It all started a few days after Mrs. Haighton passed away in late April of last year.

Mrs. Haighton had been 74 years old at the time of her passing. She was born three days after Christmas in 1942.

I guess she'd been around to watch as the world changed in ways she may not have been able to understand, but we'll never know now. I do have to say that Mrs. Haighton was a firm but fair woman. As long as you gave her respect, respect would be returned to you.

Well, about ten years ago, shortly before I entered the school system in Raleigh, North Carolina where we lived, Mom was hired by Mrs. Haighton, who had been thinking about how she could help young girls and women who were either orphaned, abused or flat out ignored.

Mom ended up being the principal and headmistress of the new school, which was never very large.

When Mrs. Haighton passed away, seventeen girls were currently attending the school. About half of them, according to my mom, were orphans who otherwise might have been lost in the system. Another five came from abuse situations, four of those situations having involved either the original father or a step-father. The fifth was the exception that proves the rule, I guess, as the abuser in that case was the girl's mother. The last three were young teens who were seen as being nuisances or intrusions in their own homes, so they were sent to the school.

As for why many of these girls were sent to the Haighton school, I suppose it was because it had an absolutely excellent reputation for having only been open for about ten years. If a girl was sent there, you knew darn well that girl was going to be learning, not lollygagging.

Anyway, three days after old Mrs. Haighton passed away, her eldest daughter, Mrs. Regina Browne called my mom into the office and with no niceties or civility, flatly informed her that she was no longer required, as Mrs. Browne would be closing the school permanently.

Mrs. Browne apparently had been offended somehow by seeing the girls living and learning in the mini-mansion near the back of the property. By mini, I mean in comparison to the main house, which had something like fifteen bedrooms, a salon, three parlours, a den, a receiving room, etc. etc. If I remember correctly, the total number of rooms in the main house is just over a hundred, spread over three huge stories.

Well, the 'mini' was perhaps a sixth of the size of the main house, having only six bedrooms on the upper floor and four large rooms on the main floor that were used for various school activities, i.e. a classroom, a music room, a small gymnasium and a fairly extensive library.

There were also two full washrooms on the upper floor and a toilet, bidet and sink on the main floor. I would think that a fair number of the girls were surprised at the bidets in the washrooms, but according to what mom told me at one point, they were there when she was hired.

Let's just say that mom lit into Mrs. Browne like a well-maintained Gatling gun at short range. To be blunt, mom went up one side of the woman and down the other, using only her tongue. That ended with an agreement that mom would finish the rest of the year first. There was no way in hell that she would just up and walk away from the girls like that when the school year still had another six or seven weeks to go.

When mom came home that evening, she was still quite upset. She calmed down a bit as we made dinner and relaxed over the meal.

It wasn't anything special, macaroni and cheese with some hot dogs cut into small pieces and mixed in once they were fully cooked. Along with that, we had some broccoli and a small salad that I had mixed while mom watched the pots on the stove. I also set the table.

Mom made sure to turn the burners off before we sat down and enjoyed our modest repast.

It wasn't until after we had finished eating, and had washed and dried the small amount of dishes, that she told me what had happened. It's a darn good thing that our home is a good four miles from the Haighton place because I wanted to go there and slap that woman silly.

Oh, dear me, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Angelo deSalveris, I'm 5'6" tall, 117 pounds, green eyes, brown hair, nearly fifteen years old. I'm not feminine in appearance, but there are times when I dearly wish that I could be like my dad, tall and buff, not short and slim like I am.

My father was a police officer for the Raleigh force and died in the line of duty a few months after my ninth birthday. I still miss him a lot.

My father's name was Valentino, he was supposed to have been born on Valentine's day, but didn't arrive until nearly noon the day after that. His parents decided it wasn't worth the hassle of changing the name they had chosen for him, then gave him the middle name of Ricardo.

He had just celebrated his 33rd birthday a week before he died. I know that he meant the world to my mom; she still misses him, too.

I have to admit it just hasn't been the same at home since he was killed. We're not as talkative now as we were back then. I guess it's that it is just the two of us now and no close family at all since all four grandparents have passed on, the last one just two years ago.

Dad had a brother who went into the Army and served in Afghanistan; Roberto was killed in a battle there a couple years before dad died. Mom had been an only child, so when my uncle was killed, she did what she could for my dad until he was so brutally taken from us.

I love my mom, but it had to have been hard on her even before dad died, working every weekday and raising me. I can remember many times before dad died where mom would be going to bed at night and dad would be just getting up to get ready for work on night patrol.

We've managed to keep going after losing Roberto and then dad. This would just be one more hard time for us to overcome.

Once mom knew her time at the Haighton school was running out, she started calling around to any school she could find whenever she wasn't actually teaching a class. Day after day, she came home looking sad and discouraged by the imminent loss of her source of income.

We could get by for a few months with what mom had in the bank, I suppose, but she didn't want to use those funds if it could be avoided. As the school year wound down, she kept calling first within North Carolina, then elsewhere, but she couldn't find any teaching jobs anywhere.

I could see the frustration building in her as time passed. She's had steady employment for ten years, this was a very big change.

Then, about twenty minutes after mom walked in the door one afternoon in early June, the phone rang. We both stared at it for a moment. Calls coming into the tiny two bedroom house where we lived had become so rare as to be almost non-existent since dad's death.

We were stunned enough that the phone stopped ringing and passed over to the answering service just as mom went to grab it.

It was another macaroni and cheese with hot dogs night, so I dug out the fixings and started preparing the meal. I chose corn this time.

I guess mom had found something on the answering service, as I could hear her talking in the living room as I continued to cook the meal. The phone call ended just as I was about to transfer everything to the table, the mac pot was sitting on a board and the corn was in a bowl.

We sat down and mom served up portions of the mac and the corn, then we ate as we often did, with only minimal conversation.

