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The other guy seated next to Tiger, on the other hand…
He’s just out of place.
Lean, older, and his button-down shirt and tie look far too posh for a bar called the Purple Bobcat. Whatever they’re saying, he’s just nodding along, looking bored out of his mind.
I flip my hood down while giving my boots one more good shake, then pull off my hat and mittens. I walk to the center of the room and sit down next to Dad.
“The horses are fine,” I tell him, remembering how to speak.
“Figured they’d be. And what about you?” He covers his mouth as he coughs.
“Still kicking,” I whisper, reaching to slide his menu across to me. “Anything good here?”
He can’t answer while he’s busy fighting his own lungs.
God. We’ve been on the road for over twelve hours, but with this weather, we still have a good four or five more to go to Miles City.
That concerns me a lot. Dad’s beaten, worn out, drained.
It’s hard to keep my eyes glued to the menu for the sake of being polite. But he hates it when I fuss over his health, even if I have every reason to.
With a soft sigh, I set my hat and mittens on the table while he takes a long drink of water.
“Listen…I think we need to call it a night. I’ll check to see if there are any motels nearby,” I say, pulling my phone out of my pocket.
“No, Grace. The horses can’t stay in that trailer overnight. They’ll freeze their rears off.” He inhales sharply. “I…I ordered us both some coffee, and he’s making a fresh pot so we’ll have plenty more to go. We’ll wait for the snow to let up and then press on. We can handle a few more hours. Noelle’s place isn’t far.”
He’s so wrong I bite my tongue.
Jesus, I’m not sure if I can even handle a few more hours, but if he’s this determined…
I nod, but now there’s a new reason to be concerned when I look at my phone.
Three missed calls and a flurry of texts. They’re all from Noelle, and they say the same thing.
Grace, call me ASAP.
She’s my cousin, my mom’s side. I haven’t seen her since Mom’s funeral, but when I’d called in a nervous fit last week, she’d invited us to come to Montana and stay with her until our trouble gets sorted.
Our choices are pretty limited when we’re low on money, and Noelle is the only family we know with a farm and plenty of space for us to bring along Rosie and Stern.
Too bad Miles City is hundreds of miles from Wisconsin. I swear, we’d be there by now if it wasn’t for that stupid flat and this intensifying storm we hit past Bismarck.
She and her husband have a hobby farm a lot like ours, only instead of pumpkins, they sell eggs, homemade cheeses, and other goods. She’s always wanted us to see it, and a small part of me was looking forward to being part of something like that again.
That pit in my gut deepens, scrolling through the missed calls.
She’s been texting for hours.
With the snow demanding every bit of my focus, I hadn’t taken a hand off the steering wheel to do anything except hit the blinker switch to pull in here.
Crap. Whatever it is, I don’t think she’s just checking up on our progress.
The coffee arrives, steaming and black. I reach for a sugar packet and tear it right open, hoping nobody notices how my hands shake.
I thank the bartender before telling Dad, “Be right back. I need to use the ladies’ room.”
Tucking my phone in my pocket, I spot the restroom sign above a hallway near the end of the bar. Purple, what else?
Of course, I carefully avoid another awkward stare-down with Tiger Sex Eyes. He must be quite the comedian—the bartender and the oil guys are still roaring at whatever he’s saying.
Probably some crude joke that’d be too fitting for a place like this.
The hallway is short. I shove open the women’s door and enter the small, two-stalled room, pull out my phone, and hit Noelle’s contact.
She answers after one ring. “Grace? Oh my God, finally.”
“Yep, it’s me.” Turning around, I lean my backside against the top of the sink. “What’s wrong?”
She goes deathly quiet. “Well, um…have you guys left Milwaukee yet?”
“We left early this morning just like we planned. Had to change a tire on the truck halfway through Minnesota, then this snowstorm we ran into…we had to pull over. But we’re coming tonight, just a few more hours and—”
“Oh,” she whispers.
Another heavy silence.
That one, innocent word kills me.
Don’t do this, Noelle, I think to myself, trying not to fall over with my heart frozen.
“I…I really hoped I’d catch you while you were still at home.”
My nerves are a jumbled mess, a little more frayed with every word she speaks. Noelle doesn’t sound like her usual bubbly self, and I’m scared of what’s coming.
