by Claire Adams
It was hard to read the expression on her face. She just held my gaze for several seconds. “I know,” she said finally.
So people did know. But maybe it was a good thing, that way, it wouldn’t be such a shock.
“It’s really just something that I want to move on from,” I said. “I’d really just like to forget about the whole thing.”
“I hear you,” she said. “There’s plenty in my own life I’d just like to forget about, too.” There was something in her voice, something about the way she said it, that made me think she might be able to understand if I told her everything.
I should have known that Keith was around for a reason; when I walked up to the main house for supper that night, he was there, and so was his older brother, Jacob. I could tell by the expression on his face when I walked in that Jacob wasn’t any fonder of me than Keith was, but he was at least going to do what he could to disguise it.
He shook my hand and smiled coolly. Unlike his brother, he hadn’t put on a ton of weight, and he’d aged rather well. Of course, last I’d heard, he was working as some paper pusher at some bank in Denver, not toiling outside under the hot sun.
Marie was there too, and at least she seemed glad to see me. She was Jacob and Keith’s stepmother; Garrett’s wife had died when Keith was two, and he’d married Marie a few years later. Jacob and Keith had always been cordial to her, but they had never seen her as their real mother, even though she’d been there for most of their lives. She and Garrett had never had any children of their own; I didn’t know if that was by choice or circumstance.
“We’re so glad to have you back working here,” Marie said, giving me a hug. “How has it been going so far?”
I saw Jacob and Keith exchange looks.
“It’s been good,” I said. “I really appreciate what you and Garrett have done for me so far.”
She stepped back from the hug but still held onto my upper arms. “I promised your mom I’d watch out for you,” she said. “Though you do look like you’re doing quite all right for yourself.”
“He’s twenty-five, Marie,” Keith said. “A grown man, in other words. I don’t think he needs you to look out for him.”
“You hush,” she said. “Let’s sit down and eat while the food’s still hot.”
We sat down, Garrett at the head of the table and Marie to his right. Jacob sat at the foot, and I sat next to Marie, across from Keith.
“So, you’re working here now,” Keith said as he scooped mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Isn’t that something.”
“We needed one more wrangler, and Ollie needed a job,” Garrett said, giving Keith a level look. “Simple as that. Besides, I didn’t see you rushing to help out.”
Both Keith and Jacob had always hated ranch work, and neither had ever made any attempt to pretend otherwise. I doubted either of them had even been on a horse in the past decade.
“Just because I’m not interested in working here doesn’t mean there aren’t other people you could’ve hired,” Keith said.
I looked down at my plate.
“This is not the sort of conversation we’re going to be having right now.” Garrett looked to Keith and then Jacob. “Do the two of you understand me? Last time I checked, I was the owner of this place, and the two of you didn’t want anything to do with it. Ollie’s put in more hours working here than the two of you combined. I don’t want to hear any more about it.”
“It’s financial suicide,” Jacob burst out. “What do you think is going to happen if word gets out that you’ve got a convicted murderer here working for you? You think that people are going to be flocking to come here for vacation?”
Keith laughed, slapping his knee. “Oh, yeah, I can just see it now: ‘Come on, honey, let’s fly the whole family out to the ranch in Colorado where that guy who killed someone with his own two hands works.’”
Marie put her fork down. “That’ll be enough of that,” she said.
I stared at my plate, feeling a mixture of shame and anger. Part of it was that I actually agreed with both of them; if word did get out that I was working here, it certainly wasn’t crazy to think that people would choose to stay away.
“Word doesn’t need to get out,” Garrett said. “We don’t need to advertise it. If someone asks, we can tell them, but if it doesn’t come up, then we can just leave it that way.” He gave Jacob and Keith a hard look. “What’s the matter with the two of you, anyway? I don’t see either of you chomping at the bit to get to work here. We’ve known Ollie more than half his life. He’s like family.”
“He might as well be your cousin,” Marie said, “for as close as his mom and I were, so I expect you two to be kind to him.”
“It’s nothing personal,” Jacob said. “Ollie?” He waited until I looked up at him to continue. The expression on his face was earnest, as though he really did care that I heard what he had to say. “It’s not personal. My brother and I are concerned about the ranch is all, and how it is going to reflect that you’re working here.”
“So, it is personal, then,” Marie said. “How can you sit there and say it’s not, when you’re telling him you think he’s going to be bad for business?”
I kept eating, trying to block out the conversation. If Jackson were here, he’d tell me to just get the fuck up and leave. Or knock their heads together. Jackson was like that, an extremist, not the middle-of-the-road sort of guy. But I felt frozen in my seat. If I got up and left, Jacob and Keith would think I was a pussy; if I stayed and started shit with either of them, that would just prove their point that I probably shouldn’t be there in the first place.
“We’re going to end this conversation right now,” Garrett said. “This isn’t the sort of talk I want at the dinner table in the first place, never mind that it isn’t any of your business anyway. And I’m talking to you, Jacob and Keith. If I want your advice about how to run this ranch, I’ll ask, but seeing as neither of you has ever, in the nearly thirty years you’ve been on this earth, shown any interest in this place whatsoever, I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.” He stabbed at the piece of pot roast on his plate.