When we were both finished eating, mom looked over at me with a faint smile on her face, the first I'd seen since the end of April.

"We're going to be just fine, Angelo, my boy. That was the mayor of a tiny place in northwestern New Mexico. Their last schoolmistress passed away about a week ago, and they had no idea where to find a replacement. He said that he heard from a friend that lives around here somewhere that I was in need of work soon, and that the friend had passed my number on to him so that he could offer me the job there.

"We're going to be out in the middle of nowhere, or it will seem like it. The nearest town to that one is about eight miles as the crow flies. The really odd part is that the mayor offered us a small ranch on the edge of the town. The previous owner had fallen off a horse about a year ago. The guy broke his neck when he hit the ground, never recovered but hung on for nearly five months. He had no family at all.

"So I'll have two jobs, I guess, running a small town schoolhouse and keeping that ranch going. The ranch hands stayed on all this time. The owner of the ranch died about four months back and the townsfolk paid the hands out of the limited reserves they had available.

"The mayor also said he had already talked to the ten ranch hands, and their reply was 'As long as we have work here to do, we'll stay.'"

"What kind of ranch, mom?" I asked. I was fairly excited, living on a ranch would be completely different than living in this tiny house.

"I don't know, Angelo, probably cattle, that seems to be a big industry out that way. Maybe some horses, too," she replied.

I found out the next evening that mom had been calling around for a while to find places for some of the girls at the Haighton school. By what mom said after dinner that night, the ones most in need were the orphaned and abused girls, and mom knew some social workers in the area.

It turned out that places for all but one of the girls had been found. That was when mom asked me a very serious question.

"Angelo," she was looking at me rather intently, "How would you feel if we took in Chantel? She's thirteen, a bit younger than you."

"Is Chantel the girl that you haven't been able to find a foster home for yet, Mom?" I enquired.

"Yes, Angelo. Ever since I was told that I would be let go, I've been trying to find homes for those girls. I'm not sure why, but no one would take her, and I don't want to see a young girl like that end up on the streets if there is any way that I can stop it from happening," Mom said.

"Then bring her home, mom. It may take a while for us to get used to each other, but I'd rather she be with us than on the streets."

At that point, there was slightly more than a week left of the school year for me. Haighton's classes ended the day before mine.

Mom brought Chantel home that weekend. Gods, that poor girl was scared! She was worried we would abandon her like everyone else had.

Mom and I soon set her straight about that. It took most of the weekend for Chantel to realize that we really, truly meant it.

Come Monday morning, I was about to head out the door to catch the city bus to my school when I stopped in the hallway as I could hear mom talking to Chantel. "Look, sweetie, we're moving out west in a couple of weeks, and you'll be coming with us, okay?"

Obviously, Chantel was still worried. I quietly moved up close behind her and wrapped her in a hug. "You may not be my biological sister, Chantel, but I swear to you right now, I will treat you as if you were. Not only that, but mom and I will show you what love is, sis."

Uh oh, my calling her sis opened the flood gates, and Chantel started crying like I'd never seen. She held on to me like I was a lifeboat. The tears eventually slowed as I kept holding her; when they were down to a trickle, Chantel turned and pecked me on the cheek. "Thanks, bro."

I smiled and hugged her tighter for a moment, then let her go. "You and mom need to head out to the car, I need to leave soon myself."

Mom smiled at Chantel and said, "Go clean your face, then come back out here and grab your pack, sweetie."

Chantel 'eeped' and ran to the nearest bathroom, reappearing several minutes later wearing minimal make-up.

I waved and headed out to the bus stop, then watched as they climbed into mom's bottle green 2010 Ford Taurus and drove away.

There wasn't much left for me to do at school. The last few days were for those doing make-up exams, the rest of us just lounged around.

The days passed fairly quickly, with mom handing out diplomas to the Haighton girls on the final Wednesday of the school year and then showing up at 2:15 PM on the following afternoon to pick me up so I could change into a decent set of clothes for watching the graduation ceremonies at my school. Chantel was in the front passenger seat, wearing a nice dress, obviously lost in thought as she only responded to my being there when the car door shut as I entered the car. I put my seatbelt on and we headed for what would be home for a few more days.

Mom had been busy for a while today, picking up Chantel's belongings and transferring them over to the house.

I found out, once we were in the house, that she had been talking with the 'boss' ranch hand at the ranch earlier that afternoon.

"We won't need the beds or the dressers, Angelo. It seems the previous owner had intended to start a family after buying the ranch, but hadn't found a woman who wanted to live with him out there before he died. Five bedrooms, one with a king size bed, the others with queens.

"Every bedroom there has a huge dresser, a sixteen drawer model about five feet long and four feet high, plus a large wardrobe. I'm not sure about this, but from something the ranch hand said in the call, those pieces might be custom items, a limited run, so quite valuable.

"The rest of the ranch house is already furnished, including an eight burner range and double oven, a very large refrigerator, a pantry that, if I heard the boss hand right, is 100 square feet in size, plus a large freezer room with internal door that is on the outside of the kitchen.

"The dining room table can seat up to sixteen comfortably, but has two extensions that would allow eight more to use it.

"There's a big living room with a forty inch TV and a fairly recent high quality sound system. Not only that, but the previous owner liked to make music sometimes too, so there is a soundproof room next to the living room where he could make as much noise as he wanted."

"From what I heard, there is a piano in there, two acoustic guitars, a bass guitar, a baby grand piano, a lovely drum set and an alto saxophone.

"The ranch hands share a twelve bed bunkhouse near the main barn. It has air conditioning in the summer and heat in the winter.

"According to the mayor, the ranch has been under town ownership since the previous owner's death. The bank was considering foreclosing on it, but with the low population around there and the cost of running it, no one was interested, so the bank left it alone until now.

