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A beer with Brand at the Roost turned into three beers, a platter of loaded nachos, and a lot of personal commiseration about failed relationships. Not so much Michael commiserating, because he really only had Kenny to grump about, and he didn’t have much new to talk about that night. A lot of the grumping was coming from Brand, which surprised Michael. He would have assumed Brand talked about this stuff with Hugo, but sometimes past relationships could be tricky to discuss with current partners.
Michael definitely learned more about Brand than he expected, particularly about his high school girlfriends. He understood why someone struggling with being bisexual in a small community would choose to date only women. Michael had faced something similar as a teenager, but he’d also never pretended to be interested in dating women; he just hadn’t dated, period.
As amusing as it was to watch Brand down nearly a full pitcher of beer by himself and ramble about some girl named Ginny, his first high school love whose family moved away after their junior year, it was getting late, and Michael had told Josiah he’d be home by eight at the latest. Michael installed Brand at the bar with a mug of coffee near Ramie’s station. Ramie promised to keep an eye on him. After settling the bill and collecting a to-go cup of coffee for himself, Michael headed home.
He texted Josiah he was on his way before leaving the parking lot. His car seemed to take forever to warm up and belch out hot air to combat the unexpectedly cold night. He only had the fleece jacket he’d worn to work, instead of a sturdier winter coat—something he needed to buy now that he was facing winter farther north. It would be November tomorrow.
He idled at the gate so he could unlock it. Michael had gotten four keys made: one for Josiah, one to keep in the house, one for Michael’s key ring, and another to keep in a hidden spot on this side of the gate in case someone needed to get in from the outside during an emergency. It was kind of a pain to turn off his car, unlock, and turn it back on again. Maybe when he went out to buy a winter coat, he’d get some sort of carabiner that easily attached and detached to the rest of his keys.
Lights blazed in the downstairs of the house as usual, so Dad and Josiah were likely inside watching TV. After relocking the gate, Michael parked next to Josiah’s car and went inside with his coffee. He stopped short, a little surprised to find the living room empty and the television off. The kitchen light was off, too.
“Hello?” Michael called out.
“Michael!” Dad’s shout from the downstairs bathroom spurred him forward, confused by what was happening.
“Dad?” The bathroom door was mostly shut. Michael pushed but it hit something that gave a metallic clang. “Dad, what’s going on?”
“Damned chair. Hold on.” Dad grunted and the door opened wide enough for Michael to slip inside. He stared, shocked to see Dad sitting on the bathroom floor, his back against the tub, face red, and glaring right at him. “About damned time.”
“What happened? Why are you on the floor?”
“Couldn’t get my weak ass back in the wheelchair, that’s why. Help me up.”
“Where’s Josiah?”
“Dunno. I’ve been calling for him. Get me up.”
Okay, he’d figure out where Josiah was in a minute. Dad first. Michael pushed the wheelchair to the side, locked the wheels, got into the correct position, and then stood the way Josiah had shown him to best help someone off the floor. Off the cold floor. “Okay, Dad, on three.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“One, two, three.”
Dad’s increased strength in both legs and Michael’s workout every day at the ranch gave them the exact leverage they needed to haul Dad up and into the wheelchair. Dad landed with a grunt. Michael got his feet situated on the footrests and unlocked the wheels. “Okay, you okay? Did you hurt yourself when you fell?”
“Just bruised my pride is all,” Dad said. “Where’s Josiah at?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see him in the living room.” He hadn’t noticed any lights on in the trailer when he drove up. “Did he leave you in here?”
“Ayup, boy forgot to turn the barn lights off, and I had to squeeze one out, so he left me to do my business while he went back outside.”
All that made sense. He pushed Dad out of the bathroom, which took a bit of maneuvering because of the size of the room and where Dad had fallen, but he got them both out and into the living room. “Josiah!” Michael’s voice seemed to echo through the otherwise empty house.
“It’s not like that boy to disappear,” Dad said.
“No, it’s not.” Josiah had always struck him as the type who disliked even taking a bathroom break while he was on the clock. No way had he forgotten he’d left Dad on the toilet, gone back to the trailer, and fallen asleep. Something wasn’t right. “Dad, I want you to stay here and by the phone, okay?”
“Why?”
“Because something’s wrong, so stay put.” Michael checked that he had his cell and keys. Then he lifted Dad’s shotgun from its rack above the front door. To most people, it was simply decoration, but Dad kept it in good repair and fired it regularly. He also kept shells in a small box under the couch, which Michael found and loaded into the shotgun.
Dad watched him silently, his face a mix of confusion and worry, but he didn’t remark on the gun. Michael locked the front door behind him when he left, the cold night air biting his cheeks. Adrenaline rolled through him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He descended the porch steps, the shotgun by his side, muzzle pointed at the ground. Hopefully, he was overreacting but everything about Josiah’s disappearance left him uneasy.
He went to the trailer first and knocked. No response. “Josiah?”
His cell rang. Michael yanked it out of his pocket with his left hand, hoping to see Josiah’s name on the screen. Instead, it said Dad.
“What?” Michael snapped.
