son. The horses he’d bred with pride a few years ago had withered into nags.
Reaching the gate, Rowdy was surprised it had been closed. Sheriff Barnett had written twice over the last five years. Once to tell Rowdy that his father had died, and once to tell him the place was still his. Rowdy guessed the sheriff wanted him to know that he had a home; he couldn’t have known how little the place meant to Rowdy. It was just something to sell so he could make a fresh start where no one knew him.
As he saw the shack of a house and the barn, he thought of burning the place down, but he knew memories would sift through even the ashes. His father hadn’t been a bad man, only a weak one. He’d loved one woman and when she’d died he couldn’t seem to find his footing, not even to finish raising his only son.
When the sheriff and some men came to get Rowdy before dawn five years ago, his father’s only words had been, “I’m sorry.” Not, “I’ll help.” Or “I don’t believe you could shoot anyone.” Just, “I’m sorry.”
The night before there had been a gang of boys drinking and firing off guns down by the creek bordering Darnell land. One was shot. With no one to stand beside Rowdy, the drunk’s son was an easy target. Everyone wanted to lay the blame somewhere.
Rowdy shoved the memory aside as he rode up to the house. He wasn’t surprised to find the sheriff waiting on the porch. Barnett had put on a few pounds in five years and his hair looked whiter, but he still had the same sad eyes that seemed to say he’d seen too much in this world.
“Darnell.” He nodded in greeting.
Rowdy swung down. He owed the lawman. If it hadn’t been for Barnett, the judge wouldn’t have considered his age at the sentencing and Rowdy would have drawn far more than five years. The sheriff had also rounded up a few strays his father hadn’t taken the trouble to chase and sold them, along with the corral stock, to pay the taxes on this place for five years.
“I figured you’d be looking me up,” Rowdy said as he offered his hand.
Barnett gripped his hand. “Just stopped by to say hello, son.”
Rowdy waited. Barnett had been the only man in town who hadn’t wanted to string him up five years ago. “I want to thank you for—”
“You don’t owe me nothing, but I would like to give you one last piece of advice. If I were you, I’d keep low and just stay long enough to sell the place and move on. No sense looking for trouble.”
Rowdy nodded. “I agree. This place has never been home. If I could make a few bucks, I plan to head south. There’s a man down near the border who said he’d give me a job breaking horses when I got out. I figured I’d look him up. Maybe buy a little spread down there in time.”
The sheriff moved toward his horse. “I’ll get the word out that you’re looking for a buyer. With the rodeo in town, it should get around fast. I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t have an offer within a week. Captain Hayes to the north will probably make you a fair one. He’s gobbling up land as fast as he can lately. You’d think he had sons and not daughters.”
“That would be fine with me. I don’t much care who takes it off my hands.”
Barnett shoved his hat back and seemed to pick his words carefully. “You know, son, you were mighty angry when you left.”
Rowdy almost said he’d had a right to be, but he knew nothing would change the past. “I still fire up now and then before I think,” he admitted, remembering the fights he’d had in prison. “But all I want to do is sell this place and move on now. I’m not looking for any trouble.”
The sheriff smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. I’m getting too old for any new worries.”
Rowdy watched the sheriff climb on his horse and ride away with only a wave. He wasn’t sure he had a friend in Barnett, but at least the man seemed fair and at this point in Rowdy’s life that was about the best he could hope for.
He checked the barn, then decided to unsaddle his horse and let her graze on wild grass growing in the corral. Walking