"The mayor said that the back taxes on the ranch are quite low, so it won't cost us much to take over and keep it running."

By the time that mom finished describing that place, my eyes and Chantel's were as big as saucers. It sounded totally awesome!

I shook my head, smiled and asked mom, "Can we afford to cover the back taxes and any future payments on the ranch?"

"I should think so. There's still a few thousand in the bank right now that should be enough to cover the back taxes. That's the minor part, this small town apparently wants a schoolmistress and teacher enough that they offered me $25k a year more than Haighton's paid."

I sighed, then walked over and hugged mom as I said to her, "The only reason Haighton paid you what they did was because Mrs. Haighton always liked you and your style of teaching and administrating the school. So $25k a year more than Haighton's paid you? Great!"

Mom nodded, smiling back at me, "I'm not sure, but I think some of that is to cover basic monthly costs for running the ranch. You already know that we were managing fairly well on my not quite $55k this year from Haighton's, but with Chantel living with us, we'll need more."

At this point, Chantel dropped to the floor just inside the kitchen, we could hear her sobbing and quickly wrapped her in hugs. We knelt and sat on that linoleum floor until Chantel finally stopped crying. She raised her head, looked at us with her eyes still damp and asked, "Why?"

Mom, still smiling even though she was a bit worried about Chantel, asked her "Why what, Chantel?"

Chantel held on tight to both of us. We'd only known her for several days and already we were becoming her anchors in life.

"Why, Mrs. deSalveris, did you and Angelo take me into your home? Why are you so willing to help me? I'm a nobody!" Chantel whimpered.

"We took you in because both of us couldn't live with ourselves if we just let you be lost in the system here, Chantel. We're willing to help you because every child deserves to have a place that they can call home and a family that loves them. Chantel, you're a somebody."

I smiled, pulling Chantel in toward my shoulder, "My mom said it quite well, Chantel. We did it because we could and because we care."

My saying that we care about her caused Chantel to begin crying again, her head still tucked into my shoulder. I held on to her as she cried, gently rubbing her back in an effort to calm her down. A few minutes later, the flood of tears slowed, then became a trickle and stopped.

Chantel hiccoughed a couple of times before she was able to speak again. "You... care... about me? You barely know me!"

I nodded, then spoke, "That may be true, but mom and I have watched you while you have been here, you can say what you like, but you know that you like being here with us. Mom and I have both seen you looking around at the various things in the house. It's easy enough to see, just by watching you closely, that you want so much to be part of a home and a family rather than being stuck in the orphanage, hmmm?"

Chantel nodded into my shoulder, then whined, "It's... it's... different when you feel that people really care. It's new to me, ya know?"

"I've never been in your position, Chantel, so no, I don't know what that is like. Even after Uncle Roberto was sent back from Afghanistan when I was seven, I had mom and dad with me to help me get through it. When dad was killed, mom was there whenever I needed her.

"Some of the kids at school were jerks about my uncle and my dad being killed, but I stood up to them and asked how many of their close relatives were serving in places like Afghanistan or Iraq to help protect our freedoms and fight against terrorism and other injustices, then whether any of their relatives worked for the police or fire departments that strove to keep all of us safe in our homes and communities.

"At that point, you could have heard a pin drop in that school room as the kids sat there thinking about what I had just asked them.

"I got a bit of a surprise that day, as kid after kid got up to say that they had a relative in the Forces or working for police or fire departments. Fourteen kids stood up in front of that class. I then asked those kids if they had lost a relative in war or as a police officer or fireman.

"Out of the fourteen kids, two stood there saying they'd lost a relative in war, one in Iraq, the other in Afghanistan, one had lost a cousin who was a police officer in the line of duty like my dad, the last had an aunt who was a fireman who perished pulling kids from a burning house."

If you thought you could have heard a pin drop when I asked my question, it was even quieter after those four kids said their piece. One by one, ten of the fourteen kids returned to their seats as the four who had lost family members walked over and wrapped me up in a group hug.

"I could have let the kids in school just harass me, but instead, I stood up to them and a classroom full of young kids learned a valuable lesson.

"I've been friends with Bob, James, Stacy and Shasta for the last five years. Perhaps I'll introduce you to them before we leave.

"Of the kids in that class, seven are now planning to go into the military once they graduate from high school, five are going into law to find ways to protect and help kids, eleven are thinking of applying to work for either the police or fire departments, the rest haven't decided yet."

Chantel looked up at me with a stunned expression. "All that is happening because you asked those questions that day in school?"

I smiled down at her as she lay curled into my shoulder, "Yep, I just wanted to stop the harassment, it all just snowballed from there. I heard about a week after that day that two of the boys who had harassed me the most were now talking to kids in other classes about that day. The upshot is that, within a month, there was no more harassment of kids whose parents were military or in the police or fire departments."

"Wow! I'll bet school has been a lot easier for you since then without the harassment all the time, right?" Chantel enquired.

"You could say that. It meant I could focus my energy on my studies and my grades have showed steady improvement. That wasn't quite the end of it, though; by the end of that school year, harassment of ANY student there was a thing of the past, and that hasn't changed.

"It gets better, though. All of those kids are going to high school this fall, and that attitude of no harassment will continue there."

We found out later that evening that mom had been sent pictures of the ranch through her private email account.

Chantel and I sat by the computer for nearly two hours, looking through the photos, going back to specific ones several times. The ones that seemed to resonate with us the most were of the 'music room', the soundproofed one with the instruments spread around the room.

Chantel seemed to be entranced by the sax. Me, I found myself staring at the baby grand, its polished cherry wood surface mesmerized me.

Mom wandered into the small den/office space, found us sitting there staring at the photos of the instruments and promptly broke into giggles.

She came closer and asked us which instruments we found interesting, Chantel said the sax, I whined a bit when I asked about the piano.

