Chapter Ten

 

 

JIMMY WOKE up early and stretched, feeling the sweet ache from his romp with Shane. Now that he and Shane had gotten what they wanted from each other, his plan—as much of a plan as he ever had, anyway—was to gather his things and find a ride. He’d leave Tom’s letter on the bed or with Belinda. While she might be angry over providing a night’s lodging for less than a half-day’s work, her relief at his leaving would undoubtedly outweigh her anger.

But when Jimmy looked out the window, he saw that it was raining. Not a tolerable drizzle, and not a quick downpour with bright sky to the west. The fat raindrops would soak pant hems and work their way under collars, chilling travelers to the bone. He didn’t have any wet-weather gear and didn’t relish the thought of shivering by the side of the highway, looking too much like a drowned rat for anyone to stop.

So he didn’t pack up. He made his bed instead, then peeked into the hallway to see if anyone was near. Since the coast was clear, he quickly wrapped a towel around his waist, grabbed his toiletries, and headed for the shower.

His hair was still slightly damp when he walked to the lobby. Despite the early hour, Belinda sat behind the counter, looking not particularly pleased to see him. But at least she greeted him. “Good morning, James.”

“Morning, ma’am. Is there anything in particular you want me to start with today?”

“The security lock in 203 is loose and the guests in 204 said they felt a draft from the window. The upholstery on a chair in 101 is badly stained. Shane says one of the bar tables is wobbly. He’s marked it for you. And then I’d like you to repair the bathroom tile in 214.”

“All right,” he said, thinking he’d be earning his keep today at least.

It was inconvenient that Belinda wouldn’t trust him with the keys, because she kept having to unlock things for him. Not just the rooms but also the basement door so he could access the tools and supplies down there. But he waited patiently and without complaint.

The security lock took just a few minutes with a screwdriver, and he remedied the drafty window with a judicial application of caulk. The chair was a bigger job; it appeared that someone had poured an entire bottle of red wine onto the seat. But he found stain remover on a basement shelf, and after he applied it several times, scrubbing and wiping between applications, the stain blended in with the fabric nicely if he didn’t look too hard. He hoped that was good enough for Aunt Belinda—and when she inspected his work, she nodded slightly.

“I didn’t see any Scotchgard down in the basement,” he said. “But maybe you could get a bunch and treat all the upholstery.”

After considering his suggestion for a moment, she nodded again. “Add it to your list. But farther down because it will take a few days to arrive.”

“Okay.” Not that he’d be around by then, but he guessed Next Tuesday Terry could do it.

The bar seemed very empty without Shane. Even though nobody was there, it was Shane’s absence that resonated. Everything was scrupulously clean, all the tables gleaming and the chairs overturned evenly atop each one. Before he tackled the wobble, Jimmy decided a bit of snooping was in order, so he crept behind the counter. Everything was very tidy there as well; but his gaze fell on several lists. Taped in places where customers couldn’t see them, each detailed various tasks like brewing coffee, closing out the till, and opening and closing the bar. Someone had written them out in large, extremely clear letters. Not Shane’s handwriting and probably not Belinda’s, he concluded. Quite possibly Charlie’s—it had a schoolteacherish look. Jimmy’s heart ached a little, thinking of a proud man like Shane having to rely on instructions for such small tasks.

Once he turned his full attention to the tables, it took only a moment to find the one needing repairs. Shane had placed a paperback book there, a tattered copy of Elmore Leonard’s Get Shorty, and on top of the book, he’d set an errant receipt with two words in a shaky scrawl: For Jimmy.

Shit.

Ignoring the gift for the time being, Jimmy tested the table. Sure enough, if he pressed on the top, it tipped slightly to one side. He got down on the floor to examine the problem and finally decided a low-tech solution was best. He found a discarded wine cork and glued a slice of it to the bottom of one leg. Fixed.

He left the bar with his book in hand and an odd sense of accomplishment.

By this point, his stomach reminded him that he’d skipped breakfast. He should find a little market and get something cheap, but then he remembered the previous day’s french toast. Christ knew when he’d get a chance to eat so well again.

“I’m going to Mae’s to get something to eat,” he told Belinda at the desk. “If that’s all right. I’ll do the tile work when I get back.”

“That’s fine.”

He detoured by his room to grab his jacket and drop off the book. He couldn’t help but smile like a fool when he placed it carefully on his bedside table, underneath the Stephen King. And alongside the bottle of lube, which Shane must have forgotten when he left.

Two women had joined Belinda in the lobby, and they all stared at him when he entered. Belinda did cursory introductions: the tiny lady in her sixties with the dark skin and heavy accent was Grisel, and the round, pale lady in her twenties was Candy. “James will be managing minor repairs,” Belinda announced.

Jimmy smiled at the housekeeping staff. “Let me know if you need help with anything, okay?” He guessed that they might occasionally have to move heavy furniture or perform other tasks where an extra pair of hands would be helpful.

They eyed him with frank appraisal but no outright hostility. Probably neither of them was a member of Shane’s family.

As he’d predicted, the rain hadn’t let up while he performed his morning tasks. Head down and shoulders hunched, he sprinted across the street and into the café, which was less crowded than the previous day. The blonde with the facial piercings showed him to a table, this one in front of the window instead of adjacent to the bathroom. “Coffee?” she asked.

“Please. And a big glass of OJ.” At least he wouldn’t die of scurvy for a while.

She handed him the menu, and he tried to decide whether to go with a proven winner or try something new. Then he saw his waitress deliver a big platter of food to another diner, and he made his decision. “Waffles,” he said when his waitress returned with his drinks. “Can I have that blueberry stuff on top?”

“Sure. Sausage or bacon?”

“Bacon.”

“Eggs?”

He was going to keel over from instantly hardened arteries. Well, there were worse ways to go. “Scrambled.”

He sipped his coffee and watched the rain streak down the window, and maybe he completely zoned out for a bit, because he didn’t notice Shane until he sat down across from him. “Fancy meeting you here,” Shane said.

“You know I can’t resist Mae’s charms.”

“Nobody can. I think she spikes the food with something.” Shane leaned back in his chair and grinned. He was wearing that blue wool shirt again, today with a maroon Henley underneath. His eyes had a bit of extra sparkle that made Jimmy squirm in his seat and feel the remaining little twinge in his ass.

Jimmy cleared his throat. “Thanks for the book.”

“Welcome. Used to be mine, but I don’t— Well, I figure you’ll get more use out of it.”

“I’ll enjoy it.”

From a couple of tables away, the waitress waved at Shane. “The usual, honey?”

“Yep.” To Jimmy, he added, “I don’t know why she even asks. I always get the usual.”

“You could live dangerously. Order something different for a change.”

“No. It’s… routine’s important. Without it, I get a little lost sometimes.”

That was funny, because often routines made Jimmy feel lost. Not in the sense of disoriented, but… finished. Like he’d given up something important.

“Aunt Belinda says you were up early this morning.”

“I’m usually an early riser.” A habit learned from shelters that evicted men soon after sunup and from irate business owners who yelled if they found a bum napping in their doorway when it was time to unlock.

“I used to be too, on the ranch. But not now. The bar keeps me up.” Shane cocked his head slightly. “Did you get enough sleep?”

“I’ll manage.”

“I don’t sleep well. The doc gave me some pills, but they make me too groggy in the morning. Sometimes on slow afternoons, Sam comes by for a couple hours and I take a nap, as if I were the old guy, not him.” His smile held more pain than humor.

“One time I was in Missoula, heading for Idaho Falls by bus. I had to make a transfer in Butte, and that was fine. But then I fell fast asleep, and the next thing I know it’s five in the morning and I’m in Salt Lake City.”

“What did you do?” Shane nodded distractedly at their waitress, who brought his coffee and then bustled away.

“Well, I gotta tell you, there’s not much to do in Salt Lake at that time of day. It was late fall and the sun wasn’t up yet, and the neighborhood near the bus station isn’t exactly hopping even midday. I started walking. Randomly, because I’d never been there before, and I didn’t have enough cash to get me back to Idaho. I walked… man, I walked all day until my feet were about to fall off, but I couldn’t find anyplace to settle for more than a few minutes. And then it was night again and I was no better off. Worse, because I’d spent the last of my money on coffee and a sandwich. Plus, I was coming down with a cold or something and I felt like shit. All snotty and achy. I would’ve sold my soul for a nice warm bed and a bowl of chicken soup.”

Shane’s expression held curiosity, not pity. He stirred sugar into his cup. “Were you scared? Being adrift like that?”

“No. I’m used to it, and I’ve been in places a lot more terrifying than Utah. I was just tired. You know that exhaustion you feel deep in your bones, like it’s become a permanent part of you?”

“Yeah,” Shane said. “Know it pretty well.” Rehab, his sister had said. Surgeries. Having to relearn everything from scratch.

“Just when I was about to collapse, I found a bridge. A couple guys were already camped underneath it, but they didn’t complain when I lay down nearby. I covered myself with newspapers to keep warm, and traffic hummed overhead, and before I knew it, I was fast asleep. I didn’t wake up until the sun was well up. And by then the other guys were gone—and so was my pack. They’d taken everything I owned except the clothes I was wearing. I didn’t own much, but it’s nice to have a clean pair of underwear to change into.” Which reminded him, he needed to look into the laundry situation. He couldn’t really wash his clothing in his room because the sink was too small and he had no place to hang stuff while it dried.

“What happened to you?”

“I survived. I always do. Like cockroaches after a nuclear war. But things were especially rough for a while. And my point is that sound sleeping is overrated. Catnapping’s safer.”

Shane snorted and shook his head. Then the waitress brought Jimmy’s ridiculous amount of food and Shane’s bowl of oatmeal, fruit, and four triangles of toast.

“It’s Wednesday,” Shane said with slight melancholy as he picked up a spoon.

“Not an oatmeal fan?”

“No, I like it okay. It’s just that your waffles look way better.”

“You can have some.”

“Nah.” He sighed. “Extra weight is hard on my bones. You could stand to gain a few pounds, though.”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “You saying I’m too skinny?”

“I’m saying you look like the kind of guy who should be carrying more weight. I bet you haven’t been eating well.”

“I’m sure making up for it now.” Jimmy took a big bite of waffle. It wasn’t quite as ambrosial as the french toast but still completely delicious.

“Have dinner with me again tonight.”

“Shane, I don’t want to put you—”

“Digging up a meal for two’s not any more work than doing it for one.” His mouth twisted slightly. “Back on the ranch, when it was my turn to cook, I’d make enough stew for everyone. We’re talking a dozen people, sometimes more. Or spaghetti. I made a mean sauce.”

Jimmy wiped his mouth carefully. “It’s costing you money.”

Shane shrugged. “I have enough. Anyway, once you get paid, you can take some turns treating me.”

That implied a longevity to their acquaintance that wasn’t going to happen. But Jimmy didn’t want to tell him that now, not when Shane was spooning oatmeal into his mouth and looking smug. And last night had been good. Jimmy didn’t often get a second act, but if Shane wanted one, Jimmy wouldn’t say no. “Dinner would be nice,” Jimmy said quietly.

They ate in silence for a bit, until Shane grinned and used his fork to steal a bite of waffle from Jimmy’s plate, making them both laugh.

“How many states have you been to?” Shane asked. His question held a careful edge, as if he’d been chewing it over for a while.

“All of them except Hawaii.”

“How about other countries?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Not even Canada or Mexico. I don’t have a passport. But the US is big enough, I guess.”

“Even California’s pretty big.” Shane gnawed on his thumbnail for a moment, then abandoned it in favor of a long swallow of coffee. “Have you ever settled down anywhere?”

Jimmy had to consider this for a minute. “I think the longest was about five months. I was in Florida, near Ocala, and I got sick. Ended up with pneumonia and had to spend some time in the hospital, and even once I was released, I wasn’t in shape for much of anything for a while.”

Shane’s scrutiny was piercing. “But you left as soon as you were healthy enough.”

“Sure. I headed… let’s see… I think I went to Illinois next. I’d had enough of the South for the time being. I got a gig doing janitorial work in Kankakee. That’s where I perfected my skills at stripping and polishing floors, which maybe Belinda will want to take advantage of.”

“Yeah,” Shane replied absently, toying with his spoon. “But how come you keep moving? I mean, if you’ve been all those places, you must’ve liked at least a couple of them.”

“I did. I liked quite a few.”

“So why not stick around? Get a decent job and a decent place to live. Find… I don’t know. Friends. Start a family, maybe.”

Jimmy suppressed a shudder. “I’m not a family man. And I guess I’m always curious to see what’s around the next bend in the road.”

“What’s around the next bend might be something bad. You could get stranded and have all your stuff stolen. You could get sick, or go hungry, or… I bet lots of nasty things have happened to you.”

