Easter In Dry Creek. Janet Tronstad

he didn’t want to go to prison. She did not understand why he would not admit it now, though.

      “It doesn’t matter where the alcohol came from,” her father said with enough force to his voice to remind Allie of what was important.

      “The real problem was Hannah breaking up with Mark,” Clay added. “That’s all he could talk about. She asked him to go for a drive at noon and told him it was over unless they got married.”

      “He should have known Hannah wasn’t really breaking up with him,” Allie said. “They’d been dating forever. She didn’t tell him she was pregnant because she wanted him to marry her for love and not feel like he’d been trapped. But she wasn’t leaving him. If you hadn’t been there to egg Mark on, he would have eventually come around and seen how things were.”

      “But she didn’t say any of that,” Clay protested. “What was he to think?”

      “Most men don’t think,” she said, not expecting the bitterness she heard in her voice. She was disappointed by more than what had happened with Hannah and Mark. Clay had thrown away their chances, too. “That’s the problem.”

      “Now, Allie,” her father protested.

      She lifted her chin. “Well, it’s true. Men do what they want and don’t even always tell you what happened. They just let the pieces fall anywhere.”

      Allie let her words hang in the air. She wasn’t going to take them back. She could see Clay measuring her words, like he wasn’t sure what she meant. She saw the muscles tighten along his jaw, and she knew he had decided something.

      “You’re talking about me now, aren’t you?” he said, no longer looking puzzled.

      She didn’t answer. As strong as her memories of him were, she had no right to question him. There had been no hint of romance in his manner toward her that time so long ago. He’d never even tried to kiss her, not even when she had bought tube after tube of lip gloss with enticing names like Sweet Pink and Red Passion. That should show her what Clay thought of her and kissing.

      “I don’t lie, and I wasn’t letting anyone down,” Clay finally said. “That night with Mark—no one was counting on me. There was no one to let down.”

      Yes, there was, Allie thought as she stepped back toward the kitchen sink. There was me.

      She wasn’t ready for all of this. She’d thought she’d never see Clay again. But he was wrong that no one had counted on him back then. Her father had still been drinking his whiskey, bottle after bottle of the same, and she used to tell herself Clay would know what to do if she needed help. Her mother had been the one to handle her father when he was drunk, and once she was gone, Allie never knew how to keep him steady. Mark refused to think there was a problem with their father, and so she knew it would be up to her to do something, if her father went out of control. That’s why she’d been glad Clay was with them.

      She’d worried all the time back then until one night when she’d seen Clay standing outside the bunkhouse looking up at her window. His gaze had seemed protective, and she told herself he was looking out for her a little bit. She knew he would come if she needed help. That’s when she’d started her search for the perfect irresistible lip gloss. She had barely gotten used to the flutter of her feelings for him and then he was gone.

      Deep silence filled the room.

      Finally Allie turned around and spoke. She didn’t look up, but she knew Clay would understand she was speaking to him. Those long-ago feelings were not important. She needed to help her family now, and she couldn’t do that by mooning over Clay. “Hannah only took Jeremy to see Mark once a long time ago. Jeremy was scared of the coma, and so now she leaves him here with Dad when she goes. Jeremy doesn’t know who his father is.”

      “You haven’t told the boy?” Clay asked.

      Allie shook her head. So many things had been left undone. “He hasn’t really asked us. I think Hannah just told him his father was gone. Jeremy seems too young to care much.”

      “He’s not too young,” Clay said.

      “I suppose not,” Allie said. “I’ve wondered what he thinks about having a grandfather and an aunt, but no father.”

      “I wish there was something I could do,” Clay said.

      “Thanks,” Allie said. “But in the end, it’s not your problem. You’re free now and Mark’s stuck in that nursing home.”

      “Now, Allie,” her father interrupted her. “Clay did his time in prison.”

      “Not all of it,” Allie said. “He shouldn’t be out yet. I’ve kept track. If the parole board hadn’t sent him here, he’d be serving two more years.”

      She had planned to send him a few hundred dollars just before he was set for release. She hadn’t wanted to think he might be hungry. And if it was anonymous, no one had to know.

      “I got him paroled early,” her father replied.

      Allie forgot the mellow kindness she’d been feeling and turned to look at her father in shock. “You did what?”

      “It’s called victim reparations. I called up the parole board and said we needed help on the ranch. They were reluctant, but I said there was no one here to work since Mark wasn’t able and I asked them to send Clay. I didn’t want to mention Mark’s recovery. I figured it was best to keep it simple.”

      Allie continued to stare at her father. “Is that legal? You telling them to send him like that?”

      She looked at Clay and saw him wince.

      “I am okay with it,” Clay said. “Especially now that I know about Mark.”

      “But he’s the reason Mark is hurt.” Allie stared at her father, willing him to meet her gaze. Everyone was forgetting what was important. “Clay should go back and finish his time. I can’t believe you asked them to release him.”

      She’d been prepared to accept that Clay was sorry if he was getting paroled because the authorities thought he’d done enough time. But if her father had been the one to suggest it, that changed everything. No one else necessarily thought the time was sufficient.

      Mr. Nelson kept looking at the floor. “What was I supposed to do? Mark was asking for Clay. Besides, I need help with the ranch. It’s falling apart.”

      She could see the condition of the ranch for herself. Each month she put what she could into a small savings account so she could save enough for some barn repairs.

      “We’ll fix things up around here later,” Allie whispered fiercely. “We’ve got time.”

      “No, we don’t,” her father said, and he gave a proud grin. Her mother used to call that her father’s Cheshire cat face. It meant he had done something no one would expect. And, usually, something her mother wouldn’t have approved.

      Allie had a bad feeling about this. “What do you mean?”

      “I bought some more horses,” her father announced. “Real cheap from a rancher over by Bozeman.”

      “You bought—” Allie gasped. She wasn’t sure she had heard him right. “We can’t afford anything. Nothing. You know that. Maybe some chickens.”

      Her father snorted. “We need more than chickens to turn this place around. Some prime horseflesh is what will put us back in business.”

      “You bought purebred stock?” Allie asked. She didn’t even want to know how much that would cost. They had already squeezed the budget as tight as they could. The reason she wanted to start taking some accounting classes was to help with the ranch records. When Mark had received that scholarship and declared he wanted to be a doctor, she had felt free to stake her claim to the ranch. The horses themselves had lots of details that needed tracking. They’d need to buy more animals eventually, but not yet.

      “The