Wyatt stepped outside the modest clapboard house and looked out over the valley that ran just below his property. The morning sun reflected in the river that ribboned its way through the bottom of his land and on into town. Stretched out vertically, they owned acres of wooded ground, but standing at the top of the hill, he could throw a good-sized rock and come pert near to hitting the boundary river. Maybe he could now. He hadn’t tried since he was a boy. How he missed his parents. Ma leaving wet kisses on his cheek, even when he was so tall she had to pull him down to do it. Pa letting him fight his own battles but standing nearby, ready to rush in with a broom handle if his older brothers ganged up on him. They were all gone now. All but Isaac. When the railroad had come through looking for strong backs to conquer the Ozarks, Pete and Clifford had moved on. Once they’d got a taste for the larger world, none of Ma or Pa’s pleas could bring them back home.
