“Sounds like your secret’s out already.”
“This way,” he said, pointing toward the woods.
A ten-minute walk later, Red stopped at the edge of a tributary of the Salmon River.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.
The water was high, and a deep shade of blue. The grasses along its edge were green, but not as dark in color as the pine trees that rose above them on either side of the water. The same breeze Bree felt on her face, moved the clouds quickly across the blue Idaho sky. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, remembering the last time she fished in an area not far from here.
“How long you been fishin’?” Red asked.
“Since before college. About ten years. It was something my husband and I used to do together.”
“But not anymore?”
“My husband was…” Bree’s eyes filled with tears.
Red held up his hand. “You don’t need to say another word, young lady.”
Bree shook her head. “It’s okay. I’m not used to talking about it. My husband was in the Air Force. He was killed in Afghanistan last year.”
Red closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. “I lost my brother in Vietnam. Never got over it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I am too. War is hell. There’s nothing that describes it better. I miss him every day, even after all these years.”
“I understand,” she said softly, thankful to talk about his grief rather than her own. Bree closed her eyes and focused again on the breeze on her face.
“There isn’t a minute that I don’t miss him,” she whispered after a while. The tears were back, but she didn’t try to fight them. She was here to mourn Zack, and she couldn’t keep burying her feelings. She’d never be able to move on if she didn’t allow herself to acknowledge her pain. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To move on?
“Tell me about him.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Your young man, tell me about him.”
Bree took a deep breath. She hadn’t planned to talk about Zack to anyone. But if she was going to grieve, she needed to talk about him.
“I met him when I was fifteen,” she began. “At church.”
Jace pulled his phone out of his pocket for the umpteenth time, but he couldn’t bring himself to hit the send button and place the call to Bree. He put it back in his pocket and pulled out a pair of pliers instead. He’d been working on one particular section of fencing all morning, but instead of focusing on what he was doing, his mind was on Bree.
He was just about finished when he saw his father’s truck pull in through the ranch gates. He’d been in Texas, picking up a year-old bull, which had been sired by Little Yellow Jacket, and his dam was Cowgirl Trash. That lineage made the bull worth every penny of the $15,000 they paid for him.
Jace left the fence unfinished and went to meet his father at the barns. With the bull being so young, Jace was more worried about the older bulls picking on him than him being the troublemaker, but you never knew. He’d keep a steady eye on him for the next few hours, and pen him off to himself for tonight, at least.
“Long drive, Daddy?” Jace rested his hand on his father’s shoulder.
“Not too bad. I stopped in Monument, but you already know that, don’t ya?”
“Yeah, I know you did.” Jace walked toward the trailer.
“Hold up, there, a minute,” said Hank. “I want to talk to you.”
“Has anything changed with Tuck?”
Hank hung his head and shook it. “No, Jace. It hasn’t.”