Three Brothers

  I knew that too. During our last conversation, Conn had admitted that. “I miss him. I miss them both.” I had a pack of tissues in my back pocket, but I hadn’t pulled them out yet. Instead, I let my tears roll down my face and disappear into the soil beneath me. “I want them both back. I want a second chance to get Conn’s and my relationship right. I want the chance to know him as my brother and for him to know me as a sister. I want a do-over.” My voice was high like a child’s, and I knew my wishes were the very definition of childlike, but that was because I felt like a child. To act like an adult meant I had to accept he was gone, say a one-sided good-bye, and move on with my life. I wasn’t ready to act like an adult.

  “I want a do-over too,” Chance replied, wiping his thumb below my eyes to catch a tear. “But we can’t do anything to change what’s happened or who it’s happened to. All we can do is change ourselves and the things around us. Those are the only do-overs we get.”

  The soil beneath my boots was still soft enough that my heels were starting to be swallowed by the ground. I looked between the two fresh graves, knowing Chance was right. I couldn’t do anything to change the fates or wellbeing of the men in their permanent resting places below me, but I could change my own.

  That was just what I had planned.

  “Do you think it’s time?” I asked, checking the sunset. It was only just beginning, but once it started, it fell fast.

  Chance’s hand tightened around mine. “I think it’s time.”

  With one final look at the graves, we turned around and started for the horses.

  “Chase? You want to join us?” Chance called to his brother.

  Chase was lying on his back, his hands cradled around his head, resting beside the place his wife was buried. I didn’t often see a peaceful expression on Chase’s face, but that was one of the few times.

  “No, thanks, I’m good here,” he replied, patting the earth beside him. “I think I’ll just enjoy the view from here.”

  “Second thoughts?” Chance called, holding Dark Horse’s reins as I climbed on.

  “None,” Chase replied with a wave.

  Chase’s horse grazed happily as Chance climbed onto Honor then we started down the mountain. The trail to the top was only a couple of miles, so we didn’t normally take the horses, but today we’d wanted them. That meant we could get to the top faster and back down faster. Speed seemed to be of the essence on a day a family buried two of their own.

  Ambient light got us most of the way down the mountain, but in the last half mile or so, Chance clicked on a headlamp he kept stored in his saddle sack, and he handed an extra to me. The horses didn’t need them, but at that point in Chance’s life, riding down a dark, steep mountain with me in tow, Chance wasn’t leaving anything to fate.

  We were back at the ranch in what felt like no time at all. After we’d put both horses in their stalls and bedded them down for the night, Chance took my hand and walked me out in front of the large house.

  “Second thoughts?” he asked, pulling a book of matches from his back pocket.

  I looked at the house and bit my lip as memory upon memory flooded my mind, the good ones and the bad ones and everything in between. This place now belonged to the three of us, and when none of us had wanted to claim it was when our idea hatched.

  We’d burn it to the ground. Every last wall and floor and window that had housed generations of Armstrongs, generations of people living under the spell of some curse. When I’d first come to live with them, it was what John had told me he would have done himself had he not wanted to let his sons make that choice. Years later, they’d made their decisions.

  Some places were just so filled with memories that there was no room left for new ones to be made, and that was how Red Mountain Ranch felt. With no room for any of us to form new memories, we’d be forced to live with the old ones, and while some of them were worth remembering, plenty were not. Red Mountain Ranch had housed its last Armstrongs—had seen its last of them die.

  Red Mountain Ranch had been my past, but it wouldn’t be my future.

  Slowly, I shook my head, closing my eyes when my gaze drifted to the window of what had been Conn’s room. “None.”

  Ripping a match from the book, he struck it. When it flamed to life, he carefully handed it to me.

  “It’s your choice,” he said, his eyes on the dancing flame between us.

  Taking the match, I held it in front of me for one second, studying it. How could such a small thing cause so much destruction? How could this insignificant flame be responsible for igniting an inferno?

