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“I hadn’t pla
“Thanks.”
There was hesitance tensing his smile, like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome on this blanket, in her estimations.
For all the heartache, she didn’t mind him joining them. It wasn’t as though her feelings could be flipped on and off like a switch. Her feelings were messy and sticky, and she knew it. They clung like summer heat or winter’s chill, slow to fade.
Mercy held her arms out to Casey, and a piece of Abilene’s heart broke. Her body wanted that same thing still—to reach out to him, be close to him. Her body hadn’t forgotten what his could do to hers, when they came together.
Uncertainty passed across Casey’s face as he watched the squirming infant, blue eyes glancing to Abilene’s.
He’s not a monster, she reminded herself. He was a con man who’d made a lot of selfish decisions for the sake of money, but he wasn’t evil. Reckless and lacking in empathy, perhaps, but not cruel or sadistic. She lifted Mercy and got to her knees, passing her over. Casey’s smile was brief and vulnerable, and he spread his legs and propped the baby between them. He knew most of the ranch hands—many were regulars at the bar—and some came over to say hello, the guys razzing him about the baby, the girls looking more approving, intrigued by the scene.
The young woman who’d come by the house the other night wrapped in a blanket was among them. She was wearing the hands’ unofficial uniform, boots and jeans and plaid fla
“Good look for you, Grossier,” she said, and gave Mercy’s outstretched, chubby hand a little squeeze. She’d know Mercy wasn’t Casey’s, of course—all of the hands had been given the broad strokes, back when James coming around had still been a danger. “Go
“Time’ll tell,” he said. “I’m in no rush.”
Casey wasn’t flirting back, but Abilene felt her insides curdle all the same. That handsome, charming, fu
Abilene pa
• • •
“Two minutes!” somebody yelled from the crowd, and the milling ranch hands began to settle, shielding their eyes with their hands, figuring out which direction to face to best watch the eclipse. The sun was high overhead, just begi
One of the hands came around, handing out paper plates with holes pricked in them, for people to watch through. Casey thanked her and took three, passing them around. He also passed Mercy back to Abilene, deciding he wanted no part in accidentally blinding her. Though he missed the warmth and smell of her, both whisked away on the breeze. He wished Christine hadn’t grabbed him when he’d arrived. It was hard being this close to Abilene and knowing he couldn’t touch her. He’d have much preferred to be hanging out with Miah, and for all he knew, she wished the same.
In a way, he got his wish shortly. Miah jogged over with a plate of his own in hand and plopped down on the blanket’s edge beside his mother. “Here we go! Natural wonder commencing in three, two, one . . .”
More like half a minute, as it turned out. Abilene turned Mercy to face her middle and they held the plates up to their faces, finding the sun through the pinpricks. At first it was nothing more than a fu
“You think Dad’s secretly watching this?” Miah asked his mom, muffled by the paper plate.
“If he isn’t he’s the silliest sort of stubborn.”
“Oooh.” This from Abilene, as the sky took on a reddish cast and the nibbled corner of the sun turned rusty black.
Casey felt twelve again, or however old he’d been the last time he’d seen a solar eclipse around here. Middle school, easily. All he remembered for sure was that it had been May or June, just a week or two before school let out for the summer. His blood felt restless at the memory, itchy for escape.
I’ve spent enough of my life ru
As the moon swallowed the sun to the one-quarter mark, the sky went full-on dusky, and he conjured other memories. Like of his dad teaching him and Vince how to hold a magnifying glass on a su
Come to think of it, he could smell smoke. Someone must have hauled a grill down. Though what sort, he couldn’t guess—not gas, for sure, and not charcoal either.
Through the hole, the sun was a white sickle hugging a black hole of nothing, and the sky in his periphery had gone warm gray. He cast his eyes downward and lowered the plate. The horizon glowed a golden white behind the distant eastern mountains, but all else was darkening by the second, eerie and magical.
But something wasn’t right. The breeze was blowing from behind—from the direction of town, not the picnic. It wasn’t a cookout he was smelling. It was wood, and more. Chemical smoke, like fire lapping at painted boards. A stink he knew well, hard to get out of your clothes. He looked to the northwest, and though the sky was nearing nighttime darkness, he could see it. A plume of thick, dark smoke, coming from the direction of the farmhouse. He shot to his feet.
“Fire,” he said. Softly at first.
Only Miah heard it. “What?”
“Fire,” he repeated, louder. “Fucking hell—fire!”
Miah was up, squinting into the darkness. It had been a bright day, and no one seemed to have left any lights on in any of the buildings. You could just see their outlines against the reddish sky to the west. “Holy shit.”
“Oh no.” Christine stood, and word was spreading—half the workers had dropped their plates and were getting to their feet. The smoke was growing thick, fast.
Christine was on her phone, no doubt calling 911.
“Everybody!” Miah bellowed. “Head south! Take the horses and walk south!” He arched his arms in that direction, ushering them away from the path of the smoke.
Christine also hurried away, glowing phone pressed to one ear, hand clapped over the other to block out the shouting.
Up the hill, a light grew in the darkness—orange light.
“Fuck. Which building is that?” Casey shouted to Miah as he helped Abilene to her feet. “Follow the hands,” he told her. “Keep the baby away from the smoke.”
Miah squinted. “The stables? Or the barn.”
They’d better hope it was the barn. Nothing but junk in there, while surely the stables were full of horses, with so many of the hands taking their breaks.
Footsteps pounded up from behind them—one of the hands emerging from the throng now hurrying south. It was De