For a few minutes, there was only the sound of forks scraping on plates, food being chewed, and Keith sniffling, like he had a cold or bad allergies. I kept my head down and ate, figuring the sooner I finished, the sooner I’d be able to get out of there.
The thing about it was, I knew that Jacob and Keith were right. People didn’t want to take their vacations at the same place as some guy who’d killed someone. Garrett was doing me a favor by giving me a job, but maybe it would’ve been better if I’d just gotten on that bus and gone somewhere new. Had a fresh start, be somewhere that no one would recognize me. I didn’t want to start trouble for anyone. I was starting to think it might be better if I just left town.
Chapter Seven
Wren
Twice now I’d seen Ollie and hadn’t said anything to him about who I was. How exactly does one bring that sort of thing up, anyway?
“Have a few beers and then tell him,” Allison said. It was dark; she’d come over after getting the kids to bed, and we were sitting on my deck, drinking wine. “Shit, I wish I had a cigarette.”
“I’m not going to have a few beers and tell him,” I said.
“Then don’t tell him. But don’t you think that’s something he might want to know?”
“He said himself he just wants to forget about the whole thing.”
Allison considered this. “I guess you could do that.”
“The weird thing is, I find myself thinking about him. A lot.”
“I don’t think it’s that weird. You have this connection with this guy who’s suddenly shown back up. I’d probably be thinking about him a lot, too.”
“I think it’d just be better if I didn’t bring it up. You know, that way we can both move on. Maybe that’s what needed to happen for me to finally get over this. He had to come back to town, I needed to see that he was okay, now I can stop ha
ving these awful nightmares and not drown my guilt in men.”
“What—settle down and get married?” Allison said. “Don’t. Coming from someone who made the dire mistake of doing just that—don’t.”
“I’m not exactly young anymore,” I said. “Thirty isn’t that far off. What if I want to have kids?”
“Don’t!” she said again. “Being a mother is the most thankless job in the world. And my kids aren’t even that bad, I know that. If they were really little assholes, the way some kids are, I don’t think I could handle it.”
“Having a restaurant is kind of like having a child. Or being married. One of those things,” I said, trying to remember exactly how my mother had phrased it when I told her I was opening Ollie’s. “But we’re not here to talk about me getting married or having kids, which are two prospects I don’t see happening any time in the near or distant future.”
“I think you should tell him,” Allison said. “But if you don’t, I understand.”
“I think it’d be better if I didn’t. Because then just seeing me is going to remind him of everything, and I don’t want that. I’m just going to be nice to him, be a friend if he wants one. He looked so... I don’t know, so lost when he first came in.”
“Well, you certainly owe him,” Allison said. “You should at least sleep with him.”
I scowled. “I’m not going to sleep with him.”
I’d been unable to get it off my mind, though. Not sleeping with him, but how I could make it up to him, without it seeming too obvious. I’d seen how Keith Wilson had treated him, and I doubted that Keith would be the only one to act like that. Ollie deserved a friend. That was what I’d do, I decided. Maybe it would be better if I didn’t tell Ollie who I was because it would just be a reminder. I would be as kind as I could to Oliver Boardman because I owed him at least that much.
PART TWO
Chapter Eight
Ollie
“The thing is,” Ryan was saying, “when a horse gets like that, there really isn’t much hope for it.” We were leaning on the corral fence, watching Ditto watch us with great trepidation. “I’d told Garrett I’d give it a shot, but the horse just doesn’t trust anyone. Which is a shame because he sure is a nice-looking animal.”
I’d seen much worse, as far as horses distrusting humans, but I didn’t say anything. Ryan seemed the sort of guy that didn’t do well with someone opposing what he thought, and I didn’t feel like starting any shit with him. Ryan had decent enough horsemanship, but he wasn’t quite the yahoo that he believed himself to be.
Not that it mattered. I was doing just what Garrett had suggested that day he picked me up—keeping my head down and my nose clean. The season still wasn’t in full swing yet, so there were only a handful of guests staying at the ranch right now, but if they asked me a question, I answered the best I could and then hurried off. Before, I would’ve stuck around and chatted.
“You goin’ to the barbecue tonight?” Ryan asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said.
“Why? What else do you have going on?” His tone was almost accusatory.
“I don’t have anything else going on.”
“Then why in hell wouldn’t you go? I know this is your first season working here and everything, so let me give you a little piece of advice: Garrett likes his employees to be sociable. That’s why they’re putting on this barbecue to begin with, sort of as a way to start the season off right.”
If Ryan wanted to think this was my first season here, I’d let him. “I’ll try to make it,” I said.
He nodded. “Good. Don’t be afraid to be sociable. Don’t be afraid to open up and let people know who you are. You got a girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so. Don’t take offense to that or nothin’. You just seem like the sort who keeps to himself.”
“Simpler that way.”
