Page 12 of Ashes of the Past
He claps me on the back. “Man, you look just like your old man.”
I nod, clearing my throat. “I hear that sometimes.”
“He was a good man, I tell you. No better brother to go to war with,” he says, his eyes taking on a far-away look. He glances over at one of the ranch hands a second later. “Jack’s father, Benny, was one of my best friends. We grew up together. Served our time in the Army together, too. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get past the demons of what we had to do.”
I look off into the pasture. I was only three when my father committed suicide, leaving my mother to raise a five-year-old, a four-year-old, and a one-year-old by herself. The people of HicksCreek referred to him as a hero. They all had great memories of him, but I had none.
I see him as nothing more than a coward.
“Let’s call it a night, boys,” John says as he gestures toward the vehicles. “You can ride with Lane and me.”
I nod. Presumably, the guy he called Lane goes directly to the UTV and gets behind the steering wheel. He’s a fairly young kid, probably barely twenty-one, scrawny and tall. He doesn’t fit the look of a ranch hand, that’s for sure.
John gets in the front seat, and I move to the back. The UTV rumbles as Lane steers us away from the north pasture, the uneven terrain jolting us with every bump. I’m sitting in the back, arms resting on the side rails, trying to piece together how the hell my day turned into this. John sits up front, chatting easily with Lane about the irrigation system, the cattle rotation, and some upcoming supply orders. I’m only half listening, my thoughts still on Brynn’s scowl as she stormed off earlier.
This is a much more comfortable ride than when she was driving. I’m certain she hit every bump she could on purpose, though.
“So, Jack,” John says, twisting around to look at me, “what’d you think of the setup out here? Not too shabby, huh?”
“It’s solid,” I reply, keeping my tone neutral. “You’ve got a good operation going. Just needed a little tweak on that irrigation system.”
John grins, clearly pleased. “Knew you’d fit right in. Always had a knack for this stuff.”
I nod, letting the compliment slide by. “Speaking of fitting in,” I say, leaning forward a bit, “I think I might’ve made a mistake earlier. Walked into Brynn’s place instead of wherever I’m supposed to be staying.”
John lets out a hearty laugh, slapping his knee. “Oh, I must’ve told you wrong. You’re staying in the house with me.The bunkhouse is packed to the rafters, and that’s the only open space.”
I raise an eyebrow. “In the house?”
“With me and Lane here,” John adds, gesturing to the driver. Lane gives a little wave without taking his eyes off the path. “It’s a full house, but we’ll make it work. Brynn is right next door and in the house a lot, but I’m sure you two will be thick as thieves before long.”
“Somehow, I don’t think she’ll see it that way,” I mutter, earning another laugh from John.
“She’ll come around,” he says, waving off my concern. “She’s a spitfire, sure, but she’s got a good heart. Just don’t take her attitude personally. These ol’ cowboys around town don’t take a woman seriously if they’re soft.”
“Your daughter is anything but soft.”
Lane chuffs and nods. “She’s fierce. She can rope and ride with the best of them, take a part of a tractor engine and put it back together, and then make the most beautiful flower arrangements. It’s insanity how that works.”
“Flower arrangements?”
“She owns the flower shop in town,” Lane answers. “Bloom & Vine.”
That explains why she was carrying flowers into City Hall.
She’s probably one of those women who believes fairy tales are real.
“Interesting,” I say dryly, leaning back as Lane navigates a particularly rocky patch.
When we reach the house, the first thing I notice is the young girl bounding down the porch steps. She looks familiar, but I don’t know why she would. She’s maybe twelve, her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun that bounces with every move. She’s beaming as she runs straight for John, throwing her arms around his waist.
“Hey there, Olivia!” John says, scooping her up like she weighs nothing. “What’ve you been up to, huh?”
“Homework,” she says as she makes a face. “I drew a really great picture of the ranch for art class, though.”
John grins, his eyes shining. “Can’t wait to see it, Brynn. Go on inside and grab it for me, will you?”
“I’m Olivia, Popo,” she says softly.
