Take the Long Road Home - 3. Chapter 3

MORGAN

I followed Troy to the barn, almost bumping into him when he stopped short in front of the door. “Did you pick out a horse yet?”

“Uh.” All I could focus on was how close we were—his breath on my face. I glanced at the horses grazing in the field and spied the one who’d caught my eye yesterday. “Oh, uh.” I cleared my throat. “How’s the paint mare?”

Troy smiled, his eyes locked on mine. “She’s a good pick. She’s quick, though, and a little spirited. Think you can handle her?”

“I’ll give it my best shot,” I quipped.

“Well, cowboy—” Troy laughed as he sauntered over to the pasture’s railing, faced me, and propped one leg up on the lowest rung. “Grab a halter from the tack room and go get ‘er!”

Warmth crept up the back of my neck as I hurried to the barn. Inside, I went to the tack room and chose a plain black halter and lead. Spying a bag of carrots on top of an upturned bucket, I backtracked and stuffed a couple into my back pocket before heading out.

The pasture was a decent size. More than big enough for the ten or so mares grazing within. I slowed my steps as I went through the gate and walked toward the paint mare. As I neared, she lifted her head and, with a swish of her tail, trotted away from me. I heard Troy’s laughter drift across the open field.

“So this is how it’s gonna be,” I muttered, softly whistling as I approached her again. This time, I stopped a few feet before reaching her. I hoped she was one of those horses that accepted bribes as I pulled a carrot from my back pocket and waved it in front of her nose. She snorted, then stepped forward. I held my breath as she flapped her lips, then chomped half the carrot from my hand. Not wanting to lose any fingers, I laid the remaining piece flat on my palm and held it out to her.

This time, her lips tickled my hand before she daintily took the peace offering. While she was distracted with her treat, I slipped the halter over her head and quickly adjusted it before rewarding her with the other carrot. When she finished, I triumphantly led her to where Troy was now perched along the top rail.

“Nice job. I didn’t know she was one of the mares who demanded payment of the carrot tax before letting you catch her. She must hang around with SuzyQ.” Troy jumped down and swung the gate open so Morgan could lead the horse through. “Her name is Aggie, like a marble.”

Aggie nudged my shoulder, so I scratched her under her chin. “I can see why. She does have a sort of swirly pattern on her sides.”

“Come on. Duncan is in the barn. Let’s get them saddled up.”

Aggie followed willingly to the barn, and inside, I tied her lead to one of the rings near the tack room while Troy retrieved Duncan. Close up, the stallion was impressive. I guessed he was just under seventeen hands. Aggie was large for a paint mare, about sixteen-one, and Duncan loomed over her.

After Troy secured the big stallion a few rungs over from Aggie, Troy pointed. “You can use that saddle and the bridle hanging to the left.”

I caught the blanket Troy tossed me and smoothed it over Aggie’s back before grabbing the saddle he’d indicated. It was a solid western saddle with none of the fancy adornments you see in competitions. I hefted it over her back, reached under her belly for the cinch, and pulled it snugly. I eyed the stirrups before adjusting them a notch. The mare balked a little when I tried to slide the bit into her mouth but gave up the fight when I distracted her with a few tongue clicks and shushes.

When I glanced over at Troy, the other boy was grinning, and I couldn’t figure out if it was because he was proud or amused by the way I handled the mare. I patted Aggie’s neck and followed Troy into the yard. It was hard not to notice the way Troy’s jeans pulled tight over the curve of his ass and thighs as he hauled himself into the saddle.

I tore my gaze away and double-checked that the cinch was still tight, then stuck my left foot in the stirrup and hauled myself onto the horse. She danced as I settled my ass and got comfortable.

Troy looked over his shoulder, then gave Duncan a quick tap of his heels, and the horse took off at a light canter. I followed suit. Troy kept a steady pace until we were well away from the ranch hub. He slowed Duncan to a walk, so I did the same, pulling up next to him so we were side by side. Aggie pranced a bit, and I clicked my tongue to distract her. Looking around, I had to admit the view was beautiful. We rode roughly four miles from the ranch before stopping at a shallow but wide creek. Troy said it was the north boundary of their property. We let the horses quench their thirst before continuing westward.