Caught between a shrug and a sigh, Jimmy looked away. “Yeah. But good things too. Amazing even. Like this one time in New Hampshire, I was—”

“But you keep leaving those good things behind. You say you want to see what’s around the next bend, but is it worth it when you’ve already got something really nice? And you can’t find all the miracles in a few days or a few weeks. I told you, I’ve lived here my entire life, and yet sometimes I still get pleasantly surprised. I never know who’s gonna walk into my bar, for instance.” He smiled warmly at Jimmy.

Jimmy didn’t like where this conversation was going. He pushed away his plate, the bacon only half-eaten. “It’s just how I’m built,” he mumbled.

“Not me. Even if I wasn’t a fucking cripple, I figure I’d pretty much stick around here.”

“You’re not a cripple.”

Shane grimaced and then grabbed a piece of Jimmy’s bacon with his fingers.

The waitress came by shortly, refilled their coffee, and cleared away the dishes. The room buzzed with a low conversational hum, and the scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the kitchen. Outside, the rain made everything gray and blurry like an impressionist painting. Jimmy’s brain felt gray and blurry too. Maybe he did need more sleep.

Finally, Jimmy roused himself. “I have a tiling job to do.”

“But you’ll have dinner at my place?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

 

 

THE TILE repair ended up being more involved than Jimmy anticipated. He’d thought there were only a couple of cracked pieces, but in fact several were chipped or broken and others were loose. Some of the grout was missing too. He carefully pried up about half the bathroom floor, then searched the basement for matching tiles and grout. The basement was a mess. Organizing it ought to be added to Belinda’s list.

A tile saw might be hiding somewhere, but luckily it didn’t look as if he’d have to cut any pieces to fit. He dug up some tile spacers and a trowel, so that was good. He was just getting ready to mix a batch of thinset mortar when Grisel arrived and stood in the bathroom door. “Mrs. Copeland needs you right away,” she announced, a little breathless and agitated.

Jimmy stood with a slight creak and a groan, and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Okay.”

He followed her out of the room, through the hallway, and down the stairs, almost coming up short when he saw Belinda deep in conversation with a cop. The same cop, he realized, who’d awakened him in his car the day before. She turned to look at him, waiting for him to come closer. Belinda didn’t look any less friendly than usual; at least that was a good sign.

The officer was younger than he expected, her dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She gave him the same careful, assessing look members of her profession always did. It made him itchy. But he saw no contempt in her gaze, which was a relief.

“Can I see some ID, please?” she asked.

“My wallet’s in my room.” He gestured in that direction. “Want me to get it?”

“Please.”

Obediently, he trotted away. Antagonizing cops by dawdling was never wise. He returned with his wallet less than a minute later, opened it, and handed it to her.

She peered at his driver’s license. “James Alan Dorsett.”

“Yes. Jimmy.”

“Are you a resident of South Carolina?”

“Not anymore, ma’am.”

“Are you intending to become a California resident?”

As if on cue, Shane had walked through the saloon doors from the bar just in time to hear the question. He stood next to his aunt, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

“I, uh, don’t think so,” said Jimmy. He didn’t look at Shane’s reaction.

If the cop noticed the interplay between Shane and Jimmy, she didn’t comment on it. “If you do become a resident, you have to get a California license within ten days. That’s the law.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, ma’am.”

After another long look at his ID, she closed the wallet and handed it back. “I’m here about your car. I told you yesterday—that lot’s for day use only. If you’re staying here, I’m sure you can park in the lot behind the inn.” She glanced at Belinda for confirmation, and Belinda nodded reluctantly. Then the officer turned back to Jimmy. “I’m telling you this now as a favor, ’cause in a short time I’m gonna go out there and start ticketing you.”

“I appreciate the heads-up. But you might as well have the thing towed now, because it’s dead.”

She looked sympathetic. “There’s Hank’s.”

“Can’t afford to fix it. Besides, you saw it. Even if I had the bucks, would it really make any sense to pour them into that piece of crap?”

“No, I guess not. If we tow it to the impound lot, we’ll have to bill you for it. You’re talking at least a hundred dollars.”

“Great.” He rubbed his face. “Well, I’ll pay when I can.”

Unexpectedly, Belinda spoke up. “What kind of car is it?”

“It’s what’s left of an Escort.”

She nodded. “I’ll call Hank. Maybe he’ll take it for scrap. That’ll save you the tow fee at least.” To the cop, she added, “Can you wait a few more hours, Jenn? You know that city lot’s not going to fill up today.”

“Fine. But it needs to be gone by sunset or the chief’s gonna be on my back.”

Belinda laughed, momentarily looking years younger. “That old fart? Tell him if he doesn’t have anything worse to worry about than a broken-down Ford, he should come see me. I’ll have a little talk with him.”

Apparently Jenn thought this was funny, because she actually giggled. “Yeah, I’d be happy to sic you on him.”

With a few in-jokes Jimmy didn’t understand and some parting pleasantries, the officer left. Right away Belinda picked up the phone and called Hank. Jimmy, Shane, and Grisel listened to her side of the conversation, as did Candy, who’d shown up midway through the little drama. Entertainment was in short supply at the Rattlesnake Inn.

Belinda looked satisfied when she hung up. “He’ll come pick it up right now. You can leave the keys with me—he’ll swing by for them.”

“The keys are in the ignition, ma’am. It’s not like anyone was going to steal the thing.”

“Fine. You can get back to work now. Oh, and Hank will be leaving a hundred dollars for you as well.”

He blinked at her. “A hundred dollars?”

“He’s going to get at least three hundred for the parts and scrap, and the tow costs him almost nothing.” She harrumphed slightly. “He was probably coming this way anyway. He likes to have lunch at Mae’s.”

“I, uh… wow. Thank you.” He couldn’t fathom why she’d done this for him.

She nodded regally. “I’d like the tiling done by tonight.” But her expression was a notch or two softer.

After detouring by his room to drop off the wallet, Jimmy returned to 214. He’d just mixed the thinset when Shane showed up. Neither of them said anything as Jimmy spread the mortar on the floor and Shane leaned in the doorway, watching.

Finally Jimmy sighed. “Need something?”

“Just admiring the view.”

Jimmy looked over his shoulder to find Shane leering at his ass. “Getting ideas, are we?”

“Already had ideas. Now I’m perfecting them.”

With a snort, Jimmy returned to his work. But it was a little discomfiting to be observed so closely. “Why did Belinda do that for me?”

“She’s a nice lady. I know she’s been kinda bitchy to you, but that’s just because….” He sighed. “They were always a nosy bunch, always getting up in everyone else’s business, giving advice nobody asked for. Used to drive me crazy. That’s when I’d get on my horse and go for a long ride….”

“What do you do now when you need a break?”

There was a long silence. “Dunno. Sometimes I take pictures. I know I’m no, uh… what’s the name of the guy who did all those Yosemite photos?”

Jimmy thought for a moment. “Ansel Adams?”

“Yeah, that’s him, dammit. Did you know he had a crooked nose too, like mine? I saw a picture of him once.”

“No, I didn’t know that.” Jimmy thought Shane’s nose added character to his face, along with the scars. It meant his face told a story. But Jimmy didn’t say so; he just kept spreading the thinset.

“Well, I know I’m not him. But I still enjoy taking pictures. It’s like, when I get behind a camera, I’m not part of the landscape anymore. I’m outside, looking in. It makes me…. Shit. What’s that word? When you can judge things fairly.”

“Objective?”

Shane thunked the wall with his palm. “Yeah. Sorry. Some days my brain’s especially slow.”

Jimmy looked up with a small smile. “I’m not in any hurry.”

“Anyway, the camera makes me objective. I like that. I can see things with fresh eyes.”

“And for once, you’re the one judging instead of being judged.” Jimmy wasn’t great at psychological insights, but he knew this. “Photography’s your way of getting away from things for a while.”

“I guess so. Is that what it feels like to you, Jimmy? Always being an outsider, I mean.”

“Dunno.” He chuckled. “People judge me plenty, though. I can tell you that much. Like your aunt Belinda and your sister Charlie.”

“They’re not judging you. If Channing Tatum showed interest in me, my family’d be all over him like a pack of pit bulls.”

That made Jimmy stop his movements with the trowel and look over his shoulder again. “Channing Tatum?”

Blushing slightly, Shane crossed his arms. “Tell me you don’t think he’s hot.”

“Eh. Not my type.”

“What is your type?”

“Old-school. Randolph Scott. Tab Hunter. Mmm, Paul Newman.”

“Seriously?”

Jimmy set aside the trowel and rose up on his knees, stretching his back a bit. He wished he had kneepads. He grabbed a handful of spacers and began to set them. “When I was a kid, there was a theater that played really old movies. Admission was only a buck. I think they made all their money off concessions. I used sit in there for hours, watching.” Handsome men, larger than life, solving all their problems with charm or smarts or maybe a strong right fist.

Shane was silent, watching Jimmy lay a couple of tiles. Then he shuffled a bit, his boots noisy against the floor. “You know that little park near where your car died? On Saturday nights in the summer, they set up a screen and show movies. They usually start with something for kids and then do a classic after. Westerns, mostly, ’cause this is Rattlesnake. Some of the school clubs sell popcorn and candy as fundraisers, and everyone spreads out blankets on the grass. I don’t usually go because I’m working, but I bet if I asked nicely, Belinda and Sam would take over the bar for a few hours.”

Fuck, Shane was painting a sweet picture. Jimmy briefly imagined what it would be like to lie back on fragrant grass, holding Shane’s rough hand, watching John Wayne strut around. Kids would be racing through the park, grown-ups gossiping, teenagers hiding in the shadows to make out or pass around a beer or a joint. Crickets would chirp. And overhead, the stars would twinkle like friendly neighbors.

But summer was months away. By then, Jimmy would be long gone.

“Belinda wants this finished today,” Jimmy said, a little more curtly than he’d intended.

“Yeah. Okay. See you at dinner.”

Shane’s boot steps echoed as he left.

Chapter Eleven

 

 

BY THE time Jimmy finished grouting the tile and cleaning up the bathroom, it was nearly seven and he was filthy, achy, and exhausted. He considered canceling his dinner plans, but this would be his last chance with Shane. He had a hundred bucks in his wallet now, and sunshine was forecast for the next day—and Christ knew when or if he’d ever have dinner plans with someone again. So he took a quick shower, threw on the last of his fresh clothing, and lumbered off to the bar.

The place was almost empty. Just an elderly couple near the window, four middle-aged locals playing cards near the center of the room, and Great-uncle Sam behind the bar. And Shane, of course, who looked relieved to see Jimmy.

“The table’s not wobbly anymore,” Shane announced. “How did you fix it?”

“Wine cork.”

“Ah. Fancy. I guess I could have done it myself, but crawling around on the floor’s not very comfortable. I’m not always sure I’ll be able to get up again.”

“Well, I’ve been crawling around all day, and let me tell you, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

Shane frowned thoughtfully. “Sore?”

“A little. I’m old and out of shape.”

“And hungry too, I bet. C’mon.” He waved at Sam before leading the way to his apartment, where the mess hadn’t diminished since the previous evening, but Jimmy didn’t mind. The place had a homey, lived-in feel.

“Calzones again?” Jimmy asked.

“Nope. But I have a plan. Wait here, okay?”

“Sure.”

Jimmy took a closer look at Shane’s photos as Shane disappeared into the bathroom. Jimmy was no expert, but he thought they were good. Sad, though. They were of places that were ruined or abandoned.

He was startled to hear water running loudly in the bathroom. It was still running when Shane poked his head out. “Okay. Come here,” Shane ordered.

“Um, why?”

“My plan.”

“If you’re going to try to get me to do more tiling work, I’m going to refuse.” Jimmy walked into the bathroom, which he hadn’t seen the night before. It was larger than he’d expected, with a pedestal sink and ornate mirror, several built-in cabinets, and one of those enormous claw-foot tubs, which was currently filling with water and fluffy white bubbles.

Shane grinned at him. “Strip.”

“Um….”

“One of my doctors told me that when my bones feel screwed together too tight, I should take a long hot soak. Loosens everything up, she said. And she was right. The bubbles are courtesy of my sister Annie. Aromatherapy. Which is a load of crap, but they do smell real nice.”

Jimmy was still blinking in confusion. “You want me to take a bath?”

“Yep. I’ll bring you dinner while you’re in.”

“I’ve never eaten in a bathtub before.”

“Now’s your chance to try something new, Mr. What’s Around the Next Corner.”

Unable to argue with that logic, Jimmy removed his shoes and skimmed off his clothes while Shane waited, looking slightly smug. “It’s nice to see you,” Shane said.

Jimmy glanced down at himself. “I was never much to look at, not even twenty years ago.”

“I ain’t complaining.” He shook his head. “If I keep on looking, neither of us is gonna be fed. Get in the tub.”

