could have. One of the guys he hung around with in high school is still his friend and visits him. Through him it’s possible he got hold of a gun or rifle he hid somewhere before he’d been committed. I try not to think about it or I get ill.”
“That’s why the military disqualifies a person with a history of mood or behavioral disorders.”
“Exactly. But home isn’t the military, and my parents want him back to help around the ranch.”
“That’s hard on everyone.”
“I’ve talked this over with Zane. If Ned was the one responsible, Zane will find out in time. After the shooting, he advised your father to close the ranch to hunting and keep it closed until more proof of what really happened came to light. As you know, he was a tough Navy SEAL before he started working as a special agent for the BLM.”
“I know him by reputation. Let’s hope he has an answer for you soon.”
“Yes. Avery said Ned is going to be coming back to live with my parents again on a permanent basis.” The anxiety in her eyes spoke volumes.
Trace cringed for her. “With restrictions, of course.”
“I don’t know what they’d be as long as he keeps taking his medicine.”
“Cassie, I’m sorry you’ve had to live through such pain.” To lose her husband and be afraid that her brother might have been the one to shoot him was horrendous. Worse, he could tell she was worried that Ned might come after her one day when he got the chance. That frightening possibility was going to keep Trace awake nights from here on out.
He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain of Cassie’s loss, but she was obviously handling it. She was a strong woman to have married for love despite her father’s wishes. Trace admired that strength and her will to get on with her life.
Just then his cell rang. He checked the caller ID. “It’s my dad. He’s on his way to the ranch now.”
“Then let’s get back. I have a pot roast with potatoes and carrots cooking.”
“I could smell it before we left the house. Did he tell you that’s my favorite meal?”
She smiled. “That’s why I made it. To welcome you home. He’s so happy you’re going to be living here from now on, you can’t imagine.”
Trace was afraid he could and didn’t look forward to the conversation he was about to have. When they reached the barn and dismounted to take care of the horses, he turned to her. She was removing Buttercup’s bridle. “I want to thank you for what you and Logan have done.”
“We were just doing our job.”
“It was a lot more than that and you know it. You’ve eased my father’s mind while I’ve been away and made the place beautiful. There’s no way to repay you. I’ll feed and water the horses while you go into the house. It’s the least I can do.”
Once dinner was over, Trace went out on the front porch with his father. He sat on a chair while his dad settled for the swing. “That Cassie could make her living as a cook.”
“Agreed. I can’t remember the last time I had a meal that good.”
His dad studied Trace. “You’re talking home cooked. Nothing like it.” Trace nodded. “Do you have any idea how good it feels to be sitting on the porch with my son after all these years?”
Trace’s throat thickened. “I do,” he murmured. More than you can imagine.
His dad’s hair was a sandy color mixed with gray. Lines from years of outdoor living gave his rugged features character. He’d dressed in one of his familiar plaid shirts and jeans, and he wore a belt with a silver and turquoise buckle, his trademark.
One of the tribal elders from the reservation had presented it to him for saving their horses from dying during an equine flu epidemic. The tribe had bought some horses in Mexico and had them transported. But several of them had the virus. Afraid all the horses would die, they came to Trace’s father.
Trace, who had been only eight years old at the time, remembered going out to the reservation with him to test the horses. Sam told the elders all they could do was rest them for a month in fresh air in a shady, confined area. Walk them for short periods to maintain circulation during the fever and coughing. Keep them away from dust and hay to minimize the risk of bacterial infections of the lungs. Then give them an antibody vaccine booster every three months.
The horses looked and sounded miserable to Trace. He couldn’t imagine his father’s treatment working. But in a month’s time the tribe hadn’t lost one of them and he’d become a valued friend of the Crow.
Tears smarted Trace’s eyes just remembering the day they presented his dad with the belt buckle, handmade on their reservation. His father was held in high esteem by a lot of the population around White Lodge, including members of the Crow nation.
Soon after that experience, his parents divorced. Remembered pain still lingered to think his mom would want to leave the man who was Trace’s idol. So what did Trace do? After he’d turned eighteen, he’d left his father, just like his mom had done.
“You probably won’t believe me, but I’ve missed being here. I’ve missed you, Dad.” His voice was thick with emotion. “More than you’ll ever know.”
Sam leaned forward with his hands on his knees. “When your mom left, the heart went out of our home. You couldn’t take it.”
He shook his head. “That’s not it. At first I was angry at her. Later I was angry at you for not making her come back.”
“You can’t hold somebody who doesn’t want to be held, son.”
“I know that now. Forgive my anger.”
“It was natural. Divorce means an automatic whammy for everyone involved. No one escapes. I’m proud of you for what you’ve done with your life even when it threw you some curveballs. Is it killing you not to be a pilot anymore?”
“If you’d asked me that when I was rushed to the hospital, I would have told you I’d rather have been killed. But after a few days I realized it would be the coward’s way out and I thought about something you said the day our collie’s paw got caught in a snare and had to be amputated.”
“Poor Kip. He was the best dog we ever had.”
“I loved him. While I was having hysterics, you told me he’d be able to get around just fine with three legs. That’s why God gave him four, just in case.”
A quiet laugh came out of his father. “Did I really say that?”
“That’s why everyone in Carbon County puts their favorite vet on a pedestal. Before I phoned you from the hospital to let you know what had happened to me, I figured you’d say something like, ‘Son? God gave you two eyes so if you lost one of them, it didn’t matter.’ Even if you didn’t know what went through my mind before our phone call, your wisdom helped me through that dark period. So, the answer to your question is no, it didn’t kill me.”
“Thank God for that.”
“But