Rolling grassland stretched for quite a way. Beyond the hilly meadow we were in, the terrain sloped upward and gave way to forest. A few miles away, the forest relinquished its hold to the towering mountains.

“Wow,” I exclaimed as we stopped to admire the view.

“Yeah. It’s pretty sweet. This is the western edge of our property. The forest is government land. We’ve got hunting permits, and deer season is coming up. We’ll have to get you one so you can join us. You do hunt, right?” Troy cocked his head as he looked at me, waiting for an answer.

“It’s been a long time.” Memories of my father teaching me to shoot and to wait patiently flashed through my head. It reminded me that life wasn’t always bad. I shifted my gaze to look out into the distance before adding, “My dad used to take me when I was young. My uncle preferred to get his meat from the grocery store.”

“I’m sorry,” Troy said.

“It’s okay. So, yeah, I’ve been hunting, but I’ll be rusty. Fair warning: my butchering skills are at the level of a nine-year-old.”

Troy laughed. “Good to know. We’ll get some target practice in before the season opens. I’m sure the rust will get dusted off if you do that. Lucky for you, we know a good butcher. Come on. I want to show you something.” Troy gave Duncan a prod with his spurs, and the horse gave a little buck before taking off at a brisk trot.

“Okay.” Aggie shook her mane and followed Troy and Duncan as they settled into an easy canter.

Troy stayed parallel to the tree line as it turned to the south. The terrain was hilly, and as they crested the hill, a lake at the base of the cliff came into view. A small log cabin was set back several hundred feet from the cliff’s edge.

When I stopped next to Troy, Aggie let out a huff. I was beginning to think she was a drama queen.

“We have no idea who built this cabin. My granddad found it on one of his hunting trips not long after he bought the property. It sat unused for a long time. No one has ever shown up to claim it. Technically, it’s on government land, but I doubt anyone in Land Management knows it’s here. When Dad took over the ranch, he decided to fix it up, so it got cleaned up, the roof was patched, and Dad and Carson built the little paddock out back. Over the years, we’ve kept up on maintenance. I come here when I need to get away. Sometimes life shits on you, and you just need a break, right?”

My brain filter failed, and images of my uncle lying prone on the ground, his blood staining the decorative rocks, flashed in my head. I had to give myself a mental shake to clear my head. “Yeah,” I replied.

“Come on.” Troy dismounted and tied the reins to a hitching post. He laughed and waggled his brows. “I’ll show you my secret lair.”

I followed suit and, once again, couldn’t keep my eyes off the other boy’s ass.

Troy twisted the turnpiece on the four deadbolts and led them inside.

I thought it was odd to have the lock on the outside. “Why is it locked up that way?

“Oh, well, we don’t lock the doors in case a hunter needs shelter. The deadbolts are installed on the outside to keep bears and other critters out. It’s kinda tricky to get in without opposable thumbs.”

His explanation made sense. I felt a little stupid for not having thought of that. Inside, it was small but cozy. Most of the space was taken up by what could only be called a living room. A stone fireplace was set in the middle of one wall. Two recliners and a couch facing the fireplace took up most of the space as we entered. On the far side of the cabin was a little kitchenette. The counter was only ten feet long and housed a sink and a camp stove.

I was surprised to see an air fryer and a mini-fridge. “How do you have electricity here?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Dad helped me install some solar panels on the back side of the roof. They give the place enough juice to power a few things. There’s also a generator in the lean-to out back.”

“Let me guess. The furniture was delivered by horse and wagon?” I teased.

Troy laughed. “Close. ATV and a utility trailer. It was quicker. Nole and Pete helped me, and it was a good thing. The couch is a sleeper sofa, and it’s heavy as fuck.”

I opened the only door in the cabin and was surprised to see a tiny bathroom. It looked like one that you would find in an RV. There was no separate shower stall, but a handheld showerhead was mounted on the wall, and a drain was centered on the floor. There was just enough room for one person.

“That was Dad’s idea. He said if anyone was going to spend more than a few days here, there needed to be a bathroom.”

“Smart man. It sucks having to shit outside when it’s raining.”

“Sounds like you’ve been camping a lot.”

I closed the bathroom door. “The past couple of months have been one long camping trip.”