“Don’t I know it,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m single right now, but that’s only ‘cause I managed to break it off with my girlfriend last year. She was talking marriage and all that, and I just wasn’t ready for that sort of thing. At least not with her. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to play the field, see what’s out there. You should invite someone to the barbecue! I did.”
How in hell did this conversation go from training horses to inviting girls to barbecues? “It’s a little short notice,” I said. “Probably not going to find a girl to invite in the next five hours or so.”
Ryan turned from the fence and patted me on the shoulder. “If you want to, you will,” he said. He felt bad for me, I realized. “Look,” he said, the expression on his face relaxing a little, “I know you’re not from around here, so it can be a little hard to integrate at first.”
“How do you know I’m not from around here?”
“I can just tell, I’m good like that. But I’m not from around here, either. I grew up on a horse farm in Upstate New York. Dressage and jumpers, mostly, which I have about zero interest in. Spent half my childhood begging my parents to get me a Quarter Horse instead of that ridiculous little Welsh pony they wanted me to ride. Took fifty bucks out of my dad’s wallet and bought this western saddle I saw in the window at one of the antique shops in town and would ride the Welsh pony with that, even though it sure as hell didn’t fit right. I’ve been spending summers working various ranches for five years now. Someday, I’d like to have my own. A place like this though, a real working ranch, not just some dude ranch.” He patted me on the shoulder again. “But I can tell you, when I first came out here, there was a little adjusting to be done. It wasn’t all smooth-sailing. Which is why I’m encouraging you to find a lady and come on down to the barbecue tonight. You don’t have to slink around here like an abused dog that’s afraid it’s about to get its ass kicked. Don’t be afraid to be social. You must have some skills, otherwise Garrett wouldn’t be putting you in charge of this horse here.”
I knew he was just trying to help out, in his own way, so I smiled and nodded. “I’ll give it a shot,” I said, though I wasn’t exactly sure what I was referring to. I’d let him think what he wanted of it.
“Good man,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”He didn’t finish the sentence but pushed back from the railing and walked off.
Ditto jerked his head up at the movement and stamped his hooves, but he didn’t try anything. I watched him for a few more minutes, and then I decided to go back to my cabin. The blisters on my heels were almost completely gone, but there was one that was still a bit raw, and the Band-Aid I’d put on this morning had fallen off and had worked its way up under the arch of my foot.
There was someone sitting on the porch of my little cabin as I approached, a woman, I could tell, though I didn’t recognize her. Not at first, but as I got closer, close enough that it would be too late to turn around and walk away, I realized who it was.
Carolyn.
“Ollie,” she said, standing up. I watched the expression on her face as she took in what I looked like now, seven years since the last time she’d seen me. I never had gotten around to breaking up with her. She’d come to Reynolds several times that first year I was incarcerated, but I hadn’t come out to see anyone. Eventually, she stopped trying to see me. She walked over and stopped right in front of me, just a few inches separating us. I took a step back without thinking about it. “My sister said she saw you getting coffee the other day. I almost didn’t believe her. I didn’t figure that you’d be coming back here.”
Carolyn looked a little older, but she still looked good. In high school, she’d been one of the popular girls, the girl that the other girls wanted to be like, to be friends with. Her hair was cut shorter now, and there were fine lines at the corners of her eyes, but the years had been kind to her.
“Yeah,” I said. “That was me. And I wasn’t sure if I’d be coming back here either, but where else would I have gone?”
“Becca said you were with an older woman.”
“
Just a friend.” I’d have to get back over there to see Paula at some point. “How have you been?”
“Been all right.” She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and the sunlight glinted off the gold band she wore on her left ring finger.
“You married?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. Well, yes, but that’s going to be ending soon.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be—it’s better this way. We gave it our best. It’s ending amicably. Although it seems like most people say that, whether it’s really that way or not.” She smiled sheepishly. “You’re not even going to believe who I’m about to be divorced from.”
“Who?”
“Jeff Salter.”
I smiled, maybe the first real smile since I’d gotten out. During high school, Jeff had been one of the “computer kids”—not a nerd, but almost. Despite his father being a sheep rancher, Jeff rarely ever went outside and was mostly glued to a computer monitor.
“I know, I know, have your laugh,” she said. “He’s actually done quite well for himself in the tech industry. We lived out in San Jose for a while but moved back here last year. Hey, you know, I’ve run into your brother a few times.”
“You have?” I asked, surprised.
“Yeah. We’d go up to San Francisco a lot, and even though it’s a city, I swear, it’s like a small town too, the way you’d run into the same people. Anyway, we’d gone up to Twin Peaks—the view is amazing—and I saw this guy with a group of his friends; they were riding bikes but had stopped to take a break. And I knew he looked familiar. I asked Jeff and he said it was Darren. So, I went over and said hi. He asked me how you were doing, but of course I didn’t have anything to tell him.” She looked up at the sky, blinking, and I realized she was trying not to cry. She sniffed. “I told myself I wasn’t going to get upset,” she said, still looking up. “I told myself I was just going to come over here and see if it was really you, make sure you were all right, and then leave. My sister didn’t even think I should do that, but I had to.”
