GRANT ARRIVED AT FORT Phantom Hill a few minutes ahead of schedule on March thirtieth, and once again, Benji Patterson was waiting, leaning nonchalantly against the wall next to the entrance.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Patterson,” Grant began, holding out his hand.
Benji eyed him up and down then shook Grant’s hand briefly. “Glad to see you wore hiking boots. There are rattlesnakes out here, you know. Let’s move, lots to cover.”
As they walked side-by-side Benji casually asked, “So. Last time you hightailed it out of here in a hurry. Everything turn out okay?”
And although the old man took great pains not to show it, his heart hurt for the young man when Grant answered sadly, “No. I lost my dad.”
Benji cleared his throat to maintain his prickly exterior. “Oh. Sorry about that,”
