“Austin’s my middle name,” I explained.
“Ah. I’m Sylvester. Welcome to the Circle-K.” He glanced at Joe, who was still grinning my way, and a little of the chill went out of him. “I’m sure Joe’s glad to see you. Cowboy, you catch up with Frankie— Austin. Show him and his hubby to their suite and I’ll greet the next arrivals.” His hand on the small of Joe’s back in passing made no secret of what they were to each other. I was happy for Joe, as long as Sylvester was warmer than we’d seen so far.
“Come on,” Joe said. “We can put your bags in your suite and then I’ll show you the place, if you’re interested.”
“I’d love to,” I said. “Seth and I actually run a dude operation in California, so fair warning, I’m going to steal all your secrets.”
“Yeah?” Joe looked back at me as he led us inside. “You stuck with ranching, then. I’m glad. You had a good touch with the livestock. Here, up the stairs and second on the left. This is you two.”
We dumped our bags inside the door of our room, which was fancier than anything I’d ever stayed in, and then took Joe up on his promise to show us the barn. We descended a back staircase and out into a well-tended barnyard. “We don’t run much livestock here,” Joe said. “Just forty head of beefs for show for the dudes. So if the cows look like rejects, don’t judge us.”
I stopped, eyeing a gorgeous black gelding in the paddock. “I might judge you on your horses, though. He’s a beauty.”
“Donner. Friesian-Quarter Horse cross. He’s a good one.” Joe led us inside the barn where a row of pretty heads turned his way, nickering for attention. Sylvester stood in the aisle and glanced over but kept fiddling with a door latch. Joe turned to Seth. “I don’t know how much Fra… Austin’s told you about his dad, back in the day.”
“Enough to know the man belongs behind bars, like he is,” Seth said.
“So you guys do know he got convicted this fall.” Joe took off his hat and ran a hand over his blond hair, which he wore longer than I’d ever seen it. “Did you look up how that shit went down, his arrest and all?”
“Not really,” I said, a little chill hitting me. “Just enough to see Dad was the asshole he’s always been. I didn’t want to read about him.”
“Exactly. He was an asshole before you left, and an asshole afterward. Nothing your dad ever did was your fault, okay?”
“You’re making me nervous.” I stepped closer to Seth, and he put an arm around me.
Joe grimaced. “I don’t aim to. Just figure I should tell you the truth and make sure it doesn’t worry you none.”
“That’s clear as mud.” Anxiety sharpened my voice.
Sylvester put down his toolbox and came over to us. “What I think Joe’s trying to say is that you should know your dad went to prison for trying to burn down our barn, but it’s not your fault.”
“Dad what?” I flinched. “Here? Joe’s barn?”
“Yes, but like I said,” Joe told me, “he was never a fan of mine. He beat me up a couple of times long before you ran, and once after. You’d been gone ten years when he drove out here and made a stupid try at using a torch on the side of our barn.”
“Did he hurt you? Hurt anyone?” My heart pounded at the thought of Dad bringing violence and mayhem with him here, to this sanctuary.
“Nah. Scared the horses a bit, but not even any injuries there. I wouldn’t have mentioned what he did, but if you’re gonna be in town, someone will make sure to tell you. Small town, y’know? Been a year since the fire and it’s still hot gossip.” Joe grinned and the expression didn’t seem fake. “If he’d wanted to rally the community behind ourass-fuckin’ queer-loving dude ranch, he couldn’t have done better. Barn-burning does not go over well around here.”
Sylvester nodded. “Your dad wasn’t popular to begin with, and even folks who were unhappy about us being queer-friendly didn’t want to stand behind him after that. He did us a favor, in a way. Don’t worry.”
“Okay. Uh, thanks.” I had a hard time believing that Dad’s feud with Joe had nothing to do with me, though. I stared up at him, trying to read his face. “He really didn’t give you a hard time about that truck?”
Joe shrugged. “Well, a little. Sheriff Breyer made sure it didn’t get out of hand. Morse hated my queer ass for plenty of other stuff besides you.”
Sylvester said, “He pulled me over on a dark road and tried to jerk me around with a fake drunk-driving charge. He’s an all-purpose homophobic asshole. But he’s in jail for years now, and Breyer told him not to think about living in Dover’s Ridge again when he does get out.”
“That’s good,” Seth suggested.
“Yep.” Joe nodded, his eyes on me. “I’m purely fucking glad to see you alive and in one piece.”
Guilt twinged me. “I should’ve tried to get in touch. Especially since I had your truck. I’m sorry.”
Joe waved me down. “No worries. Especially back then. I knew you needed to disappear. I was just scared that I hadn’t given you enough of a head start to survive on.”
“You did.” I took a step forward to meet Joe’s gray eyes. “That truck saved my life. I’m not shitting you. Took me all the way to California and dropped me on Seth’s doorstep. Kept me alive in freezing weather, and worked two more years after that, till her electronics finally gave up the ghost.”
“I wouldn’t have given it two months,” Joe said. “Hunk of junk when I signed it over to you.”
