Home Free

His new wife bustled up, a round figure in bright clothing and dyed-red hair. When Mandy found out her dad was in love, she’d pictured someone more like her willowy, dreamy mom. Tracy couldn’t be more opposite. She reminded Mandy of a plump parrot. Even her voice was chirpy. “Let’s finish up, honey. We should get on the road to Reno.”

Mandy snuffed a flicker of resentment. They’d only flown in yesterday. She’d hoped for more time with her father. But Tracy was clearly in charge of their relationship.

“I guess you’re right.” Her dad’s voice echoed a little of Mandy’s gloom as he set the table on the stack. “I think I’m just having trouble accepting that one of my babies is married.”

“It’s wonderful,” Tracy cooed. “They’re happy. Just like we are.”

Mandy reached for a box of flower arrangements, walking them out to the truck to hide the emotion rolling over her. What was wrong with her? Her mom had died over a decade ago. Her dad had raised Mandy and Lori on his own and battled depression, as well. He deserved to be happy. She should be happy for him.

Her father and Tracy followed her out to the truck. “Today has made me want a party of our own, honey.” Tracy clung to her husband’s elbow. “Maybe we could have a reception? Since ours was only a courthouse wedding?” Her bright eyes flitted to Mandy. “You’d come celebrate with us, right?”

Florida. Mandy had never been. Flamingos, alligators and palm trees. That was how she imagined it. It all sounded good—except the alligators. “Of course.”

Her dad’s hand reached out to cover Mandy’s in familiar comfort. “And what about you? Anyone special in your life?”

Mandy had been ducking this question all day from well-meaning friends and relatives. “You know me, Daddy. I prefer quiet life here on the ranch. And no one’s come knocking on my door.”

His frown weighed on her. “You’re young. You should get out more.”

“I go out sometimes. But I’m busy. I have my chickens, my strays, the ranch and my baking business. There just aren’t enough hours in the day.”

Her dad squeezed her hand and let go. “Well, if you’re happy, then I am. But it’s not just about finding someone special. You should be following your dreams. Especially now that Lori is married. She and Wade will combine the ranches and run them just fine as one. But that’s not your dream, honey. It never was. You should find out what you really want to do.”

Her cheeks went hot. Did he really see her as that lost? “I am doing what I want to do.”

“That’s great.” He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. “You know, if you want to open up a bakery in town, Benson sure could use one. Maybe I could help out with the initial costs. Or help you get a loan.”

Money, planning, decision making. It all loomed in a thick and impenetrable wall. Just like it did every time Mandy thought about opening a real bakery. Anxiety threaded through her, pulling tension, making knots. “Thank you.” She gave him a big hug, relishing his warm strength. “I’ll think about it.”

The weatherworn lines of her father’s face creased into a smile as he looked down at her. “You just say the word and I’ll do whatever I can.”

All the ways she’d missed him since he started his new life in Florida ached in her heart. She inhaled his familiar scent—pure comfort—and stepped back, looking around the barn before she started bawling like the little girl she felt like. “It’s hard to believe it, but I think we really are done here.”

“You did an incredible job.” Tracy fluttered her fingers toward the barn. “Everything looked gorgeous, and that cake was just out of this world. If you open a bakery, you’ll have people lined up for miles.”

Mandy laughed at that. “I don’t think we have enough people in the town of Benson to make a line much farther than the door, but thank you.”

Her dad glanced at his watch and Mandy’s heart dipped. “You have to get going, don’t you?”

“We do. Our flight is so early, we booked a hotel near the airport for tonight. I wish we could stay longer, but Tracy has to get back to the shop.”

“How’s that going?” Mandy had been so busy the past few days, she hadn’t even thought to ask.

“Oh, it’s amazing.” Tracy’s face lit under all her layers of makeup. “Busy. We get so many tourists on Sanibel Island, and they all want a piece of ocean decor to take home with them.”

“Sounds perfect.” It was hard to imagine her father, the tough rancher, selling seagull statues and shell-shaped ashtrays. More evidence that Mandy’s world had changed completely.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay running the ranch solo for a few weeks?”

Her father would stay to help her if she asked. And Mandy really wanted to ask. Not just ask, beg. But she couldn’t. He’d moved to Florida to get away from the ranch and the stress and the pain of losing his first wife. She couldn’t ask him to take all that on again, even for just three weeks.

