ken fences betw
een him and the
old man. He w
ondered what
he could do to fix
things wi
th her.
It had sa
hat her children had produced no offspring, although she rarely spoke of it. Would it help to tell her that she had a granddaughter? A girl that Johnny had fathered ten years ago? He decided truth telling would only backfire and get him deeper in trouble. He had no pictures of the girl, hadn't seen her in years, didn't even know where she lived. He watched as his mother pruned the shrub, th
e twigs of the butterfly bush falling haphazardly around her feet. Figuring out a way to placate her would have to wait. Right now, there was Brenda to deal with. He needed to sweet-talk his way back into Brenda's good graces. He wasn't about to head back to Denver when the weekend was over without a place to stay. As he left the backyard, he dialed Brenda's number on his cell phone. Ma
her had Alzheimer's, that would do the trick. After lunch the team drove in a convoy on a ranch
he mountains in the direction of the Shugart cabin, where, according to the location schedule, filming of the roundup and cattle drive would take place. Julia, who had invited herself
along, positioned herself between Kerney and Susan Berman in the backseat of their vehicle. During the
Cottonwood trees that had died from lack o