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The lights of Crossroads were scattered throughout the little town like fireflies, twinkling and blinking behind drawn curtains and shades that had been pulled. Sonny eyed them as they passed, wondering if people pulled curtains shut against the dark, or to trap the light within. Personally, he liked the night. It blurred the obvious and left everything to the imagination.

The residential area was a mixture of single-wide and double-wide trailers, simple houses with vinyl siding, and a few two-story houses, one of which had long since been turned into a hotel.

The small-town businesses consisted of a small branch of a bank that was based in Amarillo, a post office, a gas station with a mechanic on the premises, a small grocery store with a pharmacy inside, a feed store, a barber shop, and a vet clinic that was only open one day a week, compliments of a vet who drove down from Amarillo. There was a small urgent care with two nurses on staff, and a weekly visit from a doctor out of Silverton, and a small school that had a rattlesnake for a mascot.

The streets in town were blacktopped and potholed, and of the twenty streetlights in Crossroads, only eight lit up. It was said there were more dogs than people in residence, and better security than any Ring doorbell.

“Where do you live?” Sonny asked.

Maggie pointed to a little house just up ahead on the corner of the last paved street. “The one with the Christmas lights along the edge of the porch.”

“Are those year-round or just up early?” he asked.

She grinned. “Year-round. I rent from Pearl. She used to live there and likes Christmas stuff. She lives above the Rose now. Right before I came to Crossroads, a couple of guys tried to break into the café. They didn’t know she was still there in the back, and both of them got a butt load of buckshot for their troubles. Then she followed them out of the Rose as they ran, reloading as she went, and shot up their truck. They were lying on their bellies in the dirt, begging for mercy and an ambulance, when Emmit Cooper drove up. He called the sheriff and the ambulance, and then sat with Pearl until they came. After that, she remodeled the upstairs at the Rose and moved on-site, then made sure the world knew it.”

Sonny nodded. “Pearl is typical of women who live out here. You either get tough, or you don’t survive. I used to rodeo. When I was still on the circuit, I was in and out of this area all the time. She’s always been good to me.”

“And to me,” Maggie said. “I was abandoned at the Rose by a good-for-nothing man who had promised me the moon. But nineteen is a stupid age, and I made stupid mistakes. I don’t know where I’d be if she hadn’t given me a job on the spot.”

Sonny frowned, but she didn’t see it. Her gaze was on the dark road in front of her and the headlights shining the way.

“Lots of men are fools. Appears you ran across one. It’s good you landed on your feet. Some don’t have the grit to do that,” he said.

Maggie spoke before she thought. “Are you a fool, Sonny?”

He chuckled softly, and the sound made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. Pearl said he was safe, but there was something about him that felt a little dangerous, yet well-contained.

“Oh, I’ve been a fool about a whole lot of things, but never about a woman. I was raised to honor the good ones, and stay shy of the wild ones,” he said.

“How can you tell the difference?” she asked.

“Same way you can tell a good man from a bad one. There are givers and there are takers. You want a man who wants to give you the world, and even when he can’t, just knowing that he wants to, is enough.”

Maggie was speechless. That might be the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard come out of a man’s mouth. She glanced at him quickly, got a glimpse of his silhouette from the dashboard light, and then focused her attention on driving. He was so still he looked like a statue, likely thinking about dealing with Wade Sutton. She felt bad for his situation and kept her eyes on the road.

***

Sunset, the name Emmit Cooper had given his ranch, was three miles south of Crossroads. It had been little more than a shack when Emmit bought the place for the land and location, but the first thing he did when he moved in was clear out a lot of the yucca and sage on the north half of the property and seed it in several varieties of prairie grasses hardy to the climate, to create more grazing ground good for horses.

Rain was scarce up here, and every drop that fell was a blessing. Between the random rains and a good winter of heavy snow, it was enough to support his efforts.

Emmit had resisted the urge to buy livestock until the pasture had a whole years’ worth of growth behind it, and the grass roots had taken hold, and during that time, he began remodeling the house.

He added a front porch that ran the length of the house, and a matching porch on the back, then remodeled and updated the entire interior. Even when he’d finished the remodeling project, the house itself was still small by rancher standards.

