Free Where Mercy Flows by Karen Harter

given you the map of your life—the only acceptable route—and
     informed you that any other road will lead to destruction?” My words tasted bitter and I knew they were making my eyes get
     squinty and mean-looking. I deliberately swallowed and raised my brows, which helped pull the corners of my mouth up. “So.
     Come here often?”
    He shook his head. “I saw a pretty girl speed by the ranch in a dirty old Jeep. Followed her here.”
    “I was thinking about calling you. I’ve only been here for a little over a week.”
    “I heard you’ve been in Nevada. What brought you back?”
    I brightened. “Donnie, I didn’t tell you. I have a son.” I reached for my wallet and placed a small snapshot on the table.
     “His name is TJ. He’s five now. This was taken last year.”
    “Good-lookin’ kid. Your dad told me you had a son. I’ve always asked about you, you know. Not that he ever seemed to know
     much.” He studied the picture some more. “So. Does Tim have some Indian blood in him?”
    “Subtle,” I said. “Hey, if you want to know who I’ve been sleeping with, just ask. I’ve never kept secrets from you.”
    “Yeah, right.” He frowned.
    I poured him a glass from the full pitcher. “Here. Drink this. You’re getting moody.”
    His mouth spread slowly into a grin and his blue eyes danced. “Dang, I’ve missed you. I didn’t know how much until just now.
     You’re still just the same. And you haven’t answered my question. Why did you come home? The truth.”
    I wanted to tell him everything. Who knew me better than my childhood playmate? We had fought side by side in countless wars.
     He saved my hide from the James Gang, a ruthless batch of brothers from the other side of the creek who launched cow pies
     from a catapult instead of throwing pinecone grenades like the rest of us. And when it came to building dams, Donnie was an
     engineering genius. He made a swimming hole on the creek that lasted for two years before a spring flood washed it out. I
     always admired him for that.
    We had been best friends up until puberty. Then things got confusing. Donnie started playing basketball and hanging out with
     some guys from school. He didn’t want to fish much anymore. When he did come over it was usually with a friend or two and
     they just draped their lanky bodies over the porch rails while Lindsey served them iced tea. Once, when I went over to the
     Appaloosa Ranch to help him with his chores, he pressed me up against a stall door and kissed me. I kicked like a branded
     mare and wiped the kiss from my mouth in disgust. He never tried that again.
    After that I avoided him for a while, and he didn’t seem to have much interest in me. Sometimes he helped me get my homework
     done on the morning school bus, though. Donnie was smart for a rancher.
    I couldn’t tell him I came home because I was sick or that I couldn’t keep a job. Tim was long gone. I had been feeding my
     son Top Ramen three nights a week. “The truth is,” I finally said, “I needed to smell the cottonwoods again.” That was not
     a lie. “Also for TJ. A kid needs a family. He needed to meet his grandma and grandpa and know he has roots. He’s so happy
     now, Donnie. You should see him run and play in the big field, just like you and I used to. He’s a wonderful person. I want
     you to meet him.”
    “Are you going to tell me about his daddy?”
    I drained my beer. “TJ has no daddy.” Donnie refilled my glass. I made a mental note that this would be my last one. I had
     planned to have just one beer when I came in. Then I would get on the wagon and do everything the doctor said. “I’ll tell
     you the gory details after you tell me why you’re still here in Carter and not fighting for justice in the courtrooms of America.”
    He held up his glass and stared into the golden liquid. “I don’t know. Seems like there’s just never a good time to get away.
     There’s always a barn to rebuild or a lame tractor