Chapter Two
“My horse won’t go faster.”
The whine seeped under Drew Barlow’s skin. He’d led a lot of trail rides, and he could usually tolerate the complaining, but if this kid dug his heels into Juniper’s sides one more time . . .
“The horse isn’t supposed to go faster, kid,” Drew said. “She’s trained to stay behind mine.”
“This is boring.”
Drew blew out a stream of hot air. He took in a fresh breath and cast his eyes toward the Rockies. There. That was the reason he stayed on at the dude ranch every year. That and the seclusion of the off months.
“Are we almost done? My horse is broken.”
Lucky for the kid, they were almost done. Otherwise, Drew might’ve swatted Juniper on the backside and sent her off to show him how not-boring horseback riding could be.
Up the hill and around the bend, Elkhorn Ranch came into sight. Elkhorn had been his home now for four years, and the owners, Doug and Cheryl McClain, liked Drew so much they made room for him year-round. He didn’t make much money, but he didn’t need much. He enjoyed managing the rest of the staff, he loved the horses, and his room and board were part of his salary. Every now and then, he even enjoyed the guests, though sometimes Drew wondered if he’d do better to find a profession where he didn’t have to talk to anyone at all.
Quiet suited him just fine.
They reached the stable, and the other ranch hands met them and helped return the horses to their stalls.
“Tough ride, Boss?” Dylan Hauser took the reins as Drew removed his cowboy hat, ran his hand through his hair and sighed.
“That obvious?”
“I had that kid in a private lesson yesterday.” Dylan shook his head and led Mabel, Drew’s favorite horse, into her stall. “He’s a pistol.”
Mabel whinnied.
“That’s one word for it. I’m assigning out all of his activities from now on.”
“I’ll clean up here,” Dylan said. “You’ve got a visitor up at the lodge.”
Drew frowned. A visitor? Anyone he considered a friend was there on the ranch with him.
“It’s your mom.”
His heart dropped. “My mom?” He hadn’t talked to his mother in months. She’d give him the guilt trip, then the lecture, then ask him to imagine a world without her in it. He hated to admit it, but he didn’t miss their chats.
Dylan shrugged. “She didn’t exactly look comfortable when I left her. Good luck, buddy.”
Drew walked through the stable and past the guesthouses until he reached the lodge. His mother sat on the porch, clutching her purse, looking exactly like what she was: a former beauty queen on a dude ranch. How long had she been waiting?
She stood at the sight of him, and a forced smile washed over her face. “You look rugged and handsome,” she said, holding her hands out. She pulled him into a hug, clapped him on the back a few times and then stepped back to look at him. “And maybe a little bit dirty.”
“I’m surprised to see you here.”
“I would imagine so. It’s been so long since I’ve heard anything from you. I had to make sure you were still alive.”
And it began.
“So you drove two hours into the mountains? Why didn’t you just call?” He sat down on the stairs of the lodge.
“I did.” She faced him. “You never called back.”
He vaguely remembered that.
“Well, you’re here now. You want to get some dinner?”
She scrunched her nose. “Here?”
“We have a five-star chef, Mom. It’s not like we eat C rations out of a tin can.”
She drew her lips into a thin line. “I admit that is a little more what I imagined.”
He secretly hoped she’d decline his offer. He didn’t much care for small talk, and with his parents, that’s all it had ever been.
“I won’t keep you, Drew. I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”
Shower. Eat. Go for a run. Sit in front of the television. Sleep. Same as every other night.
“I just came because I wanted to show you this.” She handed him a newspaper clipping. “Harold Pendergast died last week.”
Drew looked at the obituary, the photo of the man—a lot older than Drew remembered and with sadder eyes, but still the same man they’d known all those years ago. He glanced at his mom. “That’s too bad.”
Why did his mother think he’d care whether Pendergast was dead or alive?
“I was hoping it’d bring you some closure, maybe.”
Drew looked out over the yard and up toward the mountains. He knew every square inch of those foothills, almost up to the peaks. He’d put his past behind him—why’d she have to come out here and dredge it all back up?
“I’m doing fine, Ma.”
