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AIDEN
Aiden would rather chug paint thinner than make the trip deep into the Strawberry Mountains, but not because of the unplowed roads and narrow, serpentine twists that dropped into canyons, and not because it took more than an hour to reach his destination. Eastern Oregon wasn't much more than specks on a map patched together across wide open spaces, so long drives were no hardship to anyone born and raised around Sweetwater. There was once a time when he'd made this drive joyfully every day, and winter storms had never been an excuse.
That was ages ago now. So many years had passed since he'd laid eyes on the Double Jay Ranch that it seemed like another lifetime. A different person. A boy whose life had revolved around bowling with friends and cold beers on hot summer nights, anything to keep him out of the house. A boy who'd craved freedom, desperately searching for a way to live life on his own terms, and then he'd found it—in Seth McCall.
He still remembered the first time the older boy had offered him a ride. Aiden was a scrawny kid in high school, short for his age and kind of squirrely, but he'd always had plenty of friends. Unfortunately, they were all broke as hell. Nobody had a ride except the pastor's kid, Eli Jackson, and he wasn't passing them out like candy. So, Aiden was forced to walk to his after-school job at the hardware store. He sorted freight until almost midnight, and when he couldn't hitch a ride home, he walked in the dark. Until one afternoon when a pickup with a busted taillight pulled up beside him, and a boy with long hair and dark eyes leaned across the seat to crank down the window.
"Hop in," Seth said, easy and casual, as if they'd been friends all their lives.
Aiden knew him, of course. When the student body was just shy of two hundred students, it was impossible not to know everyone, at least by reputation. But three grades and two different worlds separated them, so they'd never crossed paths. Seth was a cowboy, born and bred; his friends were all kids who woke at dawn to finish farm chores before catching the bus to school. Aiden was a town kid with one spoiled golden retriever and a hobby horse he'd been gifted for his fourteenth birthday. He'd been soft back then, aimless, and so wild he was one step away from a trip to juvie with Calvin Craig, the town hooligan.
"You don't even know where I'm going," Aiden protested, but he climbed in because it was hot that afternoon, and he could already feel the AC blasting from the truck's wide-open vents.
"Chuck's Hardware down on Main," Seth said, spitting his tobacco into an empty soda can. "Right?"
"Yeah."
Seth nodded as if he'd known it all along. "I've seen you around when I'm picking up supplies for my dad."
"I haven't seen you," Aiden shot back.
"That figures." Seth shot him a lazy grin. "You get real focused when you're working. Betcha wouldn't notice a lightning strike 'til it zapped you in the ass. I'm Seth." He was still holding the soda can in his right hand, steering with his wrist, so he reached across the wheel and offered his left.
"Aiden." He didn’t shake, opting instead for a fist bump and making Seth chuckle.
"I can give you a lift after school if you want," Seth offered. "I drive right past you damn near every day."
That was just the way the McCall family was. They weren't afraid to reach out whenever someone needed a helping hand. One of the oldest and most respected families in Sweetwater, they'd run a small spread up in the mountains since before the town was incorporated.
Seth was popular, but he didn't spend his time with anyone in particular. He chose his friends carefully, and he noticed everything. Aiden was never sure exactly what Seth had seen in him. But when the odd jobs dried up and Aiden needed money to cover the rent his mother charged for room and board, Seth casually mentioned they needed a hand at the Double Jay. Every day after school, they swung by the Stop n' Shop and loaded up with caffeine and tobacco before heading up the mountain.
Aiden had learned everything he knew from Seth and his father. David McCall was the best kind of man, stern but patient. Even with his hands full as a widower with two kids and two hundred acres, he'd found it in his heart to take a gamble on a numbskull kid with no experience. Aiden had thrived under the attention of the first father figure he'd ever had. His style of cowboying was David McCall's style, and it had never failed him.
It damn near broke his heart when the man died, but not as much as it hurt David's son. Seth was never the same after the funeral. He'd always seemed so confident, so untouchable, treating even close friends with something like distant good humor, but he'd never treated Aiden that way. They were more like brothers, or so Aiden thought, until the day Seth pushed him away just like all the rest. He shook off Aiden's help like it was nothing. Like he was nothing.
Aiden shook off the gloomy bend of his thoughts. It wasn't his nature to dwell on hard times. Whistling tunelessly, he cranked the wheel and took a sharp right onto the dirt road that would take him toward the old farmhouse. Clumps of snow fell from the laden branches of pines lining the road, plopping soundlessly into his path before getting chewed up by his four-wheel drive.
Snow was drifting in gentle flurries by the time he parked beside a rusted tractor and killed the engine. Crisp air stung his cheeks as he climbed out of the warm truck, and his breath hung in white clouds in front of his face. He zipped his Sherpa-lined collar to his chin and scanned the property, taking his first good look in years.
The Double Jay was the same as he remembered, just a bit more worn, made of ramshackle outbuildings and the accumulated detritus of dozens of half-finished projects. The most prominent structures were the barn and farmhouse, sturdy down to the last beam but weathered with age and the harsh mountain elements. Aiden was sure the old barn would still be standing a century from now when all of them were dead and gone. The McCall family only built things to last.
His gaze drifted over the empty pasture, noting the shabby condition of the fences. Wire sagged off rotting posts in several places, and he clucked his tongue. Fencing was a never-ending job for every ranch hand, unglamorous but essential. It wasn't like Seth to let it slip.
Then again, Aiden wasn't sure what Seth was like these days. He hardly came into town anymore, preferring to live alone like a mountain hermit now that his baby sister was in college. Aiden hadn't even accidentally crossed paths with him in years. Maybe the isolation was getting to him—or perhaps the ranch was just too big for one person to handle on his own, no matter how good a cowboy he was.
If he squinted, Aiden could make out the red and black specks of cattle in the far north pasture. It was a small herd, maybe fifty head at a glance, but that was plenty for a solo operation. More than enough. The Triple M, where Aiden had been working for the better part of a decade, ran a spread of three hundred Angus with six full-time hands and many more part-time and seasonal workers.
As he watched, a lone figure slowly emerged from the falling snow. The man was barely more than a distant silhouette against a blinding white backdrop, but Aiden recognized the shape of him. Even after all these years, he knew the way Seth moved and the way he walked, with unhurried strides and long, lanky legs.
Aiden's breath came faster. His body felt light and jittery, but that might be the lingering effects of the two energy drinks he'd chugged on the drive up.
As Seth closed the distance, his details came into focus all at once. He walked with his head bowed against the weather. His eyes were hidden by the battered brim of his winter Stetson, but Aiden could still see the shadow of his unshaven jaw and the dark, disheveled hair poking out over the brim of his upturned collar. He was carrying a bale of hay over one shoulder.
He must have seen Aiden's truck but didn't acknowledge him until they were within spitting distance. Then he looked up, and their eyes met for the first time in years.
He dropped the bale at Aiden's feet with a soft thud.
Chapter Four
