Page 9 of Cowboy Don't Go

“Yeah, we do. Your home.”

“My—” he began, his voice shocked, “but . . . I told you to sell the place.”

“Yeah? Well, I didn’t. So, get over it.”

Four hours later, his father’s first look in almost a decade at the land that had raised him brought actual tears to his eyes. Tears he tried to hide from Cooper but failed. He’d barely spoken the whole trip back and Cooper had let him be. Today was a lot for him, Cooper guessed, and he fell asleep after the first hour of the drive. It was, perhaps, the first time in a very long time that his father could actually relax. Let go. But before that, Ray had watched the Montana countryside slide by, drinking in every tree and river and vista along the way.

Cooper had moved back here from Texas a little over a month ago to get the place ready for his homecoming. All the painting and cleaning, now—with that look on his father’s face as they pulled up to the house—felt worth it.

“But you were in Texas,” his father said, climbing out of the truck.

“I was . . . I had a caretaker living here until last month, taking care of the place. But I paid what was left on the mortgage. I paid the taxes. It’s all up to date. It’s all yours.”

His father’s gaze traveled across the old ranch house with its board and batten front and bricks that lined the rest. Except for the huge spruce trees anchoring the house, the landscaping, what there had been of it, had long since died. Patchy grass still stubbled the yard, but it was mostly weeds. Beyond, lay the fenced pastures that had once supported a healthy herd of black Angus. Those, too, were gone now.

Ray Lane turned back to him, relief mixed with disbelief contorting his expression. “Why didn’t you sell this place? I never wanted it to be a burden on you.”

“No burden. I kept it so you’d have a place to come home to. When you got out. I knew if I told you, you’d just argue with me. So, I didn’t.” He couldn’t read his father’s face anymore, so he wasn’t sure how he was taking it. “If you don’t want to be here, if it’s got too many memories, I get it. But let’s not decide that now. I got a job,” he told his father. “Construction. Maybe working with the horses. You don’t have to worry about anything. You just need to rest and get your feet back under you.”

His hand shook as he held onto a dining room chair. “I never thought I’d see this place again. I never thought I’d see you again, either.”

Cooper frowned. “No matter what, Dad, I got you. I’ll always have you.”

Then his father, who was not a man given to showing emotion, hugged him. Hard. And he didn’t let go for a full minute. “I never thought this day would come.”

Cooper fought back his own emotions. “Hey. What do you say we go inside?”

“Yeah.”

Inside, Ray looked around in wonder as if seeing the place for the first time. There was a welcome home banner Cooper had hung from the rafter that divided the living room from the kitchen and some late-summer flowers in a vase on the counter.

Touched, Ray turned to him. “You spruced the place up.”

“A little bit.” He’d painted this living room a neutral color, repainted the kitchen area and bought some new furniture and updated all the bedding in his bedroom. There were still family pictures here and there, photos of the three of them before his mother passed, years ago. Ray picked one up and held it for a long minute before setting it back and walking to his old bedroom. He just stood in the doorway, staring.

“I had some of your old clothes cleaned and they’re hung up in the closet. Might be a little big on you until we put some weight back on you,” Cooper told him opening the closet door to show him. “You just need some good food.”

“That was kind of you. All of this, Coop. You didn’t have to.”

“Of course, I did. I’ve missed you, Dad. I’m really glad you’re home. And I’m here to help make this whole thing easier.”

His father said, “You really think this place, this town will let go of my past? Let me live here in peace?”

“You’ve done your time. And once we clear your name—”

“Let that go, son. You’ve got to let that go. It’s never going to happen now.”

He’d heard this refrain over and over again from his father, and it still sat like a mystery between them. Though he’d always claimed he was innocent of the charges that put him in prison for the last eight years, he’d done little to help himself during his trial, refusing to testify in his own defense. That had sealed the deal against him. Cooper had never questioned that his father was innocent. It wasn’t in his nature to break the law. No matter what the incentive. He knew that as well as he knew himself. “I got rid of the investigator I hired before. I’ve got someone new.”

His father looked him squarely in the eye. “Don’t.”

Frustration burned in Cooper’s chest. “This is for both of us. For you and for me.” If he wouldn’t listen to reason for his own sake, maybe a personal appeal would do the trick. “In a couple of months—”

“In a couple of months,” Ray interrupted, “I may not be here.”

Cooper blinked and turned back to him. “What’d you say?”

Ray stood and walked to the window to stare out at the pasture. “I didn’t mean to blurt it out that way, but I guess I’ve lost some finesse behind bars. I’m dying, Cooper. It’s cancer. It’s bad.”

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