Free Argosy Junction by Chautona Havig Page B

fiber!
    Rose and I talked for a long time. She’s new here, but I think she told you that. She said that they went to a few of the Brethren’s assemblies, but as much as she liked their lifestyle, it being so near to her own, she didn’t like the insistence on molding everyone into a carbon of each other. They go to that interdenominational fellowship that meets in the old Episcopalian church building. I’m almost jealous.
    What? You don’t believe me? Well first, notice that I said, “Almost.” Then, second, remember that you don’t know why! So I’ll tell you, and it’ll make sense, and you won’t have to worry about me slipping back into a speaking relationship with God.
    See, when I was a little girl, I loved that building. This was before the Brethren had gotten so controlling. I loved the tall roof, the spire, and if you promise not to tell, the pews and floor and organ. Yep. I liked it all. It used to be the biggest dream of my heart to get married in that building. I had it all planned from about the age of six or seven.
    Silly isn’t it? Now I’ll probably fly to California, work for my aunt and uncle like Kyle is doing, and then meet someone, drive to Vegas, marry him at one of those drive-thru windows, and then fly home. Poor Uncle Mitch. He’ll never keep one of us for long.
    Ok, so now the confession. No one knows I’m replying to your email. I’m going to quit writing now and get off here so I don’t have to hear it about coming out of the dark ages. I feel like a hypocrite saying it, but please write again whenever you can. It’s almost like having you here again and we all miss you.
    Techo-Lane
     
    She reread her email and clicked “send.” Was he home from work? Would he read it even as she stared at her inbox? She wondered if there was a way to know. Throwing caution to the wind, she started a new email.
     
     
    To: [email protected]
    From: [email protected]
    Subject: Tracer
     
    Matt,
    I was just sitting here thinking about how fast email is and wondering if people ever get an email within seconds of someone writing it. Is there a way to know when you got it? I’m kind of fascinated with this speed of light communication. Just curious. No rush-bye!
    Lane
     
    ~*~*~*~
     
    Thursday night was two-for-one night at the buffet on 49th Street. Matt’s parents went every week, and Matt ate leftovers or frozen pizza. Usually he spent the night watching a sitcom or playing Camelot’s Revenge , his favorite video game.
    This week, the moment his parents closed the door behind them, he popped left over lasagna and meatloaf in the microwave, poured a huge glass of milk, and turned on the computer. While it booted, he grabbed his steaming plate, a paper towel, and a fork. Oh, how he missed the fresh salads from the Argosy Ranch.
    Tad’s email came through first. Amazed at how much he missed a place he’d barely seen, Matt closed his eyes, chewed his lasagna, and tried to remember the smell of the damp earth in the morning, hear the bleating lambs as they nuzzled their mothers for milk, and the feel of the silky coat of Cardiff beneath his fingers as he fed her carrots. He realized, not for the first time, that he’d left part of him in Montana at the Argosy Ranch.
    The memory of dark chocolate eyes brought him out of his reverie. He read Tad’s email carefully.
     
     
    To: [email protected]
    From: [email protected]
    Subject: pesky sisters— isn’t that redundant?
     
    hey matt,
    you’re missing the hunt buddy! man, we’ve lost three lambs to a mountain lion. nate and i are patrolling at night to scare away any more attacks, but we’ll see. we’ve got a contest going to see who nabs this bad cat first. if you were here, we’d make the odds more interesting and get some more sleep. i’m going to try to get dad to let me add jude to the pool. that’d make the patrol more like 3 hours each.
    i took lane over to meet the wheatley’s. they’re a very nice family. we