One bedroom, one bath, and a utility room on the back half, leaving the front half of the house as a kitchen/dining/living area. The appliances were all up-to-date, and the finishings and furniture inside the house were large, leather, and sturdy for the comfort of big men.

He lived there for ten years while bullfighting in rodeos, and in his off-times, trained horses for other people, all the while dreaming of owning his own horses to train and sell.

But the night they carried Sonny Bluejacket out of the arena on a stretcher, he went home, packed away his bull fighting gear, and never went back. He stayed on Sunset and did what he’d always wanted to do, then passed it on to the man who had cheated death.

Now that man was here, ready to reclaim Emmit’s legacy.

***

As Maggie and Sonny drove south, all there was to see was a sky full of stars, until they passed a single-wide trailer just off the road. There was no security light burning—just a dim light shining through slightly-parted curtains, and Sonny thought, Whoever that is will be my neighbor. Less than a mile later they came over a slight rise and Maggie pointed to a light in the distance.

“That is the security light in your front yard, which means power is still on.”

Sonny sat up a little straighter. The light marked the beginning of a future he never thought he’d have, but he had not expected to deal with thieves before he even got in the front door. And then it occurred to him as they were approaching, that he didn’t have keys to the house.

“Do you happen to know if Emmit kept a key hidden somewhere outside?” he asked.

“No, but you can have mine. He wasn’t always home when I went to clean, so he gave me one.”

“Thanks,” Sonny said, and then the headlights swept across the fencing and the rather grand metal sign over the gateposts at the entrance. The headlights caught long enough for him to see the name on it.

“Sunset?”

“Oh…right, I guess I thought you knew. Emmit named his place Sunset Ranch. I’m sure you know his horses are registered Quarter Horses. They have lip tattoos with numbers that correspond with their papers. I know, because sometimes I helped him fill out the paperwork when a new one was born. His eyesight wasn’t what it used to be, and he was always on the lookout for yearlings to buy and train, too, with bloodlines he liked.”

A shiver went up Sonny’s back as they passed through the entrance. Maybe it was Emmit still hanging around to welcome him home. The drive from the gate to the house was about the length of a football field, and the closer they got, the faster his heart began beating.

Anticipation of the unknown.

When they pulled up to the house, Maggie parked. Before they got out, she took the house key from her key ring and handed it to him.

“Welcome home, Sonny Bluejacket.”

“Thanks for the ride,” he said.

“Sure thing, but I’ll go in with you. I’ll know if anything is missing inside.”

“I appreciate that,” Sonny said.

She popped the trunk so he could get his bags, and as soon as he grabbed them, he followed her up the porch. Unlocking the door to his new home was yet another first, and then the door swung inward.

“Light switches just to your right,” Maggie said, and moments later, the room was bathed in light. The house smelled a little musty, but it was clean. “Kitchen, dining area and living room in the front part. The TV is still here. He had internet service via the satellite dish on the roof of the house. You’ll have to switch all that over. You can get the address of the company from a copy of his old bills,” she said, and then began talking more to herself than to him as she began a quick walk-through. “Bed and bath are in the back, as well as a utility room with a washer and dryer, and a small chest-type deep freezer. Emmit liked to hunt. It kept him in meat through the winter.”

Sonny was surprised by the simple beauty of the place, and kept absorbing her information as he followed her to the bedroom. He dumped his bags on the bed as Maggie opened the closet, then frowned.

“His clothes are still here. I didn’t think about that,” she said.

“I’ll deal with it,” Sonny said. “Is there a place around here that takes donations?”

“The Baptist Church in Crossroads has a charity closet. They’ll be happy to get them,” she said, and then went to see if the appliances were still in the utility room, and they were. She walked back into the front of the house and opened the first cabinet door next to the sink. There, hanging on a hook inside, were Emmit’s keys. “That’s Emmit’s ring of keys, and looks like the extra set of keys to his truck.”

Sonny pocketed both sets as Maggie opened the fridge. “Not much in here, and it’s all out of date.”

“What do you do about trash around here?” he asked.

