wasn’t going to come true.
The thought sent a shiver through his body, and Sage felt it.
“Are you cold?” she asked, pulling her head back.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” She rubbed his forearms. “Because I have an extra sweater on. I’m boiling hot, you can have it—”
“I’m fine, Sage,” he said again, trying to keep the weariness out of his voice. It tired him out to have her trying to make him so happy all the time. Especially because he knew that before too many more days, he was going to let her down. He thought of library books, soccer balls, milk shakes. He thought of cheerleaders calling their stupid cheers, teachers yelling for quiet in the halls. He heard his mom’s voice asking him whether he wanted pepperoni or sausage on their pizza.
Ben Davis thought of all those normal things, and then he looked around the dark freight car and realized that all he’d had to eat for nearly two days was beef jerky and gorp. He knew that this wasn’t his real life, that Sage Tucker would never be his wife, that he thought of the child inside her as a mistake, not someone he wanted to live on a ranch with. Holding the trembling girl in his arms, he still felt love, and in that moment Ben learned something terrible: that love wasn’t always enough.
Chapter Six
T he bar was dark and smoky, and Loretta Lynn was singing on the jukebox. Elk horns hung from every single inch of the wall, and license plates from all fifty states dangled by wires. James stood alone, drinking a beer. The couple beside him was fighting, snarling like wildcats. Wilton Stickley, a rancher from down south, had laid his health insurance card on the bar, atop his pile of money.
“What’re you doing there, Wilton?” James asked. “Planning on getting carted off to the hospital tonight?”
“Nope.” Wilton smoothed down his bushy mustache. “Got my reasons.”
James nodded. He had come to the Stagecoach Tavern that night to drink beer and get away from his own thoughts. Lately his mind had been a bad neighborhood, dangers lurking in every corner. Blame, guilt, resentment, and recriminations. Worrying about the herd not having enough water got him thinking about others he’d let down, failed to provide for.
A young woman James hadn’t seen before walked over, stood between him and Wilton. She had strong shoulders under her fringed suede jacket, a long blond braid hanging halfway down her back. When she stood close, James could smell her perfume, and he found himself leaning closer so he could smell it more.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” James said.
“Buy you a beer?” Wilton asked.
The woman smiled, turned back to James. Although he hadn’t made the offer, he pushed five dollars across the bar and told Joe to pour her a draft. She took the mug in her hands and took a long drink. Her eyes fell on Wilton’s insurance card, and she gave Wilton a closer look. Life was hard out here, and ranch life didn’t come with comprehensive health plans. Thanking James for the beer, she drifted toward the pool table.
“Usually works like a charm,” Wilton said.
“You figure you let them know you’re covered and they’ll want to marry you?” James asked.
“At least for tonight.” Wilton gave a big grin.
James nodded, went back to his beer. He’d come to town because he felt like talking, hearing some laughter, but now that he was here, he wasn’t at all sure he wanted to stay. His work held him apart from others, and sometimes he felt that solitude had gotten into his bones.
No one except Daisy had ever gotten it out of him, he thought. But thinking of Daisy never did him any good anymore, so he twisted toward the pool tables and looked at the blonde, who was still smiling at him.
James had always gone his own way, even among all the people on the ranch. He needed the meadows of sweet grass and riotous wildflowers, the massive mountains of craggy red rocks against blindingly blue sky. He needed a lot of open
The thought sent a shiver through his body, and Sage felt it.
“Are you cold?” she asked, pulling her head back.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” She rubbed his forearms. “Because I have an extra sweater on. I’m boiling hot, you can have it—”
“I’m fine, Sage,” he said again, trying to keep the weariness out of his voice. It tired him out to have her trying to make him so happy all the time. Especially because he knew that before too many more days, he was going to let her down. He thought of library books, soccer balls, milk shakes. He thought of cheerleaders calling their stupid cheers, teachers yelling for quiet in the halls. He heard his mom’s voice asking him whether he wanted pepperoni or sausage on their pizza.
Ben Davis thought of all those normal things, and then he looked around the dark freight car and realized that all he’d had to eat for nearly two days was beef jerky and gorp. He knew that this wasn’t his real life, that Sage Tucker would never be his wife, that he thought of the child inside her as a mistake, not someone he wanted to live on a ranch with. Holding the trembling girl in his arms, he still felt love, and in that moment Ben learned something terrible: that love wasn’t always enough.
Chapter Six
T he bar was dark and smoky, and Loretta Lynn was singing on the jukebox. Elk horns hung from every single inch of the wall, and license plates from all fifty states dangled by wires. James stood alone, drinking a beer. The couple beside him was fighting, snarling like wildcats. Wilton Stickley, a rancher from down south, had laid his health insurance card on the bar, atop his pile of money.
“What’re you doing there, Wilton?” James asked. “Planning on getting carted off to the hospital tonight?”
“Nope.” Wilton smoothed down his bushy mustache. “Got my reasons.”
James nodded. He had come to the Stagecoach Tavern that night to drink beer and get away from his own thoughts. Lately his mind had been a bad neighborhood, dangers lurking in every corner. Blame, guilt, resentment, and recriminations. Worrying about the herd not having enough water got him thinking about others he’d let down, failed to provide for.
A young woman James hadn’t seen before walked over, stood between him and Wilton. She had strong shoulders under her fringed suede jacket, a long blond braid hanging halfway down her back. When she stood close, James could smell her perfume, and he found himself leaning closer so he could smell it more.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” James said.
“Buy you a beer?” Wilton asked.
The woman smiled, turned back to James. Although he hadn’t made the offer, he pushed five dollars across the bar and told Joe to pour her a draft. She took the mug in her hands and took a long drink. Her eyes fell on Wilton’s insurance card, and she gave Wilton a closer look. Life was hard out here, and ranch life didn’t come with comprehensive health plans. Thanking James for the beer, she drifted toward the pool table.
“Usually works like a charm,” Wilton said.
“You figure you let them know you’re covered and they’ll want to marry you?” James asked.
“At least for tonight.” Wilton gave a big grin.
James nodded, went back to his beer. He’d come to town because he felt like talking, hearing some laughter, but now that he was here, he wasn’t at all sure he wanted to stay. His work held him apart from others, and sometimes he felt that solitude had gotten into his bones.
No one except Daisy had ever gotten it out of him, he thought. But thinking of Daisy never did him any good anymore, so he twisted toward the pool tables and looked at the blonde, who was still smiling at him.
James had always gone his own way, even among all the people on the ranch. He needed the meadows of sweet grass and riotous wildflowers, the massive mountains of craggy red rocks against blindingly blue sky. He needed a lot of open
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