As the Sun Rises (Teton Mountain #4)
Chapter 1
1
T orn pieces of sunlight whispered through the pines, landing on the shattered log where Capri Jacobs sat gazing over Jenny Lake. Each lap of the water hitting the shoreline matched Capri’s heartbeat—a beat she once believed sure and steady.
Capri sat on the fallen log, rested her head atop her knees, and savored the memories. How many times had they sat here together, fishing poles in hand, as the sun rose over the cragged mountaintops in the distance?
The period just after sunrise and the couple of hours before sunset were considered prime times for fishing. But it wasn’t about how many trout they landed. “A day spent fishing isn’t about the catch but about the peace found in the waiting,” Dick often repeated.
Tears sprouted.
Capri angrily wiped them away as her phone buzzed on the log beside her. It was her mom.
“Where are you?” the text read.
Capri sighed and picked up the phone.
Crap! She was late.
She quickly tapped out a reply. “On my way.”
She stood, her black high-heeled shoes wobbling slightly in the pine needles, and stuffed the phone in the pocket of her black dress before pecking her way down the winding dirt trail. Halfway to the car, her hair caught on a low limb, pulling a strand of blonde hair from her updo.
Without bothering to fix the stray piece, she made her way to her prized pickup, a bright red Dodge D150 Adventurer Lil’ Red Express truck she’d brought home from an auction in Denver, all tricked out with oak wood panels, gold pin-striping over the wheel wells, and dual-chrome exhaust stacks.
In 1978, theDodge Lil'Red Expresswas the fastest American-madevehiclefrom 0 to 100 MPH as tested by Carand Driver magazine—an extravagant purchase, but you only go around once on this earth.
The sentiment caught in her throat. Tears threatened yet again. Capri set her jaw determined to hold them back.
She opened the unlocked door, slipped onto the red vinyl bench seat, and jammed the key into the slot. She turned the key and started the engine sending a roar into the silence as she threw the gearshift into reverse.
Her foot jammed the gas pedal, sending the truck lurching back with enough force to pin her against the seat. Undeterred, she slammed the gearshift into the drive position and gunned the engine, sending dirt flying.
Ten minutes later, she was speeding down the highway when a flash in the rearview mirror caught her attention.
“Dammit!”
She cursed a second time as she pulled the truck to the side of the road before returning her gaze to the flashing blue lights.
Capri fumbled for her wallet and retrieved her driver’s license as she watched the uniformed officer step from the police car and saunter toward her.
She unrolled the passenger window.
“Capri, you were speeding. Again.”
“Sorry, Fleet. I?—”
Their town deputy’s brows drew together. “Why aren’t you at the church?”
“I’m heading that way now.”
Fleet Southcott nodded. “Okay, look—just follow me.”
As he headed back to his patrol car, Capri let out a sigh of relief. She wasn’t normally so lucky.
Fleet pulled out and motioned for her to follow as he turned on his lights, adding the siren for good measure. Not that there were many cars on the road at this time of the morning.
She nodded and complied, easing her truck back onto the highway behind him.
It was Dick’s idea to have his memorial service in the quiet solitude of morning, believing that those who gathered to remember him at such an hour would experience the same tranquility and clarity that he found in the mornings first light, a fitting tribute to the man who found comfort in the stillness before the world awoke—especially since his grim diagnosis.
Dick also insisted on being cremated, despite her mother’s protests. “Where will I visit you?” she argued.
“I don’t want to be confined to one place,” came his answer. “The mountains are my sanctuary, where I feel most connected to the earth and sky.”
Cremation, for him, symbolized a return to the elements, allowing his essence to blend with the winds, the streams, and the rugged peaks that had always been his refuge. By being spread over the mountain area he cherished, he could remain part of the landscape that had shaped his spirit, forever intertwined with the wild beauty that had given him so much peace and inspiration.
Capri lifted her chin slightly. That would be her choice as well…when her time came.
She choked up with tears.
She used to hate him. Her stepdad wasn’t the kind of guy who gave you a lot to like. He tended to get a bit mean when he drank.
Thankfully, Dick had finally sobered up years ago after his fourth car accident, where he put a young family in the hospital. The event served as the catalyst for some major changes in his life, not just in his drinking but in how he interacted with his family and friends. Soon, the old Dick gave way to a new version—a man who quietly gained the respect of others.
Capri’s sight clouded as she blinked away the emotion. Dick was the only father she’d ever known.
Just before their arrival at Moose Chapel, Fleet cut his sirens and lights. She followed him into the gravel parking lot and wedged her truck between Reva’s car and Albie Barton’s Jeep.
“Thanks, Fleet,” she said, giving the deputy a light arm punch before she made her way into the chapel.
Moose Chapel, a small rustic church nestled in the heart of Wyoming, was filled to capacity with the residents of Thunder Mountain, who had come to pay their final respects to Dick Jacobs. The wooden pews, worn smooth by generations of worshipers, were occupied by men and women whose lives Dick had touched in countless ways. Sunlight streamed through the simple open-air window at the front of the church, casting soft hues of color across the room, mingling with the scent of pine that permeated the air. The faces in the pews reflected a deep sense of loss but also a shared gratitude for having known a man whose presence had been as steadfast and enduring as the mountains that surrounded them.
Ignoring the nods of greeting and looks of sympathy, Capri found her way to the spot where her mother sat at the front and slipped in beside her. She clutched her hands in her lap.
Her mom smiled and covered her hands with her own. She squeezed tightly as Pastor Pete made his way to the podium.
Pastor Pete stood before the congregation; his voice steady yet filled with emotion as he spoke of Dick Capri. “Today, we gather not to mourn a loss but to celebrate a life well-lived. Dick was a man of quiet strength whose love for these mountains was as deep as the valleys they carved. He taught us the value of simplicity, of finding peace in natures embrace, and of the importance of community. Though his presence will be sorely missed, we find comfort in knowing that his spirit is now with the Lord, as free as the wind that sweeps through the Teton peaks he cherished.”
Capri’s ears began to ring. She struggled to swallow as her heart pounded so fiercely, she feared it might shatter her ribs.
“Breathe,” she told herself. “Just breathe.”
Suddenly, her chest tightened as if a vise had clamped around her lungs, making each breath shallow and desperate. Her heart raced uncontrollably, thudding against her ribcage like it was trying to escape. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and the room seemed to close in, the walls pressing closer with every second. Cold sweat trickled down her spine, and a terrifying sense of doom gripped her, overwhelming her thoughts with a flood of fear she couldn’t name or control. She clutched the wooden bench, gasping, trying to ground herself in a reality that was slipping away.
Pastor Pete paused, concern sprouting on his face. “Capri? Are you alright?”
In the distance of her mind, she could hear her mother’s voice. “Help! Something’s wrong with my daughter!”