The conversation devolved into increasingly outlandish stories of drunken escapades, each guy trying to top the last. I leaned back against the wall, listening more than participating. Their stories were a lot more fun than mine, anyway. I was never much for partying.
“You know what I miss most about being free?” Darius said suddenly, interrupting Kyle’s tale about stealing a neighbor’s goat while drunk. “Just sitting somewhere, anywhere, and not having someone watching me. Not having to ask permission to take a piss or get a drink of water.”
“Amen to that,” Greg nodded solemnly.
“I miss good food,” Sam chimed in. “Real food, not that processed crap they fed us inside.”
“Women,” Joey sighed dramatically. “I miss women so damn much I can smell perfume in my dreams.”
“What about you, Connor?” Kyle asked, turning to me. “What’d you miss most while you were in?”
I thought about it for a moment. There were the obvious answers—sex, good food, privacy. But what had really eaten at me during those seven years was something different.
“Stars,” I finally said. “Being able to look up and see the whole sky full of stars without bars in the way.” I paused, feeling vulnerable but continuing anyway. “First night out, I just laid on the ground outside the motel and stared up for hours. Couldn’t believe how many there were, how I’d forgotten what they looked like.”
The room went quiet. Then Greg nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough. “I did the same thing.”
For a moment, we were all connected by that shared experience, that moment of rediscovering something so simple yet so profound after having it taken away.
“Well,” Joey said, breaking the silence, “there’ll be plenty of stars at the bonfire. And beer. And maybe even some pretty local girls for Sammy boy here.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “But only the ones I’ve already had my way with. Sloppy seconds for Sammy.”
“You’re a real charmer, Joey,” I said dryly as Sam punched him in the arm.
“What? I’m just stating facts,” Joey laughed, dodging another swing from Sam. “The ladies can’t resist all this.” He gestured to his body, which was average at best, with a sweeping motion that made us all groan.
“Yeah, they can’t resist running in the opposite direction,” Kyle snickered.
I found myself smiling despite my better judgment. These idiots were growing on me, even if I hadn’t meant to let them. There was something comforting about their easy banter, the way they included me without pushing too hard. It reminded me of what life could actually be, what I’d been missing out on for all these years.
“You know what I heard?” Darius leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I heard the Wesley ranch is going under. That they’re gonna be forced to sell or go bankrupt.”
Greg’s head shot up. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Overheard Larry talking to one of the regular hands. Something about bad management by the family.”
“Bullshit,” Joey declared. “Big places like this never go under. They have more money than God.”
“I don’t know,” Kyle mused. “Times are tough for ranchers. My uncle lost his place a few years back. Couldn’t compete with the big corporate outfits.”
The conversation shifted to ranch economics, something I knew next to nothing about. I let their voices wash over me, content to listen. I didn’t really give a shit about this other ranch outside of town, but I couldn’t deny I’d heard whispers of it myself. I’d also heard that the Nelson Ranch had recently undergone some sort of weird transition thanks to a will. But to be honest, I wasn’t paying attention that much. It wasn’t my business.
“Hey, Con,” Sam’s voice broke through my thoughts. “You ever think about what you’re gonna do after? When your parole’s up?”
The question caught me off guard. I’d been so focused on getting through each day that I hadn’t allowed myself to think too far ahead.
“Not really,” I admitted. “Find work somewhere, I guess. Somewhere quiet.”
“I’m going to California,” Sam declared, his eyes bright with youthful determination. “My cousin’s got a body shop out there. Says he can get me work.”
“California’s expensive as hell,” Greg warned. “You’d be better off staying in Montana.”
“No way,” Sam shook his head vehemently. “I need to start fresh. Somewhere nobody knows me. And somewhere that weed is legal.”
I understood that feeling all too well. The weight of your past, always hanging around your neck like an anchor. The weed part I could leave though.
“What about you guys?” I asked, curious now.
Joey stretched his arms overhead. “I’m thinking Alaska. Fishing boats pay good money and don’t ask too many questions about your background.”
