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“Son—”
“Who is she?” he asked. He was curious, that’s all this was. The only woman he’d been around was his mother, unfortunately for him. He’d never known a good woman, and I knew his classmates had good women in their lives. My son was at the age where he realized he was missing out.
I hated it.
“No one important, son.”
“Is she the one you went out in the storm for?” he asked.
I would go out into any storm for her.Rain or hellfire.
Fuck me.
I looked out the window again. “Yes, son.”
“I’m glad you were there for her, Dad. Not a lot of people get to be saved by a man like you,” he said, beaming at me.
Not a lot of people are killed by a man like me either, son.
I set my cup in the sink, grabbing my hat, as I went to my boy. “Alright, bud. Shit to do. You coming or staying?” I asked, putting my hand on his head.
“Can I ride Ranger?” he asked, pushing my hand off and giggling.
“Saddle him up, yes. Man needs to learn how to saddle his own horse.”
“Mags saddles your horse for you,” he pointed out.
“I know how to saddle my horse, smartass,” I said, putting him in a soft headlock. “I also own this place and give that man a home.”
“Yeah, yeah! Okay, okay!” he laughed in my hold, trying to get out of it.
“That’s what I thought,” I said, chuckling. “Let’s head out.”
We walked down to the barn, saddled Ranger, and trotted right past the spot where I killed a man who decided to take what he wanted without asking for it.
His ashes had been spread in the stream near where Pop found my mother’s body.
Hours later, Caleb and I were riding back to the house for some lunch.
The sun was high, its warmth erasing any evidence of the storm. The herd was being moved to a different pasture while the fence was being mended. We decided to replace more than the mile we originally planned. The work was being done, my boy was with me, the cows were healthy, the storm had passed, andshehadn’t come back.
“Faster!” Caleb cried as we rounded the bend, clearing the wall of pines as our home came into view. It was a flat stretch from where we were to the barn. Ranger was excited. Caleb was excited.
My boys needed this. I needed this. I needed to feel the wind around me, the thumping of Ranger’s hooves against the earth, Caleb crying out in glee.
“Let’s go, boy!” I commanded, kicking my heel.
Ranger sped up as Caleb laughed and brought a hand up to hold his hat—one Jigs got him for Christmas last year, because every cowboy needs a decent hat. The barn was coming up fast, the field passing by in a blur, the clouds above racing us.
Life was good.
Life was back to normal.
Normal was good in my book.
Normal was running this ranch on my own.
Normal was watching my brother achieve his dreams on a screen—refusing to come home.
