Long time, no update. I kinda suck like that. Thank you all so much for your reviews! I think I've found my direction in this story, so the next one should be up soon.

Chapter Two

He'd been driving for nearly twelve hours. His eyes stayed shut longer and longer each time he blinked, and though it was barely dusk, Bobby didn't think he would make it much longer. According to the map, it was still some fifty miles to Lightning Flat, and he needed to rest. He was almost ready to pull over for a quick nap on the side of the highway when he saw the sign.

Riverton, Wyoming.

Bobby froze, hands clinching on the wheel. Riverton was where Jack had gone on his trips, to hunt or fish or do whatever it was he had done in the mountains three times a year. Half of him wanted to keep driving North; the other half wanted to stop dead and do… something. He didn't know what- he couldn't even remember the name of his father's friend. And if he could, he didn't know what he'd be more likely to do: shake his hand or beat his head in with a tire iron.

In the end, he couldn't do either, because he didn't remember the damn name. His growling stomach and drooping eyelids won out, though; he pulled into Riverton and stopped at the first lit-up place he could see, a little diner on the corner. He just sat for a moment, staring at the dusty street. Then he slipped out of the car, shut the door behind him with a snap.

Before he'd taken more than a step, a voice behind him said, "Nice car."

He started to turn around, but it wasn't necessary; before he could, the girl had appeared right beside him. She was pretty, her long brown hair pulled up into a ponytail, and wearing a long flannel shirt that was a long way from being Texas fancy, or probably even Wyoming fancy.

He smiled at her and gestured back to the car. "She's my baby."

"Boys and their cars," she replied and winked. "You're probably as bad as my daddy with horses."

"Well, I don't know your daddy."

She twisted the end of her braid around her finger. "You're not from 'round here."

"Well, what gave me away?"

"Texas accent… and the plates. What's a Texan like you doing up here?"

The smile faded from his face. "Visiting family."

"You don't look to happy about it."

He forced the grin back on. "We all gotta do it sometime, right?"

"Right. So you got a name?"

"Bobby."

Her cherry-red lips curled up prettily as she took the hand he offered her. "Jenny."

Bobby, his father had always said, had a way with the ladies. "Can I buy you some dinner, Jenny?"

"D'I look like that kinda girl?"

He knew well enough that she wasn't offended. "What kinda girl you talking about? The hungry kind?"

She smiled, looked sorely tempted, but in the end, stepped backward. A look of disappointment slipped across her face and she said, "Sorry, Bobby, I got myself some other plans."

"And here when I was just getting to like you." Bobby shook his head, then tipped his hat. "Great pleasure meetin' you, Jenny."

The diner food tasted like straw and leather, and not even worth the meager few dollars he paid for it. The waitress smiled kindly at him. He left her a tip that was worth more than her one refill of coffee and smile was worth. Bobby had been taught to be generous. Not everyone had what the Newsome's had.

The Twists, with their broken-down whitewashed fences and torn up driveway, certainly didn't.

Next to Lightning Flat, Riverton was a metropolis. He'd stepped out of his car at the Twist's farm, took off his hat, and felt something flutter through his stomach. His dad had grown up here. The smell of rotting hay invaded his nostrils. No one took care of the place. Bobby pushed his hair out of his face and took a careful step away from the shelter of his car. His boots sank into the mud and made a squelching sound as they came back up.

The ground was drier closer to the front door. By the time he got to the steps leading up to the porch, he was on solid ground again. He still felt sick and decided it was the hay.

He knocked twice. No one answered. The sickness faded a little and he put his hat back on. He turned around and then a creak sounded behind him.

"Yes?"

Bobby licked his lips and turned back to the door. "Ma'am," he said and tipped his hat. "Are you Mrs. Twist?"

The woman was faded like the card she had sent him, and just as creased around the edges. She had kind eyes, though, haunted with some dark spirit. She swallowed. "Yes, I'm Mrs. Twist," she said, and her tone made him think she already knew who he was.

He took his hat off, forced a smile. "I'm Bobby Twist, ma'am. Jack's son."