Free Dream Chaser by Kate Vale Page A

flowers. Birds she hadn’t seen before sang her awake nearly every morning.
    The day following a sudden rainstorm, she took Sam for a walk along a burbling spring. High above her, a falcon wheeled in the sky, then began a steep dive toward a cluster of ducks flying closer to t he ground. “Look at that, Sam!”
    He barked and ran in a circle while Suzanna watched, awestruck, at the aerial ballet she witnessed as the ducks scattered out of formation on the falcon’s approach.
    That evening, a late spring storm blanketed her car in nearly a foot of snow, forcing her to stay in a dingy roadside motel until it melted. Three days later, she headed north again, hoping to reach Yellowstone Park to check out the geysers. “It’s May 10, Sam. Let’s hope we see no more snow.”
    After two long days of driving, she arrived to find the entrance closed. The sign on the gate reported “unexpected snow” as the reason. She turned around, disappointed and tired of driving and headed back to the state road skirting the p ark .
    “We need to find a place to stop for more than a day or two, Sam. Maybe for a week or so.”
    Two hours later, she topped a ridge and looked down onto a river winding through a valley. A herd of cattle were scattered over the new green, overseen by two cowboys on horseback. The view was enchanting .
    As her finger skimmed over the map, she saw that she had to be close to Willow Grove and her heart skipped a beat. “Oh my gosh, Sam. I didn’t realize I was so close to that part of Montana.” She rummaged in her purse. At the bottom, badly creased and with a smear of lipstick across one corner, she read the bedraggled card . She debated whether she should call Jonathan Kingsley. He had invited her to stop in, but she’d never told him she was coming.
    As she pulled into town, Suzanna stopped at the gas station , filled up the Wrangler then walked across the street to a small post office. A gray-haired woman stood behind the counter plac ing mail into slots.
    “Hello,” Suzanna greeted her. “Could you tell me where I might get a bite to eat?”
    The postmistress looked up. “Sure thing! Just hike yourself down about two blocks. The Hitching Post has good food.” She craned her neck and looked out the window. “That your dog in th e camo J eep?” She pointed to Sam, who was looking out the half-open window of the car.
    “Yes.”
    “Well, mention him at the Post and they’ll probably give him a bone. Sharon’s a pushover for big white dogs.” She smiled at Suzanna. “My name’s Abigail. What’s yours?”
    “Suzanna.” She shook the postmistress’s hand. “Is there a hotel or motel in town?”
    “Nope, we’re too small for that, but if you go west about five miles, you’ll find one.”
    She followed the woman’s directions to the motel. After checking in, she returned to the diner for a quick lunch. The place was nearly empty.
    When a waitress approached her, Suzanna asked, “Am I too late for lunch?”
    “We’re about done. Take any seat.” She smiled at her. “My name’s Sharon.”
    When she returned, the waitress offered Suzanna a bag of bones for Sam. “Abigail called and told me you have a dog . I used to have a Sam oyed , too.”
    Suzanna accepted the bag of bones for Sam. “I’m sure my dog will be thrilled. Where could I get more information about this area—places to hike and things to see, that sort of thing?”
    “You might try the library across the street. Emma keeps stuff that tourists might need. She’s lived here forever, so she can answer any questions you might have. And, she loves dogs. If you want, take your pal in with you.”
    Suzanna w alked across the street to the library, housed in a building with a 1908 date just under the peak of the high roof. The tall shelves created narrow passageways that darkened as she moved down the rows. The small bulbs in the high, copper-plated ceiling threw off meager light. At the back of the main room and overlooking