Changes Coming Down Read online

  He gave it one more minute. And one more. The last moments in time when all would be well on the Tri-Cross. Then the barn door swung wider. Someone glanced out and yelled back into the barn, “Hey, Will, Scott’s here.” Now time had to move forward. He unfolded his tall body from behind the wheel of the sports car and got out.

  Will appeared in the barn doorway. He paused for an instant, silhouetted against the light. Despite everything, Scott felt a rush of want for that lean, wiry, perfect piece of cowboy. It’d been far too long. But he suppressed the thought as Will hurried toward him, his expression anxious.

  “Casey’s fine,” he said, before Will could even ask.

  “Then what are you doing here so early?”

  “Casey asked me to come. To tell you…” He swallowed, but there was really no good way. “Graham and Annmarie were killed a little while ago in a car crash.”

  Will froze, standing so still Scott wasn’t sure he was even breathing. Then he slowly swallowed, licked his lips, and said, “That’s not possible.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “No, you don’t understand. They’ll be back in a couple of hours. They’re out to dinner. It’s their anniversary. They should be back soon.”

  “Will.” Scott’s chest ached in sympathy.

  “We’re just finishing chores. Annmarie will want to see Thunder’s hoof before I turn him out for the night. They’ll be here soon.” Will turned, peering down the driveway as if he could make the old couple’s truck appear by the force of his stare.

  “I’m so sorry,” Scott repeated. He really wanted to reach out and touch Will, but not here, where at any moment one of the men might appear. “Casey will come as soon as he can.”

  Will shook his head. “No.”

  “What can I do? Tell me what to do.”

  Will pulled out his phone, fumbling, dialing with shaking fingers. “Casey? Scott just pulled up at the ranch spouting this crazy piece of nonsense…” He froze, listening. “No. Oh God, no.” Then after a pause, “How? Was it… fast?”

  Scott stood there feeling useless, as Will pressed the phone to his ear. All Scott could make out was the bass rumble of Casey’s voice. Then Will held the phone out to him. “He wants to talk to you.” He walked off, away from the barn, and leaned on the paddock fence staring into the darkness.

  Scott kept his eyes on Will’s back as he answered, “Yeah, Case?”

  “How’s Will? How are you?”

  “I’m good, he’s… shaken.”

  “No shit. Listen, you did good. You’re there and you told him, straight out.”

  “He didn’t believe me. He called you.” Scott hadn’t realized how much that had hurt until he said it. He worked his ass off to be an equal partner to the two older men, and now when something important happened, Will had immediately turned to Casey for confirmation. Like Scott didn’t know what he was talking about.

  “I’m a cop, and I’m the one who was on the scene. He needed to hear it again. If I’d phoned him, likely he wouldn’t have wanted to believe me at first either. Now hang up and take care of him.”

  “When will you get here?”

  “A couple of hours yet. You guys hang tough.”

  “Right.”

  Scott tapped off the phone and walked toward Will, making enough noise that Will would hear him coming. Will didn’t move as Scott came up beside him. Scott offered back the phone. “Casey says two hours yet.”

  Will didn’t look at him. “Okay.”

  When Will didn’t reach for the phone, Scott slipped it into Will’s jacket pocket, taking the chance to give Will’s arm a squeeze. “We’ll both wait.”

  There was a long silence. Scott shivered as the late fall breeze found its way down his collar, chilling his back. A cloud crossed the moon, darkening the barnyard to shadows. Behind them, there was a yelp of laughter, and something thumped lightly.

  “How do I tell them?” Will’s voice came disembodied in the sudden darkness. “Graham and Annmarie were special to everyone. And this is their home too, all those hands. How do I tell them they’re gone, that it’s all gone?”

  “The ranch is still here.”

  “Not for long. Without Graham and Annmarie, it’ll be sold. They were the heart of it, the ones keeping it alive as a working ranch. When that guy came around last month, talking about buying it up, it was Annmarie who said no one was going to mess up her ranch with tacky subdivisions or fracking, no matter how much money they might make. Now… I can’t believe she’s dead. And Graham. He laughed, you know, when she said it. He told her it was her land. He loved her so damned much.” Will’s breath caught on a sob.

