Refuge for the Archaeologist

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Will uncovering the truth set them free or destroy what they hold most dear?

Wisconsin, 1930—With her health in shambles and her archaeological career on the line, Cora Davis retreats to Crow’s Nest and the home of her great aunt to heal. She doesn’t think much of the missing memories from between the earthquake that caused her dizzy spells and her trip home. Until she begins remembering the danger that sent her fleeing her last dig and the person responsible.

After a decade as a ranch hand, Silas Ward returned to Crow’s Nest to provide for the women in his life. That same protective instinct propels him to Cora’s aid. But when finances dwindle, the lies and greed of others threaten to ruin his family. Unless Silas can walk the thin line of compromise. A choice that might cost him Cora’s affection.

As winter’s chill threatens, will Crow’s Nest prove a refuge, or will both Cora and Silas have no choice but to sacrifice their chance at happiness to save those they love?

Welcome to Crow’s Nest, where danger and romance meet at the water’s edge.

Read the Whole Series!

Book One: Confessions to a Stranger
Book Two: Refuge for the Archaeologist
Book Three: Escape with the Prodigal
Book Four: Relying on the Enemy
Book Five: Sheltered by the Doctor
Book Six: Investigation of a Journalist

This is book two in a series and I truly cannot wait for the next one to see what is going to happen next. ~ Erin, five-star reader review

Published by Hearth Spot Press
© 2023 Danielle Grandinetti

Read the Opening Scene

Tuesday, September 16, 1930 Crow’s Nest, Wisconsin

Silas Ward hefted the newly built end table from the bed of his pickup. The solid piece of furniture had turned out well. Hopefully, Rose Wittlebush, the town’s honorary grandmother, would like it, .

Thick heat pressed on his shoulders, causing sweat to trickle down his back. Though he was dressed in a simple cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his suspenders created wet strips down his torso. Even the lake breeze was absent today.

Setting the end table down on the porch, he propped open the screen door with his hip and rapped on the wooden frame. The outgoing octogenarian lived in a farmhouse overlooking Lake Michigan. White railings, which could use a fresh coat of paint, surrounded the deep, wrap-around front porch. He mentally added it to his list of things to do before another Wisconsin winter chipped them even more.

Imagining the older lady’s surprise, he pulled off the Stetson he wore despite the rolling farmland surrounding his hometown, not the rugged ranch land out west. Rose Wittlebush deserved every ounce of gallantry his father taught him, especially after losing both her seamstress shop and her assistant earlier this year. Widowed now for a decade, she had no family left, and he couldn’t help but look out for her, same as his own mom. It’s what neighbors did here in Crow’s Nest.

He knocked again, and scuffling sounds came from behind the closed door, as if people were scrambling. Not the image that came to mind when he considered the white-haired lady who lived alone. Concern nipped at him like a cattle dog. He rapped harder.

More scrambling sounds, then a thump and a cry.

“Mrs. Wittlebush!” He jiggled the doorknob. Locked. She never locked it. “It’s Silas Ward. Can you answer the door?”

He put his ear to the smooth plane of wood. He could barely hear through it and didn’t like the hushed, hurried voices coming from inside. Rose had company. Not the good kind, considering she hadn’t yet come to the door or assured him she was fine.

“Rose Wittlebush!” Another thirty seconds and he’d find an alternate entry point.

The door disappeared from in front of his face.

“Thank heavens.” Mrs. Wittlebush grabbed his wrist with strong fingers and dragged him inside. A vinegary smell wrapped around him. Was she pickling vegetables today? “We need your help.”

“I really don’t.” This frustrated statement came from a woman sitting on her haunches in the middle of Mrs. Whittlebush’s front room. She had black curly hair—not tight corkscrews, but close—and the mass hung around her down-turned face like lamb’s wool. From what he could tell from her hunched position, she was tall and slender. The deep olive brown of her arms stark against her white blouse, yet blending with her serviceable forest-green skirt.

He tossed his Stetson on the coat rack and bumped the front door closed with the heel of his boot. “What can I do?”

“Lift Cora to the couch.” Mrs. Whittlebush gave his shoulder a firm shove.

The other woman—Cora—sighed as she grabbed a mass of curls away from her face, turning toward him. Her eyes were as blue as a mountain lake. He instinctively moved a step in front of Mrs. Whittlebush. Until he knew who this Cora was, he wouldn’t let the older woman out of his sight. The danger she’d faced early this summer was enough for a lifetime. He wouldn’t let Mrs. Whittlebush get caught up in any more.

“I just need a minute, and I’ll be fine.” Cora gave a smile, but her eyes seemed unfocused. It was a look he’d occasionally encountered from the ranch hands he used to work with—especially after they’d been thrown from a horse—but never in a lady.

Not that he’d ever seen this Cora around Crow’s Nest before—and in such a small town, identifying strangers was easy—but Mrs. Whittlebush was known for her hospitality regardless of a person’s background. What was it about the older women in this town taking in strays? He didn’t know, but the last stranger to make herself at home in Crow’s Nest nearly got herself killed, along with Silas’s friend, David Martins. Speaking of Martins, Silas made a second mental note to mention Cora’s arrival to David’s uncle, Detective O’Connor.

“Water. That will help.” Mrs. Whittlebush patted Silas’s arm, then dashed for the kitchen as fast as her Mary Janes could carry her.

Time for answers.

What Readers are Saying

This author has become a favorite with her relatable characters and fascinating plots. ~ Paula, five-star reader review

Danielle Grandinetti knows how to weave old and new characters into her amazing storytelling. ~ Melissa, five-star reader review

One of the things that I love most about this author is her attention to detail. She writes her scenes so vividly that you feel like you are stepping back into time. ~ Connie, five-star reader review