Page 107

Nobody answered immediately.

Every Ranger on the roof had known Ranger.

He had been with Trigger before Eagle River, before the tavern, before any of us knew whether we could build lives outside the Army.

Ranger had died saving us.

Trigger rubbed one hand across his jaw.

“I keep expecting him to be here.”

“He is,” Wolf said.

Trigger looked at him.

“Every time you protect one of us before yourself.”

Trigger’s gaze returned to the window.

Max watched him.

“Max isn’t Ranger,” I said.

“I know.”

“But he understands the job.”

Trigger nodded.

“I’m glad he came with you.”

“So am I.”

Judy stood a few feet away.

She didn’t interrupt.

She understood the moment didn’t belong to her.

That told me more about the woman she had become than any story Rylie could have shared.

We returned to the bedroom after Will collected the fishing string and the plastic holder.

Judy examined the photograph beneath a portable light.

The picture showed Trigger and Rylie sleeping in their house.

A quilt covered them from the waist down. Morning sunlight entered through the window.

“This wasn’t taken recently,” Rylie said.

“How can you tell?” Judy asked.

“The quilt. We put it away when the weather got warm.”

“What month?”

“March. Maybe early April.”