“We don’t burn it, ever. Don’t want to set the prairie on fire. Drought and prairie fires play havoc with ranchers’ winter feed. There’s a trash bin off the back porch. Once a week you haul it to the road outside of the entrance. A local man has his own trash route. He charges forty dollars a month with a weekly pickup. You’ll have to make sure he knows you’re in residence, so he’ll keep coming by.” She grabbed her phone, pulled up the name and number, and wrote them down for Sonny. “This is his contact info, and this is mine, just in case.”

Sonny glanced at the info on the little notepad. In other circumstances, he would be delaying her exit, but Matt Reddick was on the way, and he had to go talk to a thief about his horses.

“Thank you, Maggie. You have been more than kind to a stranger, but I hope we won’t be strangers for long. Sheriff Reddick will be here soon, so you can head home. I’ll be seeing you and Pearl now and then. The Yellow Rose is hard to pass up.”

Maggie was fidgeting with her car keys, wanting to talk more, but it wasn’t the time. “I’m claiming you as a new friend, and now I’m going to worry until I know you got your stuff back without a fight.”

Sonny stilled, letting that kindness settle within him. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”

She gave the room a long, lingering glance, then palmed the keys. “See you around,” she said, and headed for the door.

She tried not to think of what might happen as she drove away, and kept telling herself this was none of her business. But she’d thought the world of Emmit, and Pearl seemed to think Sonny Bluejacket was all that and a box of crackers, and now Maggie had become a part of Emmit Cooper’s last act, by aiding the man who’d become his heir.

She couldn’t wait to get home and get out her paints. Drawing pictures had always been her hobby, but after having a solid job and a steady place to live, she branched out into experimenting with acrylic paints and small canvases, and painted sunsets, then painted pictures of patrons dining in the Rose, like the three old men in the corner who came every morning for coffee. And pictures of Pearl at the counter, ringing up a sale, and more sunsets.

Only tonight, for the first time, she wanted to sketch Sonny Bluejacket’s face while it was still fresh in her mind. There was something dark and beautiful about him that turned on the need to capture it on canvas.

Drawing and painting were the two things innate to who she was. It made being abandoned as a baby less of a tragedy. At least she’d been born with a gift. One that was hers alone.

***

Sonny didn’t go back into the house until the taillights were out of sight, then he dug a flashlight out of his bag, and headed to the barn and stables.

Once he passed the security light in the backyard, the dark swallowed him. He turned on the flashlight as he went, thinking there should be feed and hay stored in the barn. He already knew the horses were gone, but he wanted to see what else Sutton stole.

Walking in unfamiliar territory in the dark should have felt strange, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t done countless times before on the family farm back home. The only difference now was that everything ahead of him was unknown. Sonny wasn’t afraid, but he was wary. He was not a man who acted upon impulse, and right now he was focused on what he could see and hear.

The stables were empty. He’d expected that. But when he turned on the light in the tack room and saw it was empty, too, as was the feed room, he realized Sutton had stripped the place clean. He went through the stables into the attached barn, then climbed the ladder up into the loft.

Remnants of straw were scattered across the floor, but it was empty. He climbed down and walked out into the attached corral, sweeping the surrounding field with his flashlight, and as he did, caught a glimpse of round bales fenced off from the pasture, and a tractor with a hay spike parked inside next to the bales.

The large building off to the west between the stables and the house was just a looming shadow in the dark, but he guessed it was likely the roping arena. He would check that out in the daylight. At that point, he turned off his flashlight and looked up at the starlit sky as a wave of emotion washed through him.

“I’m here, Emmit. I’ve got this. Be at peace, my friend.”

He was walking back toward the house when he saw headlights coming toward the house at a clip. He started running. Sheriff Reddick had arrived.

***

Matt Reddick pulled up in front of the house just as Sonny emerged from around the house, heading toward him in long, hasty strides. He hadn’t seen Sonny since the night they carried him out of the rodeo arena covered in blood.

Sonny opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. “Thanks for this.”

Matt gave him a fist bump. “Good to see you again, my friend. It’s what I do. You still single?” he asked.

“Yes,” Sonny said, as he reached for the seat belt. “Are you?”

“I am now,” he said, as he turned around and headed toward the main road. “Are you single by choice, or you can’t find someone who would put up with you?”

“A little of both,” Sonny said. “What do you know about Wade Sutton?”

