Page 92 of The Cowboy and the Stray

I shrugged. “I hope not. Seems like the kind of thing you should always be a little amazed by.”

He nodded, then walked me back to the house.

I was up most of the night, not because I was scared, but because my head wouldn’t shut up. The air in the guest room was thick, even with the ceiling fan on high. I kicked the covers off, then pulled them back, then kicked them off again. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that gold-black wolf looking at me, Calder’s eyes shining out from behind an animal’s face. The part that got me wasn’t the magic trick. It was how calm I was about it. How normal it seemed, after everything else.

At some point, I gave up on sleep and padded into the hallway. The house was dead quiet. Midge had left a plate of cookies on the counter. Peanut butter, still soft in the middle. I shoved two in my mouth and washed them down with a glass of cold milk.

I sat at the kitchen table and stared at the wall, almost missing Calder coming in. He walked in barefoot, wearing only gym shorts and a faded t-shirt with the logo worn off. He had that half-awake look, hair standing straight up and eyes squinting at the light.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” he said.

I shrugged. “It’s been a crazy couple of days.”

He nodded, got a glass, and poured himself a glass of water. I expected him to go back to bed, but he just stood there, watching the yard through the window.

I waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t.

“So what happens now?” I said.

He turned, leaned against the counter. “You mean for you?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s up to you,” he said. “I won’t make you stay.”

“I know,” I said. “I just… I don’t want to leave. But I don’t know how to stay, either.”

He gave a small nod, like he understood. Maybe he did. “I want you to stay,” he said quietly.

I watched him in the moonlight, the way his arms folded tight across his chest, the way his jaw ticked when he thought too hard. I wondered if he was nervous, or if this was just his baseline.

“I could show you something,” he said, not looking at me.

“Yeah?” I asked.

He walked over and held out a hand. I hesitated, then took it. His palm was rough and hot. He led me down the hall to the back porch, but at least there was a breeze. We sat side by side on the steps, feet bare, knees almost touching.

He pointed out the sky. “You see that?” he said. “That’s the Maddox Run. Been here as long as the ranch.”

I looked up. There was a faint line of stars cutting across the black.

“My father showed me when I was a kid,” he said. “Said if I ever got lost, all I had to do was find the Run and follow it home.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. “Have you ever gotten lost?”

“All the time,” he said. “Still do.”

We sat there, listening to the wind. It was the most peaceful I’d been in years.

I looked at him, really looked. There was a scar under his right eye, a half-moon that caught the light. He was staring at the horizon, jaw clenched.

“You’re not scared of anything, are you?” I asked.

He shook his head. “You think that because I’m big. I’m scared all the time.”

I almost laughed. “No, I think that because you took down a boar with your teeth.”

He looked at me then, really looked. “I was scared,” he said. “Terrified that big bastard would hurt you.”