Peg stood still by the doorway, watching him as he squirted dish soap into the water and piled dishes on the counter next to him. He glanced back at her. Worry creased her lined face, and she tapped one hand against her arm testily.
“We all just do our best, Colt,” she said after a moment. “Age doesn’t give any great wisdom. You young people expect us to have the answers, but we don’t. Sometimes we mess up royally, like Beau did. But I knew he meant well.”
“It’s not enough, though, is it?” he said. “Josh is still dead.”
Peg sighed. “One day you’ll be old, too, Colt. And you’ll understand then. It won’t matter what the younger generations expect from you, you’ll only be able to be yourself. With all your limitations intact.”
“You think I should forgive Beau,” he said.
“Yes,” she said simply. “And while you’re at it, I think you should forgive yourself.”
Peg turned and left the room, and Colt stood motionless for a moment, her words sinking in. Maybe she was right. Wasn’t this what he’d been saying all along—that he couldn’t change who he was or the family he’d come from? Even age didn’t seem to improve what this family could offer.
Beau had messed things up, but that could just as easily be Colt. Listening to Jane talk, Josh was just as screwed up as the rest of them. So why did this bother him afresh? He’d already decided not to inflict himself on a wife and kids.
But it did bug him. Because now when he allowed himself a tiny glimpse of a future with a family, he found Jane’s face in his mind. And that was ridiculous. She’d already been let down by one man in this family, and Colt couldn’t claim to be any better.
Lord, keep me grounded, he silently prayed.
Colt’s cell phone rang, and he dried his hands then picked it up.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Colt? This is Bruce Armson, up the road.”
“Bruce,” Colt said. “How are you?”
“Not bad. How are you holding up?” Bruce asked.
“I’m okay. I’ve inherited the ranch, if you hadn’t heard.”
“I did, actually,” Bruce admitted. “Word travels fast. Your uncle made the right choice, in my opinion. I was calling because I have a proposition for you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“There’s a strip of land that butts up against mine, and I’ve wanted to own it for some time now. Beau never did want to sell, but I was wondering if you might be of a different mind than he was?”
“Wait...” Colt mentally swept over the land in his mind. There was a strip of land between Bruce’s fields and a stream, and Colt was familiar with it. He’d spent a good amount of his boyhood on that land building a tree house with Josh. “I know the land you’re talking about, but I’m not sure I’m interested in selling it.”
“I’m not looking to rip you off here,” Bruce said, and then named a price. Colt’s breath caught in his throat.
“Say that again?”
Bruce obliged. “What do you say?”
It was enough money to pay Jane for the cattle. He wouldn’t have to accrue any more debt than he already carried, and that would be a real blessing right about now. It would solve his main problem, which was buying his cattle back from Jane. But he couldn’t quite agree to it—not yet.
“I’ll have to think it over, Bruce,” he said. “But I’m thinking real seriously about it. Trust me.”
“Glad to hear that. Call me when you’ve made up your mind either way.”
“Will do. Take care now.”
Colt hung up the phone and put it down on the counter next to him. He hadn’t been back to the tree house in more than a decade, and he wasn’t even sure what was left of it. But selling it—it felt like another betrayal.
From deep in the house, he could hear a woman’s voice softly singing. He couldn’t make out the words, but he recognized a lullaby and he stopped short, listening. That would be Jane singing to her daughters, and the tune was so wistful and haunting that it seemed to wrap around his chest like a vise.
Once upon a time, everything had been relatively simple. It had been him and Mom, and they’d taken care of each other. All he’d wanted was to make a little extra money so his mom wouldn’t have to worry about the bills so much. Just his daily bread—that’s what he’d prayed for.
When he’d built that tree house with his cousin, they used to talk about the future they’d have when they were both man enough to make a difference. Colt’s dreams had all surrounded providing for his mother. He’d buy her a house one day. He’d get her a shiny pickup truck that wouldn’t break down. He’d pay all her bills so that she wouldn’t have to worry anymore. When he was grown up, his family would be different. His kids would be happy. He’d be nice to his wife...
Now that Colt had this ranch, it wasn’t quite so simple anymore. He was in debt, his options were limited, and every choice he made seemed to bring him closer and closer to becoming just like his uncle. Sometimes a man didn’t choose a destructive path—sometimes he stumbled onto it without even realizing it. His boyhood longing to fix it all was just a naive fantasy. Now that he’d finally grown up, he’d simply joined the mess.
Chapter Eight
Jane dug through the suitcase and came up with two little matching church dresses. They’d been a baby shower gift, and when she’d seen the toddler sizes next to her tiny newborns, she’d thought they would never fit. Now she was grateful for the older woman’s foresight in including a few larger sizes in the pile of clothes she’d given Jane.
“Whoops! Where are you going?”
Jane jogged after Suzie, who’d made a diaper-clad escape down the hallway, and carried her back into the bedroom. She shut the door tightly behind her and put the toddler down next
