she said. She waited for him to get out his phone, then rattled off the digits. “I’d be more than happy to. This is a great little town. Full of possibilities.”
“I can see that,” he said. “Well, Alyssa, thanks for a good job. I’m sure we’ll see each other soon.”
He paid in cash; the tip was excellent. He put on his jacket, turned the collar up and walked out into the rain. He went down the block and across the street to the diner. Sierra was working today. He’d have lunch and show her his flyer of rental properties.
Dakota took a booth at the diner and let Sierra wait on him. He ordered a bowl of soup, half a sandwich and a coffee. It wasn’t long before Sierra slid into the booth with a slice of blueberry pie.
“Is that for me?” he asked.
She looked at it for a second. “Yes,” she said. Then she went back behind the counter and got another slice of pie, making him laugh at her.
“You’re so thoughtful,” he said.
“I am,” she said. “In the early summer we have rhubarb pie and rhubarb cobbler. I think this year I’m going to learn to bake.”
“When are you going to learn to get married?” he asked. “Seems like six months ago Connie asked us all if we would give consent and I guess I thought...”
“Well, you old fogy, you.” She grinned at him. “We keep meaning to plan something. Hey, Cal’s gone, right? Connie’s off tonight. It’s going to be cold and rainy. We’re having a fire and soup. Wanna come over?”
“I don’t know. Is there any nightlife around here?” he asked.
“Yeah—at our house. Fire and soup. Connie’s cooking. It’s amazing. Firemen are excellent cooks. Maybe if you’re very good, we’ll put on a movie. Or play a board game.”
He gave her a steady look. “I don’t think it’s going to take me long to get really bored.”
“You coming?”
“Sure,” he said with a shrug.
Blood is thicker than water.
—GERMAN PROVERB
DAKOTA HAD LOOKED at three potential rental properties after lunch. They were adequate but a little large for just one guy and none of them felt right. He made an appointment with a property manager for the next morning and he looked at four more rentals. The last one was in the country, about ten miles from town. The cabin had a nice big porch. It was on a hillside and a creek ran past. There was a small bridge crossing the creek. “The creek swells in spring and early summer,” the agent said. “It was built as a vacation cabin. The owner liked to fish. He claimed the fishing was good in that creek.”
Dakota asked if they could go inside. It was a decent size, probably nine hundred square feet. There were two bedrooms, one medium-size bath, a galley kitchen and a nice big table, sofa and chair all in the great room. There was no TV but there was a desk. “Does it come furnished?” he asked.
“It can,” the agent said. “The owner is deceased and the heirs are letting it go. Our office is managing the property for now. We’re prepared to remove what you don’t want, leave what you can use. There’s no washer or dryer.”
“I hate doing laundry,” he said, smiling at her. In fact, he had both a brother and a sister with machines he could borrow. And there was always commercial laundry. “How much?”
“It’s pricey,” she said. And indeed, it was more than the larger houses he’d looked at. It was quaint. Rustic. There was a stone fireplace. The appliances looked fairly new, maybe a couple of years old. “It’s kind of isolated,” she said. “The water heater is new, the roof is in good repair, everything in the kitchen is functional. Even the ice maker.”
He didn’t say anything. He just walked around, touching the leather sofa, opening the kitchen cabinets. He lay down on the bed. He wasn’t sure about the mattress yet—it might need to be upgraded. He’d brought only clothes and vital papers with him to Colorado. It looked pretty well stocked. Based on what he saw, he could fry an egg, microwave a meal, dry off after a shower. He could get himself a small grill. He might trade out the linens for new but it was in good shape. Better than some Army quarters he’d stayed in.
Then he stepped back outside onto the porch. There, on the other side of the creek, he saw deer. A buck, a couple of does and a very new fawn. One doe looked ready to give birth. He looked around the porch. “It needs a good chair.”
“There isn’t one but you could pick one up pretty cheap.”
“I’ll take it,” he said.
There was a rental agreement to sign and the property manager had to run him through a credit check. Fortunately, he knew his credit was excellent, and even though he’d been in the brig and stood a court-martial, he learned when he purchased the Jeep that his military incarceration didn’t show up in civilian records. “You just tell me when you’re ready for me to sign papers. You have my cell number.”
He was oddly euphoric about this cabin in the woods. A man could sit quietly on that porch and watch nature, watch wildlife. He imagined that in the dark of night he would hear wildlife and in the morning, birds. He would be busy because he liked being busy, but he would thoroughly enjoy relaxing in a small, isolated cabin. He’d like sleeping there. He’d like listening to the rain there.
He hadn’t really imagined this scenario—that he’d come to Colorado and get his own place and be within a short drive of family. Actual family. He thought he’d visit, check them out, maybe stay a little longer than was typical for him, then press on. But then, maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised. He’d left his Army family. Where else would he turn? Even though Dakota was independent, he liked having people in his life. There had always been soldiers. He took good care of them, they took good care of him.
And something had changed with his siblings. Or with him. For the first time he considered them friends, not just family he was stuck with. He’d never been good about keeping in touch and the Army had always provided him with plenty of excuses. If he didn’t feel like checking in with them, then the Army, he could say, had other plans for him and he couldn’t get away. At the moment, for whatever reason, he wanted to be around them. Could it be they’d finally all grown up?
He went to the bar and grill in town for lunch. It looked like the bartender was just coming on duty. She was tying on her apron and talking to another employee, nodding vigorously and smiling. The man put a hand on her shoulder as she tied the last knot in the apron. Then she washed her hands and went behind the bar. “How can I help you?” she asked pleasantly.
“How about a hamburger, fries and Coke.”
She flipped the menu around for him. “I have seven burgers for you to choose from. We’re famous for them.”
“What’s your favorite?” he asked.
She pointed to one of the burgers. “The Juicy Lucy with bacon and pickles, hold the onion. The cheese is on the inside. That’s my meal.”
“Thanks,” he said, squinting at her nametag. “Sid?”
“Sid,” she confirmed. “Short for Sidney. And how would you like that burger cooked?”
“Medium,” he said.
“Excellent,” she said. Then he watched her go to her pay station to punch his order into the computer.
This was his first visit to this pub. It was all dark wood with red leather bar stools and booths, red leather chair seats at the tables. It wasn’t real big but he assumed they could pack ’em in at happy hour. He took the menu and looked through it. The bar was open from