Page 76 of The Cowboy Who Looked Again

Misty took another slow sip of her coffee before she got up to put blueberries and strawberries in vanilla Greek yogurt. Labor Day had come and gone, but the Texas sun was just as relentless up in the Panhandle as it was in the Dallas-Fort Worth area.

Link had moved into harvest season, which she remembered from last year. He worked from sun-up to sun-down, and sometimes overnight too. Other cowboys on the ranch were prepping for Market Day. According to him, everyone participated in the round-up, which included him.

They’d go up into the hills and drive their cattle back to the ranch. Winter crops would get planted. Another short birthing season, for calves they’d sell in the spring, which apparently yielded higher profits.

All of that would be done in the next couple of months, and Link had said by the time they made it to the last weekend of October, everyone in the family—and on the ranch—was ready for their family celebration.

Misty had moved onto the huge painting that sat behind the City Council whenever they sat in session, and the intricacy of working with old golden picture frames and paint covered in a hundred years of grime left her bleary-eyed and tired in the evenings.

She’d still seen Link almost every day, but she anticipated seeing him less this month and maybe next. For some reason, she felt a little more hollow and a little more lonely, and she’d spent all evening with him just last night.

She got up and made two yogurt parfaits before Janie came back into the kitchen, and as they headed out to her car to get to work, Misty said, “I’m thinking of going to Danny’s parole hearing.” She looked over to Janie, whose eyes had gone wide. “What do you think?”

“I think—when is it?”

“Next month,” she said thoughtfully. “He just emailed me about it, and he thinks he might be able to get out this time.”

“Does he want you to speak to the parole board?”

“He didn’t ask me to, no,” Misty said. She had in the past, and it had taken a lot from her. Plus, Danny hadn’t been granted parole in any of his three previous hearings, and she didn’t expect him to get it this time either.

But maybe…. “I’m just thinking about it,” she said. “I don’t have to decide right now.” She opened the passenger door and got in the car.

Janie reached over her shoulder and pulled on her seatbelt. “What will you do if he gets out?”

Misty raked her hand through her hair, considering the question. “I don’t know,” she finally said.

“He might want to move up here with you.”

“I’ve never said I’m moving here.”

“Not out loud,” Janie said, and then she let the subject drop. Misty appreciated that, and she had plenty of time to think through what her best friend had said as they drove to work and started on their individual projects.

Did she want to return to Southern Texas to see her brother and attend his parole hearing? He hadn’t asked, and Misty would have to decipher what he wanted without Danny coming right out and saying it.

What would she do if he got released? She felt a sense of responsibility for him, and she currently lived a long way from the Coastal Bend and Dallas.

And the real question that needed answering: Was Misty going to make her move to Three Rivers permanent?

Chapter Twenty-Six

Under the cover of darkness, Link entered his house, shed his boots, and started unbuttoning his shirt. Every article of clothing came off as he moved from the front door to his master bathroom, where he turned on the shower as hot as it would go.

It took up to a minute for the hot water to come in if he didn’t do so, and he was in no mood to wait. In fact, he grabbed his toothbrush and turned back to the shower without giving it another second to warm up.

The night still held heat, though Link had been mowing in an air-conditioned cab. He remembered his father taking the overnight harvest shifts growing up, and now, as the junior foreman, he’d taken them over.

He’d only been working from six p.m. until the job was done for the past week, and as he stepped into the stream of water, he wondered if he’d ever get the itch of mown hay shards off his skin. Or the scent of alfalfa and dirt out of his nose, and the taste of it out of everything he ate.

Such was the harvest on a ranch the size of Shiloh Ridge, and Link would be glad when it concluded. Of course, as soon as this monumental task completed, another began—replanting of fields with winter wheat, a short breeding season, and then the round-up.

Link longed for a crisp morning in the saddle, and he tipped his head back into the water now that it was hot and let the night’s work melt off him. He adjusted the water so it wouldn’t scald him, and he showered in a slow, calculated way that only prolonged the time until he’d crawl into bed.

Misty had been bringing him an early dinner when she could, but she’d been caught up with some drama at work that had prevented her from leaving early, getting food, and making the drive out to him before he had to meet Uncle Ward and Uncle Preacher at the mechanical shed for a report on the daily work that had been done.

He met his father at breakfast to give the update on the work he did at night, and since Daddy never let anyone work solo on the ranch, Link had been laboring alongside three other cowboys.

After he’d showered and pulled on a pair of pajama pants, he sank onto his comforter and closed his eyes. Just for a minute.

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