to distract her. Though he had to admit she’d surprised him. She was clever, street-smart if not booksmart, but she also understood people. Once she took a man’s measure, she wasn’t far off the mark. “We’re about ten minutes out. Any more questions before we get there?”
She straightened her legs, putting her feet on the floorboard, then pulled her shoulders back as if ready to do battle. It wouldn’t come to that. Matt wouldn’t let it. “You still don’t think we should call first?”
“Nope.” He wasn’t as confident on taking that stand. Somewhere between the Food Mart and his truck, it struck him that he could’ve called Lucy to give her a heads-up and get one himself. The woman wasn’t just a housekeeper, she was a saint.
He knew she was still tending to Wallace three days a week, even though she was getting on in years. She’d been hired a month before Matt was born, had witnessed more than a few of Wallace’s tirades and had been a champ through his mother’s illness.
Yep, he probably should’ve called Lucy. Hell.
Too late now.
They were officially on Gunderson land, the place he’d sworn he’d never come back to.
3
WALLACE WAS DRUNK. Passed out on the old rawhide couch in his office, his jaw slack, his graying hair poking out every which way. Half a bottle of Jim Beam sat on the wood floor an inch from where his arm dangled off to the side.
Staring at him in disgust, Matt was glad he’d left Nikki in the truck. She didn’t need to see this; no one did. Matt breathed in deep, wondering how many times his mother had to walk in to find her worthless husband sprawled out, spittle dried at the corners of his mouth. Wallace hadn’t been this bad the first time Matt had put Blackfoot Falls in his rearview mirror.
Even so, a couple times he’d walked in when his mother had just shaken out a blanket over the old man. She’d tucked it around him and kissed his forehead, then went to bed by herself. It killed Matt that she was so patient and tolerant. He hadn’t understood then, and never would get why she’d stayed in the marriage. He’d begged her to leave Wallace. But she’d always just smiled, said she loved him and maybe someday he’d change.
Then Matt found out about Wallace’s affair with Rosa Flores. From his own mother. She’d known for over fifteen years, even that a child was involved. And still she’d stayed. Now she was gone, and Matt missed her, missed their secret phone calls. He missed the garbled texts she’d sent him from the smartphone he’d bought her so they could communicate without Wallace knowing.
He smiled, thinking about how she’d never gotten the hang of texting or sending emails. She’d sure liked getting his, though, and quickly figured out how to read them.
There were still days when Matt struggled against his anger. At her. Sometimes at himself. Always at Wallace. No one could convince Matt the stress of living with the bastard hadn’t shortened her life.
She’d claimed she loved Wallace. Love. What the hell did that word mean? It was supposed to be something good. Something that made you happy, stronger, passionate…even country songs touted its virtue. But obviously love could also make you stupid.
Matt ran his gaze over his father’s frail form. He seemed shorter, narrower, definitely not the same big man who’d doggedly bullied Matt over schoolwork, how he rode a horse or mucked the stables. Sometimes Wallace had scared the crap out of him.
Funny, he thought, watching the drool slip from a corner of Wallace’s open mouth, he’d been worried his hatred of the man would seep out like venom in front of Nikki. But Matt actually felt pity seeing him lie there, his life nothing but a wasteland. The letter Matt had received from his mother’s friend about Wallace being sick hadn’t mentioned the diagnosis. Matt assumed it was either cancer or cirrhosis, but he didn’t know.
Hell, maybe the booze helped dull the pain.
Cursing at himself, Matt scooped the fallen magazines off the floor and tossed them onto the oak coffee table. What the hell was he doing making excuses for the old drunk? That logic didn’t wash anyway. He’d been a drinker since Matt was a small kid.
He glanced around at the used glasses and opened mail that littered the desk and table. Obviously it was Lucy’s day off or the place would’ve been tidier. He was kind of glad since he would’ve hurt her feelings by not calling ahead. No sense in him cleaning up. He wouldn’t bring Nikki in here, not with Wallace passed out like this. Matt wanted the man sober, clearheaded enough that he might use the chance to do right by Nikki and give her some answers.
After closing the office door, Matt surveyed the family room, then stuck his head in the kitchen. The rest of the house seemed okay. He doubted anyone had recently used the guest room where he planned on putting Nikki. Knowing Lucy, she kept it dusted, and if not, the room would still be better than the dingy one-bedroom apartment Nikki called home.
He walked outside to where his truck waited in front of the house. The sky was getting dark and he couldn’t see Nikki through the tinted windows, but he knew she was there. She wouldn’t have gotten out of the cab.
To the left of the barn the long rectangular bunkhouse was lit up. It was suppertime for the men, which had been part of Matt’s arrival plan. Several hired hands had been with the Lone Wolf for over twenty years. They knew their jobs, and Wallace left them alone. Matt liked one of the old-timers in particular, but he hadn’t wanted to run into anyone before he’d seen Wallace.
Nikki cracked the door open when he got close. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice nervous. “You were gone a long time.”
“Sorry,” he said glancing at his watch.
“So? Are we staying or leaving?”
“Staying.” He opened the back door of the extended cab to get their bags.
He noticed her gaze stray toward the house, but she didn’t make a move to get out. He’d turned on a foyer lamp but he should’ve flipped on a couple more. The place was big, two and a half stories, with lots of natural stone and wood, and looking eerie in the dusky twilight. It was a well-built home constructed in the 1920s after the original log cabin burned to the ground.
“What did he say about you being here?” she asked, pushing the door open all the way.
“He’s asleep.” He paused. “Maybe drunk.” Matt yanked out the small duffel he’d brought, annoyed at himself for pussyfooting around the truth. But unlike his mother, he wasn’t trying to protect Wallace. Matt sighed. It wasn’t like she wouldn’t know…. “He is drunk. Doubt he’ll be waking up anytime soon.”
She stared at the house, still gripping the door handle. “We can’t just go in there.”
“Yeah, we can. It’s my house, too.” He almost added it was equally hers, but she didn’t like hearing anything to do with the Trust or her being a Gunderson. “We’ll get you settled in the guest room, then put something together for dinner. We’ll have the kitchen to ourselves.” He saw how thrilled she was with that idea. “Or go eat at the diner in town. Up to you.”
She quietly closed her door and reached around him for the bag of bread, cold cuts and cheese they’d bought at the Food Mart. “I’m not hungry, but I vote we go out.”
“Okay.”