  Moving forward, I found the spot where Chance and Chase had started pouring the kerosene. Letting the match fall, I took Chance’s hand, and stepped away from the house with him, making the second correct choice I’d made all summer. The flame took hold, slithering up the stairs and into the house in a rush. A minute later, flames licked at the entire house, igniting it and setting the night on fire.

  We watched that house burn to the ground. We stayed there until the last smolders had nearly died out. By the time they had, a new day was dawning.

  AFTER A WILDFIRE, new life will crop up out of the ground in such abundance and with such abandon it seems like it was just waiting for something to raze what had been trapping it below the surface. I’d seen that happen dozens of times.

  This was the first time I’d personally experienced it.

  It had been close to a month since we’d watched the old home turn into a pile of ashes and charred bits. Not quite two months had passed since two people in my life had been ripped from it. I’d experienced my own personal wildfire that had cleared me of all the stubborn roots and unhealthy trees holding me down. With them wiped clean, I felt things I never had before, things like contentment, belonging, peace. I’d settled into my routine at Red Mountain Ranch, and I’d found that the love of a good man could ease just about any pain or worry I’d felt in the days since losing two Armstrongs.

  Of course I still mourned for John and my brother, and I’d spent nights where they were all I could think about, but the ache of wanting them back and waiting for their return had subsided. I’d come to terms with the fact that nothing could bring them back, no matter how badly I wished for a way.

  I was finishing my rounds in the barn, so I made a quick stop at Dark Horse’s stall to sneak him a couple of sugar cubes that, as a veterinarian, I shouldn’t have been indulging him with. Then I headed out into the light of a brand new day.

  It seemed that syncing our internal clocks came along with my good man’s love because I hadn’t been able to sleep past the sunrise since the day I’d moved in with Chance . . . much to my dismay and his delight. Although the nice thing about having completed half a day’s work before the sun made its appearance was the opportunity to squeeze in a nap in the afternoon. Or something else bed-related.

  Who said I didn’t see bright sides?

  “Hey, Dr. Scout, how many muscles are in the human body?” Chase hollered as I left the barn. He was kneeling beside Chance as the two of them smoothed their trowels over a patch of wet concrete.

  “Technically, I’m a doctor of animals, so if you have a question about numbers of muscles in bodies, it should be about that,” I replied, pulling on my calf-skin gloves as I approached them. Fall was in the air, and the early mornings were extra crisp. “But there are 656-850 muscles in the human body, depending on which medical point of view you want to take.”

  Chase elbowed Chance, making his trowel dip into the concrete and leave an unsightly divot that would need to be smoothed out again. Chase totally ignored Chance’s glare before he smoothed out the concrete again. “Your woman’s such a know-it-all. Well, Dr. Scout, every single one of the 656-850 muscles in my body aches right now. Would you please order Slave Driver here to cut me some slack and allow a break every twenty hours or so?”

  I smiled at Chase. In his old high school baseball cap, his hair just long enough to be pulled back in a rubber ban
d, he leaned over the slab of wet concrete. His eyes had found their light again. I wasn’t sure exactly when or how, but it was back.

  “Hey, Slave Driver,” I called to Chance.

  He looked at me under his arm as he continued to smooth out the divot.

  “Give the baby a break. We’re not all freaks of nature like you.” I said.

  Chance grinned, waving a trowel, then got back to his work. “Fine, go take a break. Baby. Just make sure you bring me back some of that jerky. I’m starving.”

  Chase shoved off the ground, dropping his trowels as though he couldn’t be rid of them quick enough. “Starving? I didn’t think you felt things like hunger or thirst or tired or anything else we mere mortals feel.”

  “You can keep thinking whatever you want so long as you bring me back some of the jerky.” Chance leaned back on his heels once he’d gotten the concrete smoothed out.

  Chase continued to his truck with a huff, bumping my shoulder in his typical greeting. “Good morning, Dr. Scout.” He gave me a boyish smile.

  I grabbed the bill of his cap and pulled it down over his eyes. “Good morning, Dr. Smartass.”

