Sunrise Canyon (New Americana 1)

Dusty squeezed her hand. “All right. I can see how much this matters to you. Give me a pull up and I’ll head out to the stable. Maybe Jake would go for a ride into town.”

* * *

Jake shimmed a cedar shingle into the empty slot, positioned the nail and drove it down with a couple of solid hammer whacks. He’d had roofing jobs before, so he knew what to do. The work was hot and physically hard, but it didn’t demand much thinking. Most of the time, that was all right. But today he would cheerfully beat his head with the hammer if it would blot out the question that played and replayed in his mind in a loop that wouldn’t stop.

Had Wendy been pregnant when she died?

If the answer was yes, there was no way the baby could’ve been his. He’d been in Afghanistan for ten months when he was given leave to fly home for the funeral. The baby’s father would have been some other man.

If there even was a baby.

What if he was tormenting himself for nothing? Maybe Wendy had given up drinking because she had a young child to care for. Or maybe she just hadn’t felt like getting drunk with her friends that night. Either way, he had no proof. Since nothing could bring Wendy back, why not give her the benefit of the doubt and move on?

Jake had tried that line of thinking. But his gut instinct argued for guilt. A stunning, vivacious woman with a long-absent husband, lonely and craving some excitement—how could it not have happened? And how could he not have realized it would? What a clueless idiot he’d been.

The hammer crashed down, splitting the wood and barely missing his fingers. He tossed the splintered shingle aside and reached for another. He’d been pounding out his frustration on the roof all afternoon, but it hadn’t helped. He could feel his anger simmering, heating to rage, building toward an explosion.

“Hey, Jake!” Dusty’s voice, coming from below, was a welcome distraction. “I could use a trip to the hardware store and the bank in Tucson. Want to drive me? There’s a double sirloin burger and a milk shake in it for you.”

“Sure. I could use the break.” Jake secured the bundled shingles and made his way along the sloping roof to the top of the ladder. Since Dusty wasn’t supposed to drive until after his next checkup, it made sense that he’d ask for help. But knowing the old cowboy, Jake suspected he could easily have something more up his sleeve. Jake was prepared to be cautious. But at least the drive might take his mind off Wendy for a couple of hours.

In his cabin, he peeled off his shirt, splashed away the sweat on his face and upper body and pulled a clean black tee over his head. Dusty was waiting in the Jeep when he came outside.

“Thanks for chauffeuring me,” he said as Jake climbed into the driver’s seat. “I do have errands, but mostly I just need to get out. I’m sick of being cooped up like some damn fool ninety-year-old in a rest home.”

“I get that,” Jake said, starting up the vehicle. “I could use a getaway myself. Does Kira know we’re going?”

“I mentioned it to her. She’s fine with it.” Something in his tone roused Jake’s suspicion that Kira might have put her grandfather up to this trip. If that was the case, he could probably expect more lobbying for him to stay.

He would listen out of respect, Jake resolved, but it wouldn’t make any difference. He had already made up his mind to leave—the sooner, the better. This place was a minefield of complications and entanglements, all threatening to catch him, hold him and tie him down. It was time he moved on.

They drove out the side gate and down the road through the foothills. The afternoon sun, coming from the west, was so bright that Jake had to lower the visor to shield his eyes. But the clouds rolling in above the distant city were dark. Rain, maybe, he thought.

They made small talk on the way to Tucson. In town, Jake picked up more roofing supplies at the Home Depot and piled them in the back of the Jeep while Dusty waited. The bank stop was a drive-through, where Dusty cashed a check.

“Is there anything else you need?” Jake asked the old man.

“I could use a good, rare steak, if you’re up for it,” Dusty said. “You treated me to dinner in Flagstaff. Today it’s my turn.”

“I bought you a burger,” Jake said. “And that’s what you promised me today.”

“Well, I lied.” Dusty’s blue eyes twinkled. “Consuelo’s a fine cook, but for her, the only way to serve meat is well-done. So I sneak into town when I get a craving for the good red stuff. I hope you won’t deny me the pleasure of sharing.”

“You’re sure it’s all right with your doctor?”

“He said I could eat anything that didn’t eat me first.”

Laughing, Jake gave in. He liked a good steak himself, and it had been a long time since he’d had one. “Show me the way,” he said.

They drove to a rustic steak house on the way out of town. Dusty said he’d tried it before and the food was excellent. Something told Jake he was being softened up for whatever the old cowboy had in mind, but he’d already agreed to this. Might as well enjoy it and deal with the consequences later.

The restaurant was quiet at this hour, and the hostess showed them to a booth. After asking Jake, Dusty ordered two rib eyes, his own rare and Jake’s medium rare, with salads and loaded baked potatoes. They were buttering their hot sourdough rolls when Dusty cleared his throat.

“I’ve never been one to beat around the bush,” he said. “Kira?

??s been worried about you the past couple of days. She’s got me a little worried, too. Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine,” Jake lied. He’d be damned if he was going to share his suspicions about Wendy with her grandfather.