  “At least they were together,” Scott offered desperately.

  “Ah, hell.” Will scrubbed his palms over his face hard, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

  The moon suddenly reappeared, its silver light shining on Will’s blond hair and casting deep shadows under his high cheekbones. Scott thought he looked oddly fragile in that wan light, breakable, as he’d never seen Will before. He was caught by a sudden rush of pity and love. “How can I help?”

  Will lowered his hands and shook his head. “You can’t. No one can now.”

  “I meant help you.”

  “Me?” Will blinked at him as if that made no sense. “I’m fine. I have to tell the hands.”

  “Couldn’t that wait for Casey?”

  “No. I should do it.” He turned to the barn, hesitated, and pulled out his phone again and called. “Casey. Sorry. I just, I needed to hear it again… You’re sure about this? Graham and Annmarie? No possibility? … No, that’s okay. Thanks.” He slid the phone back in his pocket. “Come on.”

  Scott’s legs were longer but he had to hustle to keep up as Will strode toward the barn. Will didn’t pause at the door, just headed inside. Scott stayed one step behind him.

  There were three men in the aisle, finishing breaking apart hay bales into flakes for the horses. Scott knew them all, although not well. They glanced up and one said, “We’re about done with feeding. Joe’s got the manure scraper fixed…” His voice trailed off. “What’s wrong?”

  Will’s voice was strong and clear. “No easy way to say this, guys. The sheriff just told me that Graham and Annmarie had an accident with their truck, ran it off the road down the embankment off County Road Three.”

  “Holy shit. How bad?”

  “They’re dead.” Will cleared his throat. “Both of them. Died instantly. The sheriff said it was fast.” His tone cracked, then steadied. “For now, we’re going to keep this place running. Chores like usual. Move the Angus heifers to the west pasture just like we planned tomorrow. We’ll keep Annmarie’s ranch running smooth for her, until someone says otherwise. Got it?”

  There were shocked murmurs of agreement. One man said, “What’ll happen to this place, d’you think?”

  “Tonight, I’m not thinking. Two good people are dead, and I’m going to honor their memory as best I can and wait till tomorrow for anything else.”

  “We should have a wake,” Joe said. “Break out the booze and toast them proper.”

  Will shook his head, but not in disagreement. “Whatever. After chores. As long as you can get up to work in the morning. But I can’t, I can’t. Um.”

  “Sure. We get it. You knew them a hell of a lot better than we did.”

  A tall guy Scott thought was called Don said, “What happened? There’s no way Graham was drunk, and there’s no ice. Did he fall asleep? Heart attack?”

  “I don’t know. Finish up here. I’ll be in my trailer, if you need me. The sheriff’s coming out in a couple of hours. If you’re not too drunk, you can ask him then.”

  Will whirled and strode out, brushing past Scott as if he wasn’t there. Scott was left staring back at the startled ranch hands. He said, “I’ll go keep an eye on him.” If there was any comment, he didn’t hear it as he hurried after Will.

  Will’s door was closed when he got to it, but it wasn’t
locked and Scott didn’t knock, just let himself in. Will’s place was a single-wide trailer, compact and cluttered. The lights were out, but Scott had been here enough to make his way back to the kitchen in the dark. Moonlight through the window silhouetted Will sitting at the small kitchen table.

  Scott paused in the doorway. He had no experience, nothing to tell him what to do now. It was still early evening, and someone might come to the door at any time. They weren’t out of the closet, not him, nor Will or Casey. Usually they were very careful on the ranch to keep things casual, even behind closed doors, until the men were all safely off in bed. But if ever a guy needed arms around him, Will surely did now. Scott took two steps and sank to his knees beside Will’s chair. The angle was awkward but he was below the window level. Carefully, moving slowly to give Will time to say no, he wrapped his arms around Will’s body.