Mom nodded and replied, "If you two really want to learn to play those instruments, I'll find you a teacher somewhere."

Chantel and I turned to face each other, broke into broad grins and exchanged a high five amidst bouts of giggles.

We sorted out everything that we would be taking with us. Since furniture wasn't necessary, we only needed a small trailer for the move.

Five days after school ended, we ate a quick breakfast of toast and cereal, then we were on our way, leaving everything we knew behind.

Because Mom was the only one of us able to operate the car legally, we would be taking our time travelling to New Mexico.

We wound our way across the southern part of the country, making our overnight stop at a small motel in Oklahoma City. We made regular stops as we traveled, for bathrooms and to get some food now and then, so it was after ten PM when we pulled into the motel.

Mom paid for a room with two beds. Chantel would sleep with mom, I would have the other bed all to myself.

To be honest, after we had all had quick showers and had settled into bed, I found myself feeling jealous of Chantel without knowing why. That feeling of jealousy without an explanation kept me awake until nearly 2:30 AM, when utter exhaustion finally overwhelmed me.

Mom had a hard time waking me up, I know I was rather groggy and unsteady on my feet as I stumbled out of the bed.

Mom doesn't usually allow me to have coffee, but that morning, she did. We stopped in a diner in Weatherford and had a nice breakfast.

By the time we finished eating, I was feeling a bit better. That coffee helped a lot, but only for a while, I guess.

We were back on the road just after 8:30 AM and I dozed off as we crossed into northwestern Texas about forty minutes later.

We kept going through most of the day, with occasional stops as needed and reached Gallup, New Mexico just after 4 PM.

The little 'town' we were going to up was north of Gallup, on the western edge of the Navajo Nation Off-Reservation Trust Lands.

The town had the odd name of Felson's Hell, supposedly because of an early settler's many mishaps that occurred there. It seems the man had accidents like many people had bowel movements. According to one story, the 'doc' in town treated him 43 times for broken bones.

Another story about Reginald Felson offered the possibility that perhaps Reggie was being tormented by a ghost, a poltergeist of sorts.

In any case, the town was renamed on the eve of Felson's death in 1923 when he muttered, "This town has been my hell on earth!"

It was almost 9 PM when we finally reached the town. Mom had called ahead and the town's banker met us by the small schoolhouse.

We all stepped out of the car to stretch our legs, we had been on the move since finishing a quick meal in Gallup.

The banker, Elijah Randall, walked up to mom, shook her hand vigorously for a moment, then handed over keys and a folder of papers.

He was a big man, standing a bit over six feet, running to fat somewhat. We could see the edge of a bald spot under his Stetson.

Ma'am," he said, "The ranch is a mile down the road to the south, you likely passed the gate just before you got here."

Mom nodded, asking if the ranch hands knew they would be arriving tonight. Elijah stated that yes, they knew and were waiting for us.

Mom nodded again, shook his hand one last time, then walked over to the door to the schoolhouse and tried keys until the door opened.

Chantel and I followed her inside, the place wasn't very big, perhaps eighty feet long by thirty wide. The space was largely split into two classrooms, one for younger students around grade school age, the other for kids around middle school or high school age.

At the very back of the building was a third room, the office area that Mom would share with the only other teacher. Mom was surprised to find the woman sitting in the office, looking through files as we entered the room. "Hello, I'm Alexandra deSalveris, the new headmistress."

Well, I guess we startled her, as she looked up and then let out a brief squeak before settling back into the chair.

"Ummm, hello, ma'am, ummm, headmistress, ummm... oh, dear, I'm sorry, I'm Pollyanna Evans, I teach the younger kids here."

Mom nodded, saying, "I noticed the main area of the building was split into two schoolrooms as we walked through here."

Pollyanna looked up briefly, then sighed, "There's a bit of a problem, I honestly don't know what to do. I know that you have been given the old Morgan ranch down the road. Well, the ranch next to yours on the south side belongs to Barton Plummer, or I should say it did.

"See, Barton was out on his ranch tending to it three days ago when his horse was startled by a rattler. The horse threw Barton head first into a cottonwood a few feet from a tiny stream that wanders though that ranch. Barton's neck was broken, killing him almost instantly.

"The problem is Barton's only boy, Barton, Jr. We haven't been able to locate any relatives and we don't know what to do with the boy."

The moment I heard that, I looked over at mom, she looked back at me, then both of us looked at Chantel. I have to say that was probably one of the eeriest things I had seen up to that time. With no more than a few brief glances, the three of us had decided to help this boy.

Mom smiled briefly, then said, "We'll take him, the boy needs a family." Pollyanna was stunned, but obviously relieved by our help. She picked up a phone, tapped in a number, waited as it rang, then said when the call was answered, "Hi, Joe, bring Barton, Jr. to the schoolhouse."

Joe asked her why he would need to do that, Pollyanna replied that the new schoolmistress would take in the boy as her own.

Joe responded that he would have the boy there in about fifteen minutes if we would be willing to wait. We would.

It was actually a bit over twenty minutes later that a big pick-up truck rumbled into the small lot next to the schoolhouse.

By that time, we were all waiting on the front steps of the building, Pollyanna standing behind us on the top step.

She introduced us to to Joe Potterland, the top hand of the Plummer ranch, then to the small boy beside him, Barton Plummer, Jr.

I'm not all that big on biology and stuff, but I'll swear he didn't look to be more than eight, yet we were informed he was nearly twelve now. To say that this kid was small would be polite, I'd be shocked if he was even close to four feet tall and he was very skinny, almost gaunt.

There was something seriously wrong here somewhere, even I could see that, even if only in a vague way at the moment.

Mom held her hand out, smiled at young Barton and that was all it took. Seconds later, he was in her arms, bawling all over the place. Mom just held on to him, keeping him snug in her arms without squashing him as he wept his heart out against her breast.

