Free Chasing the Sun by Kaki Warner

knowing as soon as he got home his peaceful moments would be over for a while.
    He had a lot of questions to ask.
    And a confrontation with Elena to get through.
    But first he would have to answer to his brothers for his long silence.
    In the beginning, after Elena’s operation and the long months of recovery, he had put off writing in the hopes that she would improve and he’d have better news. Then she caught religion. Not wanting to accept that, or admit to his brothers that he had been cast aside by the woman he’d chased all the way to California, he hadn’t written then either. He was the brother, after all, with the golden touch where women were concerned. Instead he’d unsuccessfully tried to sear away his bitter disappointment with red rye whiskey. After a month-long binge, he had sobered up enough to find himself out of money and almost married to a pretty woman he hardly knew. Not wanting to admit that either, he had hired onto the nearest clipper headed west and had spent the next two years trying to figure out what to do next.
    He was still trying to figure that out, which was why he was out on this lonely road right now, still chasing after a woman who didn’t want him, and riding back to the ranch he’d tried so hard to leave behind. Hell.
    Time passed with the steady clop of the horse’s hooves on the rocky path. Timber gave way to bare ridges. The ground grew damper, and here and there, tiny flowers pushed up through the last patches of snow clinging to shady crevices. This was the roughest section of the ranch, but also one of the most beautiful. Steep bald cliffs, deep canyons, tumbled boulders as big as houses. Formidable country. Country even Brady didn’t try to tame.
    Once he cleared the pass and headed down the long slope that led to the home valley, he began to feel impatient and excited. He loved this place, loved the wildness of it, the starkness of upthrust rock and eroded spires. He loved the clean smell of juniper, sweet cactus blooms, and sharp-scented creosote. He loved the sound of wind through pine needles, the taste of cool alkaline water after a long hot day, the sense of smallness that overcame him when he looked at the mountains. He loved it all. He just couldn’t live here. He needed something ... else.
    Maybe this time his brothers would accept that.
    It was late afternoon when he rode out of the trees and onto the rolling flats that were the heart of the ranch. Twice as long as it was wide, the dished basin stretched for miles from one rising slope to the other. Yet as he rode slowly across it, the valley seemed smaller than he remembered.
    Maybe it was because he’d spent so many months at sea, where the horizon hung at the far edge of the world, flat and undisturbed. Unconfining. Here, the mountains brought it closer, creating a looming barrier that reduced vision to a few miles and blotted out almost half of the sky. Yet, strangely, that old feeling of entrapment wasn’t as strong as it had been when he’d left. Probably because he’d escaped this country once, and he knew if he had to, he could do it again. Smiling, he kicked the horse into a lope. Or maybe he was just homesick and glad to be back.
    He could see the house from two miles away. It was a monster and looked more like a grand hotel than a home. Rising a full three stories, it was all log and stone, with a broad covered porch sweeping across the front. He figured Brady must have designed it. Having a deep aversion to confined spaces, his brother had always been partial to big open structures.
    Carl Langley came to meet him as he rode up, a wide grin splitting his grizzled features. “Well, I’ll be. You finally came home.” His grin folded into a frown when he saw the crutch. “What happened?” he asked, holding the restive gelding as Jack slid down onto his good foot.
    “Long story. Where is everybody?”
    “Eating. Your brothers expecting you?”
    “Thought I’d surprise them.”
    “Lots of