“We usually only take on summer help, and we’ve pretty much got all we need right now, but we can talk to my brother, Maverick, when we get to the house.” Pax turned into the lane. “Where do you come from? Got any ranchin’ experience?”
“I’ve lived in California all my life. I’ve worked on a ranch before, but it was a smaller one,” he answered.
Where would they put this guy if they did hire him? Their summer help showed up for work at seven in the morning and left sometime in the afternoon around four or five, depending on the work they had to do that day. If Maverick decided they didn’t need him, Pax would at least offer to haul him back to town. The kid didn’t look too prosperous. If he didn’t already have a room out at the Cowboy Motel, the only place in town where folks could stay, then Pax would get him one for the night. Anyone who was willing to walk five miles to ask for a job deserved that much.
“This is it,” Pax said when he parked the truck in front of the house. “I’ll be able to take you back to town if we decide that we can’t use another hand.”
“Thank you.” Landon nodded. “I’m used to running five miles every morning, but this late in the evening, I’d appreciate the ride.”
Maverick and Iris were sitting on the porch when Landon and Pax walked up. Pax sat down on the top porch step and left the last rocking chair for Landon. There was something about the fellow’s green eyes that looked familiar, Pax thought, but then, he had watched reruns of NCIS: Los Angeles a few times, so maybe it was the fact that he looked a lot like that character, Marty Deeks, that Alana had mentioned.
“This is Landon Griffin,” Pax said by way of introduction and motioned toward the empty chair with a wave of his hand. “Have a seat. I found him walking out here from town.”
“What brings you out here to our ranch?” Maverick asked.
“I’m here for three reasons.” Landon reached down and started to unzip his backpack.
“Whoa!” Iris put up a hand. “You’re a stranger here, son. I’m not stupid. You could have a gun in that bag, and be here to rob us or do us harm. Kick that thing over to Pax and let him take a look inside it before you go diggin’ in it.”
Landon used the toe of his boot to slide the backpack across the porch. “I promise I’m not here to hurt anyone. Go ahead and take a look. I’ve got nothing to hide from you people.”
“You ain’t from the South, are you?” Iris asked.
“No, ma’am,” Landon said. “Never been in Texas before today. I’ve flown over it a few times, but on land, I’ve not been outside of California. Mother preferred an airplane to a car.”
Pax found a stack of letters tied with a faded red ribbon and a manila envelope that contained a bunch of documents in the bag, plus a couple of books, but nothing suspicious. “It’s all good,” he said. “No guns, or knives or anything harmful.”
“Okay, go on,” Iris said.
“Mother said you were a character.” Landon smiled.
“How’d your mama know me?” Iris eyed him with a frown on her face.
“First, let me give you these letters. They rightfully belong to you, not me,” Landon said.
“Who are you?” Pax frowned.
“Those are the letters that you two guys wrote to your mother when you were little boys,” he said. “I found them in her things. She died two weeks ago of lung cancer.”
Pax took the bundle from him and immediately recognized his own handwriting from when he was a child. Big block letters on the top envelope said TERESA and below that was an address in California. He undid the ribbon and took out the ones he’d written, then passed the others over to Maverick. Pax clamped his teeth together so tightly that his jaws ached. He remembered putting those letters in the mailbox and waiting for days for something in return. The only thing that he and Maverick ever got back was an occasional birthday card. Even those had stopped after a couple of years. She had come to see them that first Christmas, but she’d only stayed a few hours. Two years later, she popped in for a little while on New Year’s Eve. That had been the year that Pax was nine—or