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When he found out he was being released from Juvie on parole, Harlan had planned to run from whatever stinking foster home the state sent him to, but that had all changed when Travis showed up and brought him back to the ranch.

He had a home—a real home—for the first time in his life and he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

Breaking apart a bale of hay for the horses, snapping the string with the knife Travis had bought him, reminded Harlan of the man who’d picked him up at Juvie Detention and given him the best home and the best life he could possibly have.

Travis had been a Marine. Billy told him that, but there was more underneath than just being a Marine. A lot more.

The girls were coming home Friday night for the weekend and that made him feel warm all over. He had so much to tell them, and he was anxious to ask them about the cowboys at Marilyn’s ranch. Those horse-handlers better not be hitting on Lucy or Tammy, or they’d be sorry.

Harlan finished at the barn, closed the doors, and ran to the house for breakfast.

Travis smiled at him when he ran into the kitchen. “You didn’t have to fly solo out there.”

Harlan poured himself a mug of coffee. “Not that much to do. I think our horses are missing the other two.”

“Could be.”

Travis put a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him and popped down four slices of bread for toast. “On the way to the station, we’ll stop at the roadhouse and pick up the truck. If I hadn’t been such a fuckin mess last night, it wouldn’t still be there.”

“Yesterday was a shit day.” Harlan reached for the jar of peach jam. “Because of Ted.”

“Yeah, it was, but I could practice a bit better control. I’m not setting a very good example for you and that’s what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“I’m gonna turn out good,” said Harlan. “Learned a helluva lot already.”

Dry Run Roadhouse.

Early in the morning, the roadhouse parking lot was deserted. One vehicle near the back fence and that was my F-250. I turned in and drove towards the back fence where I’d parked it. All around my Ford, shards of glass glittered in the sunlight.

“Shit,” said Harlan. “Look at that.”

“Those fuckers.” I jammed the brakes on and grabbed for the door handle. “Don’t let the dogs out.”

I hopped out of the squad, Harlan right behind me.

“They broke every fucking window and all the lights.”

“Let’s see if they did anything to the motor.” I popped the hood and had a good look. “Looks okay.”

“Don’t think they should’ve done that,” said Harlan. “Didn’t they see what happened to their boss?”

“They’re sending me a message.”

“We can’t get it fixed at the garage on the corner.” Harlan was thinking out loud.

“Nope. We’ll have to take it to Shelby or Cut Bank.”

“Drive it or tow it?” asked Harlan.

“Huh. Either way it’s a pain in the ass for sure. Now we’ve got a little war going on and damn it, I’ll have to escalate my plan. It’s time to shut down the garage and convenience store and get tough with Peterson. I didn’t want to do it so soon because I wanted time to zero in on whoever Peterson was taking orders from, but he's pushing me.”

“Can you and me do it by ourselves?” asked Harlan.

“I’ll call Annie-girl and get us DEA support up here to shut down Peterson down. You and I can’t take on a big drug organization. We’re gonna need a hand.”

“Yep. We need help. What should we do about the truck?”

“Leave it. I’ll call somebody to come and tow it.”