“Did he tell you about our parents?” I nodded. “I heard about the fire.” Joe laughed again, a forced and terrifying laugh. “There was a fire in this family long before there was one in this house.” I leaned forward in my chair. “What . . . what do you mean?” “Our father wasn’t a good man. He was abusive, a drunk. Calvin got away for a few years. I was happy someone finally got out of this town. I stayed and worked this ranch every day. But I kept my distance from him. That left only one person in this house for my dad to abuse: Mom.”
