A Montana Cowboy. Rebecca Winters

to Trace. He couldn’t imagine his father’s treatment working. But in a month’s time the tribe hadn’t lost one of them and he’d become a valued friend of the Crow.

      Tears smarted Trace’s eyes just remembering the day they presented his dad with the belt buckle, handmade on their reservation. His father was held in high esteem by a lot of the population around White Lodge, including members of the Crow nation.

      Soon after that experience, his parents divorced. Remembered pain still lingered to think his mom would want to leave the man who was Trace’s idol. So what did Trace do? After he’d turned eighteen, he’d left his father, just like his mom had done.

      “You probably won’t believe me, but I’ve missed being here. I’ve missed you, Dad.” His voice was thick with emotion. “More than you’ll ever know.”

      Sam leaned forward with his hands on his knees. “When your mom left, the heart went out of our home. You couldn’t take it.”

      He shook his head. “That’s not it. At first I was angry at her. Later I was angry at you for not making her come back.”

      “You can’t hold somebody who doesn’t want to be held, son.”

      “I know that now. Forgive my anger.”

      “It was natural. Divorce means an automatic whammy for everyone involved. No one escapes. I’m proud of you for what you’ve done with your life even when it threw you some curveballs. Is it killing you not to be a pilot anymore?”

      “If you’d asked me that when I was rushed to the hospital, I would have told you I’d rather have been killed. But after a few days I realized it would be the coward’s way out and I thought about something you said the day our collie’s paw got caught in a snare and had to be amputated.”

      “Poor Kip. He was the best dog we ever had.”

      “I loved him. While I was having hysterics, you told me he’d be able to get around just fine with three legs. That’s why God gave him four, just in case.”

      A quiet laugh came out of his father. “Did I really say that?”

      “That’s why everyone in Carbon County puts their favorite vet on a pedestal. Before I phoned you from the hospital to let you know what had happened to me, I figured you’d say something like, ‘Son? God gave you two eyes so if you lost one of them, it didn’t matter.’ Even if you didn’t know what went through my mind before our phone call, your wisdom helped me through that dark period. So, the answer to your question is no, it didn’t kill me.”

      “Thank God for that.”

      “But during my recuperation I had to think about how else I could earn my living. On the way home, I spent a couple days at the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs. They’ve offered me a teaching position on their staff, but I’ve been given five to six weeks to get my affairs in order before I report.”

      At that piece of unexpected news his dad—hurt to the marrow as Trace had anticipated—got up from the swing and walked over to the porch railing. He looked up at the stars. “What about the woman you said you wanted to marry in Italy? How does she feel about that decision?”

      Trace couldn’t stay seated either. He wandered over to his father. “You’re the smartest man I ever knew, so you already know the answer to that question.”

      “Which means if she’s willing, you’ll live in Colorado Springs.”

      The hollowness of his father’s voice stung Trace. His eyes closed tightly for a minute. It was a big if.

      “That’s the plan, but these are early days. Nicci needs to fly to the States. I want her to meet you and Ellen, then we’ll fly to Colorado Springs and let her get a feel for where we’d live.”

      Trace waited for the next question. It was a long time coming. “What about the ranch?”

      This was the part he’d been dreading. “I’d like to use the time while I’m here to find a buyer. With the sale of the house and property, you’ll have plenty of money to spend on you and Ellen.

      “All these years you’ve sacrificed for me, for mom. Now it’s time you thought about yourself. You can go on some cruises, buy a house. I was hoping you might invest in a motor home. Then you and Ellen could come and visit us in Colorado whenever you wanted.”

      His father slowly turned to him. In the semidarkness he looked older than he had earlier in the evening. “This ranch is your legacy, son.”

      Here Trace went again, stabbing his father in the heart once more. “Not when I won’t be able to live here. Since you have health issues and can’t work the ranch anymore, the only sensible thing to do is sell it. Maybe one of Ellen’s married children would like to buy it.”

      His dad’s body had gone still as a statue. “You know what? It’s getting late. I don’t want Ellen to worry, so I’m going to leave. I’ve already said good-night to Cassie. But you tell her again how much I appreciated dinner.”

      He started for the porch steps. Trace walked with him to his truck. After he got in the cab, he lowered the window. “Didn’t she do a great job on those shutters?”

      The question only added to Trace’s pain because he knew the renovations had been done expressly for Trace’s homecoming. “They’re exquisitely done.”

      His father nodded. “Come on over to the condo anytime. Don’t be a stranger.”

      This wasn’t the way their reunion was supposed to go. “What are you talking about? I’ll see you tomorrow at the clinic. Love you, Dad.”

      “Love you. Always.”

      In agony, Trace watched his father drive away. If it weren’t late, he’d head over to the Bannock ranch to look up Connor or Jarod. They’d understand his impossible position. Letting out a groan, he went back in the house for his wallet and keys. A restlessness had come over him. He’d never be able to sleep.

      Cassie had already disappeared to her room for the night. Not wanting to disturb her, he left a note on the kitchen table that he was going into town and probably wouldn’t be back till late. He supposed he didn’t need to say anything, but it seemed the courteous thing to do. She’d gone the extra mile to make Trace comfortable today. No one had fussed over him like this in years and he appreciated it.

      The Golden Spur Bar in White Lodge didn’t close till one in the morning. He needed the canned country music, a lot of noise plus a beer to drown the condemning voice in his head. Too bad the laser’s damage hadn’t burned the guilt out of him at the same time.

      He found a parking spot around the corner. Summer brought the tourists in droves and the place was crowded. Trace made his way through to the bar. After a five-minute wait he grabbed a vacated stool and signaled the bartender.

      “Trace Rafferty?” The man on his left had spoken to him. When he turned, the guy said, “It is you. You’re the F-16 pilot. What do you know about that.”

      “Sorry. Have we met before?”

      “Yeah, but it was a long time ago and I’m the forgettable type according to my ex-wife. The name’s Owen Pearson.”

      It rang a bell, but Trace couldn’t place him. Between the empty whiskey glass and his self-pity, Trace could see Owen was getting wasted fast. The bartender asked Trace what he wanted. “A beer please.”

      Owen raised his empty glass. “Another one of these while you’re at it.” Then his gaze swerved back to Trace. “You in town on leave?”

      “Something like that.” It was no one else’s business.

      “Haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”

      “Pardon?”

      “You remember Ned Bannock. He and I have been buddies for years.”

      At