LITMIR.BIZ

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in from Wyoming, he’d thought the trip was long. Then, all of a sudden, he’d arrived and had to face too much.

      He hadn’t wanted to see Jenny. He’d planned to steer well clear of the Sheltering Arms, but she was here on the Circle K. Worse still, she was foreman and she was marrying Angus. What a snafu.

      He’d just seen her drive off the ranch in a small silver car. At least he’d have a few minutes of peace until she returned.

      Matt wanted to forget that night, and that he’d ever told Jenny he loved her.

      He didn’t want to be reminded of how much he’d missed her in the past five years and the friendship they’d had before that night. Nor did he want to admit how much he’d missed this place and how it was all tangled up with his relationship with Jenny.

      She’d been his anchor for years, since he was a kid. She’d watched over him. Then they’d had sex, he’d split, and he’d missed her and Ordinary more than he’d thought possible.

      Matt wished he could turn around and beat a track out of here, to get away from his love-hate relationship with this community, but he couldn’t leave.

      He owed Angus too much money. No way could he let him down.

      Why not? Angus let you down. He’s marrying Jenny.

      So what? You were never going to marry her. Jenny and Angus are free to marry each other.

      Yeah, but still…

      Still what?

      I don’t know.

      He didn’t want to have to deal with Jenny, had spent five years purging her from his mind.

      A decrepit sofa sat at the far end of the bunkhouse, decorated with brown wagon wheels and rearing horses on graying beige.

      Matt sank into its soft cushions that had accommodated too many rear ends over its life, of the men who’d made Angus’s ranch their home for weeks, months or years at a time.

      He turned on the small TV, flipped through the channels, then turned it off and tossed the remote onto the scratched coffee table.

      An ancient olive-green fridge and stove and a deep freezer made up what might be loosely called a kitchen area.

      Matt jumped up and left the bunkhouse. After a while, these places all started to look the same, a blur of lumpy beds and cobbled-together secondhand furniture.

      He walked across the yard in search of Angus, remembering when he used to come here as an adolescent, hiding on the low hill above the yard, in the stand of a dozen or so cotoneasters across the top. This ranch had come to be a magical place for him, a spot where parents knew how to make happy families.

      Lilacs lined one side of the two-story house. Their scent wafted across the veranda. He stepped through the screen door and entered a foyer that was a few degrees cooler than the sunlit yard.

      Maybe in some ways it was good to be back. He closed his eyes and inhaled.

      It smelled clean, like lemon and potpourri.

      Matt had spent time inside this house as a teenager. He’d loved it. Back then, it had smelled like cigars and fried food.

      Far as he could tell, nothing much else had changed. The screen door let in a breeze that ruffled dried flowers in an arrangement on a table by the door.

      He didn’t remember Angus having a fondness for flowers. Jenny’s influence, maybe? Naw, not likely. Jenny Sterling’s name was listed under “tomboy” in the dictionary.

      He walked down the hall, passing the living room on his right and the dining room on the left, both filled with oversize dark furniture.

      He continued down the hall and spotted Angus sitting behind his desk in the office.

      “Hey, Angus.” Matt stepped into the room, a smile spreading across his face. This man had saved him, had just flat out saved him all those years ago.

      Angus glanced up from the books he was working on and grinned when he saw Matt. He came around the desk and they met in a man-hug, right hands meeting in a bone-crunching handshake and left hands slapping each other’s backs.

      Matt was so damn glad to see Angus. The past five years had been filled with close acquaintances and a lot of strangers. But friends? No. It was good to touch a friend.

      “Matt, it’s great to see you.” Angus’s voice sounded rough, wet.

      “You, too.” Matt moved to pull away, but Angus hung on and Matt started to choke up. He knew why Angus wouldn’t let go. Kyle. Matt understood how Angus felt. Kyle had been his friend.

      Matt had called after he’d heard about Kyle’s death, but this was the first time they’d seen each other since. Now, being on the Circle K, it was all too real.

      Before coming back, Matt had understood in his mind that he would never see Kyle again, but here he had to face the truth. Here he knew it in his heart and missed Kyle badly.

      Kyle had died a couple of years ago in a ranching accident, overcome by silo gas when the tractor venting the silo Kyle was working inside had died, no longer flushing out the nitrogen dioxide that built up in silos. The gas could kill in a matter of minutes. Kyle had never stood a chance.

      Matt remembered the day Angus called with the news of Kyle’s death—a Monday. He hadn’t felt normal for a long time after that.

      “Great to see you, Matt,” Angus repeated. He released Matt and sat back down, his gaze glued to the papers on his desk.

      Angus had aged in five years, with frown lines on his forehead, a slight bowing forward of his shoulders. Probably most of it had come after Kyle’s death, as if he had given up on some part of life.

      Matt gave Angus a minute to pull himself together then said, “I was real sorry I couldn’t get back here for the funeral.”

      “You had your own problems.” Angus rested his elbows on the desk. “How are the injuries? You all healed now?”

      “Pretty much, yeah.” Matt sat across from Angus, pretended a nonchalance he didn’t feel and asked, “Heard you and Jenny are getting married.”

      “Yeah, the wedding’s in two weeks.”

      “You mind if I ask why you’re marrying her?” He forced himself to sound unconcerned. So what if there was an age difference? People did it all the time.

      “I want a son.” Angus raised a hand before Matt could object. “Sounds foolish, I know. I’ll never get Kyle back, but I’d like to have children again.”

      Matt nodded. He’d never lost a child, so who was he to criticize? There was no fighting a man’s desires after living through tragedy.

      “Jesse reminds me of how much I’ve lost.” Angus stilled and flushed, as though he’d said something wrong.

      Who was Jesse? A ranch hand?

      “C’mon outside,” Angus rushed on and stood, steering Matt with a friendly hand on the shoulder. “Want to show you some of the new equipment I’ve invested in lately.”

      Matt knew he was being put off and wondered why. What was the story with Jesse? It didn’t matter. Matt was glad to be distracted from more talk about Kyle. It hurt too much.

      Angus showed him around the barns and stables, but seemed fidgety, as if he needed to get away. This went on for the better part of a half hour, then Angus said he had to go into town.

      Matt sat on the top step of the veranda, watching the dust from Angus’s car settle in the quiet yard.

      The ranch hands must be out doing chores.

      Strange homecoming, this, with Kyle dead and Jenny here and still angry, and Angus happy to see him, but somehow not acting like himself.

      Matt didn’t like feeling so alone.

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