Flying high, the ball sailed through the air. Gray galloped after it, almost airborne, and Ryan stood still, his jaw nearly scraping the ground. “Holy…”
Nicole chuckled. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those macho boneheads who thinks girls can’t play ball?”
“Actually, I’m wondering why the Rangers haven’t recruited you.”
That made her smile.
Before Gray could snatch the ball, Finn came out of the barn just as the ball hit the dirt, and picking it up, spotted Nicole and Ryan across the way. With Gray now sitting politely at his feet, Finn tossed the ball back.
To Ryan’s surprise, Nicole had to dart forward to catch it, since Finn’s arm clearly wasn’t as good as hers. Grinning, she turned to face him.
“Okay,” he chuckled, “you throw and catch. Can you bat too?”
“Lefty or righty.”
He knew his eyes were bulging in their sockets. “You’re a switch hitter?”
She shrugged.
“Wow,” he shook his head, smiling at her, “next time a game breaks out during lunch, you aresoon my team.”
Gray came prancing up to her. Dropping the ball at his paws, she leaned over and scratched his ears. “Sorry, boy, we have a little research to do, but I promise we’ll play another day.”
Swishing his tail, to Ryan it looked like the dog nodded. Today was just full of surprises.
A thick layer of gray dust coated the first stack of plastic bins, the bright holiday labels peeking through the grime. Grabbing the handle of a particularly heavy crate marked Christmas Lights, Nicole shoved it toward the low eaves of the ranch attic. The air was heavy, smelling of old cedar, dry heat, and the faint, sweet scent of the vanilla candles stored with the other holiday decorations. “I say we push all these more recent items to this side, and clear space for anything we find that might be older than we are.”
Ryan grunted, hauling a stack of outgrown suitcases to the other side of the landing where Nicole pointed. “I can’t believehow much stuff Uncle Sean and Aunt Eileen keep. I think this entire box is filled with nothing but Declan’s Little League trophies.”
“Which means there are probably six or more boxes for everyone else’s childhood trophies.”
Squinting at the writing on the next box, Ryan nodded. “This one would be Adam. At lease someone had the good sense to label most of these.”
“Even if they hadn’t, we can pretty much rule out the modern cardboard boxes as not containing any hint of the family over a hundred years ago.”
“Look at this.” Nicole kneeled over an open cardboard box and blew the dust off a framed photograph, revealing a team of young boys. Some with missing teeth. All with nearly identical, mischievous grins, and all holding up a string of very small fish. “Are you in this?”
Ryan leaned over her shoulder, his laughter a low vibration in the small space. “Looks like we’re all in it. The Austin cousins, the Oklahoma cousins, and the West Texas cousins. I’m pretty sure that was my first catch.” He chuckled some more. “I was terrified the fish was going to bite me back.”
“Aww, that’s kind of sweet.” Setting the photo carefully back into the box, she shoved it over to the others and continued clearing a path through the modern clutter, tossing a deflated football and a rusted set of horseshoes to the side until the floorboards changed.
The transition was sharp. The modern plywood gave way to wide, hand-hewn oak planks that looked as though they belonged to a different century. Pushing the boxes aside with a little more energy, she tapped Ryan’s arm. “Look at this.”
Shifting his weight, he twisted to where she pointed. “Oh, this must be where the original house ends. This house hashad multiple additions through the generations. I’ve always marveled at how seamless it all looks.”
“We should start with that.”
He nodded and with a little more gusto, they shoved the remaining boxes out of the way until there was nothing but original floorboards beneath their feet and a small, unassuming door in front of them.
“Oh, boy,” Ryan muttered.
“Would it be presumptuous of me to shout Eureka?”
Ryan’s smile made her want to smile. “We might want to wait and see what’s on the other side first.”
Pressing her palm against the wood, Nicole felt the absolute stillness of the original structure. “The craftsmanship is different here. You can see where the new frame was grafted onto the old.”
Ryan eased the heavy timber door open. As it swung inward it gave a long, mournful creak. He held it open for Nicole to step inside first. The space was tiny, the ceiling sloping so sharply that even she had to duck. It was crammed with items that hadn’t seen the sun in decades—sturdy wooden crates, a few leather-bound trunks with brass hardware, and a small, spinning wheel that looked to have been carved eons ago by hand.
