Sixteen
JP stood on the covered front deck of his house, leaning against the post with a steaming cup of coffee nearly forgotten in his hand. June had returned from Washington three days ago, but he hadn’t yet seen her. He hoped his note had arrived at her parents’ house in time. He’d been so caught up in his preparations that he hadn’t even known she’d left until he realized she hadn’t been to work at the Ramshorn in four days.
Absently, he took a sip of his coffee and let his eyes roam. His home was a small, one-bedroom log cabin, and it sat a quarter mile off the main road on the slope of a south-facing hill. From his porch, he could see the sweep of the valley below, the patchwork of pastures, hayfields, stands of quaking aspen, sagebrush hills, and the imposing line of granite peaks
