The Family Tree Read online

  THE FAMILY TREE

  MILLER CANYON RANCH SERIES

  C. DEANNE ROWE

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Biography

  Also by C. Deanne Rowe

  Miller Canyon Ranch—The Family Tree

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  Published by C. Deanne Rowe

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  www.cdeannerowe.com

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  Cover Art by Rebecca K. Sterling

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  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission email: [email protected]

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Copyright © 2022 C. Deanne Rowe

  Created with Vellum

  To my Allie, my heart

  CHAPTER 1

  DRAKE MILLER

  “What the hell is she doing?” Shutting off the vent to prevent the smoke-filled air from entering his truck, Drake Miller leaned forward against the steering wheel. Squinting, he stared at a woman standing in a yard with a shovel.

  He answered the call coming through his cell, “Mom.” If he didn’t answer, she would keep calling.

  “Are you done with your search?” Mary Miller asked. “I’m worried about you being so close to the wildfires.”

  “I’m fine, Mom. I’ll be out of here soon. I need to check a few streets. It won’t take much longer.” His mother’s sigh reminded him she wasn’t excited about him being a volunteer firefighter. She would check on him every time he was called out.

  “Call me when you’re on your way home. I want to know you’re safe.”

  “I’ll call.” He shook his head. “I promise. Thanks for checking on me. Love you, Mom.”

  He ended the call, then watched the struggling woman who appeared to be digging up a tree.

  His job was going through the neighborhoods in the path of the blazing wildfires. Most of the families in the area heeded the warning and evacuated. He visited each vacant house to make sure they were empty. There were portable cages in the back of his truck. He was concerned about the animals their owners didn’t take with them, leaving them stranded and confused. He didn’t expect to find a person digging up a tree when they should be leaving.

  Drake pulled off to the side of the road and put the passenger window down. “You should be evacuating.” He yelled out the window as the woman waved her hand to acknowledge his comment. It didn’t stop her from digging.

  “I can’t leave until I see you’re attempting to evacuate.” He yelled again. Nothing he said distracted her. She struggled to loosen the dry dirt around the tree. Breathing the thick air wasn’t helping her either.

  “Great.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the truck. “Just what I needed. There’s always one who doesn’t listen.” He whispered under his breath, “I wonder if she’ll fit in a cage?”

  CHAPTER 2

  With her foot steadied on the shovel’s blade, Emerson Malone pushed down and loaded another scoop of dirt, then tossed it at the pile beside her. A gust of wind blew through, bringing with it smoke and dust, making her cough.

  It was taking longer than she’d thought. She placed her hand on the back of her neck, gathering her long brown hair and pulling it to one side. She cleared her throat and continued digging. “I’m doing this for you, Dad. If it were up to me, I’d let it take its chances.”

  “You should be evacuating.” A voice came from the distance.

  Emerson looked up to see a truck stopped on the road. She waved her hand to acknowledge she heard, then ignored him.

  “I can’t leave until I see you’re attempting to evacuate.”

  She tossed the shovel full of dirt on the pile, then planted the nose in the ground. “I heard you, and I plan to leave as soon as I’m done.” Watching as he raised the open truck window, she returned to digging. It was up to her if or when she evacuated.

  “Can I ask what you’re doing?”

  Emerson stopped digging and glanced up to see a tall, slender man dressed in jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, a cowboy. She watched as he moved closer. I don’t need a cowboy.

  “I’m Drake Miller, a volunteer firefighter. I’m checking out the neighborhood to make sure everyone is evacuating as instructed. I can’t leave as long as you’re here doing whatever you’re doing.” He motioned to the pile of dirt.

  She held the shovel straight out in front of her. “Do you have some identification?”

  He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet, opened it, and held it out for her to see.

  She studied it closely, with the shovel still held out in front of her. He didn’t move.

  “I guess you check out.”

  “Are you the homeowner?” Drake pointed to the brick ranch-style house at the end of the driveway.

  “I am now.” She pushed the shovel into the dirt again.

  “Have you removed everything you want from the house? The winds could change at any time. It might be a good idea to concentrate on the house instead,” he said.

  She emptied dirt onto the pile, then planted the shovel into the ground. “Look … Drake, right?”

  He nodded.

  “I appreciate your advice, but I don’t need it. I couldn't care less about the house. There’s nothing in there that matters.” She returned to shoveling dirt from the ground.

  “What’s it going to take for me to get you to evacuate?” Drake asked.

