Message in a Bottle. Kathryn Reiss

for the confusion.”

      He changed the subject before Mrs. Albright could protest. “Traveling far today?”

      “We’re from San Francisco,” Julie told him. “We’re going to Gold Moon Ranch.”

      Mr. Coker raised his eyebrows. “Joining the hippies?”

      “Just visiting,” replied Mrs. Albright.

      “It’s not the place it used to be,” said Mr. Coker. “There used to be a large community, and they were quite self-sufficient. But now they’re having to get jobs like the rest of us.” He tipped his head toward the table where Dolores was now delivering the grilled cheese to the person who had ordered it. “Your waitress lives there. She doesn’t have much practical experience, but I’m trying to give her a chance. She wants to help their community, and goodness knows, they need the money!” He shook his head. “High time they rejoined civilization. I’ve made a very good offer to buy their land, but so far they aren’t interested in selling. I’ll keep trying. They’ll see reason soon enough!”

      He turned abruptly. “Now, let me see what’s holding up your order.”

      A few moments later, Dolores returned with Julie’s cheeseburger and fries. She set the food on the table and gave Julie a smile. “I couldn’t help hearing what you said. It will be nice to have another girl at the ranch for a while.” Then she leaned in and lowered her voice. “I also heard what Mr. Coker said! He has as much chance of buying Gold Moon Ranch as I have of…of keeping this stupid job. We’ll never sell, no matter how desperate we get!”

      She turned on her heel and disappeared back through the swinging doors. Julie picked up a French fry from her plate and blew on it thoughtfully. Dolores was the second person from the commune to mention being desperate. What on earth was happening at Gold Moon Ranch?

      chapter 2

      Bad Luck

      BACK IN THE car, Mrs. Albright peered at the driving directions. “Turn off one mile beyond the cafe. Look for a red wooden gate on the left.”

      Julie watched the sides of the road, wondering about the aunt and cousin who would be waiting for them. Why did Aunt Nadine need Julie’s mom so desperately?

      “There!” Julie pointed out a sagging red gate, half hidden by bushes.

      Mrs. Albright turned the car sharply up a steep, unpaved drive. At the top of the drive, she parked in a circle of gravel next to two old cars and a battered van. Just beyond the parking area, a large, ramshackle house stood in the shelter of pine trees. It had a long front porch, a tin roof, and two tall stone chimneys. The weathered boards of the house were unpainted, but Julie liked the bright blue front door and the cascades of herbs from the window boxes. The smell of rosemary and mint grew stronger as they walked up to the house. Julie tapped on the door, but no one came.

      Mrs. Albright knocked harder. “We come all this way, and they’re not even home?” she muttered.

      Julie peered through one of the windows into a large room. Four long tables were set for dinner. Loaves of bread and plates of sliced tomatoes lay on one. But the mismatched chairs surrounding the tables were empty. No one was there.

      “Looks like they left in the middle of cooking,” Julie said.

      “Odd,” said Mrs. Albright.

      Julie jumped off the porch and looked around. After a moment, the silence was broken by shouts coming from some distance away, followed by a screech, and then: “Don’t let her escape!”

      Intrigued, Julie followed the voices across a small meadow, passing a garden full of tomato plants and squash growing tall over high trellises. She reached two barns both surrounded by a low rail fence. At the edge of the barnyard, people raced this way and that, stooping down, then standing up with something in their arms that seemed to be flapping and clucking.

      “Look, Mom. Chickens!”

      Mrs. Albright stopped and put her hands to her face. “Oh! There’s Nadine!” She started laughing. “She looks just the same!”

      A tall, thin woman with long, fair hair the color of Julie’s stepped away from the group, thrusting the chicken she held into the arms of a boy about Julie’s age. Then she waved and ran toward Julie and her mother, her multicolored skirt swirling around her legs.

      “Joyce?” She caught Julie’s mom in a bear hug and spun her around. “Joyce, it’s you!” Nadine’s voice was husky. “Let me look at you!”

      “Can it really be nearly ten years?” murmured Julie’s mom, her hands tightly clasping Nadine’s. “Oh, Nadine, it’s good to see you! Julie, meet your Aunt Nadine.”

      “Hello, honeypot.” The woman’s smile looked so much like her mom’s that Julie couldn’t help but grin back. “I wanted to welcome you both properly, but as you can see we’re in a bit of a pickle here.” She motioned to the boy who held the chicken in his arms. “Raymond! Come meet your aunt and cousin.”

      The boy moved closer. He appeared to be about ten or eleven, with dark eyes and a shock of dark hair. He wore faded jeans and a blue T-shirt that hung on his thin frame. He gave Julie a fleeting smile. The chicken clucked and pecked lightly at his shoulder.

      “Hi,” he muttered. He moved back a step when Julie’s mother reached out to hug him.

      “Hi!” Julie said cheerfully. Raymond probably didn’t meet many new people, she decided.

      Aunt Nadine linked her arm through her sister’s. “I know you must have been surprised to get my letter, Joyce. I wasn’t sure you’d come. But I know you can help us. In fact, you can start right now, with these birds! Somehow, the coop door was left open and our hens have escaped. We need to get them back in before the foxes and coyotes come out.”

      “If Pa were here,” said Raymond in a low, tight voice, “he’d capture them in a flash.”

      Aunt Nadine frowned at him. “Your pa’s not here. We’ll catch them ourselves!”

      Julie eyed the bird in Raymond’s arms. She’d never held a chicken before, but this one looked placid enough. “I can help.”

      “Then follow me.” Carrying the chicken, Raymond strode ahead to the wood-and-wire mesh enclosure and shooed it inside, latching the gate carefully. “Just put ’em in here when you get ’em.”

      People dashed this way and that, trying to intercept the hens that were scattering into the meadow. Julie approached a fat bird sitting under a bush and held out her hand. “Here, girl,” she called, as if to a dog. The chicken studied her warily. Julie darted forward, arms outstretched—but the bird flapped its wings in panic and flew off, squawking. “I didn’t know chickens could fly!” Julie exclaimed.

      Raymond snorted. “Try this,” he said. He walked to a wooden barrel of chicken feed, dipped in his hand, then scattered the feed on the ground. “My pa trained these hens when they were chicks. They’ll come to you. They just need a little bit of encouragement!”

      When two hens ventured over to peck at the feed, Raymond bent down and expertly scooped one up under each arm. He held them against his sides as he walked back toward the coop. “Your turn!” he called back to Julie.

      Julie took a handful of the feed from the barrel. The chicken she’d tried to catch earlier was now sitting on a wooden fence post. Julie scattered the grain at the base of the post and then waited, not moving a muscle. The chicken eyed her suspiciously. “Here, chick,” Julie cooed. “Come on, girl!”

      When the hen finally hopped down to peck at the grain, Julie held her breath. Bending low and moving slowly, she grabbed the bird as Raymond had done. She tried to tuck the hen snugly against her body but found herself clutching a flapping fury of feathers. “Oh no!” cried Julie. “She’s escaping!”

      The others chuckled, and Julie felt her face grow