The flight attendant made an inane joke at the pilot’s expense, but Eli only half listened. Thumbing his smartphone on, he waited for a signal. His service indicator showed a single bar. A single bar.
“I’m in hell,” he muttered, but that wasn’t true. Hell undoubtedly had better cell service.
Scrolling through emails, he ignored the flight attendant’s glare. He might have been obligated to come home to manage the distribution of his father’s estate, but that didn’t require he cut himself off from civilization entirely. With any luck, he could get to the ranch, go through the estate paperwork, file the will and be gone within the week. Had his old man been remotely organized, this could have been done by mail. And had the estate been reasonably solvent, they could have hired someone to manage the distributions altogether. No doubt, there wouldn’t be any money.
That had to be why his youngest brother, Tyson, had emailed and asked him to come home and handle estate “issues.” Otherwise? They never would have called him home. He’d have just received whatever his old man left him via certified mail.
Eli glanced out the window at the desert landscape. New Mexico always looked caught between centuries and droughts. The landscape was as foreign to him as Austin would be to his brothers. Here in Tucumcari, the wide plateau created a backdrop decorated with cedar shrubs, barbed wire fences and black grama grass. Cows outnumbered people twenty to one, and if you didn’t drive a pickup, you’d better be riding a horse.
The only beef Eli cared about was braised, his vehicle was an Audi R8 and the only horses that mattered were under the hood.
He’d always been the piece that didn’t fit this particular puzzle.
Elijah snorted and shook his head, pulling his small travel bag out from under his seat. Might as well get this over with.
Fifteen minutes later he was standing beside a tiny Ford Fiesta with a dented fender, an AM/FM radio and questionable air-conditioning. It was the better of the two cars available at the only car rental service in town.
“I’m in hell,” he repeated, struggling against a temper he’d all but mastered over the past fourteen years.
Fourteen years.
He’d been gone almost as long as he’d lived here.
Peeling off his Canali suit jacket, he tossed it across the passenger seat before folding himself behind the wheel. A generous layer of grit on the rubber floor mat ground under his heel. The little car shimmied as the four-cylinder engine sputtered and choked before it caught and, obviously under duress, whined to life.
The rental attendant tipped the brim of his hat in salute and wandered inside the tiny office as Eli drove away. He hadn’t remembered Elijah, or had pretended not to as a matter of convenience to avoid unnecessary chitchat. Small towns worked that way. You were either on the inside or exiled for life.
The next few days would be a lot of the same. Tight-knit communities were very unforgiving when one of their own escaped, and his leaving had been an escape. As well loved as his father had been, everyone saw his departure as a first-rate betrayal—oldest son to old man.
Elijah refused to feel guilty for wanting a different life, a better life. He had it now and hadn’t asked for handouts along the way. He’d earned his place, and he wasn’t sorry that place wasn’t here. With one exception...
Caught up in his own thoughts, he ran one of the two traffic lights in town.
An extended-cab four-wheel-drive pickup swerved, brakes chattering and tires squealing. It hit the curb, skipping up and over with a hard bounce before coming to rest in the hedges in front of the Blue Swallow motel.
Heart lodged in his throat, Eli shut the little car down and left it in the middle of the road, racing toward the truck. He couldn’t see anyone moving inside. Then a black-and-white head popped up and looked out the rear window.
A dog.
If anything, the dog seemed exhilarated at the wild ride, his feathery tail wagging with obvious enthusiasm.
Eli reached the driver’s side and found a cowboy-hatted individual slumped forward, forehead against the steering wheel, arms lax, hands resting next to trim thighs. A woman. He reached for the truck door. The dog objected, going from excited to back-the-hell-off between breaths. The animal crossed his owner and bared his teeth in a feral growl, blatantly daring Eli to open the door.