you worked here long?” he asked the foreman.
“About four years.” Hernandez lifted his hat, revealing a balding head. “It’ll be five this coming February.”
“I don’t suppose you recognize me,” Joe said.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“I thought maybe Dave had brought me around,” he told the foreman.
“Not that I’m aware of.”
That shot down his theory, he supposed. Maybe he’d grown up on a ranch. But where?
He scanned the barn again. So why did he have this feeling of déjà vu? Was his scattered brain playing tricks on him? Maybe. Still, Hernandez wasn’t very forthcoming.
“When did Dave join the Marines?” he asked the foreman.
“About two and a half years ago. He and his father had a big falling out over something or other. And Dave enlisted to spite him.”
“What’d they fight about?”
“Almost everything. But that last time was the worst. And I’m sure Dave was sorry about it afterward.”
“You mean joining the corps?”
“Leaving home, mostly. His father died of a heart attack shortly after Dave finished recruit training. And I think Dave blamed himself for it. Last time he was here, to attend his mother’s funeral, he told me he’d be home soon and wouldn’t ever leave again. He asked me to look out for things until he did. But he hasn’t contacted any of us in quite a while.”
No wonder Chloe was eager to read that letter.
And now Joe was even more curious than ever to know what it said. He and Dave might be buddies, but they hadn’t enlisted at the same time. According to what the sheriff had said, Joe had joined five years earlier.
He stroked his chin, felt the stubble of the beard he hadn’t shaved this morning. That shower he’d been meaning to take after he’d taken his morning pain meds was long overdue.
“Well,” he said to Hernandez, “I’m going to head back to the house. If you start making a list of chores you’d like me to do, I’ll get started on them tomorrow.”
“All right. I’ll do that.”
Joe gave Lola’s neck one last stroke, then strode toward the barn door. He hated not knowing anything about himself. And while he continued to get some fleeting thoughts about his character and things he liked or disliked, he had no idea how to cobble them together.
After entering the living room, he took a moment to survey the leather furnishings, the built-in bookshelf in the far wall, the stone fireplace with photos lining the mantel. When he noticed one of a smiling marine in uniform, he made his way to the hearth so he could take a better look.
He lifted the brass frame and studied the fair-haired man’s image. He wished he could say that he recognized him, but he didn’t.
“That’s Dave,” Chloe said.
Joe turned toward her voice. She stood in the doorway that led down the hall to the bedrooms. The moment their gazes met, he felt another stirring—one that was far more appealing than the scent of leather and hay that had provoked his senses in the barn.
“His mother never understood why he’d joined the service in the first place,” Chloe said. “As the only child, the only son, he knew his father expected him to stay on the ranch and take over someday. But I’ve sensed there was more to it than that. I think he had a blowup with his dad, although he never said anything to me about it.”
Joe took another gander at the photo in his hand.
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