Chapter One
Clear Creek wasn’t your ordinary town. It might look ordinary, but it was far from it. It had a long history of oddities, miracles, and strange residents. Most people figured the stories were just hullabaloo and blew them off, but others knew better.
Some folks swore they’d seen UFOs over the valley. There was even talk of alien abductions, though most dismissed it as nonsense.
The town was founded in 1849 by Cyrus Van Cleet, owner of the Van Cleet Shipping Company in Boston. His wife, Polly, was a delightful woman, or so the town’s history book says, along with the notes about her in the museum.
The museum itself sat inside Doc and Grandma Waller’s old house on Main Street in Old Town. Their actual names were Abijah and Sarah Waller, and they’d come west on the same wagon train as Cyrus and Polly. With them were Paddy and Mary Mulligan and Irene and Wilfred Dunnigan. Paddy and Mary built and ran the saloon, while Irene and Wilfred started Dunnigan’s Mercantile.
Also on that wagon train was Honoria Cooke, her husband Jefferson, and five sons between them. Both had been widowed before marrying, just before the train headed west. Honoria’sboys were Duncan, Colin, and Harrison; Jefferson’s were Jack and Sam. Traveling with them were the Turners. Frank, Mabel, and their little boy Tom.
These were the settlers of Clear Creek, the ones who started it all. Visitors can still find information about them in the museum, with old-time photographs of the founders in their later years and even a few pieces of original Waller furniture.
Over the years, other families moved in, some rather interesting. What made Clear Creek different was its British influence. Honoria and her three sons had come from England with her husband, Benedict Sayer. He died in a tragic accident before they could head West. Mr. Sayer had dreamed of starting a cattle ranch out west, but after his death Honoria faced a difficult decision. To carry on his dream or go back to England. But there were other problems.
To join a wagon train, she had to be married. Duncan might’ve been eighteen, but the wagon master didn’t see him as a man. And, given his British upbringing, doubted he’d survive the Oregon Trail. He was wrong. Duncan Sayer could more than hold his own. He even came up with the idea tointerviewpotential husbands for his mother. Jefferson Cooke was the only man who passed Duncan’s scrutiny.
Old Town Clear Creek was—and still is—a delight for tourists and locals alike. The Cooke family, who’d owned the Triple-C Ranch for generations, bought up most of the old buildings downtown and refurbished them. The Van Cleet Hotel, a marvel in the 1800s and early 1900s, had fallen into disrepair but was lovingly restored. The original sheriff’s office and jail still stood, along with Mulligan’s Saloon, the bank, and Dunnigan’s Mercantile. Even the old church, set off about a hundred yards from the main street, now served as a charming little wedding chapel.
Many of the original homesteads still stood too, still owned by the same families. It was one of the things that made Clear Creek unique. The old livery stable beside the hotel remained, as did the restaurant in the hotel. All restored by the Cookes.
Today, Clear Creek boasts a population of nearly ten thousand. It’s the sort of place you’d expect to find in a Norman Rockwell painting. There are bed-and-breakfasts right in town and even a drive-in theater at the south end that runs in the summer.
All in all, it’s a wonderful place to live. The population has stayed manageable thanks to geography. Clear Creek sits in eastern Oregon near the last of the open prairies, surrounded by rolling hills that rise into the tree line of the mountains.
And of course, there’s the creek itself. It runs through a canyon about a mile and a half outside of town. Part of that canyon is still owned by the Cookes, who continue to run one of the largest cattle ranches in the West. Years ago, the family donated a section of land to the town, which became a beautiful public park. Acres of green where residents still gather for the annual town picnic, just as their ancestors did.
A lot has happened since those early settlers arrived in 1849. Certain events, however, have remained secret. If revealed, they’d get someone locked up as a lunatic. Or worse, dragged off to a military base. So, those secrets stayed buried deep. After all, when you’re an original settler of Clear Creek that accidentally drinks an alien concoction that extends your life, you tend to be cautious. And, when you have a chance to visit your hometown 120-some-odd years after you supposedly died, it’s a temptation that’s hard to resist. The little Clear Creek gang of questionable age got to spend some time in modern day Clear Creek the year before, to check on some things. They were under the guise of innkeepers, restoring an old Victorian house. And they got a chance to do a little matchmaking on the side.
And that’s where our story begins…
October, Present Day The Clear Creek Inn
Cyrus Van Cleet set his suitcase on the porch of the Clear Creek Inn and rang the bell.
“You could just knock and walk in,” Polly said. “It’s not like Talia and Grayson would mind.”
“They’re the owners now, Polly,” Cyrus frowned. “We can’t just barge in. That would be rude.”
Irene shoved past the others and joined him at the door. “Well, if you ask me, seeing as they’re expecting us, they’d be fine with it.” She brushed salt-and-pepper hair from her eyes, then scrunched her nose and glared at the door.
“Irene, don’t make a fuss,” Grandma said. “Wait… I think I hear something…”
The door swung open. Talia Brody gasped. “Goodness gracious! Grandma! Cyrus! Polly! You’re a day early!”
Cyrus opened his arms wide. “Hello, Talia. Give us a hug.”
She stepped into the old man’s arms and hugged him tight. “Oh my gosh, how we’ve missed you! Grayson will be so excited you’re here!” She laughed in delight and opened the door wide.
Eight elderly people filed into the inn’s foyer. Talia looked them over, her eyes landing on Paddy and Mary. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said.
“Indeed not, lass.” Paddy gave her a wink. “This here’s my wife Mary, and I’m Patrick, but everyone calls me Paddy. We’re the Mulligans.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you from the others. Both Grayson and I have been looking forward to meeting you.” Talia smiled, thennoticed the pile of luggage. “Oh dear! I’d better fetch him to carry your bags upstairs.”
“No need, lass, we’ve got it handled,” Paddy said. “Now, which rooms are we in? Then we can get to work.”
“My, you’re that anxious to become innkeepers for a few weeks?” Talia teased, eyes bright. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see everyone, and to finally meet you, Paddy and Mary. It’s been an interesting year since we last saw the others.”