Chantel, after a brief nod from me, joined me in creating a gentle but firm group hug around the apparently grieving boy.

We were standing like that in the dry and slightly dusty summer evening air for a fair while before his tears finally came to a stop. He looked up at Mom, then turned to look first at Chantel, then me, before he whispered, "I need a doctor, dad... daddy beat me almost every day."

Oh, shit, just what we don't need, but hell, this kid deserves to get whatever help he needs right now.

A quick chat with Joe and Pollyanna had us driving down the street to the home and clinic of the town's only doctor.

I admit to being surprised to see that the doctor was a middle-aged, tall, lean woman with half-silvered hair.

We were ushered into the building with young Barton demanding that Mom be present while he was examined.

The physical examination took a bit over an hour to finish. Barton was lucky, there were no broken bones but bruises were everywhere.

Mom told me she almost lost her dinner when she saw the extent of the bruising on Barton's body, it was not a pretty sight.

At some point, Joe or Pollyanna had called Elijah. Just as the examination was ending, he came into the house, hat in hand.

He looked shocked and worried, no, he was afraid to admit that he had not seen it happening, nor had anyone else in the small town.

It was Pollyanna who asked the critical question. "What will happen to the Plummer ranch? It's his now," she said as she briefly pointed at young Barton, "But I doubt he has any idea of what to do or what would be needed to manage a property like that."

Mom erupted in a brief burst of giggles, then said, "That's easy. Since he'll be with me, combine the ranches, I'll manage them through the hands on the two ranches and make sure that the boy has something that will be his when he is old enough to be involved."

Elijah nodded, that would sort things out for now, yet give the option for the ranch to be passed on to Barton eventually.

A quick handshake round between Mom, Joe and Elijah was all that was needed. Elijah would sort out the financial stuff for her. He pulled mom aside at one point, with Barton still hanging on to her, and stated, "We'll boost your pay to help you be able to manage both ranches."

Now it was mom's turn to be shocked, she hadn't asked for anything and here was the town banker saying she would be helped by the town.

Once Barton had settled down a bit, we drove to the Plummer ranch, grabbed the items Barton wanted, then headed to our new home.

We made it to the ranch house in just a few minutes, the gate had been left open for us since we were expected.

I had watched as Barton filled a small, shabby suitcase with his clothing, which wasn't much, a few pairs of jeans, one pair of decent pants, a couple of dozen t-shirts, several long sleeved shirts including a few flannel ones, a couple of light sweaters and two jackets.

One of the jackets was denim, matching several pairs of the boy's jeans, the other matched the pair of decent pants.

I assumed the nice jacket, a rather decent shirt and the pants matching the jacket were Sunday clothes, it was the only nice outfit in there.

He had left behind most of the odds and ends that were in what had been his small room, taking only a large light brown stuffed bear with him.

Once we were parked near the main house on our ranch, we were met by our 'boss' hand, Philbert Thomason.

He showed us around the various rooms in the house, bedrooms included, then pointed out behind the house to the bunkhouse and barns. One barn was huge, almost three hundred feet long and at least sixty wide, Phil said that's where the cows are milked and fed twice a day.

The second barn was much smaller, perhaps 75 feet long by about 40 wide. That one had stalls for the horses the ranch hands used regularly.

Phil told us that there were nine other hands working on the ranch at the moment. Four watched the cattle, two were checking fences and doing repairs where they were needed, two were working on bringing the big well on the property up to specs, the last was fixing a barn stall.

He then took a moment to name off the hands: First on the list were Pete Longfall and Josh Harland who were checking the fences, then Bill VandeVeldt, Ramon Pedrovera, Simon Ashdale and Terry Falworth who were watching the cattle out on the range. Then there was Frank Janistell and Angel Velmar, the lone female hand, they were fixing the well and Phil's younger brother Jeff was repairing the barn stall.

We could actually see Frank and Angel as they worked on the well which was at most fifty feet from the main house's back porch.

"We're running just over 2000 head of cattle at the moment. About 500 will be going to a buyer in Western Colorado next week. We keep about two to three hundred beef cattle for production purposes, the rest are dairy cattle, they give us quite a bit of milk on a daily basis.

"We kill five or six dozen beef cattle each year and sell the meat, keeping some for our use. Same goes for the dairy cows, we make cheese here. Terry and Pete have a knack of being able to produce a variety of cheeses from about half the milk we get, we keep some for our use. Most of the rest of the milk is treated as per government regulations, then sold to markets between Farmington and Shiprock just north of us.

"Ma'am, I need to get back to work, there's gear in the small barn that needs to be repaired, I have a good eye and hand with the tools."

We all nodded, thanked him for the tour and the information, then let him go, watching as he stalked out toward the smaller barn.

Barton had left his suitcase on the main floor when we entered the house. He scurried downstairs and returned with it a moment later.

As there were five bedrooms and Mom would have the one with the king sized bed, Chantel, Barton and I were able to wander back and forth between the other four bedrooms, each pair of bedrooms having a shared full bathroom available to the occupants.

Barton and I chose the rooms on the west side of the house, Chantel picked one on the east side. Mom's was on the south side.

I snatched a glance at Barton as he put things away. It didn't take him very long. When he was done, he set the teddy bear on his bed.

The trailer with the belongings from our old house in Raleigh was waiting outside. It would take a couple of hours or so to unload it.

Since the hands had known we would be arriving either tonight or tomorrow, they had arranged for some food to be in the house for us. Mom picked out several ingredients, asked us to help her, and we spent a little over two hours setting up a pot of chilli to cook overnight.

Once Mom was happy with the contents of the large crock pot, she set the burner on at the lowest setting, then we had sliced beef off a big roast that was in the fridge, along with fresh corn, new potatoes and biscuits that one of the farm hands had made earlier that day.

