Arch nodded. “Sure. I have a lot of questions.”
“I’ll just go grab a horse, then.” Todd stepped into the tack room just inside the barn door and came back out with a halter and rope in hand.
“You need any help?” Arch called.
“Nah. I got it. I helped train them all, so it’s like visiting relatives.” Todd shot Arch a grin. “Only maybe not quite so complicated as that. Be right back.” He jogged down the lane that led to the pasture.
Arch led Trouble over to a trough by the barn wall so the gelding could grab a drink. Leaning on the big horse’s flank, he tried to take in his day so far. A roller coaster. He’d lost his connection with Mandy but gained a new one with Todd. Mandy had lost faith, but Todd might actually believe in him.
Pastor Doug had reminded him over and over again that freedom wasn’t some magical cure for everything. That it would be up and down, sometimes smooth and sometimes rough. That some people would accept him and some would turn their backs. It was only his first full day home, but Arch was seeing the truth of the pastor’s words.
He thought of Mandy driving away from him as fast as she could, and something in his chest ached. He knew he was lucky to have met Doug and to have learned so much from him. But sometimes he wished that his teacher wasn’t right quite so often.
ARCH SIFTED THROUGH Wade’s collection of screws and bolts, all neatly labeled, none the size he needed. One of the gates was falling to pieces, and Todd had put the repair job at the top of Arch’s to-do list when they toured the ranch together yesterday. Arch picked up a half-inch bolt and studied it. Maybe he could make it work. But it was hard to focus, because he was still worried about Mandy.
His disappointment from yesterday had faded, and intuition had replaced emotion. Intuition deep down, telling him something was wrong. That it wasn’t just him she’d been fleeing in her truck yesterday. And with her on the ranch alone, it was easy to imagine what that something might be. Maybe a ranch hand was giving her trouble now that her sister and Wade were away. Or maybe she was ill and didn’t want to see a doctor for some reason.
But she’d made it clear that she didn’t want his help. So who should he tell? Todd was the obvious person. Arch set the bolt back in its compartment. He’d go to town. Stop by Todd’s repair shop and share his concerns about Mandy. Then he could get the right-size bolts from the hardware store, too.
Arch folded his list, shoved it in the pocket of his jeans and headed for the house. After a quick wash and a change of shirt, he grabbed the keys to Wade’s old pickup. And stopped, staring at them lying so innocent in his hand. He had no license. Getting out of jail meant starting from scratch.
His heart rate picked up a few extra beats. He shouldn’t be driving. He’d be breaking the law. Violating parole.
He went to the old rotary phone in the hallway and picked up the receiver. But there was no dial tone. Of course. No one had been living here lately. It made sense they’d turn off the service to save money.
He jangled the keys in his palm. Mandy might be in trouble. The buzz of worry drowned out his concerns. The road to town went through open country. Then he’d just have to make it a few blocks in town to Todd’s shop. It would be fine. It had to be.
In the truck, a few jarring stalls in first gear reminded Arch that he hadn’t driven in ten years. He took a couple of laps, steering the old Chevy around the barn and down the lane to the lower pastures before he three-point turned in jerky motions and headed toward the road.
Driving through open country was easy, but Todd’s repair shop was near downtown Benson, and each landmark Arch passed was an uncomfortable reminder of old mistakes.
First there was the bridge just outside town, where he and his adolescent buddies had smoked and made trouble. They’d throw nails in the road to pop tires, stupid stuff like that.
Then he passed the liquor store, where his underage bulk and bullying had made Mr. Howell so nervous, he’d sold him alcohol without an ID.
Almost to Todd’s shop, Arch caught a glimpse of the back lot behind the outdoor store. The place he’d beat the crap out of Will Barkley for just looking at Arch’s girlfriend Kit. Then left him bleeding in the dust.
Shame stole his senses. He pulled over. He lived with a dormant monster inside him. A punk-kid monster who’d thought nothing of hurting another person.
And Kit. He hadn’t thrown any punches at her, but he’d inflicted pain. The kind that came from walking away from a five-year relationship without even a goodbye. He’d told himself it was for her own good. If she didn’t know where he was, the police couldn’t pin anything on her. But the truth was, he could have called, or left a note. He’d been too much of a coward to face her sadness.
He looked around the deserted street, as if he might see Kit walking right by. But what was he thinking? She’d been fiery, determined to get the hell out of Benson and see the world. No way was she still around town. Which was good, because he didn’t know how he’d face her. One more relationship he’d destroyed. One more mess that I’m sorry could never clean up.
Arch swiped damp palms down his jeans. He had to stay in the present. Mandy might need help. That was the reality, what he needed to focus on. He put the truck back into gear and pulled carefully away from the curb. He could find a few hundred bad deeds to regret in this town. But that would have to wait for another day.
Todd’s shop appeared on his left. Arch avoided the gravel parking lot, pulling the truck to the curb instead. He’d have to face local folks sometime, but he’d rather not do it trying to remember how to park between other cars.
A man in a straw cowboy hat was slouching on a bench just outside the shop. He stood when he saw Arch crossing the street. And Arch’s blood curdled. Connor Purcell.
Arch’s hands coiled automatically. He willed them to straighten. They weren’t kids anymore, and fists wouldn’t help here.
Connor shifted to block the entrance to Todd’s shop. His Ken-doll looks were puffy around the edges now, but he had the same mean glint in his baby blues. “What the hell? Arch Hoffman?” He pulled a phone out of his pocket. “I guess I need to call the sheriff so he can finally arrest you.”
Arch stopped where he was. If he got too close, he might throw a punch, just for old times’ sake. Connor was the son of a rich rancher, and when they were kids he’d made it a point to taunt Arch at every turn, mocking his old clothes, his too-long hair, his poverty. He’d kept the insults coming until freshman year of high school, when Arch had grown about a foot and started working out. And broke Connor’s nose.
“Didn’t expect to run into you at a repair shop, Connor.” Arch kept his voice casual. “Didn’t realize you even used machines—don’t you worry that they’ll get your pretty hands dirty?”
Connor stared at him blankly. He’d never been one for complex thoughts. If there wasn’t a straightforward insult coming at him, he got a little stuck. Arch smiled at the thought, which evidently unnerved Connor further, because he muttered, “I’m calling the sheriff,” and pawed at his phone.
“Go ahead,” Arch offered mildly. “Have him come over. I’d like to meet him.”
Connor flopped back onto the bench with the phone to his ear, calling his bluff. Well, Arch had to make himself known to the sheriff sometime this week, so in a way Connor was helping him with that errand. Though he was glad he’d parked Wade’s truck across the street. He’d been an idiot to drive. But... Mandy. That same urgency gripped him. He stepped into the shop. “Todd, you here?” he called. “It’s Arch. Arch Hoffman.”
He heard the grinding of wheels across cement,