Morning crept up in silence, as if trying to find me before I awoke.

  Pale light pierced through the gaps in the blinds, laying thin bars across the room. Dust motes drifted through them, slow and lazy. I sat on the edge of the narrow bed, elbows on my knees, staring at my hands. Hands that had both taken life and given it.

  My stomach twisted with hunger, prompting me to rise from the mattress. I washed my face in the tiny bathroom sink, flinching when my fingers brushed my throat. The bruises had darkened overnight, blooming into ugly purples and sickly yellows. The back of my throat stung at the memory, and I braced myself against the wall.

  Down below, I heard movement. A door opening. The scrape of boots on concrete. Lloyd, already up and working. Ranchers did not get the luxury of sleeping in after bad dreams.

  In the garage so early? I thought. Perhaps he’s going into town today?

  If I’d planned my escape from my parents’ home a little more carefully, I’d have packed a bag with at least a few changes of clothes. As it was, I left with only what I wore that night, which I donned again before extending the ladder and climbing down to the first level. The pistol was still in my car, hidden in the center console. I made a mental note to find an opportunity to take it from there.

  To do what, though? I asked myself. To keep it? Or to get rid of it?

  If the police caught me, they’d see it as a murder weapon, so it made sense to hide it somewhere or even destroy it. On the other hand, the gun had come in handy, allowed me to save Derek’s life when Lady broke her leg and had him pinned. I owed my own life to it as well, for as my nightmare the previous night demonstrated, I’d not be alive without it.

  Fluorescent lights overhead flickered, and flies buzzed at them, repeatedly crashing into the tubular bulbs. The taste of sawdust and scent of motor oil mixed in the air. Tall tool chests stood against one wall, along with racks where hung the most commonly-used devices: hammers, screwdrivers, wrenches, and the like.

  Lloyd crouched next to one of three ATVs off to the side of the garage (or “shop,” as Lloyd sometimes called it). He glanced my way and gave a smile. “Mornin’. Ya sleep well?”

  “Yeah,” I lied.

  He squinted at me, frowned, and pointed at a garment hanging on the wall. “Put on those coveralls and come help me with this.”

  “Yes, sir.” At his command, I slipped the navy blue, one-piece outfit over my clothes and zipped it up. The sleeves and pant-legs were just a little too short, stopping half-way up my forearm, but they’d do well enough for now.

  Once I’d arrived at Lloyd’s side, he directed me to bring him different tools from the rack, each time describing what it looked like. Half the time, I’d bring the wrong one at first, and he’d say something like, “Nice try, but no. The other one.”

  As he worked on the four-wheeler’s engine, he said, “Carol’s makin’ breakfast. I just wanted to get this fixed before then. She’ll pour some coffee too, if you need it.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Don’t thank me, thank her when you see her.” He chuckled. “Don’t thank me until the day’s through, ‘cuz you might not be so happy when you see what we gotta do. After breakfast, first thing I’ll have you do is replace some fence posts. Got a number of ‘em on the eastern edge that’ve rotted. Been meaning to take care of that, but ain’t been able to get to it.”

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  He asked me for a ratchet, and as I handed it to him a thought occurred to me. “Why have horses if you can do the same work on ATVs?”

  “A horse knows where not to step,” said Lloyd. “They’re better suited for places where the ground gets rocky. Also, I don’t know if you know this, but four-wheelers require gas.” He gave a chuckle.

  “Right,” I said with a smirk. “Silly me. Then why use an ATV at all?”

  “They can haul more, for one thing,” said Lloyd. “Once we get this one fixed up, we’ll load ‘er up with wood, tools, water, everything you need for the job you’ll be doin’. Also, four-wheelers are faster than horses. Moreover,” he looked up at me with a twinkle in his eye, “city boys comin’ out here for a summer job as a ranch hand can use ‘em.”

  I thought it funny that he considered me a “city kid,” but I supposed it made sense. The town I grew up in was a small one, but it still had its own gas station, restaurants, post office, and library. Things that Lloyd and his family had to drive many miles to find.

  “There!” said Lloyd, fixing one final piece in place. “Now we can go inside and eat.”

  Inside, at the kitchen table, sat a breakfast of fried eggs, home-made hash browns, sausages, and yogurt. Lloyd rolled his eyes at that last item. “Carol, really?”

  “Doctor says you need a little culture in your diet,” said Carol.

  “Then throw in a little Canadian bacon,” said Lloyd. “That oughta be culture enough.”

  On crutches, Derek approached the table, easing himself into a chair that Lloyd pulled out for him.

  “Y’alright?” I asked.

  “Doctor says I cracked my ankle,” said Derek. “I’ll be on crutches a few days, but I’ll heal.”

  Carol held a dark pot over my cup. “Coffee?”

  “Umm, sure,” I said. “Thank you.”

  She poured, and Lloyd asked, “You take cream.”

  “No, I drink it black,” I said.

  Derek gave a false gag and shook his head. “Some folks like it bitter, I guess.”

  Bitter is what I’m used to.

  Lloyd took a drink from his mug and said, “Now, before we head out, there’s somethin’ we gotta clear up. Yesterday, you told Carol your name is Anthony. That right?”

  “Yeah,” I said, not yet realizing the trap he’d set for me.

  “That’s odd,” said Lloyd. “Because Derek says that when you saved him out from under Lady, you gave him a different name. What was it again?”

  “Alex,” said Derek.

  A silence fell over the room. Uneasy. My appetite fled for me as guilt at having lied to these good people set in. I waited on whatever scolding I was about to receive.

  Lloyd cleared his throat. “Now, we talked about it last night, after you went to bed. Thing is, we figure you got your reasons for givin’ a fake name. Let’s just decide right now which one you wanna go with. Do you like Anthony or Alex better?”

  I scanned their faces, finding only a mix of curiosity and sympathy in their expressions. For a moment, I wondered how many other patricidal killers had received such a warm welcome from such kind-hearted, understanding folks. It was more than I deserved, and that was starting to unnerve me. Was this charity or bait?

  “Alex,” I said at last, deciding I preferred the sound of it.

  “Alright,” said Lloyd. “Don’t get your own name mixed up again. You are Alex. Alex. And one more thing I’m gonna request. We’ll try not to ask you any more questions about your past, but if we do, we ask that you simply not tell us rather than have to lie. Alright?”

  “Alright,” I said with a nod.

  “Furthermore,” he continued, “While I get that you’re not ready to talk about what happened before we met you, I insist that you be honest with us about everything that happens here. If you accidentally break somethin’, you tell me, and we’ll fix it together. If you see something suspicious on the ranch, you tell me about it rather than keep it to yourself. Whoever you were before? He’s a man of mystery and secrets. But Alex, my ranch hand, he tells me everything that’s goin’ on. If we can’t do that much for each other, we won’t function. Understand?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I understand.”

  “Good,” said Lloyd. “Now, eat fast. We got a lot of work to do today.”

  Eating at that table it seemed like I’d found a new family, a new life, and with it I’d established a new name for myself. I was no longer Vincent Castle, but now Alexander, and I’d have to come up with a last name soon.

  I found that I liked this family. Most of all, I liked Lloyd. Yet, I remembered that even my father, for as explosive as his anger could be, was also capable of seeming nice at times. There was that time that he took in a homeless man for a couple weeks, allowing the man to sleep in the downstairs guest room. For those first few weeks, he’d been almost too accommodating for the vagrant. That all ended with shouting, accusations of stealing, and the stranger being kicked out of our house. I could only hope that this story took a different turn. One that didn’t involve Lloyd turning out to be just like my dad.