Home Free

Finally she spoke. “I don’t know if there’s much of a future between you and me. Maybe we can find some more memories like those calves, but there are some things I’m not sure can be repaired. I want you to know, though, that I think you were brave to turn yourself in. I realize it couldn’t have been an easy decision.”

“It was the only choice I had if I ever wanted to be free.” It was almost fully dark now. He pointed to the sky. “The first stars. One of the things I missed most in jail.”

“Ten years of no stars.” She looked up, too. “It’s hard to imagine.”

“Don’t try. It’s depressing. Life went on for everyone else. You and Wade did well for yourselves.”

Warmth and pride softened her tone. “I can’t believe he’s off on his honeymoon.”

“You raised him well,” Arch said. “You kept him on the right path.”

“I’m proud of him. He was a soldier, you know. He fought in Afghanistan.”

Arch whistled low. “I didn’t know. And what about you?”

“I’m a plant biologist. I consult on ranches, trying to help them use less water in the drought. And I work with my husband, Todd. We’re creating a sanctuary for wild horses.”

“You married a cowboy?”

She laughed. “I married an ex-activist who used to try to fix the world. Now he fixes engines and saves wild horses on the side.”

“He sounds complicated. He treats you well?” The words felt clumsy on his tongue. He wasn’t used to being brotherly.

The smile that broke across her face told him what he needed to know. “He’s a good guy. Really good. You’ll meet him tomorrow when he stops by.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He was lying. Todd obviously had a strong sense of justice. Which meant he’d probably want to kick Arch’s ass for the way he’d treated Nora when they were young. But Arch would just have to take it if Todd resorted to violence. No fighting was high up there on the list of rules he had to follow now that he was on parole.

Nora stood, pulling her keys out of her pocket. “Speaking of Todd, I need to get home.”

Arch nodded. “Thanks for coming by.”

She pulled a folded index card out from the back pocket of her jeans. “Here’s Todd’s number. Call him with any questions. And please take care of this place. Wade’s worked so hard on it.”

“I will.” Arch walked her to the barn, listening as Nora gave him instructions on how to use their account at the feed store. And then they were at her truck. She stuck out an awkward hand and he shook it once.

“Okay, then,” she said. “Good luck.” She climbed in behind the steering wheel, shut the door, gave a wave through the window and pulled a U-turn toward the driveway. Arch watched her go, leaning against the barn since his legs seemed to have gone boneless with relief.

Talking with Nora had been awkward. But it had gone better than he had any right to hope for.

He stayed there a few minutes, listening to the silence left in the wake of her truck. Silence laced with a touch of hope.

Autumn evenings lost their warmth quickly here in the mountains. After watching a few more stars emerge, Arch walked back to the house, grabbed his duffel bag and let himself in the kitchen door.

Inside he stopped, taking in the neatly scrubbed countertops, the faded linoleum. He moved on into the living room, recognizing the familiar furniture, the scarred, paneled walls, everything even older and more run-down than he remembered it. It was clean, though, which it had never been when they were young. Clean, but still a gut job.

A clock ticked in the hall. Other than that there was just thick, musty silence. For ten years he’d lived and slept with the sounds of hundreds of men clinging to him like dirt that he couldn’t wash off. He’d craved silence during nights surrounded by their moans and snores. But now the quiet closed over him and all the emptiness was almost overwhelming.

He was being an idiot. Quiet was just that. Quiet. He should be happy to finally have a chance to experience it. He’d get used to it—and to everything else about life after jail.

He didn’t feel ready to go upstairs, but exhaustion was hitting. He’d hitchhiked the past couple of days up from Los Angeles, sleeping rough. He needed a shower and bed.

He grabbed his duffel and climbed the rickety wooden stairs to face the past lurking in his childhood bedroom. The sagging mattress and the iron bed frame just as he’d left them. Beyond the bed, the window opened out over the porch roof. He’d climbed out of it just about every night when he was a kid, so ready to grow up fast and raise hell.

His bag landed on the bed with a hollow thump. He wished he could talk to the kid he’d been. Grip him by the belt and pull him back inside. Give him a good shaking and a glimpse into what his future would hold. Scare him straight.