Jimmy did. The water was almost too hot to endure, but not quite, and whatever was in the bubble solution smelled like spicy oranges and felt soft on his skin. He scooted around a bit, making himself comfortable and feeling more than a little ridiculous. He’d never had a bubble bath before.

“You relax,” Shane commanded. “I’ll be back soon with food.”

So Jimmy tipped his head back against the rounded edge of the cast iron and closed his eyes. The spout was over his feet, so the cascade of water gave him a slight massage. Rain streaked the window high on the wall, but here he was warm and comfortable. And above the sound of the water, he heard dishes clanking softly in the next room. When you were waiting for someone to bring you a meal, that was possibly the nicest sound in the world.

Shortly after Jimmy turned off the spout so the tub wouldn’t overflow, Shane returned, carefully carrying a big plate heaped with sandwich triangles. With a soft grunt, he sat next to the tub and balanced the dish on his lap. “It’s not very fancy,” he said.

“That’s fine. But I’m not sure how I’m supposed to eat like this.” Jimmy lifted his hands, dripping wet and covered with bubbles.

“You just open your mouth like a baby bird.” Shane picked up a sandwich and held it near Jimmy’s mouth.

And that was beyond ridiculous. But… Jimmy was hungry. And Shane beamed at him, eyes sparkling, even though sitting on the hard tile floor probably hurt.

Jimmy opened his mouth.

The sandwich was very good, piled high with beef that Shane said came from the family ranch, and cheese from his cousin’s dairy, and lots of mayo. “Too bad it’s early for fresh tomatoes. My mom always grows a bunch, and I know how much you like them.” Shane winked.

It took a moment for Jimmy to remember what Shane was talking about, but then he chuckled. “Tomato-free is fine with me.”

Shane ate too, and when the sandwiches were gone, he fetched some potato chips, which he also hand-fed to Jimmy. When he tested the water and discovered it had cooled a bit, he let some drain before refilling with hot and adding fresh bubbles.

“Is it helping?” he asked.

“God, yes. Feels like heaven.”

“Not quite.”

“Oh?”

Instead of answering with words, Shane leaned over, plunged his hand through the layer of foam, and grasped Jimmy’s cock.

Jimmy hadn’t expected that. He gasped and threw his head back hard enough to bash against the edge of the tub. But he barely felt the pain because Shane had already begun to deftly stroke him. The blood rushed to Shane’s groin so quickly he felt dizzy, and his hands sought purchase on the slippery cast iron. “Shane…,” he said hoarsely.

“Shh. Relax.”

Easier said than done, when Shane’s touch made his entire body buzz. Jimmy tried to make his muscles go loose, let himself passively accept what Shane gave him. And Shane didn’t say a word as he stared directly into Jimmy’s eyes. The whole scene was startlingly intimate: the bright bathroom lights, Jimmy naked and vulnerable while Shane remained fully clothed, the quiet splash of water inside and patter of rain outside, the scars on Shane’s face, the intensity of his blue gaze.

The circumstances of Jimmy’s life meant that he often had to give up his dignity and his privacy. But even when he’d slept among dozens of snoring strangers or showered communally—hell, even when he’d fucked someone or allowed someone to fuck him—he’d retained an invisible shell around himself to keep others from getting close. It was almost as if he carried the equivalent of Shane’s camera every day, always objective and observing, even when the activity involved his own body. But this evening he’d set that metaphorical camera aside and the shell had developed hairline cracks. He felt uncomfortable and uneasy. He was a little scared.

But Christ, Shane’s caresses felt so good!

A wrinkle of concentration formed between Shane’s eyebrows as he sped his movements. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his wool shirt so they wouldn’t get wet, and his forearms were dusted with light hairs and marked by a few long scars. His skin was pale, which struck Jimmy as wrong. Even at this time of year, he should carry a tan, the scent of grass, and a little dirt under his fingernails and imbedded in the calluses and creases of his palms.

Jimmy’s cock felt raw under Shane’s strokes, almost too tender to bear. His lungs strained and the water was far too warm. He expected to see steam rising from the surface, and he knew precisely how a lobster must feel as the pot heated to boiling.

“Shaaane,” he groaned, arching up with his hips.

Instead of taking pity on him, Shane reached into the tub with his free hand to rub and tweak Jimmy’s nipples. That was too much. Jimmy flopped and came with a muffled roar.

Shane didn’t stop touching him. He moved his hands to Jimmy’s belly and chest, rubbing soothingly until Jimmy stopped shuddering with the aftershocks. And when Jimmy blinked up at him, speechless, Shane grinned like the Cheshire cat. Then he unfolded himself from the floor, wincing in pain and scattering droplets of water.

“I need to get back to work,” he said.

Jimmy saw the outline of Shane’s erection in his jeans. It looked uncomfortable. “But you haven’t—”

“I’m fine. I like to wait, remember?”

“But—”

“Take your time here. You might want to use my shower to rinse off. Just let yourself out when you’re done.”

Jimmy took a deep breath, hoping it would clear his head. “You trust me in here alone?”

“What’re you gonna do? Steal my clothes or the pots and pans I hardly ever use? If you’re that bad off, help yourself.”

Jimmy quirked a small smile.

“You’re a puzzle, Jimmy Dorsett, and my brain’s too scrambled to solve you. I guess I’ll have to take you as I find you.” He didn’t seem upset with this realization, or even resigned—just matter-of-fact.

Jimmy decided to turn the conversation in a more comfortable direction. “Will you take me? Later tonight?”

Shane shook his head with a smile. “No. I think we both need our beauty sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thursday is pancake day.”

And then, as if he hadn’t already shocked Jimmy enough, Shane bent low and kissed the top of Jimmy’s head. Then he straightened and limped out of the bathroom and through the apartment. Jimmy heard the door close with a muted thud.

Chapter Twelve

 

 

BELINDA WAS so satisfied with Jimmy’s tiling job that she allowed her face to thaw almost into a smile. “I’ve considered completely redoing the bathroom in 105. My late husband renovated it in the eighties and it never quite recovered. Could you handle a job that big?”

“Depends. I can’t do major plumbing or electrical stuff.”

“But could you install new fixtures—a new sink, new shower, definitely new lights—if we kept them in the same locations?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She nodded, pleased. “Good. I’ll look into ordering your supplies today. I’ll let you know when they’re expected to arrive.”

Fine, except he would be gone. He’d intended to leave that morning, in fact. But Thursday was pancake day. And he’d sort of left Shane hanging the previous night. At the very least, Jimmy owed him a good orgasm. Also, he hadn’t yet done his laundry, and he hated hitting the road with nothing but dirty clothes.

“Is there anything you want done first today?” he asked.

Belinda gave him a long, thoughtful look, her mouth scrunched slightly to the side. Then she sighed. “You put in a long day yesterday. I didn’t intend to work you to death, and there’s nothing urgent this morning. Weekends are always much busier anyway. Take a few hours off. Check in with me after lunch.”

That was unexpected. “Thank you. Um, is there a laundromat in town somewhere?” He wasn’t hopeful—the town was too small, and he hadn’t seen one during his wanderings on Tuesday—but it was worth asking.

“No,” Belinda answered. “And I have the linens done by a commercial service. But there’s a washer and dryer in Shane’s apartment, so you can ask him.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience anyone. He’s done me big favors already.” He was not going to blush, goddammit.

“It’s no inconvenience. And that boy loves to be useful.”

Jimmy refrained from pointing out that Shane was most definitely a man, not a boy. “Okay. Thanks.”

Before he left the lobby, she called to him. He trotted back to the desk, expecting her to have changed her mind about giving him the morning off. But instead, she tossed him a ring of keys. “For the basement. And a master key to all the rooms—but don’t disturb the guests.”

His heart made a funny little hitch at her show of trust. “Yes, ma’am,” he said and pocketed the keys.

With time on his hands, Jimmy decided to get a little exercise. The rain had cleared and the day was beautiful, the sky scrubbed to a bright blue. Mae’s opened early and was busy already, but he didn’t stop there. He walked down the sidewalk instead, past the parking lot from which his Ford had disappeared and past the park where Shane said they showed movies in the summer. At one edge of the park stood a metal statue on a stone pedestal, and the plaque announced that it was Rattlesnake Murray. He had a pair of holsters at his hips, arms crossed on his chest, and a determined look on his face. Jimmy thought he had Shane’s chin, although that might have been his imagination.

After the park came another block of shops, none of which were open yet, and then the road curved uphill through stands of tall evergreens. According to a sign, Chuku Cave lay three miles ahead. Jimmy didn’t intend to walk that far, but he figured this route was as good for a stroll as any other, so he started up the hill. When the road took a sharp right and cleared the woods, though, he came to a sudden halt. He was atop a shallow promontory with a sweeping view across a narrow valley. On the other side of the valley, hills led to steep peaks with a dusting of snow. He was rarely one to admire nature, but this vista was worth admiring. He sat on a large granite boulder, leaned back on his hands, and let his mind wander. Not that he expected it to wander anywhere useful, but he supposed even his consciousness could use a bit of exercise now and then.

As he watched some raptors riding the updrafts and circling over the valley, he remembered a tiny house his mother had rented when he was six or seven, very close to a busy airport. Jets whooshed overhead day and night, shaking the entire house, and his brothers had complained they couldn’t sleep. Jimmy, however, spent his nights on a lumpy mattress on the back porch, and he loved watching the planes. He used to wonder where each one was going, and he promised himself that when he grew up, he would be on one of those planes, zooming off to adventure. He’d broken that promise, though, and somewhere along the line, travel had become a necessity and a burden rather than a dream.

He could hop off the rock, take a few steps, and leap into the air. Not that he was suicidal. But he could, and for a few seconds he’d finally experience true freedom. It occurred to him, however, that if he did make his first and final flight, Belinda and Shane would assume he’d skipped town. Belinda might not care—would probably be glad he wasn’t around to further endanger her nephew—but Shane would care. He’d be angry that Jimmy left without saying good-bye.

The idea of being missed, even briefly, made Jimmy uneasy.

After a time, he slid off the boulder and walked toward the road rather than the cliff. He followed the downward slope back to town.

His usual waitress showed him to a table. He wasn’t at all surprised when Shane showed up before Jimmy’s coffee was poured. Today he wore a black T-shirt. “Did you sleep well?” Shane asked as he took a seat.

“Yep.”

“You know, Aunt Belinda said something nice about you. Just now, when I walked through the lobby. She said you did a good job. And that you’re polite. Actually, I guess that’s two nice things.”

“Hmm.”

The waitress stepped up to take their orders. Jimmy followed Shane’s lead and ordered pancakes. “Maple syrup or more of those blueberries you like so much?” she asked. “Or I could give you some of each.”

“Some of each sounds good.” Nobody had ever learned Jimmy’s food preferences before. Even his own mother had consistently forgotten—or maybe just refused to acknowledge—that canned green beans made him gag. She bought them in bulk whenever they went on sale cheap, and then she’d serve them for dinner along with ketchup sandwiches on stale bread from the bakery outlet store. Jimmy had to either force the stuff down or go hungry.

“You look like you’re thinking about something nasty,” Shane observed.

“Canned green beans.”

Shane laughed. “Did you steal and overdose on those too?”

“No. I would never steal green beans.” He thought quickly while he poured sugar into his coffee and stirred. “I spent a little time in jail, though. Not for anything important. Just… sometimes that’s where you end up when you’re broke and a stranger. And the sheriff must have got some kind of deal on green beans, because they served them every damn day, lunch and dinner. The rest of the food was pretty skimpy too, so you had to eat the crap or listen to your stomach grumble. That was a long thirty days.” Belatedly, he realized that thirty days was an exaggeration for a vagrancy charge and perhaps he’d spun the story out too far.

Shane gave Jimmy an astute look that lasted for a few beats. Then he relaxed and held up his hand as if he were in court. “I solemnly promise never to give you tomatoes or green beans.”

“Thank you.”

Over their pancakes, they chatted about Belinda’s plans for the bathroom in 105 and some of the customers who’d visited the bar the previous night. Later, as they sat with their third cups of coffee, Jimmy remembered his dirty clothes. “Hey, your aunt said you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed your washing machine.”

“Course not. Help yourself. I’ll tell her to give you a key.”

For no fucking reason at all and completely out of the blue, Jimmy’s eyes suddenly filled with hot tears. He squeezed them shut and ducked his head, refusing to let the tears fall.

“You okay?” Shane asked.

“Yeah, I….” Jimmy lurched out of his chair and to the bathroom, which was blessedly unoccupied. Inside, he splashed cold water on his face and silently called himself every foul name he could think of. Only when he was certain he had control of himself did he venture back to the table and Shane.

“Sorry,” he said with a forced smile. “Got something in my eye. Probably dust from that tiling job.”

“Huh. I would have figured the long bath and shower would get rid of all the debris.”

“I guess I’m not a very thorough scrubber.”

