Page 8 of Hard Rain Coming

Chapter Three

Vivian climbed into the cab and kept her eyes straight ahead. The sun was well up by now, spilling the kind of light that sparkled and made the mountains look like a magical painting. Out here in God’s country, a person was small, insignificant. And when she took the time to pay attention to the beauty that surrounded her, it tugged at a part of Vivian she preferred to keep tucked away. That little piece that had managed to survive the death of her mother and, subsequently, the falling away from her family. It was soft. Pliant. Prone to pain.

It was too soft, she thought.

She buckled in, aware of Dallas beside her. The cab was a Laramie and big, but then Dallas was the kind of man who made the space appear tiny. He was big, with shoulders to match his height and the kind of muscle that came from years of working a ranch.

He said nothing, but started up the engine and found a station that played the oldies. Hank, Cash, Cline, as well as some Waylon and Willie. Once they were on the interstate, Vivian relaxed a bit, glad for the music and the silent man who drove beside her.

She wasn’t in the mood for small talk, and she sure as hell didn’t have the strength to fight. In fact, she was so tired, her bones ached. The mattress had been nothing more than fabric pulled over springs with a bit of cushion for good measure. Though truthfully, she could have been lying on a cloud and still had a shit night. She’d been too hyped to sleep. Too angry to do anything but lie across the bed and stare up at a ceiling that had no answers. No wise words to fill the empty spaces inside her.

Spaces she’d thought were filled. Hell, they had been until she’d come back to Montana.

What a dummy I am, she thought, leaning her head against the cool window. She watched the rolling landscape as they drove, and when an old Hank Williams song came on the radio, she closed her eyes. It had been one of her mother’s favorites. She pulled a memory from that sacred place where she kept them, and let it wash over her.

Her mom dancing slowly in the living room, belly big with her brother Cal, as Hank’s sorrowful voice sang about a rolling stone, about being lost and alone. Her mother’s dark hair was always worn long and nearly touched the small of her back. It swayed as her hips moved, and Vivian tried to grab those elusive silky pieces. She giggled as her father came up behind her mom and encircled her with his long arms and big hands. She’d wanted up so badly to be there, in between the two people she loved more than anything, and when her father laughed and scooped her into his arms, she was the happiest she’d ever been. Who knew at four years of age, she would never feel like that again.

“Oh God,” she whispered to herself. Don’t go back there.

Vivian gave herself a mental shake and snuggled into her jacket. She kept her head against the window, and eventually, the heat inside the cab, the lack of sleep and fatigue took over, and after a while, she fell asleep.

She went deep. She dreamed. She remembered.

“Come on, Benton, let me come.” Vivian scowled at her older brother. He was such a pain in the butt. Thought that just because he was five years older than her, he could boss her around and tell her what to do. Or rather, what she couldn’t do.

“I’ll tell Dad you’re going up to the cabin.”

“He won’t care,” Benton shot back, pulling an AC/DC T-shirt over his head. “He’s already drunk.”

“He’ll care tomorrow when he’s sober. No one is supposed to go up there. It’s sacred to him.”

“It’s not sacred. Shit, it barely has four standing walls.” Her brother laughed and shook his head. “And I don’t care about tomorrow. I’m almost nineteen. What the hell is he going to do?”

“That’s because Darlene Goody and Sue Anne Maloney are going to be there.”

His eyebrows shot up at that. “How’d you know?”

She smiled triumphantly. “Darlene told me at cheer practice. She’s my teacher.” She made a face. “She told everyone she was going all the way with you this weekend.”

“Yeah?” he asked. “She said that?”

“Daisy Mae is gonna be mad.”

“Daisy Mae doesn’t know what she wants.”

“If you say so.”

He grabbed a bag and headed for the front door. “You can’t come. Dal and me and the rest of the boys have plans, and they don’t include my skinny fourteen-year-old sister.”

“I’ll be fifteen next week, and you know it.”

“Nope.”

“But—”

The front door slammed shut behind Benton. Vivian ran to the hallway and peeked out the window. Dallas Henhawk was out front, his beat-up and rusted Chevy parked to the side. One of her brother’s best friends, he was a couple of years younger than Bent, but was so big, it didn’t seem to matter. Vivian had known him her whole life. His family lived and worked on the ranch. The ties between the Henhawks and the Bridgestones went back generations.

And though she liked his mom and his dad was nice enough, Vivian didn’t particularly care for Dallas or his sister, Jade. He always thought he was right and seemed to have an opinion on everything. And he liked to boss her around, same as Bent. She studied him as he chatted with her brother. He was smart, she’d give him that. And good-looking. He smiled just then, his teeth white against his tanned skin. Okay, he was more than good-looking. He was probably the most handsome boy she’d ever seen. Save for her baby brother, Cal, who was just the most precious boy. He was going to break a lot of hearts. Even Rosie said so.