1 Chapter 1

1

Clay wiped the dust from his mouth with his bandana, but his tongue still felt gritty and heavy. Water leaked from his irritated eyes, marking clear paths down his dirty cheeks. His shirt clung to him, scratchy and stiff against his shoulders, and a dull ache settled between his ears, throbbing with each step he took. In the fields, the cows bawled at each other, the incessant sound fading in the dusk.

“Wanna lift, Boss?” Cody asked, his truck pulling even with Clay as he tramped down the dirt road.

“No. I’m good.”

“You sure? I don’t mind driving up to the house.”

“No. Get home. I know Jan is waiting for you.”

Cody beamed. “We’re going to the Grill tonight. A whole bunch of us. Why don’t you come out?”

Clay waved him off. He wasn’t in the mood for dancing and drinking. Well, not the dancing. He was sure there were worse chores than branding, but he didn’t know what they were. There certainly wasn’t a job he hated more. After seven straight twelve-hour days, Clay was looking forward to a long, hot bath to soothe his sore muscles, a few stiff drinks, and about twelve hours of sleep. If he wanted to fit all that in before everything started again the next morning at five, he needed to get home.

“Have a good weekend, Clay.”

“You, too. Give Jan my best.”

Cody waved, and the truck roared down the road, picking up a cloud of dust that settled on Clay’s skin and in his lungs. Sighing, he pushed forward, until he crested a small hill. The house was visible from the summit, still standing proud despite its age. His grandfather’s father had built the sprawling ranch house as a wedding gift for his second wife, and the modern pressures of the world hadn’t been enough to wrest it from the family. Even when his older brother Mark abandoned the ranch to follow a woman to Los Angeles, and his next brother, Brad, had abandoned the ranch to follow a woman to Houston, and Ryan had abandoned the ranch for the school building down the road, and Ty, the baby, had abandoned the ranch to chase his dream on the rodeo circuit, they never lost the house.

Pride momentarily overcame his exhaustion as the setting sun cast orange and purple light over the endless green acres spreading in front of him. He always turned down Cody’s offer of a ride because of this moment. The moment when the world stopped, and a mellow breeze carried the aroma of grass and the cows and everything fresh. He needed to take a moment to enjoy the very thing he was busting his ass for every day.

But the moment ended all too soon, and he sauntered down the hill and across the large yard to the front door. From the porch, he saw his mother’s light was already on, her body silhouetted against the window. She would be using the last rays of the sun to finish her cross-stitch for the day. Once she lost that valuable light, she would switch to something less straining on her eyes. By the time he was ready for bed, she would abandon everything involving sight in favor of listening to the baseball game, or talk radio, or anything she could pick up on the AM dial.

Clay wished he had more time to give her. She was lonely. She missed her boys. She was old, and she didn’t understand why she had to spend every day in her bedroom, held there like some sort of captive. Clay had ventured the idea of hiring a nurse, or a maid, or somebody who would come in and play a game of bridge with her, but she balked at the idea, deeply offended. Clay pointed out he hired people to help him all the time, but she refused to see it was the same thing.

He pushed the door open and stopped short. The first floor was bathed in light. The hallway, the living room, the kitchen. All of the lights were burning.

Had Ryan stopped by? He usually called, like he needed an invitation to return to his own house. It’s your house now,Ryan would always say. I can’t just walk in like I own the place.

It was Mama’s house, and all of her boys were welcome any time. But Ryan called anyway.

Clay glanced into the empty kitchen and then turned into what his mother called the sun room. A tiny room with a south-facing window off the kitchen, Clay suspected it used to be a pantry, or maybe a servant’s room. It had been the sunroom his entire life, and she came downstairs in the morning when she was feeling strong enough, her tote bag clutched tightly. She only had so much time to finish her crafts; she didn’t like to waste a second.