12 KentLate afternoon sun brightened the windmill’s fresh paint job. The French blue shade on its wood-shingled exterior was a perfect match for Kent’s summer uniform, right down to the dark blue trim.
His lace-ups crunched on gravel as he moved across the Dutchman Inn’s parking lot and out of the shadow cast by Delft’s tallest structure. Sunshine warmed his bare arms, made his polished oxfords gleam, and glinted off his shiny new lieutenant badge. Damn, the sight of that gold shield warmed his heart, like catching a glimpse of the amber strands in Champ’s hair.
Glancing down the highway’s westbound lane, he saw the Dodge Caravan disappear. He turned east to admire the view of clear sky and open prairie, rimmed by the humpback silhouettes of the Cascades. Above them, the pink-tinged snow
