The horses were calm, which meant I could finally let the adrenaline leach out of my system. The dusk cooled intodarkness, and the ranch looked less like a threat and more like what Grandpa probably saw in his mind’s eye when he wrote me that letter. The fields glowed silver in the moonlight; the wind rattled the aspen leaves like someone flipping through a hundred tiny pages.
I stood out there until my fingers went numb and my leg started to stiffen up. I thought about lighting a cigarette—old habit from the sandbox—but figured Jojo would smell it through the window and panic. He was probably still inside, hovering at the table, trying to figure out if he’d made things better or worse.
When I stepped back in, the house was warm, almost too warm, with a blanket of heat from the kitchen that made the air shimmer. Jojo was right where I left him. He’d pulled his knees up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, staring into the middle distance like he expected the table to swallow him whole.
I moved past him, set my keys and wallet on the counter, then leaned against it, arms folded. “You sleep?”
He shook his head. “Not really.”
I kept my tone neutral. “You said you got fired from the bakery.”
He nodded. “Yeah. The owner caught me sleeping in the storeroom, and said it was a bad look for customers. I wasn’t stealing anything. I just—I didn’t have anywhere else.”
I tried to picture it. A scrawny omega kid, sleeping on flour sacks. It pissed me off in a way that was totally irrational, but I didn’t let it show.
“Why not ask the sheriff for help?”
He shrugged, hair falling over his face. “You ever been to Black Butte? They don’t like… people like me.”
I grunted. He had a point. Montana wasn’t exactly a rainbow flag kind of place, especially outside the city limits. “So you found this place.”
“I used to walk by as a kid,” Jojo said, voice low. “My mom worked cleaning houses. She used to say, if I wanted to be safe, find a big house with lots of locks and a fence. I figured, no one lived here, and it was far enough from town that no one would check.”
“You ever run into anyone?”
Jojo shook his head. “A couple of delivery trucks, but I never talked to them. I was careful.” He laced his fingers together, squeezing so hard his knuckles blanched. “I didn’t touch anything I couldn’t fix. I tried to clean up as much as possible.”
“Yeah, I saw.” I looked around. “You do all the repairs yourself?”
His lips pressed together, and he nodded. “Most of it. I watched tutorials. Sometimes I got stuff from the hardware store on credit. I was planning to pay it back if I got another job.”
The kid’s voice was so earnest, so painfully sincere, I almost felt bad for grilling him. Almost.
“So, what’s with the bread?” I asked, nodding at the counter.
He brightened a little. “I made a new starter a few weeks ago. It’s finally good. I figured, if someone ever showed up, I could… I don’t know, offer it. To prove I wasn’t trying to rob the place.”
He said it like it was the most logical thing in the world.
He got up, fidgeted at the counter, then brought over a loaf the color of sunrise, dusted with flour and scored down the middle. He set it on the table with reverence, then stepped back like it might explode.
I tore off a chunk. The crust crunched, the inside was still warm, almost creamy. I bit into it, and my mouth filled with the taste of malt, salt, tang, and something bright. I chewed, then caught Jojo watching me, eyes wide.
“Not bad,” I said.
His shoulders loosened. “Thank you.”
I chewed another piece. “You know, you could make a lot of friends in town with this. Sell it at the market.”
He blushed, which was apparently a thing he did a lot. “I tried once. No one bought it.”
I thought about the Saturday market in Black Butte—old men selling jerky, bored teenagers selling lemonade. Yeah, I could see how they’d give Jojo the cold shoulder.
“You ever run a farm before?” I asked.
“No, but I worked a few. Seasonal jobs. I know how to plant and irrigate. And I can take care of animals. I looked after the neighbor’s goats for a year.”
I grunted approval. “You know what this place is worth?”
