Free The Brushstroke Legacy by Lauraine Snelling

memories, huh? He taught both your mother and me to fish when we were kids. He did love to fish.” She thought a moment. “I’ll bet that’s something he could still do. They say that the short-term memory is the first to go, and he’s been fishing since he was a little boy. I wonder.”
    “What if he got upset and fell out of the boat?”
    Ragni nodded and tipped her head to the side in a sort of shrug. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll look into it when we get home.”
    She pulled a bottle of water from the ice chest, handed it to Erika, and got another. “Bring out the caramel rolls. I’m starved.” One bite and she closed her eyes, the better to savor the flavor. “Not quite as good as your grandmother’s, but better’n any bakery.”
    Erika peeled off part of the outer layer and ate it first.
    “Do you know that’s exactly the way your mother eats caramel rolls?”
    Erika paused. “So?”
    “So…she always told me I ate them wrong, back in her bossy days.”
    Ragni sat down on the car seat, her feet still on the ground. “I think we’d better buy us two lawn chairs too. I couldn’t fit any more in the car, or I’d have brought some.” She dug a pad of paper and a pen from her purse. It was time to start the list.
    They heard the truck coming and turned to watch. The road wasn’t used much—this was the first vehicle they’d seen.
    The truck had seen cleaner days. Its driver slowed and pulled innext to them. He settled his straw hat in place as he stepped from the truck and came around the front.
    “Hi, welcome to Medora. I’m Paul Heidelborg. I own the land around here, and I’m the one who wrote to Mrs. Clauson about the house.”
    So this is Paul Heidelborg. Why did I think he’d be much older?
Ragni wiped her hands on her pants and stood to greet him. “I’m Ragni Clauson, and this is my niece, Erika.” Extending her hand, she nodded. “We saw you at the Cowboy Cafe this morning, didn’t we?”
    “Weekly ritual.” He shook her hand, his smile as wide as the sky above them. “Welcome to Medora.” He nodded to Erika. “Hope you both enjoy your time here. Anything I can do to help, let me know.”
    “Thanks.”
If this is North Dakota hospitality, so be it.
    “I live back there, first ranch on the right as you come down the cut.”
    “Can we swim in the river?” Erika asked.
    “Don’t know why not, if you don’t mind freezing. Won’t warm up much until into July. How long you here for?”
    “Two weeks. Do you mind if we camp here?”
    “This is your land, from that fence line to that other down there.” He pointed beyond the corrals and a small field. “You can do what you want. You have a little more than three acres. Old Einer quit farming some years before he died, and my dad bought the remaining fields from him. Would a bought the whole thing, but the old man would have none of it. Said he was born here and figured to die here.”
    “You know much about my family?”
    “Some. Might be some pictures up to the house, if I can find them. I’ll give a look and bring ’em by.”
    “Thank you.”
    “You been in the house yet?”
    “No, that’s next.” She caught him in a questioning look at Erika, who was studying him from under her lashes. He was worth studying. The shirt fit just right, like they’d been friends for some time; same with the jeans and the honest-to-goodness pointy-toed boots with a heel. The oval metal buckle on a tooled belt sported a bucking horse. When he tipped his hat back with one finger, she could all but hear John Wayne drawling. Hazel eyes wore crinkles at the edges that matched his smile, but concern rode roughshod over laughter.
    “You really plan to camp here? I mean, the house is in pretty bad shape.” He smoothed back his mahogany hair that sported a wave either genetic or hat-sculpted.
    “I brought a tent, camp stove, the things we’ll need.”
    “I see. Wouldn’t you be more comfortable at one of the motels in town, I