“I see you made it through,” his father said from his recliner when Dalton settled into the chair next to Mom’s usual spot on the couch.
“I did.”
“Gained some weight.”
“Easy to do on prison food.”
“I’ll make up a big pot of chili tomorrow,” his mother promised.
“That’d be great.”
Silence.
His folks had never been talkers, but Dalton could see his father had something on his mind, and the best way to get Harold Cardwell talking was to sit tight and wait him out.
“I guess you saw we sold the place,” his father said after a while.
Dalton nodded.
“We had no choice,” Mom put in with a sidewise glance at Dad.
“How come?” Dalton asked.
“It’s Timmy.” His father sighed and shook his head. “The boy needs schooling. We won’t be around to take care of him forever.”
That feeling of alarm returned. Was his father sick? Was there something they weren’t telling him?
“We found a place for him,” his mother assured Dalton, misreading his alarm. “A group home in Plainview, close by a little house we’re thinking to buy. A place where he can learn to be more self-sufficient.”
The idea was so alien to Dalton he couldn’t respond.
Years ago, his folks had talked about finding a school for Timmy. But the closest was eighty miles away and required he live there. They wouldn’t do that.
“Timmy is family,” Dad had said. “And we take care of our own. He’ll be happier here with us, and Mom can teach him. She’s already talked to the social services folks and they’re sending out books to help.” And that put an end to it.
Now they were talking about putting Timmy in a home and moving over a hundred miles away? Was he to lose his family as well as the ranch?
“Truth is, the boy’s getting too much for us,” his father went on. “He’s restless. Wants to do things we can’t teach him.”
“I could have helped out.”
His mother shook her head. “You got to make your own way, sonny. Besides, Timmy needs similar folks around him. Friends who understand him and don’t look at him funny. I’ve taught him all I can. But there are teachers at this home who can show him how to care for himself. Maybe teach him a trade. Selling the ranch will pay for that. And we’ll be close by if he needs us.” She looked at Dad for confirmation. He nodded.
Another long silence while Dalton tried to digest all these plans that had been formed and set in motion without him. Good, reasonable plans, maybe. But they were coming so fast he could hardly keep up.
His father said, “You’re probably thinking we should have talked all this over with you first.”
Dalton was thinking exactly that. But he doubted talking it over would have changed anything. The cattle market being as erratic as it usually was, it was getting harder and harder to keep a small ranch going. Dad did look worn out. Mom, too. They deserved some ease, and Timmy did need specialized training.
Dalton understood all that. Still, the idea of giving up the ranch that had been home to the Cardwells for three generations left an empty place inside. And the thought of putting Timmy in a home made it feel even emptier.
And yet . . .
As Dalton pondered the loss of the home place and the breakup of his family, a sense of release gradually spread where that emptiness had been. It would be good to get out from under the burdens the ranch brought. If they sold, he could plot his own path, rather than following in the footsteps of his father and grandfather. And if Timmy could be happily situated in a safe place where he could learn to be independent, that would be good, too, and might allow Dalton to do something different. Something he’d had on the back burner for a long time.
“Well,” his father said. “The final papers haven’t been signed yet. I suppose if it’s important to you, we could take some time to talk it over.”
Dalton shook his head. “The ranch belongs to you and Mom. You need to do what’s right for yourselves and Timmy. If selling is the right thing, then I’ll back you all the way.”
Saying the words aloud brought a finality that wasn’t as troubling as Dalton thought it’d be. A place of his own. A job more to his liking. A new start. That feeling of hope built again as possibilities raced through his mind.
Dad let go a long, deep breath. He glanced over at his wife of nearly sixty years, whose eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. Yet they both looked relieved. And maybe a little happy, despite the changes to come.
Mom smoothed her apron and stiffened her back. “All right, then. Now that that’s decided, alls we have left to figure out is what you’re going to do, sonny.”
Dad nodded. “After everything’s taken care of and we get Timmy settled, we might be able to help out if you wanted to start up something on your own.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be okay. All I need is a strong back, an even temperament, a lot of time, and a little luck.” Seeing his parents’ quizzical look, Dalton gave a big smile. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll hook up with a rich heiress or win the lottery. Or if that doesn’t pan out, I know I’d make a hell of a horse trainer.”
CHAPTER 3
After the sale of the ranch was finalized and the papers signed, the hard work of disposing of a hundred years of accumulated crap began. But first, in case Deputy Langers decided to make an issue of it, Dalton renewed his driver’s license and checked in with the parole board. He also got a haircut and threw out his prison shoes and all his too-small clothes and got some shirts and jeans that fit.
Then he set to work.
He spent the next few weeks helping his parents prepare for their move to Plainview, packing up his and Timmy’s stuff and dealing with ranch issues. They donated the older horses and extra tack to the local 4-H, found deserving homes for the working horses, and auctioned off the cattle to the local slaughterhouse. After dumping the usable ranch equipment at fire-sale prices, they called in the scrap metal dealer to cart off what was left.
Timmy took the sale of the tractor harder than the loss of his home, but after Dalton let him drive it around the north pasture for what seemed like half a day, he climbed off, gave the oversized rear tire a pat, whispered a tearful good-bye, and waved it out the gate.
Luckily, his parents had already started packing up their personal and household belongings, so Dalton focused on the tools and equipment. After a month of culling and sorting, they were down to items they would keep, those they would sell, and a dozen trips to the dump. Dalton was amazed at the stuff a family could accumulate and resolved to keep his own life unburdened by things he didn’t use or need.