  As Chase chuckled the rest of the way to his truck, I walked up behind Chance. Before us, a maze of boards and rebar were laid out, running as far back as it did wide. It was the foundation of the house we were building together. On new ground just off to the east of where the original house had been, it would be where new memories could form, new traditions could be born, and life could thrive with the promise of the future instead of wilting from the poison of the past.

  “Nice work,” I said, kneeling beside Chance and appraising the patch of concrete he and Chase had been busy with all morning. “Ten square feet down, only about a thousand to go.” I nudged him as my eyes swept the perimeter of the new home.

  “This right here is the most important ten square feet of the entire place though,” he said, all stoic-like.

  I studied the patch of concrete. By my estimations, it was the start of the porch, although I was clueless when it came to reviewing the blueprints, so it could have been the half bath positioned off the kitchen. I supposed either way, both were pretty important parts of any house.

  “Why is this patch so important?” I asked, wanting his explanation.

  Setting down his trowels, Chance dusted off his hands then reached for one of mine. Slipping off my glove, he spread my fingers wide, flattened it, and lowered it to the wet cement.

  “Because this is the first spot we’re going to leave our mark,” he said, carefully pressing my hand into the cement.

  It was cold and gritty, but he kept pressing until my hand had left a good, deep impression. Beside mine, Chance lowered his hand so our thumbs touched ever so slightly. He pressed his hand as deep as mine then lifted our hands. They made a slurpy, suctioning sound as they dislodged, but we’d left behind two perfect handprints.

  “There, now no matter what, a part of us will always be here.”

  I studied the handprints with a smile. “No matter what.”

  Chance’s hand slipped around my neck, drawing me close. I was just tipping his hat back, my lips about to graze his, when someone squatted beside us.

  “Hey, handprints. Solid idea, brother.” Spreading his large hand wide, Chase flattened it into the concrete above Chance’s and mine.

  When he lifted his hand away, our handprints almost looked like a triangle, our fingers skimming Chase’s palm, Chance’s and my thumb touching. In a way, it was symbolic of our relationships. We were all connected, tied to one another in some intangible way. Chance was right—this right here was the most important part of the whole foundation.

  Chase had just pulled a piece of beef jerky from his pocket to hand it to Chance when, out of nowhere, his shadow lunged, grabbed the jerky in his mouth, and bolted away.

  “Wolf!” I shouted, unable to muster up enough of a scolding tone to be very convincing.

  All the pup did was look back, licking his chops, as he swallowed his hunk of stolen jerky. A wolfy smile followed.

  Beside me, one brother laughed. On the other side, one sighed.

  When I looked down, I saw why. “Well, I guess we’re all accounted for now.” I sighed and laughed when I noticed the wolf-prints dotting a trail through the concrete, right above our hands. When Chance reached for a trowel, I stopped him. “Leave it. He deserves his spot too. Lord knows we’ve all been through enough to deserve each other. We all lost our families and the lives we’d known. Keep his marks there.” I felt a smile spread as I surveyed the handful of paw prints scattered above our handprints. “It’ll make me smile every time I walk through the front door.”

  Chance dropped the trowel. “That’s all the convincing I need.”

  I thanked him with a short kiss then stood. “Looks like you boys have your work cut out for you.” My eyes swept over the wood forms that would soon be filled with concrete, which would eventually leads to walls, which would end with a roof. “While you’re busy laying another thousand square feet of concrete, I’m going to take a little walk.” I winked at them as I backed away.

  “Where are you going?” Chance asked, his brow furrowing in a familiar anxious, nervous way brought on by his fear that this might be the last time he’d see me. Alive.

  “Around,” I answered with a shrug. “It’s a beautiful fall day, and pretty soon it’ll be too cold for spontaneous walks. I’ll be back in an hour,” I added when I saw my lack of destination only made him more anxious. I knew what he was thinking—if he didn’t know where I was going, how would he know where to look for me? But what Chance hadn’t yet realized was that it didn’t matter where I went or how I got there—I knew he’d always find me. He’d never failed before, and I didn’t need a glass ball to know he never would.

