Page 101 of Snow in Texas

“I’ve talked to some of our contacts in Odessa,” Candy said, “and they said all of Riley’s drug charges were dropped from orders up on high. They didn’t have a name; said the order trickled down the pipeline. Whoever it was, though.” He lifted his brows to drive home the point. “He got Elijah off the hook for the kiddie porn stuff too. So he’s got sway.”

“And we’re all fucked,” Gringo put in, cheerfully. “Swell.”

“Did you just say ‘swell’?” Cowboy asked him.

“It’s been a week since Riley,” Talis said, and everyone quieted down again. “Why hasn’t his brother moved on us yet? Why wait?”

“Because he’s planning something.” Candy sighed. “And God help the poor man if he’s scheming. Dangerous business for somebody that stupid.”

As a prospect, Colin wasn’t permitted to offer up suggestions during church, but in the past week, he’d been invited to attend it, keeping quiet watch down at the end of the table, learning the speech patterns, gestures, and nervous tics of his brothers. He’d discovered that he liked the formalities of church, the rituals, the air of quiet dignity about the room. A room that told a story, cluttered with old photos and Lean Dogs memorabilia.

“Keep the channel open with Odessa PD,” Candy instructed Fox. “I want a name, damn it.” He closed the meeting out with a loud smack of his palm against the table.

As the others filed out of the chapel, Colin took the chance to inspect one of the photos he’d been eyeing for the past half hour. The film quality made him think it had been taken in the eighties. A knot of men standing together in front of the clubhouse many years and several paint colors ago. There was Candy, young and big as an ox, playboy-pretty when he grinned. Crockett, vital and sharp-eyed, far less gray in his hair. And a man who he couldn’t mistake for anyone else. A blonde giant of a man: Candy and Jenny’s father, Jack Snow.

Colin felt Candy draw up alongside him at the wall. “Dad loved that picture,” he said, quietly. “He always used to say he couldn’t wait until he had grandkids, then there’d be three generations of Snows in one shot.”

Colin glanced over at him, and saw the deep strain of regret in his face. Jack was finally going to get his grandchild, but it was going to be too late. And it wasn’t going to be a Snow, at that.

Jenny was almost forty, which meant Candy had to be almost forty-five.

“Why didn’t you ever have kids?” Colin asked, expecting a sharp retort.

Instead, the VP shrugged. “Fucking’s one thing. But having a kid with somebody? I don’t take that shit lightly.” His gaze slid over, bright with speculation. “Having babies is a big deal.”

“Yeah. It is.”

A moment passed, one final, silent warning. Then Candy’s face relaxed and he popped Colin affectionately in the shoulder. “Come on, prospect. With any luck, I might patch you in before your kid turns sixteen.”

“Ha.”

~*~

He was stripping parts out of a wrecked Ford he’d just taken down off the flatbed when evening came on, swift and silent, rife with long shadows. It was cool, but he was sweating from his efforts, and dragged his sleeve across his forehead, pausing to step back from the car and stretch his shoulders.

The sun hovered just below the horizon, the sky a Navajo tapestry of oranges, reds, and pinks. A smear of embers along the humped backs of low, distant hills.

Colin waited for the homesickness to hit him, his blood’s cry for the dusky, erotic nighttime pulses of New Orleans.

But it didn’t come.

He watched night steal across the vast open dome of the sky above him, this pure Texas sky, and felt unaccountably settled inside. He’d been in so many cities, some of them glittering jewels, and others humble stop signs, and in every one of them, he’d watched the sun fade and felt the urge to leave.Go, a voice had always chimed in the back of his mind.This isn’t your place. Go find it.

But tonight, that voice was silent. Tonight, he stood in the humblest shape of his life – a prospect, a newbie, a displaced Cajun, a terrified father-to-be. But he found no shame in that. Because he felt content, too. Like maybe…just maybe…he’d finally reached a place to put down his metaphorical roots, so that he might finally grow into a man.

Might become the brother everyone expected him to be.

He was behind the clubhouse, and heard her boot heels on the porch boards seconds before sand kicked at the backs of his legs and her arms went around his waist. Jenny’s face pressed warm and soft against the flat of his shoulder blade.

“You working hard?”

“Hmm.” He covered her hand with his against his stomach. “Something like that.”

He felt her shift around a little, heard the deep sigh that meant she’d spotted the sky. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Of all the places you’ve ever been, where was the best sunset?”

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