Page 2 of Long Past Dawn
“But I—I don’t wa—want to dig holes,” I said, my voice quivering. “I don’t even like d—da—dogs.”
“What are you talking about, son?” Mrs. McAwley asked. “You don’t have to dig holes.”
Blaze sighed from where he sat next to me. “We readHolesin class at the end of the year. Beau’s worried he’s going to get sent away to a camp to dig holes. That’s why I had to keep him a secret.” I could hear how upset Blaze was, and I felt bad for putting him in a position where he had to lie to his parents.
“Do-don’t be upset with Bla-Blaze,” I stuttered, my problem evident now that I was upset. “I ma—made him pra—prom—promise not to tell.”
Mrs. McAwley held up her hand. “We’re not upset with either of you, Beau.”
I nodded once and tried to smile, but the stupid tears made my lips shake. “Than—thank you. I don’t want n-no one to get in trouble, so I’ll be ga—goin’. Da-don-do not tell anyone I was ha-here.”
“Social services is already aware of your whereabouts,” Mr. McAwley said. “We’ve known you were here since you set foot on the property. We didn’t tell Blaze because we wanted to keep you here. If you were here, you were safe.”
I glanced between the two adults in confusion. “Why didn’t they come get ma—me? I ran away from the foster ho—ho–,” I cleared my throat and tried again. “Home.”
“Son, they were just happy to know you were safe and that you had a place to stay,” Mr. McAwley said. “We did some paperwork with social services over the last few weeks, and now you’re going to be staying here.”
I was confused, and my voice shook when I spoke. “I’m staying he—here? In the ba-ba-barn?”
Blaze’s momma laughed and shook her head. “No, you’ll be staying next door to Blaze, in his brother’s room.”
I swallowed again and eyed her carefully. “But—but Bix just left for call—college. He—he’ll be back.”
“We have plenty of room here when Bix comes home. You need a place to call your own, and Bix already said it was okay,” she explained patiently.
“Fo—for sure?” I asked, still suspicious.
“We’re positive, son,” Mr. McAwley said, offering a rare smile. Blaze was right. He was a good man. “There will be chores to do, of course. We’ll expect them done in a timely fashion each day. Blaze will teach you. He tells me you like horses?”
I nodded eagerly. “Yes, sa—sir.”
“Good, then you’ll have your own to take care of, along with several others. You’ll have to keep the stalls clean and the water troughs full. Can you do that?”
I nodded because I couldn’t speak. I was worried the tears were going to start again.
Mrs. McAwley stood and motioned for me to get up. She tucked me under her arm and walked with me toward the stairs to the second floor of the giant home. “Tomorrow, we’ll drive into town and get your things from the social worker. We’ll also pick up some proper boots and work clothes for the ranch. Good enough?” she asked, squeezing me gently. It had been a long time since I’d gotten a hug from someone who cared about me the way a momma would.
I turned and hugged her, burying my face in her side to hide my tears. “Than—thank you,” I wept. “I won’t la-la—let you down,” I promised, my body crumbling to the ground from the tears, exhaustion, and relief.
It was Mr. McAwley who scooped me up and carried me to the shower, patiently helping me get clean of the day’s dirt and the terror of the last few months. I would never forget that look on his face for the rest of my life. It was the same look he wore whenever he helped any of his boys. The fact he was wearin’ it now told me I was home.
One
Present Day
The fire snapped and popped every time the wind blew across it, and it pulled me from my memories. Memories of a time like this one where I didn’t know who I was or where I was going. The difference was, this wasn’t Texas. This was northern Wisconsin, and Mother Nature hadn’t had her fill of winter yet. We’d had a warm spell in February, and March rolled in like a lamb, but she was going out like a lion. The bite in the air tonight assured me of it. The animals I was tending wouldn’t mind the cold since bison love snow, but my hide was a lot thinner and less hardy than theirs was.
“Beau?” a sweet voice called out, and I turned, surprised to see Dawn riding toward me on her horse, Black Beauty.
“By the fire,” I called back, standing and grabbing the reins from her so she could dismount. “What’s up?” I asked, hooking Black Beauty to the line where my horse, Cloudy Day, was hanging out.
“Blaze sent me up to check on you. There’s bad weather coming.”
“I’m aware.” I pointed at the walkie by the fire. “He radioed up. He’s such a worrywart these days. I’m not afraid of a little wind.”
Dawn shook her head and rubbed her arms up and down in the chilly night. “Try wind and snow. The weathermen are saying half a foot by morning. You have to stop playing home on the range and go back to the ranch, Beau.”
I motioned her over to the fire so she could warm up. She sat on the old wooden log I used as a backrest and held her hands out to the fire. Her hands always captivated me. They were strong, capable, and should be rough and dry with jagged nails, considering how hard she worked, but they never were. Her hands were always soft, and she wore her nails done up in a sassy purple.
