destitute. As a state, we have so many resources, so much to offer, but we also have the largest welfare rolls, the most claim on meager resources, the largest share of illegal immigrants. We could do better, but maybe we simply can’t turn the direction of the federal government.”

“Do I hear the beginning of a shift in your thoughts about secession? A positive look at becoming separate?”

Dan hesitated, continuing to look over the western slopes. “I don’t know yet, Nicole. Some of our Founding Fathers came reluctantly to their rebellious position. They were loyalists initially. I need to be more inquisitive, more open. California could work independently. Despite our current financial crisis, we do actually have the total package-far better than many existing countries. I’m not speaking of treason. I’m thinking about political alliance, shifting priorities.”

“And you want to do something about that, right?” Nicole said, softly pressing the issue.

“Only if you’d share it with me, Nicole. That’s the only way it would matter. John Adams could not have accomplished what he did without Abigail. And we helped to build it together, didn’t we? Just like my ancestors. We rightfully earned our place in this valley.”

“I suppose we did,” she responded, raising her eyes across the valley to the far west mountainside where their lives had been in jeopardy. “I suppose we did.”

“Well, then,” Dan said, bracing her shoulders straight so he could face her head on. “Will you help me start one more generation of voices-voices to keep this valley alive?”

Nicole looked slowly around the valley and then returned her gaze to Dan, who stood patiently waiting for her to respond.

“Mr. Rawlings, have I ever told you the story of my first American ancestor, James Bentley, and his trip from London to the colonies?” She smiled.

Dan looked at her for a moment, his smile broadening as her response took root in his heart, her family stories about to be mingled with his ancestors’ stories, her answer to his question couched in family tradition.

“No, you haven’t,” he said, “but I think I’m due.”

Her words came slowly at first as she described her own heritage, anticipating in the telling how these two streams from separate sources would be joined together.

Dan only half heard the words, lost again in the vision of the old man in the orchard with his eyes lifted toward the couple on the hill, smiling and waving at the two of them. They sat there together on the hillside, overlooking the expanse of Rumsey Valley as the sun dropped beneath the western ridge. Stretched before them was a destiny-an old valley in a new state-a home forged in courage by the voices that yet reverberated through the canyons and in their hearts.