“I’ll be just fine, Daddy. With Lori gone, it’s my one and only chance to boss the ranch hands around. It will be fun.”

His smile was what she needed. She didn’t want to be a burden to him anymore.

“If you say so, sweetie. But call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Will do, Daddy. Now let’s get you guys on the road before it gets too dark out there.”

Mandy walked them to their car, cherishing her father’s goodbye hugs, enduring Tracy’s lipstick kisses. She watched them bounce away down the drive in their tiny rental car, turn onto the main road and disappear. The high mountain peaks behind the ranch shone in the last light of the sun, the gold cast making them seem even more ethereal, more unreachable. Jim, the ranch manager, had finished up the feeding a while ago, and the ranch seemed especially quiet. It was just her and the whisper of evening wind in the pines.

She’d done it. She’d given Lori a lovely wedding. But without the adrenaline of party guests and tasks, the last remaining energy in her body evaporated. The two hours of sleep she’d had in the past twenty-four hours fizzed out. She stumbled to the truck, almost too tired to miss Lori or her dad. Almost too tired to feel the loneliness of the empty ranch and the mountain night. Almost too tired to feed the stray cats and Lori’s dog. Definitely too tired to think about the way life had moved one step farther today, leaving her here alone on the empty ranch.

* * *

DURING ALMOST A decade in prison, Arch had never once thought he’d come home to Marker Ranch. But here he was, standing in the gravel driveway in front of the saggy farmhouse, apprehension thickening the air and memories creeping across his skin.

There was the old wicker chair, still on the porch, where his dad used to sit in the evenings. He’d nurse the bottle of JD in his hands and deliver slurred lectures to Arch and his brother Blake, schooling them in the finer points of running a con, stealing a car, manufacturing meth.

Most parents taught their kids right from wrong. What kind of father groomed his sons to be criminals? Anger simmered and Arch exhaled, trying to let it go. It was old poison. And he couldn’t pass on all the blame. His dad might have offered him a toxic brew, but he’d chosen to drink it down.

“It’s weird coming back, isn’t it?”

Arch jumped straight out of his thought and turned to see Nora walking toward him. “You startled me. I didn’t see you pull up.”

“Sorry. I parked by the barn. I wanted to take a look at the cattle.” She walked past him and plopped down on the porch steps. She looked a lot more like the sister he remembered, with her party dress replaced by faded jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt.

She pointed to the duffel bag on the ground next to him. The sum total of all his possessions. He’d stashed it in the bushes outside Mandy’s ranch today, to avoid looking like the vagrant he really was. “Have you gone inside yet?”

He shook his head. “I took my time walking over. Then I went to see the horses and cattle. You and Wade have done a lot with this place.”

“The ranch, yes. This house, not so much,” Nora said. “Wade’s bedroom is the nicest. Lori made him fix it up when they were first together. The rest of it is still pretty shabby.”

“I was just standing here remembering it all. Growing up with Dad. How he’d sit on the porch and bully. He was a mean drunk.”

“And he was almost always drunk.” Nora glared at their dad’s old chair with narrowed eyes. “I should’ve burned that thing when Wade and I first moved back.”

“Maybe we can do it together.”

The glance she shot him was skeptical. “Were you telling the truth earlier? That you left him and Blake?”

“You think I made it all up?” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and handed her his parole officer’s card. “Steve’s a good guy. You can call him if you want. He’d actually really like to talk with a family member.”

She took the card, and he watched her eyes flick quickly over the words. “Can I keep this?”

He nodded. “You can trust me on this one thing, if nothing else—I haven’t heard a word from Dad or Blake since I walked away. I figure they’re in Mexico, if they’re even still alive.”

“And now that you’re out, are you going to contact them?”

“No!” The thought had a foul taste. “I’m not going near them. And I’m not making their kinds of choices.”

“I want to believe you,” Nora said quietly. “But I don’t know you.”

“I get it. You know me as a bully. Someone who made your life miserable. I tried to pull you down with me. To get you to deal drugs at school.”

She nodded. “I’m not gonna lie, Arch. You were mean. You scared me.”

