She turned the key, and the Buick started up with a quiet, steady rumble.

The big sedan swung wide out of the lot and merged onto Interstate 90 headed west, back toward Howard.

The spring prairie spread out on both sides of the highway, the brown winter grass turning pale green along the creek beds and fence lines.

A heavy diesel welding truck rumbled by in the passing lane, its side mirrors humming in the wind and steel pipe clanking on its open flatbed.

A month earlier, the sight of a truck like that would have made my throat go dry, bringing back all of Rory’s promises about big contracts that never turned into dress money for his daughter.