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On the drive over Kent kept the horses to a slow but steady pace so as to not jostle his passenger too much and they talked about the beauty of the surroundings. “Pretty country here,” Oliver noted. “I expected there’d be more desert like Virginia City. All these trees are surprising.”
“The trees took me by surprise, too, but there is desert not that far away.”
They shared a silence for a short while before Oliver said, “So tell me what you been doing since the last time we were together. What’s it been, three—four years?”
“About that.” Kent filled him in on the jobs he’d worked, their locations, and how long he’d stayed at each.
“You always were restless.”
Kent smiled.
“Even as a child you had trouble sitting still. I think that’s something a mother teaches. I didn’t have time. Too busy seeing to folks’ ills so I could keep a roof over our heads and food on the table.”
“And I appreciated it, even if I didn’t act as if I did.”
“We’re too much alike. Proud. Stubborn.”
“What was she like?”
“Your mother?”
“Yes.”
“The softness I needed to balance my hardness. A much better woman than I deserved, frankly, which could be why God took her from me when he did. Even after marrying her I was still pining for Sylvie.”
His father had been in love with Sylvia for decades before they finally became man and wife fifteen years ago. Only when Kent was older did he learn the two had engaged in an affair while Sylvia was married to her first husband. “Be faithful to Portia, Kent.”
“I plan to.”
They’d never had a discussion like this before and Kent wondered if Oliver wanted to get all this off his chest because he knew he was dying.
When they reached the property. Kent set the brake and started to step out, but Oliver said, “I’m not going to get out, son. I’m in too much pain to walk around. I just want to look. Point and show me where the house will be built.”
Swallowing his guilt for subjecting his father to the ride, Kent complied, then answered his father’s questions about how soon the construction would begin and when the house would be ready to move into. They spent a few more minutes talking about the horse wrangling business he wanted to start and the office that would be built on the back of the house for Portia’s business.
“Those are grand plans, Kenton. Good plans.”
Kent enjoyed the praise.
“We should probably get going, and don’t feel guilty for bringing me out here. I needed to see it because I might not be around when it’s time for you to move in.”
“Okay,” he whispered.
Driving back, Kent was glad they’d spent the time together, even if it had been brief. A question that had been plaguing him for some time came to mind. He turned to ask Oliver if he knew whether his mother had any family, but he was asleep.
When they reached the hotel, rather than awaken him, Kent gently picked him up and carried him inside. The country doctor who’d been so hale and hearty now weighed no more than a child. The realization brought such strong emotions, tears stung his eyes.
Sylvia was waiting for them inside as if knowing she’d be needed. Kent followed her to their room and laid him softly on the bed.
“Thanks, Kent,” she whispered.
Kent left her and, because cowboys weren’t supposed to cry, he went to his room and closed himself in so no one would know.
