gonna marry and give me grandsons?”
“Don’t start that again.” Gil knew plenty of women, but his first mistake with love soured him on commitment. Besides, he’d never met a girl who could come within yards of his mother’s character and gentleness.
“What’s the matter? Don’t women hang all over you?”
“Some guys like that sort of thing.”
“Well, you’d better get a wife if you’re gonna retire.”
“I’m more concerned about getting you back on your feet so you can run this ranch. This place is falling apart.” It had pained Gil earlier to see the deterioration of the fence and barns. “Did you let go of all your hired hands?”
His father scowled. “Jake and Mildred are the only help I can afford. I ain’t got no sons to help me.”
Gil sucked in air from his dad’s verbal punch. “Been here five hours, and you’re already complaining. I should’ve known you wouldn’t change.” He took a deep breath and worked to hold his temper. “I know it’s not easy. Jake’s old, and your health’s poor. I’m not surprised the place looks like it does.”
The man shifted restlessly on the bed, his thick brow even more furrowed than before. “Thanks for your expert opinion. Remind me to compensate you at the end of the month when I write out the paychecks.”
“Oh, come off it, Dad. The fence needs repaired, the machine shed’s about to collapse. I’m scared to think about the pasture. Have you grubbed off all the bluestem yet?”
His father shook his fist in the air. “Boy, this land’s been in the McCray family for four generations. My great-granddad settled here in 1885, and we’ve taken care of the pastures ever since, grazing it the way it’s meant to be.” He wiped the spit from his mouth, his face growing redder with every word. “You go off and move to California without one care for us folks here, and then show back up out of the blue to tell me I don’t know how to take care of this land. Boy, you got no right.”
Gil stood up, his own temper heated. “That’s great. Try to offer some helpful advice only to have it thrown in my face. I don’t need this. I’m out of here.” He strode across the room, regret chasing him with every step.
“That’s right. Run like you always do.” The angry voice followed him.
“I’m going into town before I say something we’ll both be sorry for.” He slammed the door on his way out. The echo reverberated in the aged walls, and the black-and-white photos of his ancestors rattled in his ears as though chanting good-bye.
SEVEN
GIL OPENED THE DOOR AND THE JINGLE OF THE BELL ANNOUNCED HIS arrival in the café. Memorabilia covered the walls, and it didn’t take long to notice his retired high school football jersey, No. 12. The green and yellow shirt hung center stage in the restaurant, complete with an autographed picture of him in his 49er uniform.
A handful of patrons dotted the small establishment in booths, tables, and at the counter, where employees served old-fashioned fountain drinks. The smell of grease hung in the air, mingled with small talk. Gil prayed no one would recognize him, and that he might be able to eat in peace for once.
He sat in an abandoned booth, and before he opened a menu, one brave soul from across the room sauntered over, an icy cola in hand.
“Aren’t you Gil McCray?” The giant stranger could have been a football player himself. “That was a tough break last night. What are you doing in Diamond Falls? Visiting family?”
Gil nodded and glanced through the menu items, craving a double cheeseburger with bacon and all the extras.
“You ought to try the cottage fries. They’re made for real men.” The guy pushed a piece of paper toward Gil. “Would you mind signing this for my son? He plays football at the high school.”
Gil smiled, like always. “Sure, what’s his name?”
“Girard.” The man grinned and stood a bit taller when Gil returned the paper. Two more patrons lined up behind him, napkins in hand.
A young waitress came to take his order, unaffected by the commotion at his table. He saw the moment recognition dawned, when her face lit with excitement.
“What can I get you, Mr. McCray?”
As Gil gave his order, another customer walked in, and he noticed the familiar face. She gazed at his little following, and he waved. Dr. Evans didn’t return the gesture, but walked to the counter and took a seat on one