Troy frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright. I kinda left in a hurry.” Echoes of my uncle yelling at me to get out rolled through my brain like a freight train, followed by the loud, sickening thud of his head hitting the rocks. I fought to no avail to banish the images that assaulted me. My legs shook and threatened to give way.

“Hey. Here, sit down.”

Troy gently grabbed my arm and led me to the sofa just in time. The room began to swim, and I swayed. As soon as my ass hit the cushion, Troy pushed my head down between my knees, while the room spun. I could feel Troy rub my back in soothing circles. Breakfast threatened to make an appearance, but I managed to fight the urge to puke.

Eventually, the world righted itself, and I sat up. I knew my face was bright red, and I looked at the floor before saying, “Thanks. I don’t know what came over me.”

Scooting closer, Troy lifted my chin with one finger. “Look. I know we don’t know each other, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. We all have stuff that haunts us. It really does help to get it off your chest.”

I looked at Troy. “Speaking from experience?”

Troy didn’t break eye contact. “Yes.”

Silence reigned for several heartbeats before Troy spoke. “Three years ago, my twin brother died. It was my fault.”

Whoa, that was not on my bingo card. I leaned back and said, “Okay.”

An amused huff was Troy’s reply. He sat back on the other end of the couch. “I tell you I may have been the reason my brother died, and you just say okay. Sweet.”

“Like you said, we all have our demons.” I was convinced that was the truth.

Troy sighed. “If you’re going to be living on the ranch, you’ll hear about it anyway. It might as well be from me. You’d only get the abridged version from the others.”

“It’s up to you.”

Troy pulled off his boots and pulled one leg up beneath him so he could sit sideways on the couch and face me. I did the same.

“I guess I should start with some background first. My mom didn’t know she was having twins. I guess Tyson hid behind me the whole time. She only had one ultrasound because they didn’t suspect anything was unusual. When she went into labor, I was born the natural way and came out first. Tyson had grabbed my leg, and when the doctor saw his hand, that’s when they realized there was another kid.”

“Damn. That must’ve been a shock.”

“I’m sure it was, and because they weren’t ready, all hell broke loose. Mom’s body was doing what it was supposed to do, but because Tyson’s arm was out, it meant he wasn’t positioned correctly. They had to do an emergency C-section, but there wasn’t an operating room immediately available. It took a few extra minutes to transfer her to another surgical suite. They got Tyson out quickly. Mom suffered a stroke but survived. She was in the hospital for a while, and then a rehab center.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It happens. Dad was overwhelmed. He’d lost both his parents a few years earlier, so my mom’s parents ended up coming to the ranch to live. They were retired, and Dad needed the help for the first few months. Mom didn’t come home until we were six months old. Eventually, she regained most of her strength and mobility, although she had a slight limp.”

My heart hurt for Troy. In his own way, his life was in constant upheaval, like mine.

“From the start, Tyson and I were total opposites. He was clingy and needy. I was content to lie on a blanket and kick my feet. Tyson was colicky, and Gramps and Gramma spent hours walking around with him. By the time he grew out of it, I think all the adults had formed the opinion that he was a difficult child. They didn’t consciously let that affect their attitude, but we both could feel a subtle difference in how they treated us.

“Maybe deep down, they knew Tyson wasn’t a good person even at such a young age. There were lots of times growing up that he would physically hurt me. He’d do things for no reason, such as punching or kicking me. He would try to knock me off my pony by shoving his into mine when I wasn’t paying attention. It was typical stuff that could be passed off as sibling rivalry or boys being boys. I didn’t sit back and let him do shit. I’d ignore him up to a point, and when I got fed up, I’d hit and kick him back. It was a game to him to see how far he could push me before I snapped.”

I imagined that was how my uncle was as a child. “Jesus, he sounds like a douche.”

Troy chuckled. “That’s putting it mildly. Things changed after we turned three and Meg was born. Tyson didn’t like someone new getting all the attention, especially Mom’s. He acted out a lot more. I couldn’t prove it, but by the time we were eight or nine, I’m sure Tyson started torturing small animals. Occasionally, we’d find a torn-up mouse, or one of the dogs would begin limping. A few barn cats vanished—that kind of stuff.”

“Did you say anything?”