  She stopped working and pointed to his truck. Do you have a shovel in your truck?

  “I do,” he said.

  “Then go get it and help me dig.”

  “Let me get this straight.” He pointed toward the house. “You don’t care about the house or anything in it, but you want me to grab my shovel and help you dig up this tree?”

  “You got it, Cowboy.” Emerson emptied another shovel of dirt. “Either that or be on your way and let me finish.”

  Drake rubbed the back of his neck. “Can I ask why, and while we’re at it, your name?”

  “I can see you won’t help me unless I tell you.” She leaned on the shovel. “My name is Emerson Malone. My father planted this white crape myrtle for my mother a few months after she passed. It was her favorite tree. He poured her ashes on this tree when he planted it. My father passed away three months ago.” She took a breath to keep from crying. “Are
you going to get a shovel and help, or are you going to stand there and keep asking me questions?”

  The smoke in the air thickened, and she could taste it in the back of her throat. Hands on his hips, Drake looked at the approaching smoke, then at the tree before glaring at Emerson.

  He ran to his truck without a word, pulled the shovel out of the bed, and returned. Leaning the shovel against his leg, he rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, exposing his muscular forearms, catching her attention.

  Stop it, Emerson. The last thing you need is a cowboy. With quick, efficient moves, he started on the other side.

  “I’m sorry about your parents.”

  “Thank you.” She broke her focus on his build and returned to digging.

  “What do you plan to do with the tree after digging it up?”

  “I’m not sure. Right now, all I care about is getting it dug up.”

  “You have some cloth to wrap it up in.” Drake pointed to the piece of burlap spread out on the grass, then glanced toward the driveway. “Are you planning to move it in that?” He pointed to her SUV.

  “If I have to. It has a sunroof. I’ll make it work.” She tossed more dirt out of the hole in the ground.

  “And where are you going to stay? Are you going to drive around with a tree sticking out of the sunroof of your car until when or if you can come back here?”

  Emerson stopped shoveling, placed her free hand on her hip, and stared at him. “You ask a lot of questions.”

  He kept on talking, not winded by the hot, sweaty work at all. “I want to make sure you’ve thought through what you’re doing. I want to get you out as soon as possible. If the winds shift just right and the wildfires spread, you’ll be trapped.”

  “I’m not leaving without this tree. So, if you want me to evacuate, keep digging.” She looked at the widening hole. “We need an eighteen-inch ball of dirt to protect the roots. When we can tilt it to the side, we slip the burlap underneath the roots and tie it up.”

  “You seem to know what you’re doing.” Drake smiled.

  “I did my research. I want to make sure it lives to replant it somewhere.”

  “You’re not bringing it back here after the wildfires are out?” Drake asked.

  “No.” Emerson shivered despite the heat. “The house is for sale. I’m moving back to California as soon as I complete everything.”

  “Are you moving the tree to California with you?”

  “No. That would be a feat. I’ve been researching some memorial gardens in the area.” Emerson tilted her head as she watched for his response. There are trained people who take care of the trees. It will have a better chance of survival somewhere like that.”

  “But it’ll be here in Texas, and you’ll be in …”

  “California. I know.” Emerson finished his sentence.

  “How will you know if it survives?” Drake asked.

  “I’m not sure yet.” She kept shoveling. “I suppose they will keep me updated.”

  A gust of wind caught his breath before he spoke, making him cough. “If we don’t hurry, we won’t have to worry about it.”

  Emerson wrapped her hands around the tree’s trunk and tried to pull it toward her. It wouldn’t budge.

  “Here, let me.” Drake nudged her aside and grabbed the trunk in both hands. He pulled, his forearms going rigid with the effort. Soon, the roots of the tree were exposed. “Now what?”

  “I’m going to slide the burlap under that side. You lay the tree down on it, and we’ll wrap it up.”

  She laid the burlap in place. Drake leaned the tree in the opposite direction, loosening the roots enough to lay the tree on the ground. Working together, they wrapped the burlap around the roots and tied it up.

  “Let me move this for you in my truck.” Drake insisted. “My family’s ranch is only about half an hour west of Paris. Why don’t you let me take the tree there until you decide where you want it?”

  “I don’t know you. I can’t ask you to do that.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes.

  “You’re not asking. I’m offering. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you follow me to the ranch? You can see where the tree will be, and it’ll be safe until you decide what to do with it.”

  “Are you sure?” Emerson watched as he picked up the tree’s trunk close to the burlap.

