Chapter One August 1975
	The morning sun shone brightly, slowly warming the brisk fall day.  The trees and grass were bathed in autumn colors.  The Aspens were turning, making a gigantic patchwork panoramic backdrop.  Frost had nipped the more fragile plants.  Beau Butler stood on an outcropping of rock and surveyed his kingdom.  In the midst of all the riotous colors below, stood a stately mansion, surrounded by a white-rail fence. The grounds were neatly manicured.  There was a separate four-car garage behind the house.  A large barn and corrals were situated to the west of the garage.  The buildings were tucked in a well- protected valley A rock wall rose steeply behind it.   Beau owned everything he gazed upon, the fat livestock, the mountains that surrounded him. He was a wealthy man and the ranch was his sanctuary.  He raised his fifteen-year-old twin sons alone. He came from generations of wealth and he had power in the legislature.  He was a handsome man, in his prime at thirty-five, six-feet-four, and two hundred forty pounds.  He had thick dark curly hair, startling blue eyes and a rogue’s grin.  His shoulders were broad, his hips slim, legs long and strong.  A gentle breeze stirred his hair.  He squinted behind the pair of expensive aviator sunglasses he wore. He inhaled the rich scents that permeated the air, the thick scent of the pines.  He had a deep love and respect for the place he called home.        He pulled a silver flask out of his pocket and took a deep swallow of the amber liquid.  It spread warmth all the way down to his stomach.  He sat down on a large boulder and closed his eyes.  A picture formed in his mind as his thoughts drifted. She was a beautiful woman, her blond hair blowing in the wind and a laugh on her lips.  She seemed so real. He wanted to reach out and touch her.  He didn’t know her and yet she was so familiar.  The image was sharp and precise.  He could smell her and feel her heat.   She turned to look directly at him, her dark eyes intense and filled with love.  She was the woman he dreamed about night after night.  It had been happening for the past two years, sometimes on consecutive nights, other times weeks passed between the dreams.  His fingers seemed to brush her image.  Her beauty faded, leaving a shriveled and ugly hag laughing viciously.  Beau shook his head as he opened his eyes to rid himself of the horrible vision.          “My God!”   He exclaimed aloud.   He shuddered.  It was an unnerving experience.  That didn’t happen in the dreams.  They were powerful dreams, filled with pleasure.  He was her lover.   Who was she?  And why did she turn to a crone at his touch?  There was something in her beauty that stirred him deeply.  He frowned as he tried to sort it out.  He took several deep breaths to calm himself.             He got to his feet and took one last look around him.  Life was good but he was a lonely man.  He picked his way down through the rocks, leaving his lofty perch behind.   He had a vast empire.  The ranch was inherited from his grandfather, but the balance of his business interests he built on his own.  When he received his inheritance, he invested in several nightclubs in Las Vegas, bought and built up a trucking company in Denver, and invested heavily in the oil industry.  He appeared to have a Midas touch with his investments. His thoughts drifted back to the previous evening and the woman he entertained.  She was beautiful, a writer, researching an article about eligible, successful men in Colorado.   Beau had a long list of conquests, actresses and centerfolds among them.  He preferred to keep a low profile and didn’t hesitate to tell her that.  The interview was short, though they lingered over dinner.  He did not add her name to the list and she was not the woman in the vision. Beau got into his pickup and drove back to the house.  The terrain was rough until he got back on the county road.  He wanted to shower before dinner. He lit a cigarette as he drove, letting his mind wander.  He parked behind the house and entered through the mudroom. Estelle, his housekeeper, beamed at him, her plump cheeks rosy from the heat of the kitchen.  He brushed a kiss on her cheek and hugged her.  She was one of the families and he trusted her to care for his sons when he was away on business.  She’d been with him since before the boys were born. He went up the back stairs to shower and shave.  After adjusting the water temperature to his liking, he stepped into the soothing spray, soaped his body liberally, and rinsed himself.  The water ran in rivulets down his broad chest, through the thick matting of curly dark hair covering the expanse from just below his shoulders to his flat hard stomach. His thick dark hair curled softly around his ears and neck.  He had long dark side burns.  Often he wore a full beard, but at the time he did not.  His blue eyes were fringed by thick, dark, bristly lashes.  He still carried the swarthy complexion of his French ancestry, with straight thick eyebrows and a mustache that curled down at the corners of his mouth.  His face was aristocratic, with a mouth that was neither too full nor too thin. Though most women felt an immediate response to the sexuality that surrounded Beau, he did not see himself in that light.  He did not see the quick sparkle in his eyes or the dark good looks that spoke of sexiness in a man.  He had a quick easy smile when he wanted to and a nervous quirk at the corner of his mouth when he was amused.  He had a certain way of raising his eyebrow when his curiosity was aroused.  Men regarded him as a dangerous man to cross or a worthy friend depending on the situation. Beau stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist.  He searched for another pack of cigarettes, found one, opened it and lit one.  He inhaled once and laid the cigarette in the ashtray.  He shaved but he was a man with a permanent five o’clock shadow.  He picked up a small pair of scissors and trimmed his mustache.        He slapped on some cologne, stepped to the bureau for a pair of Levi's, and pulled a T-shirt over his head. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on a pair of boots.        Beau walked downstairs, through the large house and went into the den.   The house hadn’t changed much from when his great-grandfather built it.  The draperies and carpets had been changed but the décor was still much as it had always been. He picked his messages up and thumbed through them.  There was a message from his ex-wife.  He stepped out in the hallway and called to Estelle. “What did Sherri want?  She is supposed to visit the boys next week.  Is her broom broke?” Estelle clasped her hands in front of her.  “She wouldn’t tell me anything except that she wants you to call her.”        He cursed under his breath.  Sherri was the same ex-wife who left him with two small sons to rear.  He didn't regret having the boys.  They were far better off with him.  She had no instinct to be a parent.  Beau and Sherri were young when she got pregnant and they married.  He suspected Sherri wanted his money and name but it was immaterial at this late date.  She had to be the center of attention, surrounded by admirers, even after the birth of the boys.        Beau had been proud of his wife and sons.  He and the boys were closer than most people knew, and Sherri believed they were the only great love in his life.  She stopped doing even the smallest things for the boys when they were two months old.  After that, Estelle and Beau took care of them.        Beau was bewildered by her behavior and the more he tried to please her, the more she pushed him away.  She refused to accept the fact that Beau loved her and their sons.  She began to seek her attention from others.  She and Beau separated after two serious incidents in which her lovers were hospitalized and many other minor difficulties.  After four years of what Sherri termed a "living hell," she asked Beau for five million dollars and her freedom.  She walked out of their lives, and except for brief visits once or twice a year, she remained in their past.        Beau went back into the den.  He sat down in the leather desk chair, placed the call and stretched his long legs out in front him.  Her personal secretary answered on the second ring and gave him his ex-wife’s itinerary.        He hung up the phone and swore under his breath.  She was still coming and she was staying for a week.  He could picture her petite stature, make up and hair impeccable, wardrobe expensive and perfectly tailored.
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