Blake felt his father’s strong arms clench around his shoulders. When had he grown as tall as this man? When had his shoulders grown as broad? He didn’t know, but as his father held him tight soaking in some of the pain and burden he felt, another Father held them both and Blake knew that no matter how old he grew, where he was, or what he did, someone wiser, stronger, and more loving than his own dad would always be at his side. One more time Blake turned his heart to God, giving the pain, fear, and doubt to his Heavenly Father.
Clay eased Blake from the room, one arm wrapped around his son’s shoulders, as Reese slipped back into the sick room. Together the two Allen men headed for the kitchen. A few moments later he was listening to Blake’s tale, while they sipped coffee. A cold shiver ran down his spine as Blake recounted the robbery and shooting all over again, each image growing sharper with the retelling.
“Don’t tell your mother that part,” Clay said, as Blake explained about the possibilities of corruption in the police force, his bright eyes pinning Blake in his chair. “She’ll worry even more.”
Blake nodded as he felt his strength and confidence returning, as if sitting and simply pouring it all out to his father had taken some of the weight from his shoulders. When he had applied to the police academy at the tender age of seventeen, Blake had believed that he served a greater purpose. Now, even with the suffering he had caused, perhaps he had to believe that, perhaps, he had so easily completed his training and moved up the ranks for such a time as this. His status as one of the youngest detectives meant he was unknown to criminals and law officers alike. Perhaps this advantage was what was needed to make a difference in these dark days.
For several long minutes, after his tale had been retold, Clay and Blake sat in companionable silence as they sipped the bitter brew in tin cups. Reese had retreated to the sick room to watch over Darcy, and Blake felt a strange sense of peace in his heart as he relaxed.
“How is everyone?” Blake finally asked, now able to set his troubles aside. “Ma’s well?”
Clay chuckled placing his cup on the table with a soft clink. She’s your ma, sweet, sassy, and still singin’ like an angel.” The older man’s voice had taken on a gentle quality that touched Blake’s heart. He knew the story of how Clayton Allen, a Florida Cracker cowboy, had come to the Broken J to work only to set Meg’s back up at first glance. The love hate relationship between the stubborn couple had soon turned to much more, but that was a tale for another time.
“I’m glad she’s well. The past couple of years have been a little slow around here I know. Ma gets restless.”
“Times have been rough in the farming community for a while. The Broken J is set up to weather the hard times though. We grow our own food, generate our own power, and raise good beef. Horse sales are slow now, and I’m changing what I’m looking for in the stock, pushing for faster racers as well as saddle and cow horses. We still earn enough over all, even with the automobile taking on more and more of the jobs horses once held. Factor in the wheat sales and the money from the saw mill and we’ll be fine.”
Something tight unfurled in Blake’s chest at his father’s words. He had known that farming had slipped in recent years as oil and gas had become the larger state production, but had given little thought about the prosperity of the Broken J. Here the whole family worked together to keep the place running. Even as younger generations looked outside the ranch for a new and different future, many stayed and worked the land as they always had.
“Son, you worry about what you have to do and let us worry about the ranch.” Clay spoke softly. “This place isn’t going anywhere, and we’ve lived through some lean years before. We’re taking steps to stock up while the growing season is good, and whatever comes next, we’ll get through it by God’s grace and hard work.”
“You know I have to go back once I’m sure Darcy’s going to recover.” Blake held his father’s gaze, his mind moving forward with his job.
“I know. I wouldn’t expect less. I’ve never known you to turn away from any job, even the hard ones.”
“Like the time I decided to break that mustang to ride,” Blake blushed, a grin flashing across his handsome face.
“Just like that. You could have worked any horse on the ranch, but you chose that loco roan and no matter how many times he tossed you, bit you, or mashed you into something you kept at it until the two of you could work as one.”
“He was only fighting the loss of his freedom,” Blake said with a shrug. “I guess in the end I gave in though. I turned him loose.”
“No, you did the right thing even then. You turned that horse loose. He was wild at heart and as much as the two of you became partners you knew he needed to be free. You’re a lot like that horse, it’s why I knew your ma and me had to let you go.”
“I’m sorry if that hurt you Pa.”
Clay shook his head, brushing
