He found Arkansas birth certificates for Nathan and Nora, divorce papers ending a six-year marriage to Ronald Daniels three years ago, and court papers giving Catherine full custody of her children. But it was the last paper that caught Robbie’s attention. It was a letter from the Arkansas Penitentiary System informing Catherine Daniels that her ex-husband was being paroled on January fourteenth, after serving three years of his five-year sentence.
The letter was dated January fifth. Quite a birthday present Catherine had received this year. It didn’t say what crime Ronald Daniels had been incarcerated for, only that it was the parole board’s opinion he was ready to reenter society.
Robbie let his gaze travel toward TarStone. Did Catherine not agree with the board’s findings? Was that why she was here, hiding on his mountain, avoiding contact with people? But why Maine? And why his mountain, of all places? The weather alone was enough to cope with, especially with two young children. Children without mittens and caps—and supper.
Maybe they were only passing through. Or maybe Catherine had family up this way or was trying to get to Canada.
Dammit. The more he learned about her, the more of a mystery she became.
Robbie folded the papers and placed them back in the pack, along with the food and mittens and wallet, then put the truck in gear and started for home with a new sense of urgency.
He hadn’t traveled a hundred yards when his truck phone rang. “MacBain,” he said.
“Robbie, this is Kate. Where are you?”
“About two minutes away. Did the hoodlums leave me any lasagna?”
“There’s plenty. Ah… you need to go to town and pick up Cody at the health clinic. He’s okay,” she rushed to add. “He just needs a ride home.”
Robbie sighed. “What happened?”
“Sheriff Beal called half an hour ago. It seems one of the boys Cody was with got hurt.
But he’s going to be okay, too.”
“Hurt doing what?” Robbie asked, accelerating past the turn to his house and continuing on to town.
Kate made a frustrated sound. “I don’t know exactly. The sheriff said something about a potato gun, John Mead’s skidder, and a chase through the woods. The boy who got hurt ran into a tree and broke his nose.”
Robbie let up on the accelerator, letting the truck ease back to the speed limit. This wasn
’t a crisis, only a bunch of bored high-school brats shooting potatoes at logging machinery.
“Are Gunter and Peter and Rick home?” he asked.
“I’ve got them doing dishes as we speak,” Kate said, a smile in her voice. “Robbie, what’
s a potato gun?”
“It’s a homemade cannon fashioned from a length of plastic pipe that you shoot potatoes out of.”
“A cannon?” Kate repeated. “But what makes it… were the boys playing withgunpowder?” she asked in outrage.
“No. Hair spray is usually the propellent of choice.”
“Hair spray!”
“It’s a neat invention, Kate,” Robbie assured her, “that’s relatively harmless and not at all accurate. I doubt the boys did much damage to Mead’s equipment, other than make a mess.”
“Sheriff Beal didn’t sound so amused,” she shot back. “And he’s not releasing them until their parents come get them. Robbie, don’t you dare let him take Cody away from us!”
Robbie smiled, picturing Kate with her hackles up. Libby’s eighty-one-year-old mom was more protective of the boys than he was. Maybe he should lether go rescue Cody from Beal.
“I won’t let anyone take Cody, I promise. You just make sure to save me some lasagna.”
“I’ve saved enough for both of you,” she told him. “Ah… Robbie? I called your truck phone earlier, and a woman answered.”
Catherine Daniels had answered his phone? “What did she say?”
“She told me you were unavailable at the moment and to try calling back in half an hour.
Who is she?”
“Er… just someone I’m doing business with. I’m at the clinic, Kate. Thanks for bringing over supper. You don’t have to wait for us. This might take a while.”
“I’ll wait.”
“Don’t you dare do any cleaning,” he warned, knowing Kate only too well. “That’s the boys’ responsibility.”
“Too late,” she said with a laugh. “I did the bathrooms while the lasagna was reheating.”
“Kate,” Robbie growled.
“And if shooting a potato cannon is so harmless,” she said, cutting him off, “you go easy on Cody. Try to remember that you were sixteen once.”
“Ah, Kate,” Robbie said with a laugh. “I was never sixteen. Good-bye. And thanks,” he softly added, hitting the end button on the phone and snapping it back in its cradle. He got out and stood beside the truck, looking first at the lighted windows of the clinic and then over at the looming shadow of TarStone Mountain.
He blew out a tired sigh.
There were days when he felt he was being pulled in a dozen different directions, when he thought the whole world might fall apart if he blinked. And days when he feared he couldn’t live up to his calling.
And then there were days—like today—when he didn’t even come close.
Chapter Three
There were nomeetings scheduled, his logging operation was back to full manpower, and the boys had fed themselves and gotten off to school without starting any fires.
Robbie led his horse into the strengthening March sun, determined finally to get down to the business of finding Catherine Daniels.
He was just closing the barn door when he spotted the snowy owl perched on one of the paddock fence posts.
“Well, hello, little one,” he said, walking over and gently stroking her feathers. “I was hoping you’d show up today. I could use your help.”
The snowy leaned into his touch, closing her eyes with a soft sound of pleasure.
“Where have you been?” he whispered, cupping her broad white head. “I’ve missed you.”
The owl stretched tall, turning in his palm and lightly nipping his thumb. Robbie laughed and went to mount his horse but then stopped and turned back. “My sword?”
he asked, bending over to look her in the eye. “I’m hunting a woman and two children, and I intend to offer them shelter, not scare them to death.”
His old friend merely blinked at him.
Robbie tied his horse to the fence rail and set his hands on his hips. “I don’t care what that crazydrùidh is concocting. I can’t leave the lady out there another night. Daar’s matter will just have to wait.”
The snowy opened her wings and bristled in agitation.
“I am not bringing my sword!” he snapped, thinking nothing of speaking out loud to the bird. He’d been talking to the owl for twenty-two years now, though their conversations usually tended toward the snowy lecturing and Robbie arguing. “And besides, you can’
t just disappear for six months, then suddenly show up and start giving me orders.”
The snowy let out a rattle that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Robbie crossed his arms over his chest. “Can you honestly tell me this isn’t another one of Daar’s schemes?”
She silently stared back.
Robbie leaned down until the owl’s face was mere inches from his. “Then help me,” he whispered. “Buy me some time to find Catherine Daniels and her children. Convince thedrùidh to wait a few more days.”
The owl sidestepped away, emitting a loud shrill.
“I realize Papa and the others are in danger.” Robbie set his hands back on his hips. “But dammit, what if Ican’t get the book? What if I fail?” He held up his hand. “There’s a difference between being cautious and being afraid! You can’t expect me to go hurtling blindly through time. I need to think about this.”
The snowy turned on the rail until she faced away from him.
Robbie dropped his head with a sigh, and pivoted on his heel and headed to the house.