Her eyes had filled with tears.
This is why he stayed away from her. The emotion she carried so close to the surface made him uncomfortable. She swiped away a tear. “You think you’re fine, Drew, but you’re not.”
She was convinced of his brokenness, but how would she know? She could only assume what he thought—he’d never let her into that part of his mind.
“You’re living in some strange denial of what happened, and I think it’s kept you from ever really enjoying your life.” She hugged her slick black bag a little tighter. “You seem to keep everyone at an arm’s length, and I’m worried about you. Worried you’re going to end up alone.”
Had she practiced this speech in the car? Something about it felt rehearsed.
“When was the last time you went out on a date? And do you have a single person in your life you’d call a friend?”
He stood, filled with the sudden urge to get as far away from her as possible. “What makes you think I’m not enjoying my life?” He had Mabel and Juniper and the other ranch hands. He didn’t need society’s idea of a good life in order to be happy.
His mother laughed. “You’ve got yourself so far removed from anything real—what kind of life is this, hiding away up here in the mountains, living in a dingy old cabin? It’s not a real job, and it’s not a real life.” She looked at him and sighed. “Don’t you see I’m worried about you?”
Worried or disappointed? Because he felt nearly certain that was disappointment all over her face.
Drew resented the words. She’d never understand his career choices—never understand why he didn’t want to live in some big city or wear a suit and tie to an office every day. If she expected those things from him, she didn’t know him at all.
She made assumptions about him, and for that, he stayed away. He didn’t have the energy to dissect his every choice. He came to the ranch because it promised him the one thing he wanted more than anything else—peace. His family would never understand that.
His mother cleared her throat. “Drew. You’ve been running away your whole life. How much longer are you going to hold on to this?”
She thought he should be over it by now. But time didn’t heal all wounds, did it?
Drew handed the newspaper clipping back to her. “This doesn’t change anything, Ma. I’m doing fine out here. I don’t need you stirring up the past.”
The sound of laughter drew his attention. Two of the other staffers rounded the corner. “Hey, Drew,” one of them said. “You heading in for dinner?”
Drew glanced at his mom, then back at the girls. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.”
His mom stood, still clutching her purse. “Go. It’s fine. I said what I came here to say.”
“You sure you don’t want to stay?” He didn’t mean it. Surely she’d sense that.
She put on a phony smile. “I have to get back.” She set a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Take care of yourself, sweetheart.”
He watched her get in her Lexus and drive away.
As was customary after a conversation with his mother, Drew now had a pit in his stomach that rivaled the Grand Canyon.
He didn’t feel much like socializing. Inside his cabin, Roxie sat at attention. He rubbed the German shepherd behind the ears, and she stood as if she knew something was wrong.
“Why do I need friends when I’ve got you, Rox?”
She licked his hand.
“Let’s go for a run. You’re looking a little hefty in the middle.”
She lay back down, letting out a soft growl as Drew changed into a pair of loose athletic shorts and a T-shirt, pulled on his running shoes and opened the cabin door.
“You comin’?”
Roxie, always quick to forgive, ran outside toward their favorite running trail. Drew preferred to run without music, focusing instead on the sounds of his breathing and the great outdoors. He’d grown to love the ranch and everything it had taught him. He oversaw the daily operations and managed the staff, but he’d worked the schedule out so he could also spend time alone. That time had never haunted him until today.
With every familiar tree he passed, the memories crept closer to the surface of his mind—memories he’d buried long ago in the hope of never reliving them again.
Drew turned a corner and ran along the creek at the back of the ranch property, his mind spinning. Closure. His mother made it sound like it was something he could buy at the drugstore. He knew better. It had been twenty years, and he’d never found it.
Revisiting Fairwind, dredging up the past—it couldn’t bring him what he needed. The ranch, Colorado, his long runs—those were peaceful. Why did his mom seem to think he was still searching for something he’d found long ago?
And yet, as he weaved to the right to avoid a dip in the trail, he knew peace was about more than a quiet environment. He’d come here in search of something specific, but if he was honest with himself, he was still looking for it.
His spirit wasn’t at peace, and the realization irked him.