Frowning, Troy shook his head. “No. I wanted to, and Tyson knew it. We were eight when Mom got diagnosed with triple-negative breast cancer. It’s the most aggressive type. She was already stage four when they found it. There wasn’t much they could do. She died seven months after being diagnosed.”

As a tear slipped down his cheek, I reached over and squeezed his leg. “I can tell you loved her a lot.”

Troy nodded and wiped his face on his sleeve before continuing, “It was hard without her, but we adjusted. Tyson behaved for a couple of years, and I think the adults thought he had outgrown his difficult stage.” Troy made air quotes. “It didn’t last. He started picking on Meg all the time. One day, not long after we turned eleven, when no one was home but us kids, I caught him trying to pull her pants off. I beat the shit out of him and threatened to tell. That night, I was jolted awake. Tyson had a pillow over my face. I fought him and managed to get him off me, but not before he punched me and broke my nose. He told me if I ratted him out, he’d kill me in my sleep and make it look like an accident.”

My eyes bugged out. “Holy shit. This was an eleven-year-old?”

“Yeah. I believed him, so I told Dad I fell out of bed and landed on my face. I don’t think he believed me, but he never said a word— just put me in the truck with a towel to my face and drove me an hour to the hospital. When we got back, Tyson was waiting. Dad just told us to go to bed; we had chores in the morning.”

“Did Tyson say anything to you?”

“No. Things went back to normal. Well, as normal as it can be living with a sociopath. I made sure Meg was never alone with him. It was around this time that Mrs. P came to work for us, and Meg naturally latched onto her. Gramma was slowing down and couldn’t keep up. Tyson backed off of Meg, but I didn’t trust him.

“Things escalated a few months later when we went to the annual auction. That’s where I saw Duncan. I knew the minute I laid eyes on him, he was meant to be mine. Tyson picked up on it and started badgering Dad. Thankfully, Dad didn’t give in, but he must’ve seen my disappointment.”

I blew out a breath. Troy certainly had gone through a lot with his brother. It made me happy that I didn’t have any siblings to contend with.

Troy kept going. “Tyson started causing trouble at school. He bullied the other kids, stirred up shit in class, refused to do his work, that sort of thing. One afternoon, when Tyson was with Nole and Pete, I overheard Dad and Gramps talking about possibly sending him away to a psychiatric facility. They must’ve shelved that idea when Gramma started to get sick. She had a quadruple bypass when we were four or five, and her heart wasn’t pumping as well as it should. She’d get tired quickly and need to rest. The doctors would adjust her medication, and she would be okay for a while, and then she’d decline again. I couldn’t prove it, but I knew Tyson did something. She had a fatal heart attack two weeks after her eightieth birthday. I was the one who found her.”

“That must’ve been hard on everyone.”

“Yeah. Gramps was heartbroken. Despite her family's disapproval, they’d been together since they were fourteen. On her eighteenth birthday, she packed her things, said goodbye to her parents, and eloped with Gramps. They rarely spent a day apart after that.”

That made me smile. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“They would’ve liked you.”

I snorted. “How do you know?”

Troy’s face flushed. “Because I do.”

It took a moment for me to answer, but when my brain came back online, I managed to stutter, “I-I like you, t-too.”

It felt awkward for a minute until Troy cleared his throat. “So, anyway— after the funeral and everything, Dad told Tyson he would take him to the cattle sale, and if he saw a suitable horse he liked, he would buy it. He told me that Mr. Cahill needed an extra hand for the summer, and that the job was mine if I wanted it. I’d get paid, and room and board were included. I jumped at the chance to get away from Tyson for the summer. Meg was going away to sleep-away camp, so I knew she was safe.

“When I got to Mr. Cahill’s, I discovered that Dad had purchased Duncan for me. Color me surprised. There was no job, but Mr. Cahill still put me on the payroll. I mucked stalls, fed the pigs and chickens, tried to keep the goats under control, but that was a lost cause.”

I chuckled, knowing full well how ornery goats were. “Amen to that.”

“Mr. Cahill is one of the best horse trainers in the state. He worked with us every day. By the time the fall fairs started, we were ready for some rodeo events. Damn, Morgan, there’s nothing like feeling your horse under you, knowing he’s ready to jump in whatever direction that steer is gonna take off to. I practiced ropin’ until I thought my arm was gonna fall off.”