“Without bad-mouthing him too much, he gambles, womanizes, and wouldn’t know the truth if it kicked him in the ass. Did you know him from before?”

Sonny shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s the trailer house just up ahead,” Matt said.

Sonny frowned. “I saw an old trailer on the side of the road when Maggie drove me to the house.”

“That’s it, and we’re almost there,” Matt said.

***

Yvonne Sutton, Vonnie to all who knew her, was tacking up an old bedspread over the back door of their trailer house to cover up the window Wade had just broken after throwing his plate of food at the wall and hitting the window, instead. All because she’d cooked the meat too done for his taste. And after the window shattered, she’d gotten a backhand across the face for the error. Now she was sporting a bruised cheek, a nose still dripping blood, and busted lip throbbing with every heartbeat.

Their seven-year-old son, Randy, worshipped his father, and for the life of her Vonnie didn’t know why. Wade was never home. He paid little attention to either of them. He left every night after sundown, and never came home until morning. She didn’t know what he did, and she didn’t want to know, but whatever it was, he came home with enough money to keep the rent paid and food on the table.

They were living on land that belonged to Emmit Cooper, in a trailer house they’d pulled onto the place when Randy was two. A man who’d worked for Emmit in the past had lived in a trailer house in that location, and the hookups were still in place, which led them to settle there. They paid Emmit five hundred dollars a month for rent and utilities, and for the privilege of living in the middle of a high-plains prairie.

Only Emmit was dead now, and Vonnie didn’t quite get the connection between the old man’s death and Wade acting like he’d won the lottery. He was driving Emmit’s nice truck, and had moved all the horses onto their place. People were coming and going at the trailer, and Wade was flashing money. She didn’t know what was going on, and never asked, but knowing Wade, she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She finally managed to get the bedspread tacked over the window when Randy came running through the house. “Mama, Mama, someone’s coming!”

“Where’s your daddy?” she asked.

“In the shitter.”

Vonnie frowned. “Randall Wade, we don’t talk like that.”

“Daddy does,” Randy said, and bounced off toward the living room.

Vonnie frowned and followed him, stopping him short from running out the door.

“No, sir! You do not just go running out of this house without knowing who drove up. Remember?”

The little boy stopped. “Yes, ma’am,” and climbed up onto the sofa on his knees and looked out the window instead, as the car pulled up and parked.

When Vonnie saw the county sheriff emblem on the doors, and Sheriff Reddick and a stranger getting out, her gut knotted. Nervously, she swept the hair back from her face, careful not to touch the achy places, and stepped out onto the stoop. “Evening, Sheriff. You’re out late.”

“Evening, Mrs. Sutton. Is Wade here?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll let him know you’re…”

All of a sudden, the door opened behind her. Wade emerged, grabbed her by the arm and gave it a yank. “Get your ass back in the house.”

Vonnie ducked as if to dodge another blow, and scooted back inside.

The hair stood up on the back of Sonny’s neck as Sutton came down the steps and out in the yard with his head back and his chest thrust forward in a gesture of defiance. If he’d known him from before, he would have recognized him. He never forgot the assholes.

“Wade Sutton, you have something that belongs to me.”

Wade frowned. “I ain’t got nothin’ of yours. I don’t even know who the hell you are.”

“I’m Sonny Bluejacket…Emmit Cooper’s heir. You have property that belongs to me. My truck, my horses, and all the feed and tack. There was a list of his property that came with the will. I just came from his place, and a good amount of it is gone. According to the word in Crossroads, you’ve been driving Emmit’s truck and flashing money, talking big about all kinds of things. So, I’m guessing there is a good amount of my things already in your possession, which makes you a thief.”

Wade froze, looking wild-eyed from the sheriff to the stranger, and then back again.

“Damn it, Reddick. What’s happening here? How can you take the word of a stranger like this?”

“Sonny Bluejacket is no stranger. And I received the same information from Emmit Cooper’s lawyer that Sonny did. He is the legal owner of everything that belonged to Emmit. You took property that wasn’t yours, and I am here as an officer of the law to make sure Mr. Bluejacket gets his property back.”

Before Wade could speak, his son came out. “Are we selling some more horses, Daddy?”

