A logging accident in late February. An overturned rig on mountain ice. One phone call, one chaplain with a grave face, and twenty years of marriage had turned into casseroles, paperwork, and silence at the other side of the bed.
After the funeral, Wade had shown up smiling, grieving, helpful.
He brought in firewood. He offered to manage the books on the ranch until Evelyn “got her feet under her again.” He fixed a corral gate, drove her mother to a doctor’s appointment, and told everybody in town that family ought to stick together. Three months later, he moved into the bunkhouse “temporarily.” Two months after that, he began talking like Daniel had promised him part ownership of the property.
He said it so often, with such confidence, some people almost believed him.
Evelyn never did.