Shane smiled crookedly. “Guess next time I’ll have to give you a hand. With the scrubbing, I mean.”

Soon afterward they left the restaurant and walked to the inn. Belinda didn’t even frown when they walked into the lobby together. Then Shane headed off to the bar while Jimmy fetched the tools to deal with a dripping faucet in room 209.

 

 

THE AFTERNOON went quickly. Jimmy tackled a variety of small chores and worked off a pancake or two with his frequent trips up and down the stairs. Grisel accepted his previous day’s offer to help; they moved a heavy dresser so she could thoroughly clean behind it. “I don’t bother with that too often,” she said. “But if I have a strong man nearby, I’m gonna take advantage.”

“Anytime.”

He resisted the urge to snoop around Shane’s apartment as he did his laundry. But when he went to retrieve his clothes from the dryer, he was struck by an idea. And after taking the clothing to his room and fetching his wallet, he hurried to the lobby.

He waited for Belinda to finish checking in a chatty young couple from Germany who were very excited to be visiting the authentic American West. Before they carried their suitcases to their room, she loaded them with brochures, maps, and advice on what to see. Jimmy realized that she loved her job, which was a bit of a revelation. He’d assumed she had become an innkeeper out of a sense of duty to familial tradition.

“That alarm clock in 203 is a goner,” he told her after the Germans left. “Is there a replacement somewhere?”

“I believe so, down in the basement. I think next week I’d like you to do an inventory down there, actually. I haven’t had time to do that in ages.”

I’ll be gone by next week, he thought. “Sure. Do you mind if I take a break now?”

She glanced at the large grandfather clock near the stairs: 6:45. “That’s fine, James.”

He’d noticed the Asian Pearl restaurant during his walks. It was two blocks down, between a women’s wear boutique and a place that sold country-themed home décor. He hoped the food was better there than at Rattlesnake’s other Chinese place, which Shane had already warned him about. With most of his hundred bucks still remaining, he ordered way too much food. But he figured leftovers were a good thing. Shane could have them for dinner the next day too.

When he returned to the inn, Shane stood in the lobby, talking to Belinda. He perked up visibly when he saw Jimmy with his bag of fragrant food. “Not Jade Garden, I hope.”

“Asian Pearl.”

“Good choice.”

“I, uh, have plenty to go around.”

Shane beamed.

Belinda waved off Jimmy’s offer to share. “I’m on a diet,” she explained.

Shane kissed her cheek. “You always say that, but you’re beautiful just the way you are.” She blushed, which Jimmy guessed was a rare event.

In Shane’s apartment, over heaping plates of mu shoo pork, asparagus beef, and garlic chicken, Shane conveyed most of Belinda’s life story. She’d been wild in her youth—which Jimmy found hard to picture—but had settled down when she fell in love with Emilio and the inn, pretty much both at the same time. She was devastated when Emilio died young. “But you know what?” Shane asked, his eyes sparkling. “She and Hank had a thing for each other, back in high school, and lately I’m pretty sure a spark or two has been flying between them.”

“Is that why she brokered the deal with my car?”

“Well, that’s why Hank was so willing. I think she would have done it anyway, out of principle. She likes to negotiate. She always insists on going with my parents when it’s time for them to buy a new truck, and then they sit back while she terrifies the salesman. And she’s the one who got my folks such a great price when they bought Jesse’s dad’s land.” There was something sad about his smile. “The Littles had been coveting that land for a hundred years. It almost doubled the size of our ranch.”

Jimmy didn’t ask who Jesse was. “Aunt Belinda’s a good person to have on your team.”

Shane nodded and used his fork to push some asparagus around on his plate. “Who’s on your team, Jimmy?”

“I’m more an individual-sport kind of guy.” Jimmy’s smile probably wasn’t any cheerier than Shane’s had been.

And based on his piercing gaze, Shane wasn’t the least fooled by it. “Where’s your family?”

“Dead.”

“All of them?”

“It wasn’t like with you. Just… just a few of us. And they’re all gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Shane said, frowning.

“Don’t waste time feeling bad for me. It was a long, long time ago.” Fuck. Close to thirty years.

“And you never wanted to… well, not replace them, because you can never really replace someone who’s gone. But after a while, you get tired of that vacancy in your heart and you start to think you might want to let someone new in.”

Jimmy wondered if Shane was referring to the loss of Tom or someone else. “I appreciate the hotel analogy and all, but that’s not me. I’m—”

“A lone wolf. King of the road. I know.”

Jimmy shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “A man can’t change his nature.”

“Guess not. As long as it really is his nature and not just something he feels like he’s forced to do.”

“It is. And nobody forces me to do anything.”

“Because if they try, you just walk away.”

“Exactly.”

“Right.” Shane stood with a grunt, collected their dirty dishes, and took them to the sink. “Leave the leftovers here. Now that you have a key to my place, you can come in anytime to use the kitchen or washer or whatever. Or just to take a bath.” He grinned over his shoulder.

Jimmy stood too and gathered the half-empty white cartons. He closed them and tucked them into the fridge, which he couldn’t help but notice was mostly empty except for sandwich fixings. A paper taped to the freezer contained a grocery list in that same schoolteacherish handwriting.

Shane noticed Jimmy staring at the list. “After the accident, I could never have managed without my family. I’d have….” His voice was flat and matter-of-fact. “You know, the doctors, they were talking about putting me in one of those places. Where old people and broken people go and wait to die.” His words tore little divots in Jimmy’s heart.

“You’re not broken,” Jimmy said.

“I was. Nowadays I’m mostly repaired, with a few cracks left.” He traced one of the scars on his face. “But I’d have been Humpty Dumpty without the family. They…. Healing was hard, hard work. Lots of times I was ready to give up, but they wouldn’t let me. I’d curl up in bed and want to be alone, but then one of my relatives would show up and be such a huge pain in the ass that I had to get out of bed just to get away from them. When I realized I couldn’t work at the ranch anymore, that I was never gonna be the man I used to be, they showed me I could be someone new.”

“You’re a good man,” Jimmy said. “I bet you always were.”

Shane shrugged that away. “Who backs you up when you need it?”

“I wasn’t almost killed in an accident, Shane.”

Shane looked at him, then dropped his eyes to the dish towel he was twisting tight. “Maybe not,” he said quietly. “Doesn’t mean nothing broke you, though.” He put down the towel and left.

Chapter Thirteen

 

 

THAT NIGHT Shane came into Jimmy’s room after closing the bar. When he climbed into bed, he smelled of beer and coffee and the polish he used on the counter. Good smells. Jimmy snuggled against his bare body and sighed.

“Don’t mind me waking you up?” asked Shane.

Jimmy reached between them to grasp Shane’s hardening cock. “Not when you wake me up with this.” He stroked lazily. “Busy night?”

“Not really. Tomorrow will be busier, and Saturday. But not as much as next weekend, ’cause we’ll have live music then. The joint gets hopping for that.”

“I guess people like a little entertainment on weekends.”

“Mhmm.” Shane snuffled Jimmy’s hair, then licked under his ear.

They made out for a while, their hands slowly wandering. Jimmy was sleepy and maybe Shane was too, but their movements brought a sense of lethargic pleasure that felt unusual to Jimmy—and oddly satisfying. Eventually, though, their caresses became more goal-directed. Shane wrapped his big hand around both their shafts while Jimmy breached him with one damp finger. Their climaxes were long and slow. No fireworks, just bone-deep shudders and a few quiet gasps.

Afterward, Jimmy didn’t even have the energy to clean up. He accepted a final kiss and pat on the ass from Shane, who tucked him in before pulling on his clothes. Jimmy was asleep before he heard the door close.

 

 

HE DIDN’T leave Friday morning because that was french toast day. After he and Shane ate together, Jimmy spent several hours dealing with a plugged toilet and a broken curtain rod and moving furniture for Grisel and Candy. They seemed to enjoy chatting with him while they worked, either plugging him for information he didn’t give or sharing bits of gossip about guests or the townspeople.

“So you and Shane…,” Candy said, leaning on her broom handle.

“Yeah?”

“Are you, like, together?”

Jimmy sighed. “No.”

“But you like boys, right?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Well, it don’t matter to me. I been married twice, got one kid from each of them, and I’ve had enough. I got my babies and that’s all I need.” She didn’t show any inclination to actually use the broom so he could replace the armoire and get on with his day. “But I’m asking ’cause Shane’s a real sweetheart, you know?”

“I do know.”

“And he deserves a somebody, but it’s gotta be a somebody who’s gonna be good for him.”

Jimmy agreed. “I’m not good for anyone.”

She leaned the broom against her body and adjusted her ponytail. “Well, I don’t know your story, but you don’t seem too bad. You been doing what you say you’re gonna do, at least. And you did a real nice job in that bathroom. Plus you ain’t noisy or messy, and you’re real polite.”

Right now, he politely wanted to wring her neck. He hated being stuck in a conversation like this. He gave her a small smile and hoped she was done with him. And apparently she was, because she grunted and started moving the dust around. But she and Grisel must have had a tag team thing going, because five minutes later, he was in another room, listening to Grisel bemoan Rattlesnake’s shortage of gay social life.

“Yasmin—that’s my second daughter—she’s a lesbiana, yes? She grew up here, but she went to college in Berkeley and now she don’t come ’round here no more. Says Calaveras County isn’t gay friendly.” She snorted.

“Nobody seems to mind that Shane’s gay.”

“Ah, some ojetes hassled him when he first told people. But he used to be big and strong, yeah? After he beat a few of them bloody, the rest left him alone. Nobody important cares.”

Shane had said the same thing, but it was good to hear confirmation. It wasn’t just his relatives who had his back. “The locals aren’t as tolerant of your daughter?”

Grisel waved a hand. “Nobody cares who Yasmin sleeps with. Least I know none of those girls will get her pregnant. She just thinks now she’s too sofisticada for us.”

Jimmy winced a little, remembering the last words his brother Devin ever said to him. Jimmy had been sixteen and on his own for a while already. In a misguided moment, he’d tracked his brother down, hoping Devin would let him stay for a bit. Devin was twenty-two and had graduated from junior college—a level of education unheard of in Jimmy’s stunted family tree. He had a girlfriend, a good job, a neat little house just outside of a fancy neighborhood. He’d stood in the doorway, looking Jimmy up and down, and then shook his head. We don’t have any extra room. He’d glanced nervously up and down the street as if checking to see if his neighbors watched. You need to go. You don’t belong here.

“You okay, Jimmy?” Grisel asked, startling him from the memory.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

When the cleaning ladies were done with him, Jimmy had to help a guest open a suitcase with a stuck lock, remove a nasty scuff mark left by a different guest on the upstairs hallway wall, and deal with a rattling air vent cover in a downstairs room. By then it was getting too late to hitch a ride out of town, and besides, Shane had a pizza to share. Shane had to work late that night—the bar stayed open until two on Fridays and Saturdays—and Jimmy sat at the counter almost until closing time, drinking coffee and eating popcorn. They didn’t have sex that night, but Shane stopped in just long enough to kiss him good night. Which was absurd. And really nice.

Saturday turned out to be busy at the inn. Lots of people checking out or checking in, which meant more people to complain about malfunctioning lights, recalcitrant plumbing, or other minor disasters. Sometimes Belinda asked him to carry guests’ luggage to their room when they were staying upstairs and their suitcases were heavy. He had no idea why some folks couldn’t go away for a weekend without packing more things than he owned.

The bar was too busy for Shane to escape for a meal, so Jimmy made sandwiches and brought them to the counter. Only as he was delivering them did he realize that Charlie was in the bar too, along with a handsome man Jimmy guessed was her husband. She watched, narrow-eyed, as Shane took a big bite of ham and cheese, limped around the counter, and kissed the side of Jimmy’s head—much to the amusement of the other patrons. But before Jimmy left to check in with Frank, who’d said something about a chirping smoke detector, Charlie gave Jimmy a hesitant little wave. He waved back.

If Shane visited Jimmy that night, Jimmy was too wiped to wake up.

Sunday morning, Jimmy went down to the basement with several printed lists Belinda had given him. She wanted him to begin a thorough inventory, and he figured he might as well attempt some organization while he was down there. His previous forays in search of supplies had been time-consuming and had resulted in the occasional discovery of items that might have dated to Rattlesnake Murray’s days.

But he’d barely begun the job when he heard slow, uneven footsteps descending the stone stairs. He’d become familiar with that sound these past days, so he wasn’t surprised when Shane appeared around the corner.

“You have cobwebs in your hair,” Shane observed.

“I have cobwebs everywhere. I’m just hoping not too many of them have the residents still attached.”

Shane grinned wolfishly. “You’re always welcome to a nice, cleansing soak in my tub.”

“May take you up on that.” Jimmy had just enough pride not to adjust himself at the thought, although he needed to.

After tugging at a decrepit cardboard box marked “X-Mas ’87,” Shane peeked inside. “God, there’s a lot of crap down here.”

