As the printer in the living room let out a rumble and ground to a very loud halt, Bernard Dubois looked at the alarm clock by the side of his bed and groaned. He’d fallen back to sleep after he’d started printing his pictures for the day, and the sound from the other room didn’t bode well.

Grateful that his roommate had left early and he hadn’t woken him up, he dressed quickly and went out to see what had happened to the print job he’d started earlier.

It was good thing that Brandon was working on the same project he was as pictures, both color and black and white, were hung on bulletin boards, almost like wallpaper in the cabin they shared at River’s End Ranch. Not that he would have noticed, really, as he’d been busy since they’d gotten there—falling in love with Lin while cooking until they were both exhausted.

Bernard smiled at the thought of the two of them ending up together, and since Lin had accepted Brandon’s proposal a couple of weeks before, he hadn’t been home much. And when he was, he smelled of Chinese food as he was spending most of his time at the restaurant or sleeping—and always with that goofy look on his face.

Bernard shook his head at what love could do to somebody so quickly. He was happy for his friend, but certainly couldn’t understand it. But Brandon and Lin sure were the real deal. Not like anything he’d seen in his own life, that was for sure.

He scratched his head and lifted the cover of the printer. It was a heavy duty one that the company had sent him with as he scouted locations and angles for the upcoming TV pilot to be shot on the ranch. The printer had been pretty busy during the time he’d been there—and so had he—so he wasn’t all that surprised that it had died, but it couldn’t have been at a worse time.

As the Director of Photography for the show, he’d been dispatched as soon as they’d expressed interest in the ranch as their location. By the time they’d signed the contract with the ranch owners, he was completely familiar with the set, the surrounding area, the lighting—anything that might have an impact on filming the show.

He was happy to have had the chance to visit a couple of times before the contract was signed just to confirm that the ranch was an appropriate venue, and he’d fallen in love with the place. He hadn’t had a single objection when he learned he’d be spending months and months in such a beautiful place.

So he’d had plenty of time to take the photographs that lined the walls. There were pictures of the Old Town at almost every possible time of day, cloudy or sunny. All that was left was for him to take pictures of the surrounding mountains for the off-site scenes they’d need to do, and he’d be exploring those parts of the ranch next. Especially after what he’d seen in the past couple of weeks in the background of the pictures of the old town, he couldn’t wait.

He was done documenting the town. All of those had printed perfectly—and he rubbed his forehead as he realized that the printer had choked on the pictures he’d wanted to print most—the personal ones.

His phone rang and he didn’t have to look at the clock to know exactly what time it was since it was Tuesday. He looked at the screen to confirm, but knew that he got the same phone call at the same time on the same day—and had for years.

He reached into the refrigerator and took out the cream, pouring it into his mug before the coffee as was the French tradition. He stared at the printer, willing it to start again, as he sipped his cafe au lait. He absently reached into the box of croissants from the bakery he’d finally found in Riston that made them right, and his hand came back empty. He’d need to go get some more as soon as possible.

He rubbed the back of his neck. He should have printed the pictures he wanted most first, and kicked himself that he hadn’t. It had been a couple of weeks that those strange images had popped up in the background of his pictures and he’d almost gotten the exact location narrowed down. And when he did, he was going to go exploring in earnest.

Brandon had said it might have been Bigfoot, and he’d laughed at the time. But whatever it was had shown up in enough shots that he was curious. Even though he didn’t believe it was Bigfoot, he now really wanted to know what it actually was.

Maybe there was a place in Riston that could print the pictures for him, and he could hit the bakery at the same time. His stomach rumbled loudly, and he realized he wouldn’t make the drive without something to eat, and aside from the croissants, his cupboard was bare.

He’d spent the last few weeks surviving on leftover Chinese food or burgers from the restaurant—and croissants. But he’d missed dinner the night before as he searched his pictures for more of the strange sightings and fallen into bed hungry. Now, he was starving.

He grabbed his memory stick with the pictures on it from the printer and shoved it in his pocket. He had a new one in his camera so he grabbed that, too—he never went anywhere without it—and headed over to the cafe. They didn’t have croissants, but he’d been once or twice and their American breakfasts were good. That would tide him over until he could get into Riston and print the rest of his pictures.

He walked into the cafe and sat at the end of the counter, passing an older lady and gentleman on the way. The lady had smiled and nodded at him as he passed, and as he sat on the stool at the end, she was still staring at him. He’d seen her in there once or twice, but they’d never spoken. He wasn’t the chatty type and he had a lot to do. He was more comfortable looking at the world through the lens of his camera, so he smiled as politely as he knew how and turned away.

The petite blonde waitress came over and handed him a pitcher of cream and waited, her coffee poised over his mug while he poured in the cream. He hadn’t been to the cafe that many times, so he was impressed that she’d remembered that he preferred to put the cream in first.

“Good morning,” she said with a bright smile as he looked over the menu, her blue eyes sparkling. She looked from him to the lady down the counter, who was still staring at him as he followed her gaze.

As Kelsi looked back to him, she winked and said, “That’s Jaclyn. She seems to have taken an interest in you.”

His eyes flew wide open and his face heated. How could that possibly be? He knew virtually no one at the ranch and was happy to keep it that way.

“Oh, no, no, not like that,” Kelsi said and laughed so loudly she had to put the coffee pot down so she didn’t spill it.

“Oh, good,” he said with relief.

Kelsi cocked her head as she looked at him. “It may not be as good as you think, depending on how you feel about—well, never mind,” she finished as the chef peered out the window to the kitchen and scowled. Bernard thought he must be a very unhappy person to yell and frown so much, but everybody seemed to just laugh when he did.

“Coming, Bob,” she said to Bernard with a smile as she turned away, and he barely had time to place his order before she was out of earshot.

He turned on his camera and flipped through pictures while he waited, enlarging some that he thought might have something in the background, but it really was no use. He needed to see them in print with a magnifying glass.

Well, what he actually needed was a big screen TV or computer monitor so he could really zoom in, but he didn’t have either as he was still doing preliminary work. He should be getting those things soon from the production company, but he was having a difficult time waiting.

“What’s with all the cameras this morning?” Kelsi said as she set his ham and eggs on the counter in front of him.

“Hm?” He turned his camera off and set it to the side as he reached for his fork.

“Opal was in here earlier doing the same thing,” she said.

“Opal?” he asked as he salted his eggs.

The older lady a few stools down who’d been staring earlier started to cough, so much that the older gentleman accompanying her asked Kelsi for a glass of water.

“There you go, Jaclyn, that should help,” Kelsi said as she set down the water, eyeing the older woman with concern.

Bernard watched until Jaclyn’s coughing calmed.

“Say, you wouldn’t happen to know where I could print some pictures, do you? I have a printer but it broke, and they’re fairly large. Bigger than the average size,” he said when Kelsi returned.

“Big. Well, I get my menus printed at the gallery now that they have that big printer. They could probably print them for you,” she said as she set the coffee pot back on the burner. “Opal works there. She could help you.”

Bernard’s fork stopped midway between his plate and his mouth and his eyebrows rose as the older lady—Jaclyn—started coughing again.

Kelsi rushed over with more water and the lady’s companion fanned her with a napkin. Bernard stood, wondering if there was some way he could help, when the coughing subsided and the lady rested her hand on her chest and turned her eyes right to him again.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me,” she said, as her eyes held his. “Yes, you should go to the gallery. Opal can help you.”