Chapter 2

Five whiskeys rendered Ben somewhat pliable and over supper he told of his Kansas upbringing on a cattle ranch. “Learned early on to ride and shoot,” he said.

“That your work? Cow punching?”

He cut a bite of steak, chewed, and swallowed it before answering. “I left that life at fifteen. Been on my own ever since.”

“How old are you now?”

“Nineteen.”

“Why’d you leave?”

He cut several more bites of steak and ate them slowly, occupying himself rather than answer so I attempted to backtrack. “I know how it is,” I said. “Sometimes you just have to break free and find your own way.”

Still he didn’t speak and I got that he’d been driven off by recall. I wanted to apologize for stirring things, but held off as it might make things worse. We finished the meal in silence.