  The groan that came from Will’s throat wasn’t rejection. Will crossed his arms over Scott’s on his chest, pulling the hug tighter. He turned and leaned sideways, pressing his face to Scott’s hair. Scott could feel the damp of Will’s cheek against his scalp.

  There were no good words. No words at all. Scott simply knelt there, keeping a tight hold, as Will shuddered and held his breath until it escaped again in small gasps. His lean frame shook, wire-taut in Scott’s hug. The light through the windows dimmed and brightened, as clouds chased each other across the moon. The clock above the stove ticked, intrusively annoying in a way Scott had never noticed before. He stayed there, knees aching, arms cramping, until finally Will took a long, shaky breath and gently disengaged. “I need the guitar, and I need you. Can you stay?”

  “Of course.” He clutched at the edge of the table to stand, grunting as his legs prickled.

  “Sorry.” Will stood too, bumping his hip lightly as he turned. “Thanks.”

  “Love you.” He said it softly.

  “You too. Come on. The couch will be better.”

  “Yeah.” Scott followed him into the narrow den and dropped onto one end of the plaid couch. Will flicked on a lamp. Scott watched him move through the familiar routine of drawing the curtains securely and making sure to lock the front door. But tonight, when that was done, Will went to the closet and got out his guitar.

  Scott pulled his feet up on the couch and hugged his knees. He’d known the Slaters and liked them, but he couldn’t imagine how Will must feel right now. There were so few people in the world Will trusted, beyond him and Casey. He’d said once that being taken in by Graham and Annmarie had saved his life, and something in his eyes suggested he’d meant that literally. Scott suddenly missed his own parents, now living in Florida. God, he was so lucky. He could pick up the phone and they’d be there. All Will could do now was remember, and reach for his music.

  The soft resonance of a string as Will lifted his instrument echoed through the quiet room. How many times had he seen Will lifting the guitar from its case, touching the strings as if there were answers there? Sometimes he thought the guitar was Will’s church. Scott laid his cheek on his raised knees and kept his gaze on Will’s long, callused fingers, as he tightened a peg, then slid a forefinger along a metal string with a low hum. If he watched Will’s hands, he didn’t have to see the tears shining in his eyes, or the way his thin, expressive mouth trembled.

  “Casey’ll be here soon,” Scott whispered, for his own comfort as well as Will’s.

  “Yes.” Will sat, with the guitar on his knee, and plucked the first soft, clear notes.

  ***

  Will Rice let the guitar carry his thoughts away. There were three places in the wide world where he could slow down his brain and not think and just be. One was out riding, when his body, and the thousand pounds of muscle and heart that was a good cutting horse, fell into sync, all instinct and rhythm, sweat and strides.

  The second was sex. God forgive him, but for a moment, when Scott sat down on that couch and looked at him intently with those dark eyes, sex had been what Will thought of. But it didn’t seem right, and anyway Casey was coming. They sometimes did twosomes if the other guy couldn’t make it, and Casey would no doubt have understood, but… just no.

  The third though, that he could have. This old Martin guitar, with her abalone inlays and her sweet, mellow tone, was all he could handle in this moment. The low lamplight glinted off her shimmering shapes. The music wound itself from his fingers to his ears, soothing his racing brain. This carried no guilt, no disrespect, no demands.

  He played— for himself, for Graham who had loved classic Johnny Cash, for Annmarie, who preferred John Denver. He let the songs flow, one into another. At some point he looked up and found Scott’s eyes on him, soft and full of love. A little of the tightness in his chest eased, enough for him to give Scott a nod in return.

  Sometime later, he heard a key in the door. There was only one person who had that key who wasn’t already in the room. He stilled his fingers on the strings and looked up as Casey came inside and locked the door behind him.

  “Will?” Casey’s deep voice was pure comfort. Like the look in Scott’s eyes.

  Will set the guitar carefully aside and said hoarsely, “I love you guys, you know?”

  “I’m so sorry.” Casey shucked off his official parka and came over.

