THERE WERE TIMES IN LIFE that called for begging.
This was one of those times.
Danielle Bridgeton looked across her desk at the state
editor of the Denver Daily Telegraph, the newspaper she
worked for. She lowered her head, sighed dramatically and
pasted on her best wounded-puppy look. "Please, Gary," she
said, softly pleading with him to understand. "Get me out
of here. I'll do anything you want. Anything."
Gary Newsome shook his head sadly. "You know, when I was
young I used to dream about a beautiful woman saying that
to me."
Gary was fifty-something, bald and complained frequently
of acid reflux. He was the most honest newspaperman Dani
knew. He was also torturing her.
Dani steepled her fingers. A nun couldn't have seemed more
penitent. "Look at me, Gary. This is me, begging."
Gary pushed air between his lips in a disgruntled rush. "I
came up here to see how you were getting along, not to
make you beg. I can't do it, Dani. You piss off the pope,
you get excommunicated. It's as simple as that."
But it wasn't simple, it was unfair. Cruel. Even the pope
believed in forgiving people, didn't he?
"It was one lousy article," Dani pointed out. "One. And
I've learned my lesson."
"No, you haven't. You're the most unrepentant journalist I
know. Honest. Sincere. But definitely not repentant.
Didn't I try to tell you what would happen if we ran your
story? You're not the only one who's got the publisher on
his back, so take your lumps like a good girl. Work the I-
70 corridor for a while and enjoy being a bureau chief.
I'll let you know when it's safe for you to come back to
Denver."
Bureau chief. Gary made the job sound like a promotion.
And it might have been if the bureau she'd been assigned
to had been one of the state's hottest news spots. But
what kind of reporting could you expect when all you
covered were the small towns that ran along the highway
between Denver and Grand Junction? Those mountain towns
were cute, scenic... and dull as dishwater.
"It's been two years," Dani pleaded. "I'm dying out here."
Gary laughed. "It's been two months."
"Well, it feels like years."
A lot more than two, in fact. Living in Broken Yoke could
leave her brain-dead. There weren't any interesting
stories here, or in any of the other one-horse towns she
was supposed to cover for the Telegraph. It was
humiliating that she'd been reduced to this.
How was she supposed to continue building a respectable
career in journalism? The most exciting thing she'd
written in two months had been about some tourist who'd
slipped off a ledge in the Arapaho National Forest and
broken his arm.
Yes, officially she was the region's bureau chief. But
what a place to be in charge! And what a miserable end to
a story that should have won her a bucket load of awards
and national recognition.
Last year Dani had been resourceful and lucky enough to
make a very important contact at Humanity Haven — one of
the most prominent, respected and lucrative charity
organizations in Colorado. By the time she'd finished
months of digging, she'd uncovered all the inside dirt.
Questionable expenditures made by key executives. Murky
business deals. Fraudulent balance sheets.
Her five-part article hadn't brought Humanity Haven down —
its own culture of ambition, greed and arrogance had done
that — but she'd certainly started the ball rolling.
Unfortunately, Dani had also unearthed that her
publisher's mother-in-law had been secretly dating
Humanity Haven's good-looking, much younger chairman of
the board.
To say that Lorraine Jennings Mandeville had turned into a
bitter, vindictive woman over the death of her now
embarrassingly public love affair would have been stating
things too mildly. Lorraine had had Dani exiled to the
boonies. Dani couldn't prove it, of course, but only an
idiot would fail to see the connection.
"Pretend you're on vacation," Gary suggested. He looked
out the tiny window that was the only source of light in
the enlarged closet Dani was forced to call an
office. "This is definitely a prettier part of the state
than brown-cloud Denver."
That might be true, but who needed pretty when you had a
career to build? "They don't even have a decent bagel
shop. Do you know how many times I've had to listen
to 'Welcome to Broken Yoke, ma'am. Yoke — like the
harness, not the egg. Ha, ha, ha.'"
Gary looked out the open office door toward the reception
area. "Your office help seems nice."