Arch shook his head to clear the regret making his vision swim. No wishing could undo what had been done. No wishing could give him back the ten years he’d spent surviving behind bars. All he could do was leave that trouble-hungry boy in the past. All he could do was take what he’d learned and use it to finally become a man.

CHAPTER FOUR (#u570cb75d-f2fe-516b-9985-916187f74fc3)

WHEN MANDY TOLD Lori that she’d run their ranch, what she’d really meant was that Jim, the ranch manager, and Ethan, his second in command, would run the ranch. Her plan was to nod, smile and agree with whatever they said.

But instead, here she was, just twelve hours after Lori’s wedding, locked in her truck and surrounded by hulking cattle. Jim had thrown out his back last night and the doctor told him to stay home for a while. And Ethan’s mom had taken a fall and broken her hip, so he was on his way to the airport. He’d likely be gone for weeks.

Mandy smacked the steering wheel with the palm of her hand, cursing her employees and their personal crises. Robert’s wife had gone into labor this morning—almost a month early. Juan and Ely had both called in sick with a horrible stomach flu. And Terry, due to some kind of scheduling mix-up, was on vacation for the next few weeks.

All of their reasons for not being here this morning were completely legitimate, but they still meant that Mandy was alone in this truck, trying to calm the shaking in her legs and the slamming of her heart.

She was terrified of cattle. Terrified of any large animal. Heck, even the miniature donkey made her nervous.

She cracked her window to get some fresh air. No cattle approached. That was hopeful. Maybe if she rolled the window down all the way, then sat on it, then stood on it, she could climb over the roof of the cab to the truck bed. Her feet wouldn’t even touch the ground. She could toss the hay from there and never have to go near any cattle.

All it would take was a few simple steps. Unclip seat belt. Roll glass down. Put hands on window frame. Mandy leaned her head out, then her torso, getting ready to turn around so she could sit on the sill. A black steer just a couple of yards away raised its head and tilted huge ears in her direction. Mandy froze. Held her breath. Started to lower herself back into the cab. But the steer was curious and quick. It stuck its enormous nose in her face. Something slimy plastered her cheek.

“No!” Mandy fell back into the cab, scrambling to roll up the window, almost catching the steer’s nose in the process.

Skin cells recoiled from the slime on her face. She grabbed a bandanna off the passenger seat and scrubbed, trying to keep on breathing. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down.

The familiar self-disgust set in. What was wrong with her? She was born and raised on a ranch. This shouldn’t be a big deal.

But it was. It had been for years. Ever since the day her mom died. Tears stung and Mandy swiped at them. When would all the fear stop?

A flicker of motion across the black backs of the cattle caught her eye. Dark hair under a brown cowboy hat. Long legs in faded jeans. Shoulders wide under his padded canvas jacket. Arch Hoffman.

He was standing on the rail of the fence, waving with both arms to get her attention. She rolled down the window. “Hey,” she called, knowing that it didn’t matter what she said. There was no way she was getting out of this situation without looking like an idiot.

“What’s going on?” He shouted the words, but it was still hard to hear him over the indignant mooing. The steers wanted breakfast, and they were confused and frustrated. Well, boys, welcome to the club. She’d been confused and frustrated for years now.

“Not much,” she called back in a lame attempt at nonchalance. “What’s up with you?”

She could see the confusion on Arch’s face even from this distance. He probably hadn’t been expecting small talk. “Um, not much. You need a little help there?”

She forced a breezy voice. “I’m okay...just need to get out of this truck and get feeding.”

“Oh.” He paused for a moment, as if trying to come up with the right words. “It’s just that...you fell into the cab.”

How long had he been there, watching her make a fool of herself? “Oh, ya know, just lost my balance for a minute.” It was almost impossible to sound casual while yelling over the ruckus of forty upset steers.

Arch jumped off the fence and Mandy lost sight of him. She had a tiny moment to hope that he’d decided she was fine and was gone on his way. Then she saw him swing up on the back of a big black gelding and guide it along the fence to the gate. Leaning gracefully from the saddle, he let himself into the pasture, closing the gate behind him.