From what we saw, the roast had already been cooked, so we only needed to warm the meat. We waited for the potatoes and corn to cook.

Once everything was ready, we settled down to the table to wait after yelling out back for the hands to come on in for the food.

Making food for them as well just meant we used more of what we had. We didn't mind, besides, they deserved a decent meal, too.

Apparently Phil used a walkie talkie or something like that to let the hands know that dinner was ready. The whole lot of them showed up within ten or fifteen minutes. We had kept the food warm, then set it out on the table as the last hands arrived and laid out the flatware.

The meal was enjoyed by one and all. Mom decided at that point that there would be at least one communal meal each day.

Phil agreed, saying that they'd made do until now with whatever they could prepare on the fly, eating as needed through the day.

When we had packed the trailer, we had kept small bags with a change of clothes and night wear near the doors. I walked out to the trailer, used the key mom had handed to me to unlock it, then grabbed the three small bags, locked the trailer and carried them back to the house.

Once I was back inside, I handed the key to mom, then passed one bag to her and another to Chantel.

That was easy to do, as we had each used a bit of masking tape, written our names on a piece, then stuck it onto our bag.

We headed upstairs to relax in a nice bath before going to bed.

I was running the bath for Barton as we were sharing the bathroom, and when the tub was full, he asked me to stay with him. I have no idea why the kid was so scared, but scared he rather obviously was and I relented, helping him first to get clean, then towel off afterward.

After a quick rinse of the tub, I refilled it for my own bath, relaxing in the hot water once it was ready. Barton stayed close by the whole time.

I know I don't look particularly female, but I'm not big and strong, either, so I suppose Barton felt safe in my presence.

Eventually, I washed myself, including my hair, rinsed out the tub, dried myself off, then slipped into my lightweight pajamas.

Barton followed me, I actually had to take him by the hand into his own room to get him to put on his pajamas.

Something was definitely bothering Barton as he followed me back into my room and whined that he didn't want to be alone. I shrugged, slipped into the bed and patted the spot next to me. Barton grinned, just a brief one, then scurried into place next to me on the bed.

That was when I noticed he had brought his teddy bear with him when he followed me into my room.

I had been reading a novel, a sci-fi/fantasy one that I liked, and with Barton there, I decided to read it out loud. He listened intently.

I turned to look at him after I had been reading for a bit. He was already asleep, teddy bear in his hands, on his side with his back to me.

I read for another ten or fifteen minutes, then laid down to sleep. I'm not sure why, but I curled up behind Barton, holding him gently.

When I woke up the next morning, the sun was already well above the horizon. It was going to be a hot one for sure.

Barton had already left the bed, I could hear him in the washroom. I climbed out of the bed, took a moment to make it nice and neat, then made my way to the washroom just as Barton flipped the latch on the door on my side, then exited from the washroom into his own bedroom.

It didn't take me very long to do what I needed to do, then I washed my hands and padded down the stairs, heading for the kitchen.

Mom, Chantel and Barton were all there, Chantel and Barton having cereal along with bacon, eggs, sausages, hash browns and pancakes. That looked just fine to my hungry stomach, which chose that moment to rumble, and mom placed the same items in front of me.

She then said that she had been awake for about an hour already and had decided to just let the three of us wake up on our own.

Mom had to go into town and talk with Mr. Randall, the banker and Miss Evans, the junior schoolteacher.

She headed out around 9:30 AM after having Pete detach the trailer from the car, we would be unloading it when she returned.

Chantel, Barton and I decided to wander around and watch what the hands were doing. Even though we weren't employees here, we thought there might be ways that we could help. Josh pointed out the chicken coop and said we could feed them and collect the eggs.

We hadn't realized until then that there were chickens on the ranch. We agreed and the three of us were soon busy in the coop. I have to say that some of the chickens in there were quite grumpy; even with fresh food available, about a dozen or so were giving us a hard time.

With some nasty looking marks inflicted by the overly peckish chickens, we eventually managed to gather all the eggs into a large basket. Angel came wandering out of the bunkhouse and saw us there, then noticed the marks and waved to us to come with her for a moment.

She led us back into the bunkhouse, then down to a small room at the end which appeared to be an office of sorts.

She rummaged in a cabinet for a moment, then pulled out some medical supplies and began to treat our wounds.

That took about fifteen minutes. Most of the pecks hadn't actually broken through the skin, but had left visible marks.

When she was done, she suggested we might want to use some of the smaller pairs of work gloves hanging in the office here in the future.

We laughed and agreed with her, saying that if we had known they were available, we likely would have used them.

We then went out, retrieved the basket of eggs and brought it into the bunkhouse, then watched her wipe and pack the eggs in boxes.

"Next time you kids help out with collecting the eggs, you can do this afterward. It's not difficult, it just takes a little time," Angel suggested.

Well, we learned something that morning, that experience is often the best teacher if one is willing to pay attention to the lessons.

We spent the afternoon being introduced to several of the horses, then Frank and Jeff taught us how to feed them without getting hurt.

We grinned as the horses nudged at the carrot or apples that we held, then lipped them right off of our hands.

As we became a bit more familiar with some of the horses, the two men started to give us riding lessons on a gentle horse.

That was when we learned that the horse we were learning to ride on was a mare. We hadn't been able to see her up until that point, as she had been in a stall. We listened to the men as they instructed us. By the time the afternoon had ended, we could handle the walking paces.

Around mid-afternoon, we followed Frank and Jeff into the bunkhouse where Angel had prepared a simple meal of beans and franks.

After the meal, we relaxed for a little while, then returned to the small corral where we were learning to ride.

Frank and Jeff, then Angel when she joined us, kept us busy with the lessons. By the time the sun set, we were more capable and confident.

What we hadn't realized, as we had been following the directions quite intently, is that mom had been watching us for some time.

