them, and sat on the edge of the desk. “You look good, buddy. You must be drinking more of that wheatgrass juice you made me taste last time I came up to the cabin.”
It had probably been two months since that visit, but if Gabe resented the neglect, he didn’t let on. “There’re more vitamins and minerals in a tablespoon of wheatgrass juice than—”
“I know—a whole grocery sack of fresh vegetables,” Mike broke in, chuckling. “And I still couldn’t force it down.”
Gabe’s eyes swept over him. “From what I can see, you’re doing okay without it. For an old guy.”
Two years younger, Gabe had skipped a couple of grades in school and always teased him about his age.
“Forty’s right around the corner,” Mike said, “and you’re not the only one who won’t let me forget it. Josh has been giving me hell for months. So what brings you out to the ranch on such an ugly day?”
Gabe’s eyes cut to the window, where snow was falling so thickly Mike could barely make out the barn.
“The roads aren’t impassable yet. But your driveway could use some shoveling. How do you expect a cripple like me to get around?”
The way he tried to make light of his situation made Mike more uncomfortable. Gabe’s body had been his whole life. Now he was a broken man, could never be fixed, and was living out in the hills like some kind of hermit.
“You seem to get anywhere you want,” he said, which was true. If Gabe didn’t go out much, it wasn’t because he couldn’t.
He shrugged. “I manage. Especially when I have a good reason.”
“Sounds like something’s up.”
“I wanted to tell you that my dad’s running for Congress in the next election.”
“Really?” Mike nearly stood at this news, but remained sitting on the corner of his desk to lessen the height difference between them. He hated towering above Gabe when Gabe was really taller by a couple of inches. “That’s great. He’s got the background for it. He’s been a state senator for…what? Nine years now?”
“Ten, but it’ll still be a tough race. Butch Boyle’s been in office forever.”
“An incumbent is always difficult to beat. But your father’s well respected in this state. I think he has a good chance.”
“We need some new blood in there. Butch’s been in Washington so long I don’t think he remembers he’s from Idaho.”
Mike had to agree. He’d never been impressed with Congressman Boyle. But Mike would’ve supported Gabe even if Gabe had just announced that his father was running for President of the United States. This was the first sense of purpose he’d felt in his friend since the car accident.
“Fund-raising’s critical,” Gabe continued. “That’s the other reason I’m here. I was hoping you’d help me.”
“If you’re asking me to contribute, you know I will.” Mike leaned over and shuffled through some papers on his desk, looking for his checkbook, but Gabe’s voice stopped him.
“I was hoping you’d be willing to do a little more than give me a donation.”
Mike raised his eyebrows. “What, for instance?”
“I’d like you to put together a committee. I want to meet with Conner Armstrong and the rest of the investors in the Running Y Resort, and Josh and your uncles and a few other folks in town.”
“You don’t need me for that.”
“Actually, I do. I’m not sure they’ll take an ex-football player seriously enough.”
Mike suspected Gabe meant they might not take a crippled ex-football player seriously enough. No one thought Gabe any less of a man now than he was before, but Mike didn’t bother trying to convince Gabe of that. He knew from experience that Gabe wouldn’t listen. “Boise is where the money’s at, not here.”
“Boise is split between the two congressional districts. We’ve got the more conservative part, which we’ll probably lose to Boyle,” Gabe said. “As far as grassroots efforts go, we’re going to have to do what we can here and up in the panhandle.”
Mike rubbed his chin. He’d shaved when he got up this morning, but he could already feel the whiskers that would create a shadow across his jaw by dinnertime. “What kind of money are we talking?”
“Half a million, at least. I’m sure Boyle can easily raise that much, what with Political Action Committees and donations from the timber industry.”
“We can’t raise half a million from private individuals, no matter how successful our grassroots efforts are,” Mike said. “We live in a state that’s nearly half-rural.”
“I realize that. But there are other avenues.”
“Like…”
“The American Federation of Teachers, the American Federation of State, County, and Municipal Employees, the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers, the Teamsters Union…”
“You’ve been doing your homework.”
Gabe gave him a rare smile. “Damn right.”
Mike considered the request. Maybe getting involved in Garth Holbrook’s campaign would give him and Gabe something in common again, help them both adjust to who and what Gabe was now.
“Sure,” he said. “Josh is out of town with Rebecca for a few days, an early Christmas present. But I’ll set up an appointment with him, Conner and the other Running Y investors as soon as he gets back.”
LUCKY LEANED against the wall of her old bedroom and rubbed an itch on her forehead with the back of her hand. She’d been knocking down cobwebs and sweeping out the house all morning and didn’t want to touch her face with her fingers. The physical exertion of cleaning helped her stay warm, so she’d kept at it while waiting for the snow to let up. But it was already noon and the weather didn’t seem likely to change any time soon. If she wasn’t careful she could get stranded out here another night.
She was determined not to let that happen, but she didn’t have too many options. There wasn’t any cell phone service because of the surrounding mountains. She was fifteen miles from town and didn’t have anything remotely resembling a shovel with which to dig her car out of the snow. And Mike Hill was her only neighbor.
Mike Hill… God, she couldn’t ask him for help! He’d always resented her, and she’d—
She’d nothing. Most of the time, she didn’t even exist for him. It was better to pretend he’d never existed for her, either.
Deciding there wasn’t anything she could do until it stopped snowing, she headed downstairs for her suitcase so she could hang up a few of her nicer clothes. She’d packed carefully, filling her bags to maximum capacity just in case she stayed awhile, but her belongings were no longer neat and tidy. After Mike had left last night, she had trouble getting warm again and she’d rummaged through them, searching
