EVERLEIGH

Preparations for the party were in full swing by the time we got to the ranch. Mrs. Jenkins was baking up a storm when we got here yesterday, and she's still baking today.

The smell of cinnamon apples drifted through the ranch house, teasing all who were there with smelling distance, with the promise of a delicious dessert.

I followed my nose through the halls until I came to the kitchen. I could see Mrs. Jenkins bustling about making dough for what looks to be another pie.

Before