“I know.”

“Rumor has it there’s an entrance to a secret mine down here somewhere. Probably bullshit, but maybe not. At least a couple other buildings downtown have old mine entrances underneath them.”

“I’ll let you know if I come across any gold nuggets.”

“That’d be cool, wouldn’t it?” Shane shoved the box back into place. “You could buy yourself a new car. What would you get?”

Jimmy considered the question. When he was fortunate enough to buy a vehicle—which was rarely—his only criterion was price, an exceedingly low price. He couldn’t be picky about make, model, or lingering smell of vomit. He considered himself lucky if the thing lasted a couple thousand miles. In that respect, the Ford had been a treasure.

“Don’t know,” he finally said. “Maybe a little sports car. Something that goes fast. How about you?”

Shane tapped his head. “Not allowed to drive. Seizures.”

Fuck. Sometimes Jimmy forgot. “But we’re talking hypothetical cars anyway, so if you could drive and if you did strike it rich, what would it be?”

“Pickup truck. A big one, not too flashy. The kind you could use for real work and not have a stroke if it got dented or scratched a little.” He grinned.

Nodding, Jimmy turned his gaze to a box that had once held fancy paper napkins but had more recently been converted to a mouse condominium. The rodents themselves were no longer in residence. Maybe they’d lost the place during the foreclosure crisis.

“Can you take meds for the seizures?” he asked, not looking at Shane.

“I do. But I still seize now and then.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, I’m lucky to be alive.” He said it in a preachy sort of voice, which made Jimmy turn to look at him. Shane quirked the corner of his mouth. “I’ve heard that about a million times. Most of the time I even believe it.”

“Yeah, it’s easy for people to sermonize when it’s not them carrying the burden.”

Shane gave him an odd, inquisitive look that made Jimmy turn back to the mouse shit.

After a moment or two, Shane spoke again. “Sunday’s my day off. Trudy and her friend Melissa take over the bar ’cause we close early anyway.”

“I’m glad Aunt Belinda doesn’t chain you to the inn 24/7.”

“Nah, I like working here. Keeps me busy. But a day off is nice too.”

Jimmy decided the mouse condo could go. He moved it to the side of the room where he’d begun a trash pile. He had two other piles as well, one containing items he wanted to ask Belinda about before tossing and the other with items that might bring some money from antique collectors. He was hardly an expert on the matter, but he’d already found a stash of old room number signs that looked pretty cool, as well as a couple of brass gas lamps.

Shane remained nearby, playing with what appeared to be an empty paint can. “Don’t you have something better to do on your day off than hang out in a spider- and mouse-infested basement?” Jimmy asked.

“Most Sundays I have lunch at the ranch. My family…. It’s kind of an event, you know? Dad barbecues, Mom makes her famous beans, my brothers and sisters all bring stuff. My contribution usually comes from Mae’s. I’m thinking pie this week.”

“Sounds nice,” Jimmy said, hoping he didn’t come off as wistful. “But how will I know what to order for brunch if you don’t have a Sunday dish?”

“You could get the quiche, because I never order that. Too vegetably.” Shane scrunched up his mouth. “But actually, I was kinda hoping you’d come to the ranch with me today.”

Jimmy was so startled he almost dropped a chipped ceramic soap dish. “But it’s a family thing.”

“People bring guests sometimes. It’s fine. There’s always plenty of food. And I thought you might like to see the place. It’s real nice.”

Jimmy tried to hide his inner conflict. “I have to work.”

“Oh, c’mon. Some of this shit has been sitting here for a hundred years. It can sit a few more hours. Aunt Belinda can spare you. She’s getting more than her money’s worth out of you already.”

With a rub of his face that most likely left his cheeks grimy, Jimmy shook his head. “Your family doesn’t like me.”

“Bullshit. They don’t even know you, hardly. Now’s their chance to see you’re not some kind of psychopath bent on taking advantage of the village idiot.”

“Shane! You’re not—”

“I know. Look, Aunt Belinda’s been reporting on you all week. Good reports. Come with, Jimmy. This time of year the grass is that fresh green, and we’ve got a lot of calves. My mom keeps a little herd of goats too—leftovers from Annie’s 4-H days—and by now they’ll have kids.”

The bucolic picture had more appeal than sifting through dusty relics in a cold basement. Jimmy sighed. “If I show up, are you sure your stepdad’s not going to shoot me or something?”

Shane narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. “He’s my father,” he growled. “Has somebody been gossiping about me?”

That gave Jimmy the perfect opportunity to hand over Tom’s letter, which was still tucked away in his room, now in the bedside drawer. But Jimmy had become greedy. He wanted just one more day with Shane—one more night, maybe—before he left Rattlesnake forever. And he knew that if he gave a true explanation of how he’d ended up in town, Shane would never forgive him for his lies.

One more day.

Jimmy shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Then let me tell you the real story, instead of whatever crap you’ve been hearing.” Shane walked closer, his gait especially uneven and his face grim. “I never had a father until my mom married Adam Little when I was eight. He adopted me, gave me his name, and never treated me any different from Annie and my brothers, who were his kids from his first wife, or Charlie who came along a couple years after he married Mom. He never made me feel like I was anything but his son. He taught me to ride—gave me my own horse when I was nine. When I told him I’m queer, he had a hard time with it for a while. Then he told me he loved me and wanted me to be happy, and he said he’d help kick the asses of anyone who gave me grief over it. And when I was in that wreck and lying there in that goddamn hospital bed, he came and held my hand and cried over me just like I was his flesh and blood.”

“I bet he’s really proud of you,” Jimmy said very quietly.

All the anger drained from Shane’s face as if someone had pulled a plug. “Thanks. And I’m sorry.” He let out a deep breath. “I get kinda worked up over it. Some people think family’s about DNA, but it ain’t. It’s about the folks who want you, who stick with you no matter what. They know your secrets and flaws, and you know theirs, and you love each other anyway.”

Fuck. Jimmy got dust in his eyes, and his hands were too dirty to wipe it away. He turned to the nearest shelf and didn’t say anything because the dust was in his throat too.

Shane stood very close behind him, settling a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “Come to the ranch,” he whispered, right into the shell of Jimmy’s ear. He wrapped his free arm around Jimmy’s middle, drawing him back, flush against Shane’s front. “Please.”

 

 

SHANE’S OLDEST brother was officially Adam Junior, but for reasons nobody explained to Jimmy, everyone called him Pokey. He parked his old Chevy truck in front of the inn and waited for Shane and then Jimmy to squeeze into the cab with him. Pokey was probably a few years older than Jimmy, his thinning hair going gray and a sizable paunch at his middle. During introductions he gazed at Jimmy more out of curiosity than hostility.

“How come you got stuck providing taxi service?” Shane asked as they rumbled down Main Street.

“Volunteered. Paula and Emma got into it again.”

Shane chuckled and turned to Jimmy. “That’s his wife and daughter. Emma’s fourteen. They argue a lot.”

“And when they do, you don’t want to get between them,” Pokey said glumly. “Not if you value your hide.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. They’re both sweethearts.”

“Yeah, when their precious darling Shaney-poo’s around, they are. You got them two thinkin’ you fart roses. I tried to tell ’em you’re an ugly dickhead, but they won’t face reality.”

“Asshole,” Shane said with a grin, bashing his shoulder against Pokey’s.

“Cocksucker.”

“Hey, don’t knock it ’til you try it.”

Their banter continued as they drove out of town and over a hillock, then turned onto a two-lane road leading east through fenced pastures. Jimmy’s brothers used to call him names too, but without the undercurrent of playfulness present between Shane and Pokey. And if Jimmy dared to call them names back, they ganged up and beat the crap out of him. He learned early that the best strategy was to get away from them if he could. But Shane obviously enjoyed this fraternal teasing and gave as good as he got.

Jimmy looked out at the rolling green hills where black cows grazed lazily between scattered boulders. Where the ground began to rise, the open land and narrow washes gradually gave way to evergreen forest and then to the taller peaks beyond.

“The views from that hill over there are real nice,” Shane said, pointing. “You can see all the way down to the Central Valley.”

“When the air ain’t shitty,” Pokey added.

Jimmy looked around. “Is part of this your land?”

Shane waved his arm, nearly bashing Jimmy in the face. “All of this is our land. Lost River Ranch. It’s over nine hundred acres. Used to be just five hundred, but then Mom and Dad bought Hawk Ridge from Jesse’s father.”

Pokey shot a worried look at Shane, which Shane didn’t seem to notice and Jimmy didn’t understand. Before Jimmy could decipher the reason, they turned onto a gravel lane, crested a hill, and dropped into a little round valley where a house and barn and other outbuildings clustered near a pond. Almost a dozen vehicles—most of them trucks or SUVs—filled the flat parking area where Pokey stopped the Chevy. “Go calm my women,” he ordered Shane, who laughed loudly. Pokey went to the back of the truck, probably to retrieve the pies Shane had bought.

Jimmy would have hung back, but Shane put an arm around his shoulders and urged him forward. “I promise everybody’s gonna play nice. We take ranch hospitality seriously ’round here.”

Shane had a little trouble maneuvering over the uneven ground. Jimmy probably wouldn’t have noticed if they hadn’t been touching. But as it was, Shane occasionally leaned some of his weight on Jimmy’s shoulders and his breath went uneven. They proceeded slowly, which was fine with Jimmy. He took in the big barn, weathered and picturesque as it nestled at the bottom of the hill. The house was ranch style, of course, parts of it looking quite old but with more recent additions. It wasn’t fancy, built more for utility than looks, he supposed, but beds of cheery flowers and young vegetables and a few rows of trellised grapevines livened it up.

“You grew up here?” Jimmy asked.

“Yep. We could swim here in the pond or in the creek over there.” He pointed. “We could fish in the creek too. And of course we rode horses and ATVs, and sometimes me and Charlie and Ty—that’s my other brother—would set up tents and sleep outside. Annie never wanted to ’cause of bugs, and Pokey was too old, but we had fun. We’d have a campfire and everything. Don’t get me wrong. A ranch is mighty hard work. We had to do chores before and after school, and we didn’t get days off or vacations. But I know this place, right? And it knows me. That’s a good feeling.”

Jimmy wouldn’t know, but he nodded anyway.

He smelled the delicious aroma of grilling meat and heard voices from behind the house even before he rounded the corner. As the entire clan came into view, he was a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of men, women, and children. Several dogs wandering among the throng noticed the newcomers first and came running at Jimmy and Shane, barking madly. Jimmy braced himself for an attack, which proved unnecessary as the dogs were ridiculously affectionate. A big shepherd mix almost knocked him over when it planted its front legs on his chest and licked his face.

“Bo, no!” Shane said, laughing as he tried to calm the beasts. But the dogs were clearly happy to have a visitor and ecstatic to see Shane, so it took a while before the animals ran off and Jimmy and Shane could move on.

By then everyone was watching them, and some waved. Standing by a long, oilcloth-covered table, Charlie even smiled at Jimmy. Adam called out a welcome too. He was wearing a red apron and poking at the grill with a long fork. But before Jimmy could brace himself for meeting people, he and Shane were mobbed again, this time by a gang of children demanding to know who Uncle Shane’s friend was.

Shane noogied a little redheaded girl and tickled a dark-haired boy. “This is Jimmy. You all be nice to him, you hear?” Then he turned to Jimmy, smiling. “Do you want to know their names?”

“I’ll never remember them. Are they all your nieces and nephews?”

“Most of ’em. A few are cousins. C’mon. I want you to meet Mom.” He steered Jimmy through the crowd of youngsters, past the barbecue and table, and to a woman who had just carried an enormous salad bowl out of the house. She looked a lot like Shane, tall and attractive, with the same bright blue eyes and pointed chin. Unlike Shane, however, she wasn’t thin, but rather solidly built. And her hair was more deeply auburn than his, although the color might have come from a bottle.

Shane took the bowl from her and leaned over to give a peck on the cheek. “Mom, this is Jimmy Dorsett. Jimmy, meet Valerie Little.”

“Val,” she said, holding out her hand for a shake. “It’s good to meet you. I’ve heard good things about you from my sister.”

Jimmy wasn’t used to detangling family connections, and it took him a moment to work out who her sister was. “Thank you. It was nice of Belinda to give me a chance. And thanks for letting me join you today. I don’t want to be any—”

Val smiled warmly and shook her head. “We’re glad to have you.” She looked around with a look of clear satisfaction. “This is what I used to dream of when I was a girl. A big family, big meals where everyone comes together. Friends to share with.” The contented smile was comfortable on her face, as if she wore it often.

