17 Chapter 17

“Hawk, I finally found you,” Joey says, closing the door on the howling wind and snow, then shaking the snow off himself. He takes off his snow-covered hat and gloves, undoes his boots and kicks them off, and adds, “You’re a difficult man to find when you run away. Carter said you might be here.”

I study him in the light of the dying fire: big chest, broad shoulders, bearish face reddened by the winter wind under his thin beard. I say, “I didn’t run away. I’m taking a few days’ vacation.”

“We need to talk, Hawk. I have a few things to tell you.”

“What kind of things?” I ask, glad to see him, his presence warming me. Honestly, it’s the best I’ve felt since his brother’s ultimatum almost a week ago.

“Move over and I’ll tell you.”