FiveThe ranch house was a solid-looking building on two levels, wooden fascia painted gleaming white, the roof made from neat, black slate. A covered porch, surrounded by a fence, with a gate and steps, had various chairs and tables arranged across, and adjacent to the main door, paintings and cleaning implements rested upon the wall.
Newhart pull on the reins and the wagon stopped. He whistled. “This must have cost a tidy sum,” he said, leaning forward on the buckboard to peer out from under the brim of his hat. He hawked and spat into the dirt. “Mason, I think we got something here.”
After a moment, Mason poked his head through the flap of the wagon. He was n***d, but without shame, he slipped up beside Newhart and grinned. “Oh my, that looks a fine place.”
“It seems new.”
“Maybe it