It was a sharp contrast to Jimmy’s memories of his mother. Although she’d been only thirty-seven when she died—several years younger than he was now—she’d already looked wrinkled and dried up. She’d been tough and hard, and although Jimmy knew she must have smiled occasionally, he couldn’t remember it. Back when he was very young, so young he hadn’t yet accepted the folly of dreaming, he’d had fantasies of his mother finding a good man, one who loved her and the boys, one who treated Jimmy like the fathers on TV shows, with good humor and good advice. One who would make them a happy family.

Yeah, wishing was stupid. Only… Shane’s mother got what she wanted, didn’t she?

“I’m glad to be here,” Jimmy said to her.

She gave Shane a mock frown. “Are you going to stand there with that salad all day or are you going to get Jimmy some food?”

“Maybe he’s a vegetarian.”

“Vegetarian? You know we don’t take kindly to those people ’round these parts.” She couldn’t quite pull off faux outrage.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. There’s no way I’m going to say no to whatever Mr. Little has going on that grill.”

“Glad to hear it. And I’m Val and he’s Adam. We don’t much stand on ceremony at the ranch.” With another warm smile, she turned back to the house.

“She’s the best,” said Shane as he and Jimmy walked to the table. “You think the rest of my relatives are protective, but that woman would dance through hell itself to save any of us. She can castrate a bull calf, sew a kid’s costume on two hours’ notice, and finish the New York Times Sunday crossword.”

“She seems really nice.”

“She taught all us kids compassion. Not that Adam’s not a kind man, because he is. But he’s a true rancher, sparing with his words and never too keen on discussing anything touchy-feely. Mom’s the one who told all of us never to judge anyone else ’til you’ve walked in his shoes, because every one of us has a burden. And just ’cause you can’t see another person’s burden don’t mean it ain’t heavy.” He placed the salad on the table between a platter of garlic bread and a pot of baked beans. Then he grinned at Jimmy. “She taught us lots of other things too. Mom’s real enthusiastic about lessons. And don’t think you’re immune just because you ain’t related. Give her half a chance and she’ll be fixing your grammar or giving you wardrobe advice.”

Jimmy looked down at himself. Clean jeans and a clean gray sweatshirt. “Am I not dressed right?”

“Hell if I know. Mom says I’m hopeless at picking out clothes. I guess the cowboy genes outweigh the gay ones.” He picked up two plastic plates and handed one to Jimmy. “Hungry?”

Jimmy was. Under Shane’s guidance, he piled his plate high with a half-dozen different foods in a configuration that left room for a hefty serving of Adam’s grilled steak. Shane had just as much on his plate, and although he clearly had to concentrate hard to get back over the uneven ground to the table without spilling, nobody offered to help him. And it wasn’t because they didn’t care. Jimmy noticed that even the little kids were gentle when they hugged their uncle Shane, and they made an effort not to jostle him too hard. Jimmy understood. These people loved Shane enough to know he didn’t want coddling.

Jimmy sat at the table with Shane on one side and Pokey on the other. Pokey’s wife, Paula, was across from Jimmy, but his daughter was already gone. “Prob’ly off texting her friends,” Pokey said. “I swear that girl would die if she lost cell service for more than a day.”

Shane introduced Jimmy to a bunch of other people, but Jimmy couldn’t possibly keep track of them all. He concentrated on eating his meal, which was delicious. He doubted he’d ever had better steak.

“You look like you’re enjoying,” Paula said. She was lean and blonde and pretty and looked more like she belonged in a corporate boardroom than married to a rancher.

“The food’s amazing,” Jimmy answered. “Is the meat from the ranch?”

“Of course. Adam would almost rather starve before he’d serve someone else’s beef. But I hear that you’ve traveled extensively. I’ll bet you’ve eaten all sorts of interesting things.”

Her take on his life made him sound a lot more exciting than he was. “Most of the time, I’m happy for whatever food I can get. But I’ve had a few surprises over the years.”

“Like what?” She seemed like she truly wanted to know.

“Well, this one time— Uh, this might not be the best dinner-table story.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry. We all have strong stomachs around here. Ranch life is not for the fainthearted.”

“Okay then.” He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and took a sip of water from a plastic cup. He’d been offered beer, which a lot of others were drinking, but he’d passed. “I’ve eaten a few parts of animals folks don’t usually eat, but I’m guessing that wouldn’t faze you at all.”

“Nope. We don’t believe in waste. If it’s part of a steer and it can be eaten, we probably do.”

“I suspected as much. Okay. One time I was working a carnival in Texas. It was a small one, real hardscrabble. My job was to help out wherever anyone needed a hand. Setting up the booths and rides, carrying supplies, cleaning up trash. It was harder work than it sounds, and man, it was hot. And just when you’d figured out all the quirks of a particular town—where to do your laundry, how tolerant the local cops were—you’d pack everything up and move on. The pay was okay, though, and I had a place to sleep, a trailer I shared with a couple of other guys.

“One of those guys was named Buddy. He was pretty much the perfect stereotype of a biker dude, Harley and all, and he worked security for the carnival. He wasn’t a bad guy, though, as long as you followed the rules. A little… odd, maybe. He claimed he saw ghosts. But he was decent to me.”

By now his audience had spread to Pokey, Shane, and the twentysomething cousin whose name Jimmy couldn’t recall. A couple of little kids were hanging close too, so Jimmy tried to watch his language.

“One evening we’d arrived outside some Podunk town and set up, but we weren’t going to open until the next day. Some people had picked up pizza and fried chicken, and a few were grilling burgers, but none of that appealed to me. I’d been eating like that for months. I didn’t have my own car, though, and the town was too far to walk—and it was just so hot. Buddy caught me moping around and asked what my problem was.

“‘Just hungry,’ I said.

“‘Big Rick’ll feed ya.’ That was one of the guys with a grill.

“But I told Buddy I was tired of the usual. He gave me a sort of scary-looking smile and told me to follow him. Just past the carnival was nothing but desert scrub. Buddy took me so far I began to worry. Maybe he thought I was too much trouble or something. If I died in that desert, nobody but the coyotes and vultures would have noticed. When he pulled a pistol out of his vest, I almost piss—um, almost had an accident.”

Everyone laughed, especially the kids. Everyone except Shane. He’d frowned over the vultures comment and still looked a little upset. Jimmy decided to continue anyway. “Buddy told me to stay still, and you better believe I listened. By then I was just hoping he was a good, clean shot. Then he cocked his head real funny, like he was listening to something, turned a little, and shot at a bush. I must’ve jumped a mile into the air. And I gotta tell you, I wasn’t much calmer when he reached under that bush and brought out the thing he’d shot.”

“What was it?” demanded one of the youngest kids, wide-eyed and leaning in close.

Jimmy smiled at her. “Rattlesnake. What was left of one, anyway.”

“Just like our town!” He could tell this pleased her.

“Just like. And Buddy told me if I was so darn fed up with regular food, then I could eat this instead. He got down on his knees and skinned that thing—of course he kept a knife in his boot—and then hacked off a hunk of it. He handed it to me.”

The little girl scrunched up her face. “He didn’t cooked it?”

“Nope. We didn’t have a fire or anything. It was slimy and… yuck. But Buddy was still holding that knife and waiting, and I had a feeling that if I refused I might be next. So I ate it.”

Everyone winced, but the little girl asked, “What did it tasted like?”

“Awful. Really, really awful. I had to chew it for a long time, and after I swallowed it, I didn’t think it was going to stay down.”

The girl patted his arm soothingly. “I throwed up once. I ate too much Halloween candy.”

“Then you know how I felt. Only I bet that candy tasted a lot better than raw snake. I was really glad I didn’t puke. But then Buddy looked at that snake like he was going to give me the rest of it. And there was no way I was going to get any more of that stuff in me. I was afraid to open my mouth, so I just shook my head. I was considering dropping to my knees.”

“What happened?”

“Buddy laughed and tossed that poor snake away. Then he wiped his knife on a bandana, tucked it back in his boot, and threw his arm over my shoulders. ‘C’mon, Jimmy. Let’s go get us some dinner.’ He walked me back through the desert to his bike and rode me into town to this fantastic Chinese place. He even paid for my meal.”

Jimmy’s audience laughed and Shane—very briefly—cupped his hand against the back of Jimmy’s neck. Nobody else commented on it or acted as if they were upset. The little girl grabbed a stick off the ground and started chasing the little boy, shouting, “This here’s a snake and you’re gonna eat it!”

“Sorry about that,” Jimmy said to nobody in particular.

But Paula only chuckled. “Don’t be. That’ll probably keep them busy for half an hour.”

When their plates were empty, Shane looked at Jimmy. “You want some pie?”

“I seriously cannot eat another bite.”

“How about a ranch tour, then?”

Jimmy would have refused, but Shane looked hopeful. And after such nice hospitality from the whole clan, Jimmy owed at least a little politeness. “I’d love one.”

They began near the house. Shane pointed out the small orchard before taking him down to the pond, where a few ducks paddled and some geese watched them aggressively. Then they walked to a fenced pasture and goats came running to greet them. As Shane had promised, there were kids. He pulled a few weeds and stuck them through the fence. They must have been tasty, because the goats gobbled them up.

“We’ve kept sheep too, but not lately,” Shane said. “Mom and Dad prefer cattle.”

“I guess cows are easier to round up on horseback. You need a border collie for sheep, right?”

“Hmm.” Shane leaned against a fencepost and toed the ground. “Mind if we skip the barn and horses? I don’t like….” He bit his lip and stared at his boots.

“No problem. I like goats.”

Shane’s gaze shifted to the sky, which was baby blue, flocked with a few puffy white clouds. The sunshine brought out the red highlights in his hair, and Jimmy longed to touch the soft waves. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead.

“Do you want to see one of my favorite spots on the ranch? I haven’t been there in a long time.” Shane sounded unusually subdued.

“I’d love to.”

“The walk’s a little rough.” He sighed. “We should probably take a four-wheeler.”

They went inside one of the larger outbuildings, apparently used both as a workshop and for housing a pair of black ATVs. “You can drive,” Shane said.

“You can’t?”

Shane gave him a long look. “Technically, yeah, since we’re on private property. But if I have a seizure….”

“When was the last one?”

“Um….” He closed his eyes as he calculated. “Four months, almost.”

“Then I’ll take my chances. I trust you not to kill us.”

Shane’s face filled with such pain that Jimmy immediately regretted his words. But Shane looked away, and when he looked back, there was something deeper in his eyes. A decision, Jimmy thought. “All right,” Shane said and handed Jimmy a helmet.

It was really nice to sit behind him, leaning up against his warm back with arms wrapped firmly around his middle. Shane wore a helmet too—“Can’t risk another cracked skull.”

They rode away from the house, over the hill, and then down a wash. At one point, Jimmy scrambled off to open a gate and then closed it behind them. Cattle watched curiously from afar as the vehicle followed the curve of the land. Atop a tall, grassy rise, an enormous tree stretched its crooked branches, an ancient sentinel. Shane drove them to the top of the hill and stopped just outside the tree’s spring-green canopy. When he and Jimmy dismounted, they hung their helmets from the handlebars, and Shane shook out his hair. He walked slowly beneath the tree until he reached the trunk. He caressed it slowly, like a blind man trying to feel its shape.

Jimmy followed him through the grass as birds flitted noisily among the higher branches. The bark looked heavily ridged, like alligator hide.

“It’s beautiful,” Jimmy said when he caught up to Shane.

“Valley oak. I used to know the botanical name, but I forget. Dad thinks this one could be five hundred years old.”

“Wow.” It was Jimmy’s turn to stroke the trunk. “So back when Shakespeare was writing his plays, this tree had already been feeding squirrels for decades. I can see why it’s your favorite spot.”

“It’s not. I mean, I like it well enough. But I like down there better.” He pointed down the other side of the hill, which was steep and covered by brush. Another hill pushed up close, and the foliage obscured what lay between them.

“Will you go down there with me?” Shane asked. He set his jaw. “I might need some help.”

Jimmy didn’t see the point of tromping over difficult ground, and he didn’t understand why Shane was intent on sharing this experience with him. Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to visit a special place with someone he cared about instead of with the drifter he’d known only a few days? Surely any one of Shane’s many relatives would happily help him out.

But this was important to Shane; Jimmy could tell. So he looked Shane straight in the eyes. “Sure,” he said.

The angle of the slope made their footing somewhat treacherous. Jimmy had to put his arm around Shane’s waist—Shane’s arm over his shoulders—to help him down the trickier parts. Shane didn’t say anything as they descended, but his breathing was harsh. Sometimes a small moan escaped his tightly clamped lips. For the final part, Jimmy had to hop down a four-foot drop and then almost lift Shane to the ground beside him. Shane leaned back against the little cliff, his head hanging low. Jimmy didn’t ask whether he was okay because the answer was obvious, but after a minute or two, Shane recovered enough to stand up straight and look around. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

It was. The creek that meandered between the hills had created a sort of miniature Grand Canyon as it exposed the neighboring stone. They sat in a little clearing surrounded by lush vegetation, and the sunlight filtered through the branches, creating dancing dappled patterns.