We headed into the house, washed ourselves after the day's various activities, then settled down to the chilli mom had been making.

Tonight, the hands from the smaller Plummer ranch showed up as well, that meant there were eighteen people at the table in the evenings.

We had already met Joe, the boss hand for the Plummer ranch. He introduced us to James Kimball, Rodd Barkle and Sam Harrison.

Everyone gave the chilli a thumbs up, several saying it hit just the right point, being spicy but not overly so. The large crock pot was empty.

After dinner on that second evening, we unloaded the trailer, then placed our clothes and belongings in our respective bedrooms.

Mom hauled the trailer to a U-Haul office in Farmington the next morning and paid the outstanding fees.

That was how things went for the next month or so. We would wander around the ranch, learning how to do various things.

We all developed the strong tans you see on folks who spend a lot of time outside under the sun.

One expense that we had all agreed to quite readily was buying fairly decent but not overly expensive Stetsons for daily wear.

Mom often went into town to talk with several of the townsfolk, most often the banker and the junior schoolteacher.

Mom also took Barton in to see the doctor on a weekly basis. Like many country doctors, she worked many jobs, general practitioner, surgeon, veterinarian, psychiatrist/psychologist, OB/GYN, in fact whatever medical services could not be handled by the people themselves.

Over that summer, as I watched Barton and Chantel who were slowly adjusting to being in a loving family, I could swear that I saw Barton looking at Chantel the way that I had looked at her that night in the motel more than a month before. Did I actually see jealousy on his face?

I have to admit that there were times as I looked at Chantel that I almost wished I was in her clothes.

I had never felt this way before that night in the motel as we travelled here, so I was quite confused as to my feelings about it all.

It was about a week after the 4th of July celebrations that I spoke to mom about it. I would start seeing Dr. Elisabeth Shenderas as well.

Perhaps we could figure out what was causing me to feel so jealous of Chantel. I sure hoped so, it was driving me bonkers by then.

As July wound down that summer, a truly hoary old clunker of a car broke down for the final time about two miles north of Felson's Hell.

The driver, a young woman, perhaps in her late teen years, stepped out of the car, swearing a blue streak, then kicked the door.

When she realized that it wouldn't be going anywhere, she kicked it again, then opened the back door, grabbed a bag and shut it again.

The bag was similar in appearance to what carpetbaggers back in the Depression had carried. It didn't look very heavy.

She snarled, giving the door one last kick, then started walking slowly toward the town which could be seen in the shimmery summer haze.

If anyone had seen her at that point, they would have said there was something 'off' about her, something not quite right.

They would have been absolutely correct, even more so if they had heard her swearing in four different languages as she strode along.

Lilith had arrived. Soon, there would be hell to pay for anyone who interfered with her. People would learn, or they would die.

The final Friday of July was hot and hazy, just like many of the previous days had been that summer in northern New Mexico.

There wasn't much going on in the tiny town of Felson's Hell, an occasional dance at the schoolhouse just to let off steam seemed to be about the extent of things here. It sure was different from the busyness of Raleigh that comprised many of my more vivid memories.

Barton and I were both seeing the town's only doctor, one Elisabeth Shenderas. Her tall, lean, well tanned body belied her age, the only visible sign of such being her hair which was shot through with silvered strands. She was a decent doctor, well respected, if a bit taciturn.

We dropped in at her office on the last Friday in July for another session with her, Barton first, then myself. Mom, Chantel and I were sitting in the doctor's waiting area, a large, fairly open room with a variety of furniture. Apparently, one of the folks either in town or living somewhere in the area was a furniture maker, as there were half a dozen single person leather chairs plus two sofas made from the same material. High quality wooden end tables were placed between sets of two or three chairs and a matching coffee table sat in front of each of the sofas.

I guess Barton had been in with Dr. Shenderas for about forty minutes when the doctor's receptionist and assistant called mom into the treatment room. I was idly flipping through a magazine, too worried about Barton to even notice that the magazine was an old copy of Vogue.

I completely missed the odd looks that Chantel threw at me while I was flipping the pages of that magazine.

Eventually, mom and Barton walked out of the inner room and the doctor called my name. I rose from my seat and followed her into the office.

It wasn't easy talking to this woman about my feelings of jealousy of Chantel and how she was able to be feminine when I couldn't. This was only my second visit with the doctor about this situation, and I still didn't feel like I could truly open up to her about how I was feeling.

I guess I got enough across to her that she made a decision and buzzed the receptionist, asking her to send mom in again.

I spent the last half hour of this visit squirming in my seat and stuttering and stammering under the steely eyes of both women.

It all came out, though, and I was stunned to see that mom wasn't surprised by it at all. She sat there, smiling calmly at me, offering her love. When she opened her arms, I darn near jumped off the seat, launched myself at her and cried on her shoulder while she rocked me gently.

The doctor buzzed the receptionist again and asked to have Barton sent back in to join us. I was sorely puzzled by this and quite curious.

It didn't take long for the reason to be discovered. Remember those looks I said that I saw Barton sending Chantel's way before?

Yup, Barton and I were both simmering over with jealousy of Chantel. Before Chantel came along, I had not realized that I had any yearnings toward femininity at all, but I've been feeling those yearnings since then. With Barton, from what he was able to tell us as the four of us sat in that room talking, he had first felt like a girl somewhere around the age of five or six. His girly interests were the reason for the beatings.

Once my mom and I were able to put two and two together and come up with four, we became rather upset, no, furious. Just because Barton's mother had run off when he was three and the boy wanted to be a girl was no reason for his father to nearly beat him to death.

Mom and I wrapped Barton up in a tight hug for several minutes while tears flowed down all of our cheeks.

Dr. Shenderas looked on, nodding in approval and waited for us to take our seats again.

