Page 81 of The Banker and the Blue Collar Man

“Here,” he said, his focus on the truck, like he was checking to see if the new yellow paint matched the old paint. It did. I already knew that, having brought Daybreak in to be fixed a time or two.

“Good,” I said. “Let’s walk.”

Every kid who came to the ranch was getting the same welcome, Lucas had explained to me after the experience with Dillon and Cameron had taught him they might arrive without any of the things they needed. New clothes. Cowboy boots and hat. Basic supplies.

This was a far cry from what I’d experienced upon arrival anywhere when I’d been in foster care. Those days were long behind me, but I still remembered the scared, empty feeling when you lived in a house with riches all around, none of which you were allowed to share in.

I could wager an entire month’s pay and not lose it that Xander had experienced the same. So the goal here, near as I could figure, was to buy those things for him without him getting overwhelmed.

I just about failed. By the time we’d gone through the Mercantile and accumulated a pile of things for him—jeans,boots, ChapStick, and so on—he was wide-eyed, not with shock but something like it.

His face told me how he was floundering in the face of such generosity.No way. No way. No way.That was what he was saying to himself, in time to his heart beating. Shooting hard glances around him, like he was watching for the axe to fall.

“It’s a lot,” I acknowledged. “But on a ranch, you need these supplies. We want you to be prepared.Iwant you to be.”

This last bit seemed to settle him. I thanked the clerk, and we grabbed the two plastic shopping bags. Xander wore his new straw cowboy hat; I tucked the boot box beneath my arm, and we trudged up the street to where Daybreak waited for us. The purchases went into the truck bed. We wouldn’t be going very fast, so we wouldn’t lose anything.

Just as we reached the turn for the ranch, the last miles half paved, half dirt, I sensed Xander looking at me and remembered my promise to him.

“We’ll switch here,” I said. “Nobody’s coming. But you’ll listen to me and don’t go haring down the road, right?”

“No, sir.” Then he swallowed. “No, Mr. Jake.”

We traded places. I watched as he slid into the driver’s seat, eyes wide, biting his lower lip as he took everything in.

I pointed out the four on the floor. Which might have been his problem, last time he drove. If you weren’t used to a stick shift, let alone a long one that you had to stretch out your arm to use, then you might get distracted from where you were steering.

“Put your hands at the ten and two on the wheel, Xander,” I said. “You know how to use a clutch, right? The trick here is to start slow. We’ve got five miles. We’re the only ones on the road. Set in your mind where that stick is, and never take your eyes off the road. And remember,” I added, giving Daybreak’s dashboard a pat, “she doesn’t take left turns too well.”

“Yes, Mr. Jake,” he said, all nerves and concentration.

He drove the rest of the way to the ranch like a grandma, which was fine by me. But I could see his confidence growing with each mile. He liked machines, then. Good to know.

By the time we pulled into the loop that ran in front of the bunkhouses, he was almost smiling. He’d taken a right, so we were a stately parade of one all the way around that loop, and then parked.

And there, standing on the little porch of bunkhouse six, was Dalton. He’d been waiting for me. It wasn’t quite lunchtime, but I’d rather dally with him than anyone else.

Xander and I got out, and I helped him put his things on the front porch of bunkhouse four. Then I turned to Dalton, wiping my hands on the back of my jeans.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Dalton said. He seemed a little rattled, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up as I tried to figure out what had happened. “You took Xander to get Daybreak? You let him drive her?”

He was actually pouting. There was a flush across his cheekbones, and I realized, with a cold start, that I’d hurt his feelings.

He’d wanted to go with me. Not that he’d said it. Not that we’d discussed it. But I’d messed up.

I never wanted to turn back time so badly in my life. Not that I had any idea how this would play out. Dalton didn’t seem like he would be quick to anger, but if I’d hurt him at all, I’d turn myself inside out to undo any pain I’d caused him.

“I should have asked you first,” I said, doing my best to get to the heart of the matter. “Before I took him with me.”

“Oh,” he said, looking over my shoulder as Xander took his bags into bunkhouse four. “You don’t—” He shook his head as if doing his best to figure out what order the words should come. He could take all the time he needed, as far as I was concerned.“You never have to ask my permission to care about someone, and I know you like that kid.”

“He’s like me.” I rubbed at my jaw to loosen it. “Walter helped me. I want to help Xander.”

“I get it,” he said. “So.” Another pause as he took a deep breath, making me wonder what the hell was going on. “Do you want to walk with me to the glade? The one beneath those cottonwood trees at the bend of the creek?”

“Sure.” Whatever he wanted, I would do it. But as I followed him across the bridge, and even as he reached back to take my hand and draw me closer, unease gripped me.

When the journalist had broken things off, he’d wanted to talk. He’d taken me to the end of Old Main Street, near the courthouse. And in the building’s shadow, he’d told me he was leaving.