letter.
Then he’d had to wait until the weather broke before making the trek all the way to Iowa, as well as find someone to take care of the herd and the ranch, and all the while he tried to prepare for all he’d find here.
“Brett?”
He turned, and the burning in his throat increased. “Jesse.”
“I knew it was you, Brett,” his younger brother said. “I saw you ride past the feed store. You looked so much like Pa I couldn’t move for a minute or two.”
Words were stuck in the fire in Brett’s gullet, so he simply stepped forward, folded his arms around his brother’s shoulders. The hug helped, on the inside for sure, and when he stepped back, he ruffled the black hair on Jesse’s head. “You’ve grown, kid.”
Jesse shrugged and shifted his gangly legs. “I was only ten when you left.”
Brett nodded, but had to turn as the empty space with new grass pulled at him. He and Jesse had shared a room in the house that was no longer there.
“I tried, Brett. I tried to help them both, but—”
“I know, Jess,” he said, hooking an arm around his brother’s neck. “I know.” Ester’s letter had told him how his father died trying to get the animals out of the barn, and his mother trying to get his father out, and how people had to hold Jesse back from going in after both of them.
“You wanna see where they’re buried?”
Did he? If he didn’t see the grave, he might be able to imagine they still lived here, in the town he’d come to loathe. “Sure, kid,” he answered. It would be best, because once he left Cutter’s Corner this time, he’d never be back.
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