“Let me show you something,” Shane said. He walked them along the edge of the creek for several yards until they came to a slightly wider point in the little valley, and then he pointed at some granite boulders. Looking more closely, Jimmy saw that the rocks had deep rounded indentations that were too regular to have occurred naturally. “Indian grinding stones. I asked one of my teachers about them once. She said the Indians would soak acorns in water to get rid of the…. Dammit, I forget the word. It tastes bad. Anyway, they’d soak the acorns and then pound them into flour.” With a small groan, he sat on one of the stones and smoothed a finger around the edge of one of the holes.

Jimmy had thought the town of Rattlesnake carried the full weight of the past—especially the cemetery and the inn—but that was all just yesterday compared to the history of the land. Here, stories were literally carved in stone and growing on hilltops. He wondered what it would be like to live in a place where every bit carried a memory.

“I like it here,” Jimmy said as he sat next to Shane. “It feels private. Special.”

When Shane twisted to face him, he was beaming. “Exactly! When you come down here, it’s like nobody else can… can bother you. Have you ever had a spot like that? When you were a kid, maybe?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Not that I remember. We’d live in these tiny shacks or cramped apartments. Once in a while I’d find a hidey hole somewhere, but my brothers could always find me.”

Mildly, Shane said, “I thought you didn’t have any brothers or sisters.”

Shit. The problem with staying in one location for more than a few days was that you forgot what stories you’d told. “I don’t,” Jimmy said. “I haven’t for a long time.”

Shane looked a little sad, but not angry. He angled away and started rubbing the edge of the indentation again. “I was eight when Mom and Dad married. I was really excited about it. I adored him from the start, and Pokey, Ty, Annie—I was thrilled to have siblings. Plus Ty’s only eight months older than me, and we already knew each other from school, so that was great. And man, getting to move to a ranch and someday be a real cowboy? What kid wouldn’t be psyched over that? But sometimes it was all a little too much, I guess. All these people. You know what I mean.” He waved in the general direction of the house and the family gathering.

“Yeah, I get you.”

“Then Charlie came along real soon, and that was cool, but of course at first she took a lot of Mom’s attention. I was kind of a brat about it, which means I got yelled at. But one day when I was feeling sorry for myself, I found this.” He gestured at the valley. “And I’d come back whenever I needed some time to myself or just a place to escape the circus for a while. It’s nice to be able to run away without leaving home.” He gave Jimmy one of those piercing looks that made him squirm.

Instead of answering, Jimmy looked at the creek, where the sunlight played with the water’s surface. He liked the way the air smelled here, fresh and green and a little sagey, and he liked the sounds of the stream, the gently rustling leaves, the twittering of the birds.

He was startled—but not unhappily so—when Shane put an arm around him and leaned into his shoulder. Jimmy responded by settling his hand on the soft denim over Shane’s thigh.

Jimmy was used to quiet time. What was new to him was having companionship during the quiet. He was surprised that Shane’s presence didn’t diminish his enjoyment of sitting somewhere pretty and safe, with a full belly and a few dollars in his wallet. In fact, it was awfully nice to have a warm body to lean against, a friendly smile to meet him when he turned his head.

And when Shane leaned in closer to kiss him, that was nicer still.

Pretty soon they were making out like a pair of randy teenagers, and Jimmy’s jeans felt way too confining. He gasped when Shane lightly squeezed his bulge. Jimmy was suddenly ravenous—and not for more grilled tri-tip. But when Shane reached to unbutton Jimmy’s jeans, Jimmy scooted away. “We’re… in public.”

Shane laughed. “We have more privacy here than back at the inn. Nobody ever comes down here. Me and Jesse used to—” He clamped his mouth shut and looked away for a moment. When he turned back, his grin had returned. “Nobody’s gonna interrupt us.”

Charlie had said something about Shane’s judgment being off sometimes. Jimmy truly hoped this was not one of those times, because he didn’t have the willpower to refuse. He did have a request, however. “I want to see you this time. Naked.” Because he rarely got that opportunity with any of his partners, and because he wanted to know Shane just that little bit more. He stood to undress.

Shane stood as well but hesitated with his hands on the placket of his Pendleton shirt. “I’m not very pretty. I’m bony.”

By way of encouragement, Jimmy kicked off his shoes. As he peeled off his socks, he said, “I’m not exactly underwear-model material myself. And I wasn’t twenty years ago either.”

“I have scars. Bad ones.”

With the pebbles smooth and cool under his feet, Jimmy walked closer. “You gotta believe me on this, Shane. No matter how many scars you have, I won’t find you any less attractive.”

Shane narrowed his eyes. “Is that the truth or an easy lie?”

God, Jimmy’s heart twisted. How much did Shane suspect about the stories he’d told, and how could the man trust him at all? “The truth.”

“I don’t want… don’t want you to pity me.”

Jimmy brushed the marks on Shane’s face with his fingertips and then stepped back slightly to wiggle out of his jeans and underwear, leaving himself fully exposed to Shane’s gaze. He knew he wasn’t much to look at, but his dick was hard, which he figured was pretty incontrovertible proof of his interest in Shane. He waved a hand in the direction of his groin. “Does that look like pity to you?”

“No. But you ain’t seen the scars yet.”

“Try me.”

Biting his lip, Shane shrugged off the wool shirt and set it on one of the grinding rocks. His T-shirt soon followed. And yeah, scars traced intricate roadways across his pale skin. But freckles dotted his chest as well, and russet hair formed a triangle between his pinkish-brown nipples, and all Jimmy wanted to do was touch him and taste him.

“Still not feeling sorry for you,” Jimmy said, his voice husky.

Shane let out his breath in a not-quite-laugh. He unbuckled his belt but then seemed to remember he wore boots. When he sat on a rock and leaned down, Jimmy crouched in front of him and batted his hands away. “Let me.”

“Oh fuck,” Shane moaned.

“What?”

“You look a sight like that.”

Ducking his head to hide his grin, Jimmy tugged Shane’s boots and socks off and gave his long, narrow feet a quick rub. He couldn’t recall being in a situation so erotic before—kneeling naked at the feet of a nearly full-clothed handsome man, with only the trees and the sky above them, only the living hills as walls. Impulsively, he kissed Shane’s instep and was rewarded with a noisy hiss.

“God damn!” Shane swore, sounding more awestruck than blasphemous.

Jimmy wouldn’t have minded continuing, but his knees ached. He stood, then held out a hand. “C’mere, pardner.”

Shane grasped it and stood. He allowed Jimmy to unfasten his jeans and tug them down, and he held on to Jimmy’s shoulder for balance while kicking the denim free. He wore light blue boxer shorts, unremarkable and not especially flattering. Long scars traced his legs. When Jimmy rid Shane of his underwear, he saw that his left hip bore the largest scar of all, an angry-looking knot of raised tissue. Shane’s soft cock was plump and cut, with a thick nest of springy curls and balls so sweet that Jimmy longed for them in his mouth.

“See?” Shane said defiantly. “I’m a goddamn mess.”

But that wasn’t what Jimmy was thinking. A little voice within him was wondering how a man like Shane could ever want weak, unreliable, worthless Jimmy Dorsett. But he gave voice to his most forceful thought. “You’re a goddamn miracle. And so fucking strong.”

Something shifted in Shane’s eyes as he realized Jimmy told the truth. “You really don’t care about the scars.”

“I care, because they’re important to you, because I suppose they helped make the Shane I know. But they sure as hell don’t make me think any less of you. And they don’t make me want you any less.” It was, perhaps, the deepest declaration of feelings he’d ever made. But then, he’d never before felt this way.

Even before they moved into an embrace, Shane’s cock began to fill. Then Jimmy felt it harden against his while he groped Shane’s ass. Absolutely perfect, with or without scars. And speaking of scars…. Jimmy tugged Shane’s head down a bit to kiss the marks on his face: the big one on his forehead, partially hidden by his hair; the small one next to his left eye; the horizontal one on the bridge of his nose, right over the bump; the sideways V under his chin.

And once he’d started on that plan of action, Jimmy didn’t want to stop. He pressed his lips to the scars on Shane’s chest and on his arms, then knelt to kiss the painful knot over his hip. He didn’t know why. He wasn’t a tender lover. He rutted, he sucked, he fucked; he didn’t make love. But today he wanted to worship Shane’s body, especially the imperfect parts. Perhaps because Jimmy was so imperfect himself.

He wanted to move on to the long scars on Shane’s legs, but Shane’s cock was directly in front of him, rampant and proud, the tip a tempting red. So Jimmy kissed the glans instead, then pressed his lips to the heavy vein that ran the length of the shaft—once, twice, three times—and finally mouthed gently at the heavy sac.

Shane clutched his shoulder hard. “My legs’re gonna give out.”

Jimmy looked up at him, grinning. “Where’s good to lie down?” Because although the gravel was worn smooth, it still wasn’t especially comfortable.

“Over there.” Shane helped him stand and towed him to a spot just around the bend, where the little canyon widened a bit and the creekside gravel gave way to grass. When they collapsed to the ground—neither of them graceful about it—the crushed plants smelled slightly of mint. “We’re going to get grass stains in unmentionable places,” Jimmy said, stroking Shane’s chest hair.

“You can use my tub to scrub up.”

“Hmm.” Jimmy was more interested in tasting him again, so he pushed Shane onto his back and then climbed on top. While Shane stroked and squeezed Jimmy’s shoulders, back, and ass, Jimmy repeated the kissing sequence, beginning again near Shane’s scalp. He made it all the way to the shins this time, then to the knobby ankles, before working his way back up Shane’s inner legs. He stopped with his mouth a fraction of an inch from Shane’s balls and blew warm air just to watch the sensitive skin pucker. He laughed when Shane lifted his hips.

“Tryin’ to tell me something, there, pardner?” Jimmy asked.

“My family was right. You are evil.”

Jimmy gave his very best malicious chuckle and tongued the damp, salty head of Shane’s cock.

It would have been nice to draw things out longer, but the sun was warm enough on Jimmy’s back and ass for him to worry about burning, and besides, Shane was writhing urgently beneath him. And truth was, Jimmy wanted to see Shane fall apart from the pleasure Jimmy gave him. So without further teasing, he grasped Shane’s hot, solid cock and slipped the end into his mouth.

He’d become good at giving head, back in the days when he earned his dinner that way. He learned how to bring off a john quickly. And in the years after, his couplings were usually urgent and rushed—a few stolen minutes in back alleys or bathrooms, with the threat of interruption always present. Now, though, he could use his skills not because he had to, but because he wanted to. Because every grunt and moan from Shane’s throat, every too-hard press of Shane’s fingers into his skin, made his heart race and his blood boil.

“Jesus Christ, Jimmy!” Shane yelled, loud enough to startle some nearby birds. Then he spasmed and came, his fluid thick and earthy against Jimmy’s palate.

Jimmy licked him clean before planting one final kiss on his hip and then scooting up to lie beside him.

“Want me to return the favor?” Shane asked, reaching for him.

But although Jimmy’s balls throbbed, he caught Shane’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Not now. Somebody told me it’s better if you wait awhile.”

“Doesn’t get much better than this,” Shane replied.

Still holding hands, they lay side by side, looking up to the sky. The temperature was exactly warm enough, Jimmy decided. A yellow butterfly fluttered over to land on Shane’s toe, making them both laugh.

After a bit, Shane sighed and tilted his head to rest against Jimmy’s shoulder. “I was driving too fast. That’s what the police said, anyway. I don’t remember. I have a big old blank spot starting a few weeks before the accident and ending when I woke up from a coma. I lost the last… I lost time. Anyway, I wasn’t drinking or anything. I was just a stupid kid who should have slowed down for the curve. I rolled my truck.”

Jimmy could almost hear the sickening crunch and thud. “How old were you?”

“Twenty-three. Five years out of high school, and I loved working the ranch. It’s all I ever wanted to do. When you’re out there with nothing to work with but your horse, your hands, your own strong body—nothing in the world feels so good.” He laughed slightly and squeezed Jimmy’s hand. “Well, almost nothing. Have you ever had a job you’ve loved like that?”

“Not really. I’ve liked some, though.”

“Did you ever—when you were a kid, maybe—sit there and think about what you truly wanted to do with yourself? Like Aunt Belinda. She adores that inn. She’d probably park herself there all the time if somebody didn’t pry her away now and then. And Charlie? She’s wanted to be a teacher since she started kindergarten. She used to make us play school, and even though she was the youngest, she was always in charge.”

Jimmy remembered his answer from before. “For a while I thought it’d be cool to be a fireman. All those lights and sirens, I guess.”

Shane rolled his head to look at Jimmy. “Really?” he asked, his eyes brighter blue than the sky.