"Well, if the two of you truly wish to be girls, you'll need to pick names for yourselves. Just know you'll have the support of the town."

Mom looked up in surprise when the doctor said that, asking, "You mean they won't be harassed or mistreated here?"

Dr. Shenderas sighed, "Mrs. deSalveris, not by the folks of the town or those on the nearby ranches. You also don't have to worry about the Native Americans in the area, as they, for the most part, support those who are transgender and/or those with two spirits."

"Well, that's good to know. I just wonder how Chantel is going to take this, it's going to be a very big change for all of us," mom replied.

Dr. Shenderas chuckled for a moment, then hit her buzzer again and asked for Chantel to join us.

It only took a moment for Chantel to be brought up to speed. What surprised Barton and I the most, though, was her reaction to being told, which was that she burst into a fit of giggles that lasted for nearly five minutes before saying, "Well, DUH, I've seen you both looking at me!"

Barton and I both turned quite red at that point, then realized that she meant no harm by it and we soon joined her in the giggle fest.

Before we left Dr. Shenderas' office, I asked to be called Annette from now on and Barton spoke up, saying to call her Barbara. Mom asked why I decided on Annette and I replied that it would be a bit confusing if there were two people named Angel at the ranch all the time.

That spawned the decision to go into Farmington and hit the Walmart Supercentre there for some simple clothing for us.

We piled into the Ford Taurus and made our way into the city and found a parking space fairly close to the entrance of the store.

We made our first stop at the bakery in the store, where we had a light meal, something to keep us going for the next few hours.

That turned out to be a good thing, as we didn't leave the store until after 4:30 PM, all four of us carrying three or four large bags. We managed to stuff everything into the trunk, although it was a bit of a tight squeeze, then headed back to the ranch for a well-deserved supper.

Mom had called Phil at some point while we were in the store, so they were aware that we wouldn't be home until late afternoon at least.

When we arrived at the ranch and entered the house, carrying the bags, we were greeting by the smell of a fantastic chili dinner. Mom dropped the bags in her hands by the bottom of the stairs and marched over to the big stove, leaned down and sniffed appreciatively.

Angel wandered in through the back entrance, giggled at mom sniffing the chili, then said we'd have to wait until 6:30 to eat like always. Mom grumbled for a moment while hiding a grin behind her hand, and our stomachs all chose that moment to growl in protest.

That had Angel giggling even harder, but we were all settled around the table a few minutes later with a thick slice of apple pie.

The chili tasted as good as it had smelled and Barb and I spent the evening putting on a little fashion show for mom and Chantel.

The ranch hands just shrugged when Barb and I showed up the next morning wearing what was obviously female clothing. It made no difference to them at all, they had jobs to do which included spending some time in showing us how to do things around the ranch itself.

We learned a lot that summer. We found out that hand milking cows can be rather messy and laughed when Frank used the milking machine. There were half a dozen large pigs in a pen to one side of the big cow barn, five sows and an older boar with a dozen or more piglets. There were days where we helped with the midsummer harvest, having been told it was common to have two warm season harvests here.

We also helped with tending the horses, learning how to feed them, groom them, and how to muck out the stalls. I have to admit I didn't like shovelling up the horse shit very much, but I honestly didn't mind being around the horses. Some of them were even friendly to us.

The best part of most days on the ranch, though, was when we were trotting, then cantering and galloping in the horse paddocks. I have no idea why, but whenever I was on a horse's back and running across those wide open fields, I felt like I could almost fly, I was that happy.

July turned to August and August slowly faded into September, the temperatures often climbing into the low 100s, sometimes 110s.

It wasn't easy living under the brutal New Mexico sun, but at least here, I knew I had the love of my mom and two sisters.

I have to admit it felt a bit odd the first little while that Barb and I presented as girls, but with no one making a fuss, that feeling faded fast.

School would be starting next Tuesday, the first time that Barb and I would be going to school as girls. It scared me a bit, I guess.

Mr. Randall, the town banker, dropped in one afternoon in late August to talk with mom and Phil.

We found out that evening, over supper, that odd things were happening in and around Felson's Hell.

The first had been the discovery of a disembowelled German Shepherd dog on the side of the road leading into town on August 2nd. The remains had been left there, a rather gruesome sight to be sure, and had been found by the owner of a house at the edge of the town.

The second incident was the torching and bombing of a veteran's 68 Mustang which destroyed the car. What made this even worse was that the body of the veteran, one Thomas Schilling, was found beside the car, darn near cooked. He'd apparently tried to save his car but failed.

It didn't come out until three days later that Schilling had been shot by what was assumed to be a high calibre rifle, killing him instantly.

The third incident was the digging up of several graves on private property, the remains having been scattered all over the area. Even with several knowledgeable people trying to help, it was extremely difficult to sort out which bones belonged in which grave. It was a difficult enough task that a highly renowned "bones" man was called in to help with the entire process, which took nearly a week to finish.

The fourth incident was a nasty one, involving the rather valuable herd of a rancher well known for training and breeding high quality horses. Someone entered one of his paddocks one night and lit a fire in the field, which drove the herd in the field toward and then over a cliff. The cliff itself wasn't especially high, perhaps thirty-five or forty feet, but it was a very steep slope and the terrified horses were unable to stop.

Most of the twenty-seven horses that had been in that field had to be put down, only five were saved from that and only because their injuries were not severe, possibly because their fall had been broken by other horses that had fallen over the cliff side just before them.

The rancher was a broken man after that. Within a week, he had put his ranch up for sale and left the area, never to return.

On the last night before the school year would officially begin, Lilith stood unseen in the darkness north of the town of Felson's Hell.

She smiled as she noticed the for sale sign at the end of the laneway leading to the former horse breeder's ranch.

Everything was happening just as it should. This town would die under her hand, but the time was not quite right. Soon, it would come.