Dani scowled. Cissy Pendergrass, the
receptionist/secretary/ad salesperson sat just a few feet
away at her desk, polishing off a salad from the little
restaurant down the street.
"She hates me," Dani said in a near whisper.
All right, that wasn't true. But if it made Gary
reconsider this punishment, she'd be willing to look as
though she feared for her life.
"Then she'll have to get in line behind Lorraine
Mandeville," Gary replied.
He rose, hitched up his pants and walked over to the map
that adorned one pine-board wall. It showed the entire
western half of the state, every county a different color.
This was Dani's turf now, and Broken Yoke her home base.
If anything of interest happened in any of those mountain
towns, Dani would make sure it found a spot in the
regional weekend supplement of the Telegraph. So far,
there had been darn little.
Slapping his hand against the map, Gary said, "Come on,
Dani. There have to be dozens of stories out here just
waiting to be unearthed. The people who settled in these
mountains are sons of pioneers. These canyons are filled
with tales of stolen treasure, unsavory characters, heroes
who weren't afraid to take chances."
"This town is so small that their McDonald's only has one
arch."
"So you think Broken Yoke is too insignificant, filled
with boring people leading boring lives?"
Afraid that Cissy might have heard, Dani got up, gave her
receptionist a smile and shut the door for privacy.
"It's not just the size of this place," she said. "It's
the whole area. Most of the people I've met have been very
friendly, very eager to make me feel at home. Some of them
are...eccentric. A couple are downright weird, but you'd
get that in any town. It's just that...there's nothing
here for me to sink my teeth into. The biggest thing
coming up is the summer festival, which I hear bombed last
year. It's so boring around these parts that I might as
well be writing obits."
Gary gave her an impatient look. She could tell he was
either in need of his antacid tablets or heading into
lecture mode.
"What will destroy a journalist's career, Dani?" He shot
the sudden question at her. "What can destroy you fastest?"
"Lorraine Jennings Mandeville?" she ventured.
"No! It's the unwillingness to open your mind to
possibilities. Keep your ear to the ground and your eyes
open. You'll find something you can use." Her boss took
her arms between his hands, looking her straight in the
eyes. "Just keep a positive attitude." He reached out and
placed his fingers on either side of her lips, forcing
them into the semblance of a gruesome smile. "That's my
girl."
Dani's lips might have been fixed in a grin, but her eyes
were sending him the kind of warmth that blows in off a
glacier. She was whipped and she knew it.
Numbly she followed Gary outside while he said goodbye to
Cissy and then walked out into the afternoon sun. His car
sat at the curb. This late in the day, the street was
thick with shadows, a pleasant, nondescript spring
afternoon to fit a pleasant, nondescript town.
A young woman climbing up the outside steps of the bureau
office smiled at Dani as she and Gary made their way out.
"Who's that?" Gary asked. "She could be bringing you the
next big story."
"Becky from Becky's House of Hair," Dani said in a lack-
luster tone. "Stop the presses. She's probably just
discovered that the Farrah Fawcett shag is on its way out."
Gary looked disappointed. "I always liked that hairstyle
on Pauline," he said, referring to his wife of thirty
years.When even that didn't get a smile from Dani, he gave
her a regretful but determined glance. "Come on, Dani. I
hate leaving you like this."
"Then don't. Take me with you."
He took an exaggerated interest in his surroundings to
keep from starting this one-way argument again.
She watched his eyes roll past Landquist Computers next
door, the drugstore, the café where Cissy had bought her
lunch, the hardware store that only yesterday had begun
advertising Easter baskets. She stood in a warm pool of
sunshine and waited. She'd made that mental trip down Main
Street so many times, she knew the exact sequence of
stores and just how many sections of sidewalk lay between
here and the post office at the opposite end of the block.
"Somewhere on this street could be a story just waiting to
be written," Gary said in his best sleuthing
voice. "Somewhere. You just have to look."
"Uh-huh."
"Or maybe it's someone." The question in his voice made
her follow the direction of his gaze.
The best-looking man in three counties was coming out of a
shop halfway down the block. Your typical tall, dark and
handsome guy, with an extra edge of male virility that a
girl couldn't help but notice. When he saw Dani watching,
he lifted his hand in a wave and smiled.