Jimmy shook his head slightly. “No. Not really. I never actually thought about it, I guess.” Because most of the time, survival was his goal, and even when he was very little, he knew he’d never amount to anything. Hell, everyone told him so. Sometimes in words, sometimes just with the looks they’d give him as he stood with his unkempt hair and unwashed body, wearing threadbare hand-me-downs. And nobody ever asked what he wanted to be when he grew up.

“How can you stand being here?” he asked. “On the ranch, I mean. Doesn’t it get to you?”

“’Cause I can’t work here anymore? Yeah, I guess it bugs me. But it’s still home. My family’s here. I’d miss it like crazy if I was away too long.”

Jimmy didn’t understand that. There were whole sections of states he avoided because of the memories, like Chicago, where he’d lived when his mother died. He sure as hell didn’t miss those places. “And you’re okay with being a bartender?”

After thinking for a moment, Shane said, “Yeah. I can support myself, and that’s real important. For a long time after the accident, the docs said I never would. That would have killed me by inches, spending the rest of my life depending on other folks. Even if they didn’t mind me being a burden. And I like the inn, that old heap of bricks. Plus, I get to meet some real interesting people.” He reached over to smooth his free hand over Jimmy’s chest.

It was Jimmy’s turn to think for a while. He’d always thought that when dreams died, the heart grew bitter. He’d seen that with his mother; even though the doctors blamed cancer, he’d always been convinced it was rotting hopes that had killed her. But here was Shane with his life and body broken, yet he moved on and found room in himself for new happiness.

As if he’d read Jimmy’s thoughts, Shane sighed. “I recovered a lot better than anyone predicted, and for a time I swore that someday I’d get back in the saddle. But that’s never gonna happen. The doctors tell me that if I let them at me again, they maybe could get rid of some of the pain. But not all of it, and I’m never gonna move around any better than I do now. Took me a few years, but I accept that. I’m grateful for what I do have. Not everyone’s so lucky.”

Luck was a relative thing. Maybe Jimmy should remember that more often.

“So the pain—they can help you with that?”

“Maybe. I got some plates and pins stuck to my bones. They tell me they could take ’em out and I might be more comfortable. But they’d have to cut into me again. I’d have to go back to the hospital and I can’t… I don’t like hospitals.” He shuddered slightly.

“Do you take pain meds?”

“Nah. I already take enough ’cause of the seizures, and I don’t want to end up an addict. I don’t like how they make me feel either, like I’m not in control.” Unexpectedly, he laughed. “My brother Ty got himself a medical marijuana card after he hurt his back lifting something. His back’s fine now but he still has the card, and sometimes he drives to the dispensary in Jackson and picks up a little weed. Maybe one Sunday a month we get high together. I don’t think Mom’s happy about it, but it helps a little, and I figure as long as I don’t make it a habit, it’s okay.”

“So the rest of the time you just… live with it.”

“Don’t have much of an alternative.” Shane looked at Jimmy shrewdly. “You can’t outrun your pain, Jimmy, ’cause it’s a part of you. You just have to make your peace with it.” He gave Jimmy’s hand a final squeeze before letting go and climbing slowly to his feet. “We’d better find our clothes. Pokey’ll be waiting to drive us back to town.”

Chapter Fourteen

 

 

JIMMY WAS going to leave on Monday, but his morning started early with the arrival of the linen service truck. He helped unload clean sheets and towels and load the bags of dirty ones. Then a whole caravan of other deliveries arrived—liquor, beer, and other bar supplies as well as huge packages of toilet paper and soap and teeny bottles of shampoo. By the time everything was off the trucks and put away, he was hungry and it was time to meet Shane at Mae’s. And then, well, there was the basement organization and inventory project he’d begun on Sunday, plus the realization that if he stuck around until the end of the day, he had an entire week’s pay coming his way.

So he stayed. Just one more day.

That night they had sandwiches for dinner at Shane’s place, and Jimmy spent a couple of hours at the bar, chatting with him between customers. Later, Shane came to his room and they had gentle sex, and it was good even though they were both too tired to make much of an effort.

Tuesday morning he had a thick wallet. He actually got as far as shoving his clothing into his duffel. But then he realized he had nothing to read. He’d finished the Stephen King he’d brought and the Elmore Leonard that Shane had given him. He had two other books—Kurt Vonnegut and Dean Koontz—but he’d already read them both three times. He hated traveling without something to read. Besides, Belinda wanted him to repaint a scuffed wall in the downstairs hallway. He sort of wanted to accomplish that much, at least.

So he spent the morning getting ready to paint: taping off the edges, scrubbing the walls, filling the holes where something heavy had once been bolted. Then he discovered that the paint he’d found in the basement, which was supposed to match the opposite wall, didn’t. Someone had mislabeled it. He took the can to Belinda, who was perched in her usual spot at the front desk, and explained the situation.

“Terry,” she sighed. “He’s a nice boy, but how Trudy puts up with him, I’ll never know.”

“I can dig around in the basement some more. Maybe there’s—”

“Don’t bother. I’m not all that happy with the color anyway.” She tapped her finger thoughtfully and then looked up as a young couple walked in the door. “Maybe Shane can stay here for me while I drive to Sonora to pick out something new. Would you ask him?”

“Sure.”

He walked down the hall and around the corner and knocked on Shane’s door. It took a moment, but when the door swung open, there was Shane with his curls still wet and his white T-shirt stuck to his chest. “It’s you,” he said, frowning.

Evidently the moment had arrived: Jimmy had overstayed his welcome. He looked down at the floor. “Sorry. I just—”

“Why didn’t you just come in? You have the key. Now my clothes are all wet. If I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have bothered throwing them on before I was dry.” He reached out to quickly stroke Jimmy’s cheek.

That sudden lightness in Jimmy’s chest? That was just stupid. He was a stupid man. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Jesus, Jimmy. I already told you, you’re welcome anytime. You never complain when I barge into your room at night.”

“I’m not about to complain about that.”

Shane quirked a smile. “Yeah, and whenever you want to pop on over for a quickie, be my guest. But that ain’t— You can come over just to talk, you know. Or do your laundry or make some toast or… hell, whatever you want. In fact, I’ve been thinking….” But whatever he’d been thinking, he must have decided not to share it. He squinted at Jimmy and leaned in the doorway. “So you here for sex? Or toast?”

“Neither. Belinda sent me. She wants to know if you’ll mind the store while she heads to Sonora for paint.”

“Paint?” Shane snorted. “And I bet she stops for lunch at that frou-frou place she likes. And then admires but doesn’t buy the overpriced dresses in the store next door.”

“So you want me to tell her…?”

“I’ll be out in just a few. But now I can’t join you at Mae’s today.” He sounded genuinely disappointed.

“Want me to deliver your meal?”

Shane’s face lit up. “I’d like that. Thanks.”

Mae’s was a little slow that morning. Katy, their regular waitress, dimpled at Jimmy as soon as he entered. “You guys want a window seat today?”

“Actually, I’m going to take our omelets to go. Shane’s stuck at work.”

She clucked her tongue. “He works too much. You oughta take him out sometime. One of his sisters or uncles or someone can take over the bar while you catch a movie.” She winked. “Johnny Depp’s playing at the Jewel Box.”

He gave her a noncommittal nod, and she went off to put in his order. But she returned shortly and leaned against the counter, telling him about how her younger kid was home with the flu—his grandmother was taking care of him while Katy worked—and her older kid had just gotten glasses.

“Candy told me your daughter won the school spelling bee,” Jimmy said. “And she’s going to the county competition?”

Katy beamed. “She sure is. She’s been practicing. Only in sixth grade and she can already outspell me and her daddy.”

They gossiped until the food was ready. She’d recently started charging Jimmy less than the menu prices, and when he asked her about it, she’d shrugged. “Friends and family discount.”

Balancing the foam containers in one hand and a paper cup full of OJ in the other, Jimmy pushed out the door. A couple of the local codgers sat on their usual bench outside. One of the guys had a medium-sized dog as portly and gray as he was. The other man cackled and said, “Now Shane’s got you waiting on him? He’s as bad as my wife.”

“I’ve met your wife,” Jimmy replied. “She’s way too good for you.”

The geezers were still laughing as he crossed the street.

Jimmy ate his omelet standing at the front desk, while Shane sat in Belinda’s seat to eat his. Grisel walked by pushing her vacuum and scolded them about leaving a mess.

“You can wait here with me until Belinda gets back with your paint,” Shane offered.

“Thanks, but I think I’m going to try for more progress downstairs. But who’s covering the bar?”

“In the unlikely event a customer comes in, I’ll be two places at once. I’ve done it before.”

“Well, give me a holler if you need me.”

Shane nodded thoughtfully. “You need a cell phone.”

“Why?” Jimmy had never owned one of the things and didn’t know how to work them. “Who’s going to call me?”

“Belinda, maybe, if you’re somewhere else in the inn and she needs you. Or… me. I’ll ask her if she’ll get you one. My cousin Ricky can get her a good deal.”

“I don’t think I need one,” Jimmy mumbled uncomfortably. “I’m, uh, I’ll be in the basement.”

That afternoon he painted the hallway a soft yellow. Then he and Shane ate pizza, and Jimmy spent a couple of hours in the bar. He knew several of the regulars by name now. Mostly they kept to the tables, but occasionally one of them would wander to Jimmy’s stool to talk about politics or the weather or the damned tourists.

In the wee hours of the morning, Jimmy and Shane traded blowjobs in Jimmy’s room. But this time they dozed off together in postorgasmic peace. Although Jimmy’s bed was a tight squeeze for two grown men, Shane didn’t head back to his own place until shortly before dawn.

After Shane left, Jimmy tied a towel around his waist and slunk to the bathroom, hoping he wouldn’t run into any guests. Not having his own toilet was a little inconvenient. And he laughed at himself when he thought that. Fuck. Aren’t we turning into a spoiled prima donna?

Back in his room, he almost considered getting dressed, maybe going for a walk before he started work. Maybe hitting the road. But he was tired and the sun wasn’t even up yet, so he dropped the towel and climbed back into a bed that smelled of Shane and sex.

He fell asleep right away. And he dreamed.

He drove down a wide empty road, very fast. So fast the wheels barely stayed on the pavement, and when he took a curve or topped a hill, the car was in danger of flying away altogether. It was a strange car, big and open-topped like a jalopy from some old movie. When he glanced behind him, he saw that the vast backseat was filled with books, which made him happy. But the next time he looked, the books were gone, replaced by folded sheets of paper that kept escaping the car and floating away. They were important. He didn’t want to lose them. But he kept on driving.

At some point he realized he had a passenger. Not a dead hitchhiker, which was a relief. No, this was Eddy, one of the old men who sat on the bench outside of Mae’s. Eddy’s dog was down at his feet, and Eddy droned on about taxes, and his upcoming surgery to replace all his bones with titanium plates, and his plans to turn the Rattlesnake public parking lot into a miniature cattle ranch.

Jimmy thought that Eddy was weighing the car down, keeping him from driving as fast as he wanted. So he screeched to a halt and pushed a button that opened the passenger side door. Eddy and his dog got out and gave Jimmy a sad wave before he tore away.

Although the road in front of him was sharply visible, everything else was obscured by heavy fog. He caught only glimpses of landscape as he sped by—trees, a gold mine, a hill, a shiny skyscraper—and he kept thinking he was supposed to look for something familiar, but he couldn’t remember what.

The car started making ominous growls and rattles. “No!” he shouted in the dream. “I don’t want to ride a horse instead.”

When he looked in the backseat, the papers were gone, but now the space was crammed with people. Belinda was there, and Grisel and Candy. Katy and Mae—who held a plate of french toast—and Pokey and Paula and Emma and Adam and Valerie, and lots of cousins and aunts and uncles whose names he couldn’t remember. There was a man whose cowboy hat obscured his face, but Jimmy somehow knew his name anyway; it was Jesse.

“Get out!” Jimmy yelled at the crowd. “You’re slowing me down.” They all hopped out of the moving car without complaint—even Mae, who probably topped four hundred pounds and wasn’t in the best hopping shape.

He floored the pedal and the car went even faster. He’d be getting there soon, he thought. But where was there? Ah, now Tom in the passenger seat, looking considerably worse for the wear and grinning a death’s-head smile. “You know exactly where you’re going, boy. It’s where we’re all going. Are you sure this is how you wanna get there?”

Jimmy tried to scream, but his throat didn’t work. All that came out was a desperate hiss. No, wait. He wasn’t the one hissing. That noise came from his passenger, because now Tom was gone—replaced by an enormous snake with bright blue eyes. The snake rattled warningly. “It’s the tail you have to watch for,” said a disembodied voice. “That’s what’s going to bite you.” Which didn’t make sense, because the fangs were the dangerous part.

But then Jimmy realized his mistake. He’d misheard the voice, and when it repeated itself, he understood correctly. “It’s the tale you have to watch for.”

And then the snake struck.