Two of the children, a girl and a boy, had been born after Sky’s arrival. Years later, hoping to save at least one of them, Sky had invited the boy to come to work on the Rimrock. But the intervention had come too late. Lute had proved as rotten as the others.
As for the girl . . .
Sky’s thoughts scattered as he stepped into the hospital waiting room. Bernice, looking like she’d aged ten years, w
as dozing in the rocker, her knitting in a tumble on the floor. The poor woman had been here ever since Jasper was brought in. She needed to go home and get some rest.
Scooping up the yarn and knitting needles, Sky laid them gently in her lap. She opened her pale eyes. “Oh, hullo,” she mumbled. “Is it daytime yet?”
“Yes, and I’m here to drive you home,” Sky said. “How’s Jasper?”
“All right, I think. He had some pain in the night. But they gave him some pills that seemed to help. When I looked in on him early this morning he was sleeping like a baby.”
“What do you say we go check on him? Then we can head home.” Sky helped her to stand. He could have gone to see Jasper alone, but he knew Bernice wouldn’t leave until she was sure her brother was all right.
She took his arm as they moved down the hall. They found Jasper sound asleep. His color was good, the oxygen mask replaced by a tube with a clip. Bernice tiptoed to his bedside and touched his hand, as if to reassure herself that her brother was still warm. Turning, she gave Sky a tired smile. “We can go now,” she said.
In the truck she was quiet. “He’ll be all right, Bernice,” Sky said. “Your brother is one tough old cowboy.”
“I know that. But we can’t all be tough forever.”
“How come Jasper never had a family? I’ve wondered, but I never asked. Figured that was his own business.”
“His sweetheart died—drowned in a flood three days before their wedding. Pretty little thing—Sally was her name. Jasper never got over her. But he has a family—Will and Beau, you and me, Erin, and everyone on the ranch. That’s his family.”
Ignoring the tightness in his throat, Sky swung the truck onto the main highway. “Did you know Will and Beau’s mother?” he asked.
“I never did. She died a few weeks before I came to cook and take care of the boys. You know how it happened, don’t you?”
Sky had heard the story—how Bull’s wife, Susan, had been driving home from town and blown a front tire on her car. Out of control, she’d crossed the median into the path of a speeding semi-truck and died in the crash.
“And Bull—I know he never remarried. Were there other women in his life?” Sky sensed he’d strayed onto dangerous ground.
“Not that I know of. When I met him he was still half-crazy with grief.” Bernice shook her head. “Jasper told me a little about Bull’s wife. She was from quality folk back East. They disinherited her when she married Bull, but the two of them were too much in love to care. I don’t think Bull ever got over losing her.”
“I see.” Sky sank into silence. He wouldn’t be asking Jasper any more questions about Bull and his mother. He already knew the answers. Marie Joslyn Fletcher had been there when Bull needed a woman. When he was done using her, he’d walked away without a thought.
Had his mother been in love with the grieving rancher? But why even wonder? The past was dead and couldn’t be changed. And Sky had more pressing concerns in the here and now. Like the knife he’d found and the story behind it—a story he was duty bound to share with Will and Beau. He would tell them tonight, before things got any more complicated than they already were.
Glancing over at Bernice, he saw that she’d fallen sound asleep.
Bernice had offered to cook supper that night, but Will and Beau insisted that she put her feet up and take it easy. They could drive into Blanco Springs for burgers and shakes.
“Come with us, Sky,” Will said as they walked out to the truck. “I’ll be dropping Beau at Natalie’s after we eat, and then picking up Erin at Tori’s place, so it won’t be a long night. But it’ll be a nice break.”
Sky could’ve warmed some leftover chili in his own small kitchen, but an evening in town did sound like a good idea. And it would give him a chance to tell the brothers about the pocketknife. They might wonder why he hadn’t told them earlier. For that there was just one honest excuse—he’d needed time to think.
Blanco Springs, the county seat, was a twenty-minute drive from the ranch. Its population of 3,082 souls, not counting those who lived on surrounding farms, was served by a gas station and garage; an old-fashioned movie theatre; a grocery store; the Burger Shack, which served sandwiches, shakes, and pizza; and the Blue Coyote, which welcomed cowboys, truckers, and anyone else old enough to drink. Will’s ex-wife, Tori, a lawyer, lived in Blanco. So did Beau’s fiancée, Natalie, who had her veterinary practice there.
Sky had thought about telling his story in the truck. But with the oversized tires rumbling over the rough asphalt and the radio blaring country music, serious conversation wasn’t worth the effort. He would have to wait for the restaurant.
Even for a weeknight, the Burger Shack was quiet. The three ordered cheeseburgers with fries and shakes at the counter and took a seat in one of the empty booths. In the interval while they waited for their meals, Sky drew the folded knife out of his pocket, laid it on the red Formica tabletop, and forced himself to speak.
“I’ve been waiting for the right time to show you this. It was lying on the ground, close to the place where Jasper was shot.”
Will picked up the knife, frowning as he examined it. “Looks like something a kid might have dropped. Are you thinking it has something to do with our shooter?”
“Turn it over,” Sky said. “Look at the initials on the back.”