  Will shifted down the couch to make room on his other side. Scott lowered his feet to the floor and leaned in against him. Casey’s weight made the couch creak. Then Casey pulled him into a hug, and Scott wrapped his arms around Will from the other side. Will closed his eyes and breathed hard. Casey smelled of a dozen hints of his job, gasoline and gun oil and sweat and leather and cigarette smoke from somewhere and that odd mustiness the patrol cars seemed to hold. Under it, though, was his own smell and the citrus aftershave he’d used ever since Scott gave it to him their first Christmas. Will took another breath, for comfort.

  Scott pressed closer, a solid warmth against Will’s back. Will turned his head enough to rub his cheek on Scott’s shoulder, and got a nose-full of leather and D&G’s spice fragrance. No sweat, just freshly showered skin, and he remembered this was Scotty’s first time back home in weeks, and he hadn’t even said hello. He opened his eyes and turned further, to kiss Scott’s full mouth. “Hey, sorry, welcome home. This isn’t what we’d planned.”

  Scott kissed him back, firmly but not sensuously. “No worries. Whatever you need.”

  Casey echoed that with a murmur.

  Will thought about it. Seriously for a moment thought about losing himself in his two men, right here on the couch. But he couldn’t, not yet. He leaned into them hard, then wriggled free and stood up. “Tell me, Case. What happened?”

  They both looked up at him. Casey said carefully, “What do you mean? Just what I told you. They ran off the road and over the embankment, rolled the truck.”

  “That’s all?” Will still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Just a few hours ago they’d driven off, laughing about a date night at their age. Excited to celebrate together. And now they were gone. “Did Graham have a stroke or a heart attack?” The old man had put on some pounds since his arthritis got bad. Annmarie had nagged him about it.

  “We don’t know.” Casey sighed. “I’m going to check into the accident some more for my own satisfaction. But really, does it matter which?”

  After a long moment, with his brain screaming that yes, it mattered, he needed to know, needed to understand, Will pushed through to the simple truth. Whatever had happened, it couldn’t change the fact that they were never coming home. “Not really. No.”

  Scott said, “They were great people.”

  Will winced at his tone, that hushed drop for speaking of the dead. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want, want…” What? “I want to lie down between you.” He had an intense rush of sense memory of the last time they’d done that, a month ago when Scott had his last break long enough to come home. That remembered heat flooded through him, and he could alm
ost feel himself driving deep into Casey, curled on his side in front of him, while his own body was enveloped in Scott’s strength, opened and filled by Scott’s hard cock. But right now, he didn’t want that heat, or that vulnerability. “Not for sex, just to sleep together. I want to hold someone.” And to be held.

  “Sure,” Casey agreed. “An hour or all night. Whatever you need.”

  Scott took a short breath but then nodded.

  They never did all night here. The cars were too obvious, with everyone too aware of who came and went. As a hockey player aiming for the NHL, Scott couldn’t afford to leave the closet. A small-town sheriff and a ranch foreman in this red state weren’t much more free to come out.

  They kept the illusion of three friends simply spending time together and then going home to their own beds. Three guys was less suspicious than two, but a couple of hours was the most they dared spend out of sight, voices hushed and smothered, bodies making up the difference with skin on skin. Occasionally they managed a whole night elsewhere. Scott’s place was one town over and a big enough apartment complex for folks not to notice who was around. Twice, they’d had a precious weekend out of town, the three of them wrapped up in a hotel room for two days without ever seeing the sun. But never here.

  “We can’t, not all night,” Will said. Losing Graham and Annmarie didn’t change that. It wasn’t like they could count on all the hands getting drunk enough not to notice. They still had to be careful. Everything else might’ve changed in one terrible moment, but not that. “I just need a little while.”

  Casey stood. “Come on then.” He held a hand down to Scott, who surely didn’t need it, but took it anyway. Scott didn’t let go of Casey’s hand when he’d uncoiled his six-foot-three body and gotten up, his expression somber. Scott was young. Will wondered if this was his first real brush with death. If so he was a lucky, lucky man.