  “Alone?” Chance swallowed, looking around in the brightening morning as if evil lurked around every shrub and beneath every rock.

  “I’ll be okay,” I said with a wink. “I promise.” I could tell how badly he wanted to say something, how much he was fighting to let me keep walking away.

  “At least take Wolf with you,” Chase shouted, whistling at the pup off sniffing something by the barn. Instantly, Wolf’s ears perked, and he came loping back. “He’s fierce. He’ll protect her from whatever terrifying ground squirrel or field mouse might run out in front of her.” Chase nudged Chance, clearly giving him a hard time, but Chance wasn’t in a mood to tease back.

  “Come on, Wolf,” I called, patting my leg. The pup wasn’t eager to leave his favorite two-legged companion, but after a few licks of Chase’s hand, he trotted toward me. Of course that was when one of the barn cats came racing across the yard in a frenzy of black fur and Wolf freaked, yelping as he took cover behind the my legs. “Oh, yeah. We’ve got a great warrior on our hands here. Moles will quiver in fear as we pass.”

  I waved at them, giving Chance the most reassuring smile I could manage—he didn’t look so reassured—then headed out with Wolf on my heels. I already knew where I wanted to go, so once I was sure I was out of sight of the pair of eyes that seemed to follow me wherever I went, even if it was just to the kitchen cupboard, I took a right and headed for the trail that led up the mountain.

  I hadn’t been there since the day of the funeral, but today was special. Today I couldn’t stay away. A few late summer flowers were still in bloom, so with Wolf’s supervision, I managed to put together quite the bouquet by the time I’d made it to the top. The air was cooler up here, the ever-present wind coming off the north end of the mountain always threatening to blow someone over the other side. Wolf ran in front of me, weaving around the gravestones and stopping to sniff the most recent ones, probably because he could still smell Chase’s scent on them, before he ambled over to Jenny’s gravesite. He didn’t sniff and circle hers—he fell on his stomach in a tired heap, lowering his head to the ground and letting his tongue loll out.

  “Yeah, I’m tired too,” I said, panting as I took the last
few steps up the trail.

  I’d told Chance I’d be back in an hour which meant I’d had to truck up the mountain. I took a moment to catch my breath then kneeled beside his headstone. For the first time since I’d thought of him and his death, even his life, I didn’t cry. Instead, for the first time, I smiled when I thought about him. For the first time, I thought about Conn without an avalanche of emotions crashing down on me. I was healing. Repairing old wounds. Mending ancient scars.

  I traced my finger along the letters etched on his headstone. Conn Mason Armstrong. September 30, 1987 to July 2, 2014. Forever loved. Forever missed. Son, brother, and friend. I traced the word brother a few more times before setting the flowers over it.

  The wind took a sudden change, diminishing to a breeze, and for the first time ever on that mountain, I felt it gently on my back, like it was propelling me forward instead of trying to push me over a ledge.

  “You know, I don’t need to see you to know you’re here,” I called, my smile growing. I heard boots stepping over rock and gravel as they moved closer.

  “I know.”

  Lounging in his happy patch of sun, Wolf gave a welcome yip before getting back to his snooze.

  “You just couldn’t let me go, could you? You couldn’t let me be alone out here without being a few steps behind to jump in and save me if I needed saving.” Rearranging the flowers on Conn’s grave, I glanced over my shoulder.

  Chance came up behind me, his coat buttoned up to his chin and his cheeks and nose red from the pace he’d had to take to keep up with me. “I didn’t follow you because I was scared. At least, that’s not mostly the reason I followed you,” he continued with a sheepish smile. “I followed you because I just couldn’t watch you walk away. I’ve had to watch you walk away so many times I’m not sure I’m capable of watching it again.” He looked at me, his hazel eyes the particular shade of green they seemed to take whenever he was happy—which was the vast majority of the time. They seemed to lighten right in front of me. “Where you go, I go. Even if it’s to the top of Red Mountain.”