They Sent Me to Prison for the Family Fire, So I Came Home to Sell the Ranch Out From Under Them novel · Chapter 14 of 24

Chapter 14: The Loading Ramp

Amaia did not run.

She went back up the stairs one at a time and shut her bedroom door softly.

Nobody in that kitchen could think of a thing to say to the sound.

I stood with my hand on the screen door until Ansel touched my sleeve.

"Not tonight," he said.

"She needs her mother."

"She needs a lot of things," I said.

We drove back down the valley in the dark with the heater ticking.

I did not cry, and I did not speak.

On Fourth Street he put the lab paper in the shoebox with the letters and set the lid on.

He said it was safer in the box than in my bag, and I let him.

I slept hard and woke at six with a mouth like paper.

Ansel was already up and shaved, in the gray jacket.

The notice from his supervisor forbade him to work the pens.

It said nothing about walking onto the yard on a Saturday morning.

"I'm not in the mood to look at rams," I said.

"You've sat in a dish room for three days," he said.

"I'd like you somewhere with air."

The yard on a Saturday was a half day and ran quiet.

A sale of old ewes was winding down at the east end, and the men on the rail turned around when we came through the gate.

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