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The horse, nervous as the energy shifted into something dark and dangerous, began to paw and moved away from the men. Cal knew enough to leave the animal in peace. He left the stall and latched the door, then leaned against it, unwilling to leave, but wishing his father would go the hell away.
Silence blanketed them both, stretched so thin, he thought he would crack. When he’d had it, Cal made to walk past his father, but froze when Manley’s voice, heavy with what sounded like sorrow, stopped him in his tracks.
“I’m trying, Calvin. Not just for me or your mother, but for this family.”
“You might be trying, Dad, but I don’t believe it’s enough.” He started for the barn doors and didn’t bother to keep the bitterness from his voice. “I don’t think it will ever be enough.”
CHAPTER21
The Sundowner had always been closedon Black Friday. Millie Sue wasn’t exactly sure why, when most businesses were open in town, but it was a tradition she’d kept up after her father died, and this year, she’d been more than happy to.
She needed at least one more day to get herself right. She wasn’t in the mood to pretend all was good in her world because she was, in fact, miserable. And the more she thought about that, the angrier she got. Not at Cal. Hell, no. Her current state of misery was her own damn fault.
She should have stayed away from him. Kept things neutral. As it was, all that anger and misery made for great song writing. She’d spent Thursday night playing guitar, writing down lyrics, and coming up with so many new songs, she surprised herself. Taylor Swift would be jealous.
By the time Friday rolled around, her brain was fried, her body numb, and the calluses on her fingers bled. She was more than happy to go shopping in Bozeman with Ivy, because she didn’t have to pretend with her. She could be silent and follow her around, and Ivy wouldn’t bat an eye.
They hit a couple of malls and some boutiques. Ivy bought some Christmas presents for her mother, while Millie Sue bought new clothes she didn’t need and a couple of books she probably wouldn’t read. Hey, it’s what making an effort looked like. After hours of wandering the town, stopping for lattes, and rummaging through a few more stores, they headed back to Big Bend. Along the way, they decided to stop in to the Bunkhouse, which was the only other watering hole for miles. Located about twenty minutes from town, in the small community of Gulch, it was basically a crossroads, featuring a gas station, corner store, feed mill, and the aforementioned Bunkhouse. Half the size of the Sundowner, it was run by a scruffy man by the name of Abraham, an ex-con who, twenty-five years ago, upon release from the state pen in Wyoming, had ended up in Gulch when the truck he’d hitched a ride in blew its motor.
It was a bit of a rough place, visited mostly by cowboys from the neighboring ranches, but the food was good and simple: burgers, steaks, and fried potatoes. The beer was limited, there was no wine to be had, the liquor was cheap, and the service questionable. It was dark and seedy, like every other honkytonk in existence, and, on this particular Friday, full.
Ivy and Millie walked inside, and as luck would have it, Dodge Skelton, a local rancher, and his current girlfriend, a hairdresser from Big Bend, were just vacating one of only four booths. They grabbed it before anyone else could, ordered up some beer and a couple of burgers, and after Millie took a nice long sip, she began to relax. This feeling she had, of being out of sorts, was getting old. She picked at the label on her longneck, lost in thought.
“Are we going to talk about it?” Ivy prompted gently.
Millie smiled, a small, sad sort of thing, and shrugged.
“Cal said you were at the ranch, but didn’t stay for dinner.”
“I realized that it’s not a good idea after all.” Millie’s throat was tight, as if it had worked hard to keep all those words and thoughts and feelings inside. “Me and Cal.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Ivy spoke softly.
“Yeah. Me too.”
The waitress brought over their burgers, and another round of beers, paid for by some of the cowboys sitting at the bar.
“Well, let’s forget about Cal,” Ivy said, mouth full of food. “It’s Friday night.”
“It is.”
“And we’re in this honkytonk that’s playing some half-decent music.”
“Right again.”
“We’ve got some boys buying us beer.”
Leave it to Ivy to lift her spirits. “We might have to level up and start drinking the hard stuff.”
Ivy undid the topknot at her crown, and her hair tumbled around her shoulders. She grabbed up her beer and sucked back half of it. “It’s been too long since we got crazy. I think tonight might be the night.”
“You think?”
“Look around,” Ivy said. “There’s no one in here who knows us. We could do all sorts of things with zero consequence.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.” Ivy chewed on her bottom lip. “Dance on the tables?”