Gary was quick to pounce. "Well! I see you're not
completely oblivious to the people around here. You've
scoped out one of the more...interesting Yokers."
"They like to call themselves Yokels. Get it?" Dani
inclined her head back toward the sidewalk. "That's Matt
D'Angelo. He's one of the local doctors."
"A doctor!" Gary's enthusiasm was only slightly less than
that of a Jewish mother in search of her daughter's future
husband.
"He's getting married to his nurse at the end of this
month. I'm covering the wedding. Childhood sweethearts
reunited. Friendship turns to love...blah, blah, blah."
Dani could see she had left Gary speechless at last. In
all fairness, she knew he sympathized with her exile.
Giving him a genuine smile this time, she went to the
driver's side of his car, reached up on tiptoe and planted
a kiss on the side of his cheek. He went beet-red.
"I know you're trying," she told him. "Just don't forget
about me up here."
"I won't," Gary promised. "I have a voodoo doll with
Lorraine's picture on it, and the moment it works, I'll be
on the phone to you."
"Great. My fate lies in the hands of a man who believes in
the power of black magic but can't balance his checkbook."
He gave her a hopeful smile. "Lorraine's fate lies with
the voodoo doll, Dani. Your fate lies with you. Make this
time work for you."
She nodded and stepped back from the car. She watched him
pull away, turn at the corner and go over the bridge that
crossed Lightning River, the creek that bisected the town.
He'd be in Denver in less than an hour, but it might as
well be the end of the universe. It was all she could do
to finally turn away and go back to the bureau office.
Becky was still there, sitting on the corner of Cissy's
desk, playing with a pen between two brightly polished
nails. She didn't even look up when Dani entered.
She lifted one hand as though preparing to swear on a
stack of bibles. "If I'm lying, I'm dying," she said to
Cissy. "Althea Bendix saw him through the window of the
real-estate office yesterday making eyes at that slutty
Nina Jordan, who just about fell at his feet. Of course."
Cissy didn't look all that impressed. "Could have been
business."
"Monkey business, if you want my guess," Becky said with a
sharp nod of her head. "He's up to no good, I'll just bet
you, and you know Nina. The woman can speak six languages
but doesn't know how to say no in any of them."
Dani had been making her way back to her office, but
suddenly swung around to join the women's conversation.
People who were "up to no good" were of considerable
interest to her. Rule followers seldom did anything worthy
of the front pages of the newspaper. "Who's up to no
good?" she asked the two women.
"Rafe D'Angelo," Becky supplied. "He's back in town." The
name meant nothing to her, although she knew that the
D'Angelo family ran the Lightning River Lodge resort up
Windy Mountain Road. The upcoming marriage of their son,
Matt, was the talk around town. "And that's a bad thing?"
Becky pursed her lips. "That remains to be seen. Lots of
folks around here were glad to see the last of Rafe when
he left."
"When was that?"
"Straight out of high school. At least twelve years ago.
Hasn't been back since."
"And people are still holding a grudge?" Some of Dani's
enthusiasm dissipated. This was starting to sound like
stale news to her. Besides, she'd heard the D'Angelos were
some of Broken Yoke's town leaders. She didn't need to
make any more enemies.
"Not holding a grudge, exactly. Just hoping that his stay
here is temporary."
Cissy laughed. "Considering the way Rafe and his dad got
along, I'm sure it will be." She whistled through her
teeth. "Just being around the two of them during one of
their disagreements was like spending an hour in a
blender."
"Never dull, that's for sure," Becky agreed. For Dani's
benefit she added, "But what could you expect, really? His
parents had their hands full trying to keep up with him.
Rafe was such a dare-devil. And the women — he was like
the Pied Piper."
Dani waited for more, but Cissy had discovered a final
black olive in her salad and was busy chasing it down with
her fork, a feat that Becky seemed to find fascinating.
"I can't wait to see him," Becky said at last. "He was so
great looking as a teenager. Imagine what the man must
look like."