  “I’m positive. It’ll get you to evacuate like you should have a few hours ago.” Drake smiled.

  She picked up the other end of the tree and followed him to his truck. “There is one more thing I need.” Emerson rushed into the house and returned, carrying the urn with her father’s ashes. “I almost forget my father.”

  He closed the tailgate of his truck after they positioned the tree in the bed. “You sure you don’t need anything else?”

  Shaking her head, Emerson took what might be the last look at her parents’ house. “It’s in your hands, Mom and Dad.”

  She climbed behind the wheel of her SUV, backed out of the driveway, and followed the cowboy down the dirt road.

  CHAPTER 3

  Pulling up behind Drake’s truck, Emerson stepped out of her car. The blond brick house was perfectly landscaped and shaded by large oak trees. The front porch was lined with a variety of colorful flower pots. Two wooden rockers sat in front of the picture window.

  “Welcome to the Miller Canyon Ranch.” Drake walked to the back of his truck and dropped the tailgate. “I thought we would put your tree around the back of the house. It’ll be fine there and get some sun and water now and then.”

  “You don’t need to do this.”

  “It’s fine.” Drake climbed into the truck bed and slid the tree to the ground. “This is what it took to get you to leave. I couldn’t very well leave you to finish digging up this tree and try to take it with you in your car.”

  “I would have been fine.” She folded her arms in front of her in protest.

  “I would have returned after they lifted the evacuation order, and you would still be there digging.”

  “I would not!” Emerson exclaimed. “It won’t be here long. I need to visit the memorial gardens to see where I want my mother’s tree to live.” She took the end of the tree as he leaned it sideways. “Of course, I have to wait until the wildfires are out and pray the gardens aren’t in the path.”

  “Your tree will be safe here. Take your time finding a permanent spot for it to live.” Drake walked backward until the tree cleared his truck. “Let’s go around this side of the house. It’ll be quicker.”

  Emerson walked alongside him, balancing the tree between them. “You live here alone?”

  “No.” Drake shook his head. “This is my family’s ranch. I live here with my mother, father, and three of my brothers.”

  “Three of your brothers?”

  “There are five of us.”

  “You mother had five boys? I have to meet this woman.” Emerson laughed.

  “If you want to stick around, I’ll find her. I’m sure she’s here somewhere.” Drake placed the burlap ball on the ground, holding on to it to ensure it wouldn’t tumble. “Let’s leave it here for now. I’ll find the perfect place for it.”

  “What’s going on out here?” A woman stepped onto the patio from the house.

  “Mom.” Drake smiled. “Just finding a place to keep a tree until Emerson can move it.”

  “I see.” The woman nodded. “You don’t always bring home trees. There must be a story here.”

  “Hi, I’m Emerson Malone.” She twisted her fingers together. “You must be Drake’s mother.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Emerson. I’m Mary Miller.” The slim woman with dark hair tinged with gray held her hand out for Emerson to shake as she moved closer.

  Emerson stood in place, trying not to show her discomfort as she noticed the resemblance between Mary and Drake. She took a deep breath. “I hope it’s all right with you for me to keep my tree here until I find a place to plant it.”

  “It’s a beautiful tree.”
Mary reached out a hand to touch it. “It’s crape myrtle. Am I right?”

  “Yes, you are.” Emerson attempted a smile. “How did you know?”

  “The trunk. They are very distinctive. This one’s not very old, though.”

  “Only a few years.”

  “Why are you moving it?” Mary waited for Emerson’s answer.

  “The wildfires,” she said.

  “Emerson’s family home is in the evacuation area,” Drake explained.

  “I’m so sorry. All you wanted to protect was a tree?” Mary tilted her head.

  “I asked Emerson the same thing. I was driving through the area, checking to make sure everyone complied with the evacuation order. She was digging up this tree.” Drake shook his head.

  “There must be something very special about this tree.” Mary inspected the tree’s branches. “It looks very healthy. It must have loved where it was planted.”

  “Yes, it did.” Emerson glimpsed at him. “My father planted it for my mother.”

  “Did they evacuate with you?” Mary asked.

  “No.” Emerson paused. “They’ve both passed.” She watched as Mary crossed her arms in front of her and fixed her with a sympathetic gaze.

  “I feel like there’s more to this story than you’re telling me.” Mary slipped her arm through hers. “Why don’t we go inside, have a glass of tea? You look like you could use someone to talk to.”