Wade’s knees went weak, and before he could think, Sonny was in his face. Wade’s first instinct was to punch him, but the man was way bigger than him, and in the dark, damn scary, to boot. This day had just gone to hell, and was dragging him with it.

Sonny poked his finger hard in Wade’s chest. “How many are gone, and who did you sell them to? I ask because they’ll be charged with receiving stolen property, and I’m pressing charges against you for car theft, theft of a dozen horses, theft of animal feed and hay, theft of property, selling stolen property, and everything else on that list that’s now missing. Last I heard, stealing horses in Texas is still highly frowned upon.”

Wade’s gaze went straight to Reddick. “Listen, Sheriff. This is all just a misunderstanding. I was making sure they were taken care of, is all.”

“How many did you sell?” Reddick asked.

Wade ducked his head. “Four. I needed money to take care of them, didn’t I?”

Matt shook his head. “That dog won’t hunt, Sutton. They still had pasture and water. They didn’t need anything, and you already had a vehicle. You took Emmit’s because you thought you’d get away with it.” The sheriff pulled out a set of handcuffs. “Wade Sutton, I’m arresting you for horse theft and property theft. Where are the keys to the truck?”

“In my pocket,” Wade muttered, and handed them over as Reddick cuffed him. “I need to talk to my wife.”

“I don’t think much of men who beat women, and I doubt you two do much talking. From the looks of her face when she came out of the trailer, she’s probably heard all she cares to hear from you,” Sonny said.

Wade glared, but said nothing as Reddick put him in the back of the cruiser used for transporting prisoners. Wade waited until Reddick buckled him in and closed the door before he began yelling and cursing.

The little boy was standing on the top step, big-eyed and crying. “Where you takin’ my daddy?”

“To jail, son. Go get your mama for me, okay?” Reddick said.

Randy ran back into the house, and moments later, Vonnie came out with her son beside her.

“What did he do?” she asked. Then the fear on her bruised and bleeding face went from shock to horror when the sheriff told her about Sonny being the true owner now.

Embarrassed, it was all she could do to look Sonny in the face. “I’m really sorry about this, mister, but I never know what he’s doing. All I know is that he said Emmit gave it to him. He cut the fence between us and ran the horses in here. You can probably move them back the same way. Emmit’s horse trailer is behind some scrub brush out back, but you can’t see it in the dark. Wade sold horses to a man named Delroy Kincaid. He drives a late-model black Dodge truck. I know that because I saw them together, and I saw the wad of money he gave Wade after he loaded up four horses. It was two thousand dollars. I watched him count it.”

Sonny was still frowning, but he knew the woman was not to blame.

“Thank you for the information,” Reddick said.

Vonnie nodded. “How long will you keep him?”

“He’s going to jail, and he’ll have to be arraigned and charged, and he may or may not be let out on bail. He can plead innocent, but he already sold horses that didn’t belong to him, so I doubt that plea will fly.”

“Do I have to stay here?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” Reddick asked.

Vonnie was shaking. “This is my chance to get away from him before he comes back. My parents live in Bossier City, Louisiana. I want to go home.”

“We’re not charging you with anything. You are free to go where you choose,” Reddick said.

Vonnie glanced at the police cruiser. She couldn’t hear him, but she could see Wade shouting. She sighed.

“Sheriff, Wade has a gun, and probably some drugs too, likely under the seat of the truck. I don’t want Mr. Bluejacket to get in trouble because of it, not knowing that it’s there.”

“My baseball cap and glove are in the truck,” Randy cried.

“I’ll get your things, son,” Reddick said, and then popped the trunk of his cruiser to get some evidence bags.

As she’d warned, the sheriff found a semi-automatic handgun under the seat, along with a hefty bag of marijuana, and some shady-looking pills. He bagged and tagged them and dropped them back in his trunk, and then gave the cap and glove to the little boy.

Tears were still rolling down Randy’s face as he clutched them up against his chest with both hands.

Vonnie frowned. “Son, what do you say to the sheriff?”

The little boy’s expression was heartbreaking. He didn’t say thank you, as Vonnie expected. Instead, he looked up at Matt Reddick, his eyes swimming in tears.

“Why did you ’rest my daddy?”

