Winter Moon

After sending Jack to discover what Toby was doing among the

gravestones, Heather returned to the spare bedroom where she had been

working with her computers.

She watched from the window as Jack climbed the hill to the cemetery.

He stood with the boy for a minute, then knelt beside him. From a

distance, everything seemed all right, no sign of trouble. Evidently,

she'd been worried for no good reason. A lot of that going around

lately. She sat in her office chair, sighed at her excessive maternal

concern, and turned her attention to the computers.

For a while she searched the hard disc of each machine, ran tests, and

made sure the programs were in place and that nothing had crashed

during the move.

Later, she grew thirsty, and before going to the kitchen to get a

Pepsi, she stepped to the window to check on Jack and Toby. They were

almost out of her line of view, near the stables, tossing the Frisbee

back and forth. Judging by the heavy sky and by how icy cold the

window was when she touched it, snow would begin to fall soon. She was

eager for it.

Maybe the change of weather would bring a change in her mood, as well,

and help her finally shed the city jitters that plagued her. It ought

to be hard to cling to all the old paranoia-soaked expectations of life

in Los Angeles when they were living in a white wonderland, trkling and

pristine, like a sequined scene on a Christmas card.

In the kitchen, as she opened a can of Pepsi and poured it into a

glass, she heard a heavy engine approaching. Thinking it might be Paul

Youngblood paying an unexpected visit, she took the tablet from the top

of the refrigerator and put it on the counter, so she would be less

likely to forget to give it to him before he went home. - By the time

she went down the hall, opened the door, and stepped onto the front

porch, the vehicle pulled to a stop in front of the garage doors.

It wasn't Paul's white Bronco, it was a similar, metallic-blue wagon,

as large as the Bronco, larger than their own Explorer, but of yet

another model, with which she wasn't familiar. She wondered if anyone

in those parts ever drove cars. But of course she had seen plenty of

cars in town and at the supermarket.

Even there, however, pickup trucks and four-wheel-drive truck-style

wagons outnumbered automobiles.

She went down the steps and crossed the yard to the driveway to greet

the visitor, wishing she'd paused to put on a jacket. The bitter air

pierced even her comfortably thick flannel shirt.

The man who climbed out of the wagon was about thirty, with an unruly

mop of brown hair, craggy features, and light-brown eyes kinder than

his rugged looks.

Closing the driver's door behind him, he smiled and said, "Howdy. You

must be Mrs. Mcgarvey."

"That's right," she said, shaking the hand he offered. "Travis

Potter.

Pleased to meet you. I'm the vet in Eagle's Roost. One of the vets.

A man could go to the ends of the earth, there'd still be

competition."

A big golden retriever stood in the back of the wagon. Its bushy tail

wagged nonstop, and it grinned at them through the side window. Seeing

the direction of Heather's gaze, Potter said, "Beautiful, isn't he?"

"They're such gorgeous dogs.

Is he a purebred?"

"Pure as they come."

Jack and Toby rounded the corner of the house. White clouds of breath

steamed from them, they had evidently run from the hillside west of the

stable, where they'd been playing. Heather introduced them to the

vet.

Jack dropped the Frisbee and shook hands. But Toby was so enchanted by

the sight of the dog that he forgot his manners and went directly to

the wagon to stare delightedly through the window at the occupant of

the cargo space.

Shivering, Heather said, "Dr. Potter--"

"Travis, please."

"Travis, can you come in for some coffee?"

"Yeah, come on in and visit a spell," Jack said, as if he had been a

country boy all his life. "Stay to dinner if you can."

"Sorry, can't," Travis said. "But thanks for the invitation. I'll

take a rain check, if you don't mind. Right now, I've got calls to

make--a couple of sick horses that need tending to, a cow with an

infected hoof. With this storm coming, I want to get home early as I

can." He checked his watch.

"Almost four o'clock already." Ten-inch snowfall, we hear," said

Jack.

"You haven't heard the latest. First storm's built strength, and the

second's no longer a day behind it, more like a couple hours. Maybe

two feet accumulation before it's all done."

Heather was glad they had gone shopping that morning and that their

shelves were well stocked. "Anyway," Travis said, indicating the dog,

"this was the real reason I stopped by." He joined Toby at the side of

the wagon. Jack put an arm around Heather to help her keep -warm, and

they stepped behind Toby. Travis pressed two fingers against the

window, and the dog licked the other side of the glass

enthusiastically, whined, and wagged his tail more furiously than

ever.

"He's a sweet-tempered fella. Aren't you, Falstaff. His name's

Falstaff."

"Really?" Heather said. "Hardly seems fair, does it? But he's two