It was hard to speak through the mass of remorse rising in his throat. “It’s not an excuse, but I thought that was how a man was meant to be. Showing how tough I was and how little I cared. But now I know I was just weak.” He studied the fall of her long hair, half covering her face as she looked out over the driveway. “You were the strong one, Nora. You kept your head above it all. How did you do it? How did you stay out of Dad’s grip?”

She didn’t look at him. “I just knew I hated how he was. How you and Blake were. I didn’t want anything to do with any of it.”

“I wish I’d seen it like you did. After Mom ran off, I turned to Dad. I didn’t question that he was teaching me to hate, or guiding me to break the law. I became his puppet.”

“I’m glad you broke away from him.” Her voice was barely audible—like she felt all the emotion, too. She picked at the paint peeling off the step with a fingernail. “Ever since you showed up today, I’ve been trying to remember something good between us. Something that would make me feel okay about you coming home. And I actually remembered something.”

“You did?” He couldn’t think of anything he’d ever done that didn’t fill him with guilt.

“Remember how Dad would steal cattle on occasion?”

“I used to help him do it.” One more regret on his long list.

“Well, I remembered one time when Dad grabbed a couple of cows with young calves. He wanted to just shoot the little ones, because they were a hassle. I was really upset, and you stood up to him. You told him he shouldn’t do it. And then you helped me make a separate pen for them, way off in the corner of the ranch where Dad wouldn’t see them.”

There it was, one memory lit up in gold, while the rest were shrouded in gray gloom. “I remember that. I went out and got bottles so we could feed them.”

She finally looked at him and he could see her wistful smile, even in the deepening dusk. “And you and I fed them together, until they were bigger. And then one night, you borrowed a trailer and we drove three hours to take them back to the ranch they’d come from. You cut the wires and put them back in the pasture. And we mended the fence back up again and went home.”

“I remember,” he said, staring at her in wonder. “But I’d totally forgotten.”

“It’s nice to know there was something good between us.”

“I wish we had more memories like that. Believe me, I’ve gone over and over every wrong move I made. Everything I wish I’d done differently. I don’t know how many apologies to give, but they’re there if you want them.”

She was silent. Because what could apologies do to unravel all the hurt he’d caused? The weight of it was a boulder on his back.

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

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.

Mandy reached for the door handle, but her hand was shaking so hard she couldn’t grasp it. She wanted to get out and face Arch while tossing hay out of the truck like a pro. But fear had its cold claws sunk in deep.

With a wave of his rope, Arch cleared the steers easily from his path. He took their place at her truck window, looking down at her from his relaxed perch in the saddle. “Do you want me to feed them?”

His voice was a balm of gentle concern that almost brought out the tears fizzing hot beneath her eyes. She felt her cheeks heat, too, and knew her usually pale skin had gone scarlet. She couldn’t answer. But she nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “Just sit tight.”

She watched him in the side mirror as he guided his horse alongside the vehicle and leaned over, grabbing a few flakes of the hay she’d stacked there. He threw them to his right and several of the steers trotted toward the pile. Quickly he grabbed more hay and tossed it out behind the truck, creating another feeding area. Soon the pasture was littered with piles of hay surrounded by happy cattle. Mandy buried her face in her hands. He made it look so simple.

“All fed,” Arch called and brought his horse around to stand by her window again. “Are you okay to drive?”

“Yeah, sure.” Her voice scraped over the words.

“I’ll open the gate. Why don’t you bring the truck outside the pasture and park it?”

Mandy nodded and turned on the engine in mindless obedience, glad he was in charge, because her brain was blank in the aftermath of panic.

Arch opened the gate and she bumped through it over the rough ground. She parked and watched Arch shut the gate in her rearview mirror. He rode so well. Slinging an easy leg over the horse’s back, he dismounted and led his horse toward her.

Dread tipped her stomach. He’d want an explanation. But what could she possibly say without sounding totally crazy?

She stared straight ahead, but he didn’t go away. She heard his footsteps crunching on the dry earth and then he was at her window, looking down at her with a mystified expression. “Mandy, are you all right? You’re so pale... Are you sick?”

She could only hold his gaze for a moment. There was too much mortifying worry in his eyes. “Not sick.” She ran her fingertips over the steering wheel in nervous zigzags, tracing the cord that wrapped the vinyl.