Some men pursued women or money or fame or power. Drew asked for so little compared to them, yet peace seemed more elusive and much harder to attain.
Roxie quickened her pace to keep up, panting a little harder than usual. Drew’s mind wandered to the photo in Harold Pendergast’s obituary. He’d grown to see Harold mostly as a nuisance, what with his regular calls begging Drew to come back to the farm. Drew had stopped answering those calls a long time ago. Harold always left messages, but Drew never called back. Then the old man started sending letters filled with new, crazy ideas about the case, and he always listed the reasons why returning to Fairwind might help Drew, not to mention possibly give them the lead they’d been waiting for.
Son, I’m not asking you to spend a whole summer here like you used to, just a few days to jog your memory. See if anything shakes loose when you walk the grounds. It’s important. Don’t do it for me. Do it for Jess.
But Drew had never gone. He’d resisted every attempt to reconnect with Fairwind and the old man. Why was he spending even a second thinking about it now?
Sticks snapped underneath his feet. He inhaled the scent of pine trees, and Jess’s face swept through his memory.
All these years, Harold had been the one fighting on her behalf, but who would do that now that he was gone?
As soon as the thought entered Drew’s mind, another one replaced it: This is not your problem. He’d been telling himself that for years now, and he believed it. So why the sudden urge to drive to Willow Grove, Illinois, and see what had become of Fairwind?
Why now, after all this time, did it feel like maybe Harold had been right? Maybe Drew would remember something or find the closure he’d been craving.
He stopped and doubled over, winded—a punishment for failing to focus on his breathing. He’d been running too fast. He’d been running too hard and too long.
Roxie slowed, doubled back and sniffed his face.
He stepped off the path and sat on a boulder next to the water, watching as the current lapped over the rocks on the creek bed. He could see straight to the bottom. Everything here had always felt cleaner—clearer. Did he really want to go searching through the mess that Harold had left behind?
Drew had done such a good job of pushing everything down and away, into little boxes he’d neatly stacked at the very back of his mind, but Harold’s death was chipping away at that tidy pile.
His breathing finally slowed. He stood back up, still inhaling deeply, and stared up at the bright-blue sky. He’d been here at this ranch for years, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt an undeniable push to do the one thing he’d been avoiding.
He had to go back to Fairwind. Not for long—just to walk the property. To revisit the place where his entire life had changed. He needed to prove to himself that there were no hidden memories locked up somewhere in his mind.
He needed to prove he couldn’t have been the one to provide justice for Jess.
He just didn’t have the answers everyone was looking for.
“Let’s go, Roxie.” He ran home, showered and changed, then called his boss to make arrangements for a short vacation.
“It’s the start of the busy season, and we’re booked solid,” Doug said. “Be awfully hard to have you gone now.”
“Have I ever missed a day in the four years I’ve been here?” Drew paced the small living room of his cabin, walking its full length in just a few short steps.
“No, you haven’t.”
“Then you know it’s important. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”
There was a pause on the other end, followed by a sigh. “How long are you thinking?”
“Maybe a week?”
“Make sure everything is lined up here, and we’ll see you when you get back.”
Drew threw some clothes into an old duffel bag. It had been years since he’d packed to go anywhere—most of his journeys only led him the few miles into town or, occasionally, down to Denver. Usually, though, he just stayed here. Elkhorn Ranch was his home now, and he was fine with that.
After he finished packing his things, he went outside and slung the bag into the back of his truck along with a half-eaten bag of dog food for Roxie. The dog had followed him outside and now sat just below the front stoop, staring at him with a tilted head.
“Come on, Rox.” He opened the door of his pickup truck.
She stood and barked but didn’t move.
“You’re riding shotgun, girl,” he said. “Let’s go.”
She barked again, then finally jumped inside the truck, turning around once before sitting on the passenger-side seat. She stuck her head out the opened window, and he gave her snout a rub.
“You ready for this, Rox?”
She whined. He moved around to the driver’s side, got in and inhaled a very deep breath.
This was going to hurt a little.
Who was he kidding? This was going to hurt a lot.