“How’d you guys do?”

“We entered five local events in my age group at the State Fair. Four first places and one second.”

“Tyson didn’t find out?”

“I don’t think so. He didn’t like big crowds and hated going to the fairs. We didn’t mention anything about me competing.”

“Did he get his own horse when your dad took him to the cattle sale?”

Troy scoffed. “Nope. After all that, he said none of those horses could measure up to Duncan. I mean, it’s true, but once he thought he made sure I couldn’t have him, he dropped the whole idea of wanting a new horse.”

“What a piece of shit. So then what happened?”

“He kept up his troublemaking and started to get mouthier with Dad and Gramps. I was at the Cahill ranch most weekends throughout that school year so I didn’t see as much of it as the others did. Hardly a month went by without Dad being called to the school for his behavior. Even the staff were on board with Tyson being evaluated for mental health. The problem, though, is that it’s next to impossible to get an appointment to see a psychiatrist who specializes in kids. There aren’t that many in the state, and they were booking appointments a year out. The best they could find was an appointment with a doctor in Seattle, but they still had to wait six months. In the meantime, we turned thirteen.

“Tyson knew something was up because when we got out of school for the summer, it was like he flipped a switch. He started being nice to everyone and did well in summer school. Dad and Gramps seemed relieved. I was more cautious, and he knew it. He did his best to butter me up. I wasn’t biting. So when he suggested we take a turn and watch over the cattle on the east grazing land for a week so Nole could go to his friend’s wedding, I said yes, only because I knew Nole wouldn’t be able to go otherwise. Dad must’ve asked me twenty times if I was sure. I told him I’d be extra careful.”

Troy stretched out his leg, flexing his toes a few times before taking a deep breath and exhaling. “I didn’t know what was going to happen.”

“Take your time.” I gave Troy’s leg a reassuring squeeze.

“The first few days were uneventful. The cattle did their thing, and we got bored watching them. On the fourth day, it rained, and thunderstorms rolled in. If you’ve never experienced a Wyoming thunderstorm, just hope you’re not out in the open when you do. We’re just far enough from the mountains that when the thunder rumbles, it bounces back and shakes the earth. It feels like the apocalypse is upon you. All you can do is take cover and pray.

“When the storm passed, we had our work cut out for us. The herd had scattered every which way. We got as many as we could before it got dark, then spent the next day looking for the rest. We lucked out, and out of the two hundred and sixty-eight we started with, only four were unaccounted for. I told Tyson to watch the herd. I was going to check over by the cliffs. It wouldn’t be the first time a stupid cow fell over the side. Sure enough, when I got there, I saw the four missing cattle at the bottom of a hundred-foot drop. What I didn’t see was Tyson waiting to ambush me on the other side of an outcrop. He pulled me off my horse and tried to drag me to the edge.”

“Holy fuck.”

“Yeah. That’s about what went through my head, too. What Tyson didn’t realize was that all the time I spent working at the Cahill’s ranch gave me a fair bit of muscle. He didn’t think I’d put up so much of a fight. I managed to get the upper hand fairly quickly. I pinned him underneath me and beat the shit out of him. I don’t know if I was taking out all my frustration over the chaos he’d created in our family, or blaming him for everything wrong and taking it out on him. I don’t even know if I was mad or trying to get back at him for the shit he pulled over the years. All I remember is that everything went gray. It was as if the whole world was black and white, and I could only focus on what was in front of me.

“When I let up, Tyson spat in my face. He told me, “Keep going, asshole. Make sure you get a hit in for old Grammy. It was fun messing with her medication. You should’ve seen the look on her face as she gasped for air, clutching her chest.”

Troy’s eyes squeezed shut. “He threw me off of him and charged at me. The next thing I knew, Tyson wasn’t there. I was standing at the edge of the cliff looking at his body. He’d been impaled on one of the steer’s horns. I didn’t scream. I didn’t yell down to him. I didn’t freak out. I just stood there. I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

I pressed my lips together as Troy opened his eyes and looked at me. I could see the torment he’d saddled himself with because of this.

“I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt— I killed my brother.”