“Because he broke the law. He took things that didn’t belong to him, and sold them. That’s called stealing, and people go to jail for that, understand?” Reddick said.

Randy looked up at his mother for confirmation.

“Yes, it’s true,” Vonnie said. “It’s not the first time, but he finally got caught, and we’re leaving. Go to your room and start gathering up the things you want to take with you. I’ll be in soon to help you pack.”

“Where are we going?” the little boy whispered.

“To Louisiana, to Grammy and Pawpaw’s house.”

Sonny had been listening, but he doubted this woman had five dollars to her name. She was bruised and bloody, and starting out to Louisiana with a child.

He knew it was intrusive to ask this, but he couldn’t, in good conscience, let her go without an offer to help. “Mrs. Sutton, do you have money to travel on?”

She lifted her chin. Her voice was trembling, but her gaze didn’t waver. “I have our truck and enough to get me started.”

Sonny took out his wallet, counted out five hundred dollars into her hand. “This will get you home. Do you have a cell phone in case you need to call your parents?”

She was staring at the money with tears running down her face. “Yes, sir, I do, but why are you helping me? My man stole from you.”

“I do not believe in visiting the sins of the father upon the family,” Sonny said. “You take your boy and raise him better than whoever raised your man.”

Vonnie clutched the money to her chest as tightly as Randy was holding his cap and glove.

Sonny sighed as he turned away. The image of her battered face, and her son’s tears would stay with him.

Reddick clapped a hand on Sonny’s shoulder. He couldn’t comment upon the monetary gift, but he was surprised, and eyed Sonny with new respect.

“Sonny, I’ve radioed for a deputy to stand guard at this property tonight to make sure no more horses disappear before you get them back home. He’ll be here in an hour or so,” Reddick said.

“I thank you,” Sonny said.

He nodded, glancing back at the dilapidated trailer before he got in his cruiser and drove away while Vonnie stood on the stoop, watching them leave, knowing this was likely the last sight she’d have of the man she’d married.

“I’ll be back in the morning to get the horses home,” Sonny told her.

“I won’t be here,” Vonnie said. “As soon as I can get our things together, we’re leaving, and when I get home, I’ll get my daddy to find someone around here to pull the trailer off your property,” she said.

Sonny frowned. “Emmit owned this land, too?”

She nodded. “Yes, sir, and if I were you, I’d take down all these hookups, or you’ll just have some other loser like Wade Sutton begging you for the right to squat. God bless you, mister. I’m really sorry to have caused you all this trouble.”

“Not your fault,” he said, and as soon as she went back into the trailer, he headed for the truck.

But once he got in, he was immediately disgusted by the garbage and beer cans scattered all over the floorboards. He kicked them aside and started the engine. This was a job for tomorrow. He regretted leaving the horses, but trusted Matt’s promise to send a guard.

He was exhausted from the long bus ride, and stressed from having to deal with all this. By the time he got back to the house and parked, all he wanted was a hot shower and a good bed.

He locked up, left a nightlight on, and porch lights on outside, and went to the bedroom. His bags were still on the bed, and Emmit’s clothes were still in the closet. Another task for tomorrow.

He stripped, twisted his hair and fastened it to the top of his head, then turned on the shower. While he was waiting for the water to get warm, he glanced up at himself in the mirror, then down at his chest, tracing the thick ropy scars with his fingertips before putting the flat of his hand over the tattoo on his chest. Although the image was not traditional in shape, it was a geometric depiction of a butterfly.

Four turquoise-colored triangles outlined in black—two large ones, two smaller ones—joined together at their vertexes, like a pinwheel—an iron butterfly, forever in flight.

Because he had died twice on the operating table, he considered his recovery the same thing as a new life. Tribal elders declared he’d been transformed from the man he’d been, to one born anew, and the butterfly signified the transformation.

When the mirror began to fog up from the hot water, he grabbed a washcloth and stepped inside. The fading bruises on his arms and ribs were a memento of the fight he’d had with his father, but he ignored them, and took pleasure in the simple act of getting clean.

As he soaped and rinsed the long hours of travel from his body, he wondered if Walks-Off had disappeared again, or if he was bugging his brother, Charlie, for information as to where he’d gone, then let it go. He had no control over Walker’s actions—only his own.