It was better not to lie, especially not to Blue. I’d already been lying to him about not knowing who he really was, and that had stopped. I didn’t want to start again.
“Yes,” I said. “There’s something I need to figure out, and the drive to and from town is quiet.”
“I’m noisy,” Blue said, that furrow appearing between his eyebrows. “I’m in your hair. Taking up your space.”
“No,” I said. I went to him and leaned close to kiss him, to inhale his breath. Feel his hands on my shoulders. “You are exactly perfect. I just need a minute.”
“Okay,” he said.
“I should be back by lunch,” I said. Underneath which were all the other things I wanted to say. He kissed me again, the sweetest kiss, rising on his toes, the warmth of his sigh against my cheek.
“Drive safe,” he said, settling back, hands in his pockets, like someone who was very content to be waiting until I returned.
“I will,” I said, and with one last kiss, tiny but sweet, I opened the door and marched across the icy snow to the truck.
CHAPTER 23
wolfe
The surface along Bauer Road and then Frontage Road into Hysham was clear and dry, a welcome sight because even if my hands knew how to drive the way and the truck wheels knew the route, my mind was scattered. I had no doubt, none, as to what I would discover when I got to the feed and grain. But strategic conversation was not my strong suit. I was going to have to do a lot of pretending, but after prison, maybe I wasn’t as bad at that as I wanted to be.
Sunshine glinted off the snow; Russian olive trees poked their scrubby branches above the surface like bony hands, and beyond, toward the river, a scattering of gray-edged cottonwood trees were sleeping until spring. I steered past the Hysham Scale and kept going until I reached the crossing near the feed and grain.
When I pulled to a stop in the cleared parking lot, I was the only person there. Maybe it was too early. Maybe they were closed. The only thing I could do was knock and inquire about the oh-so-necessary tin of leather balm.
The air was sharp on my face when I got out of the truck, a breeze coming from the west. I turned to scan the mountains and, yes, there was a thin line of clouds that might very wellspell bad weather in a day or two. I’d keep an eye out, and in the meanwhile, I had a task set before me. Going up, the door was open, so I went in, shook the cold from my shoulders, and unzipped my parka.
And there, behind the cash register, was the young man with dark hair. When he looked at me, his eyes were green. His name was Jack. It might also be Nimble.
“Can I help you, Mr. Bramwell?” Jack asked, coming over to me, wiping his hands on the back of his jeans.
He was even more sleek and well-cared for than when I’d last seen him, not a ragged, train-grease speckled hobo at all. He had broad shoulders and a ready smile and an easy way about him. As though he trusted that the world would be good to him.
“Yes,” I said, tugging at the sturdy zipper of my parka. I took off my toque and ran my fingers through my hair. Already overheated, I saw the ring on his finger, just as I had during my last visit, and for a dreadful second, I forgot the substance of the lie that had brought me here.
Drawing my eyes back to his face, I said, “I’m looking for a tin of leather wax, if you have any.”
“Doesn’t sound familiar,” Jack-Maybe-Nimble said. “Let me ask. Give me a sec.”
Jack went into the office across the landing. I heard murmured voices and the thump of a cane.
Morgan came out, followed by Jack, and he looked so much better than even the last time I’d seen him, two weeks prior, just like Jack. He was happy. His eyes sparkled with health, and the cane looked like it was being used just-in-case, and not for whole-body support. He was a happy man and, maybe, if I let myself see it, a truly changed man.
“You’re looking for leather wax?” he asked, perfectly polite, a far cry from the first time I’d seen him at Oralee Malone’sfuneral. He’d snarled at me. At everyone. That man was long gone.
“I am,” I said.
“Sadly, we don’t,” Morgan said, looking like he truly meant it. “Can we put in a special order for you?”
Of course, I could order the leather wax online for myself. But ordering it from the feed and grain would put more money into the local economy, of which the feed and grain was the cornerstone.
“Yes, please,” I said. “Any brand will do.” But only because I didn’t actually need any. “Something good.”
“We can do that for you,” Morgan said, with a nod and a slight tap of his cane. “I’ll let you know when it comes in.”
Nothing was written on paper. No money exchanged hands. Which, as I’d learned in the past, was how Oralee had done it. All business on good faith.
“Thank you,” I said, matching his polite tone. Then I forged ahead, girding my loins to find out information I didn’t really want to know, and all because Blue deserved the truth. “Say, Jack,” I said, utterly casual, as though it didn’t really matter, when it did. “Where are you from, anyway?”
