Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Landon let the summer sun beat on him while he banged on the truck, trying to figure why it didn’t work no more. He’d checked everything he knew, now he was working on the shit he didn’t know.
He muttered a little, wishing Sister’s hoodoo worked on mechanical shit.
“Whatchoo doin’?” Junior Paltrey wandered up, a slew of hounds following him.
“Fixin’ my truck. You?”
“Fixin’ to go huntin’. You want a hand? I know trucks.”
“Surely do.” Landon’d take whatever help he could get. He couldn’t get much work without his truck.
“Well, let me see, then.” Junior stuck his head under the hood, chomping away on a piece of gum. Good teeth on Junior, despite not having a dentist in his life.
They started banging at things, pulling out the water pump and the alternator before Sister came out with pralines and tea. That set the dogs to howling all around, and she had to go get them treats.
They sat together on the front bumper, gnawing and cussing new-fangled vehicles. Laurel pulled up an old lawn chair and laughed at them, tossing her hair and pushing up her sunglasses. They made her look like a model.
He tossed a chunk of dirt at her. “Shit, Sister, can’t you hoodoo this thing?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t work on cars.”
“Apparently Nutbutter don’t neither,” Junior drawled and they all cracked up, hooting like owls. The dogs barked along with them. Made them all laugh even harder.
“I don’t suppose you have a spare water pump laying around?” Junior asked. Junior was funny.
“No, sir. Can you run me up to town for one?” Landon asked.
“Sure thing, Nutbutter. Come on.”
He nodded and stood, stretched. “I’ll be right back, Sister.”
“I’ll be right here.” She winked at him. She’d been a rock the last weeks, praying for him and holding him when he was stupid and the dreams beat at him. He’d cling to her and lay there, dry-eyed and aching.
Adam came to him in his dreams too often, and even Laurel’s hoodoo couldn’t get rid of the man. Landon didn’t know what the hell to do.
He’d even gone to Sam, who’d told him to have patience and believe, if Adam was really his dream lover, but… Adam didn’t think Landon was good enough to stand with. Landon didn’t doubt that the man wanted him, that the man loved him, but…
He’d seen Adam defend his bloodhound against his kin.
Landon knew he wasn’t much, wasn’t worth the value of one of the horses or the bulls, the high-earning cowboys, but he was worth the same as a good hunting dog, wasn’t he?
God, he hoped so.
He shook off his thoughts when he saw Junior staring, waiting patiently for him. Of course, that was also when he saw the old red truck bumping across the swamp road toward the house.
Mr. Beau.
Huh.
“Jus’ a second, Junior. I got to make sure all’s well with this.” Mr. Beau didn’t hardly never come his way ‘less there was a problem.
Beau pulled up and stepped out of the truck, going to kiss Laurel’s cheek before shaking his hand. “Bonjour, Landon.”
“Bonjour, M’sir. All’s well with Mr. Sam and things?”
“Right as rain.” Beau nodded at Junior, gave scritches to all the dogs. “I need a hand, though.”
“Yessir.” The agreement came immediately. He’d do anything for Beau and Sam. They were good friends.
“I need you to come on over for a few days. We’re doing some practice bulls.” Beau’s smile went crookedy. “Your phone ain’t workin’.”
“I know. It’s broke. So’s my truck to take the phone into town to fix it.” He was having a rash of shit luck. Sister had made sure no one had done cursing on him, declaring that it was a broken heart.
“Well, shit, Nutbutter. I’ll stop on the way through and get it fixed for you. You got someone who can fix your truck while you’re gone?” Beau glanced at Junior.
Junior nodded. “Surely will. I owe you for the work you did on my house.”
“Thanks, ami.” Landon meant it. “Sister will give you the money for the pump.” Laurel had egg money tucked back for just that kind of thing.
“Not a problem, man.”
“Bubba? You leavin’ again?” Laurel stood, frowned at Beau. “There something goin’ on?”
“I need Landon’s help, honey.” Beau held out a hand to her, pulling her in for a hug. Sister made Mr. Beau seem big, even as short as he was.
“Oh, okay. You want some sweets for the road?” She kissed Beau’s cheek.
“I’d love some.” Beau and Sister, they was friends, and Beau treated Laurel like a princess. That made Landon happy, because Laurel didn’t have too many of them.
“Be right back. Junior, you tell me what all you need, money-wise?”
Junior answered, following her like a big lumbering bear.
Beau nodded toward the old red truck, and Landon grabbed his go-bag out of his broke down and followed.
“You got to promise me you won’t say nothin’, Landon.”
“Yessir.” Whatever it was, he’d take it to the grave.
“Jason Scott is comin’ down to practice some.” Beau gave him a sideways kind of glance. “He cain’t see.”
“I reckoned something was weird, but it weren’t my place to question y’all. It gon’ get better, his seein’?” Jason Scott was the best bull-rider ever. It would be a shame if he had to quit.
“Nope.” Beau spat on the ground where they stood waiting for Laurel to bring cookies. “But he can ride. He can win the big show.”
“But he cain’t see. They gonna let him ride?” Doc barely let him ride when he broke his leg.
“They don’t know he’s blind, petit frère. And we ain’t gonna tell them.”
“Ah. Je vois. So I’m coming to help get him better ready?” He could do that. Weren’t no rider on earth like Jason Scott. Not nowhere. Hell, Landon had seen him ride, and if that was how he rode blind with no real practice, it could only get better.
“We need good people who won’t talk. Gramps Pharris will be down, too.”
Landon nodded. “You know I’ll do what you need, just point me and shoot me.”
“Good man.”
“He is.” Laurel had sent Junior off and came to them with a huge plastic bag. “Here’s bread, cookies, and some cobbler for Mr. Sam.”
“Oh, lady, you are a queen among women!” Beau scooped Sister up and swung her around, careful of the bag. “I’m gonna bring you a pig, honey, when I bring Landon home.”
“Oooee,” Laurel hooted. “We’ll have a roast.”
“Yes, ma’am. I promise.”
“You’ll bring your fiddle?” Laurel did love to listen to Mr. Beau saw those strings.
“I will. I’ll make Sammy bring his slaw, too.”
“Hoo boy! A party.” Landon did a little jig. What Cajun didn’t love a party, even if they was down in the dumps a little? Or a lot…
“You betcha,” Beau agreed. “I’ll see you soon, lady.”
“Call me when you get your phone fixed, Bubba?”
“You know it.” He dropped his bag in Beau’s pickup and hugged Laurel goodbye, actually kinda glad to have something to do. Besides put a new water pump in his truck.
Stupid, new-fangled engines. Sometimes he thought Maw-Maw had been right. Things had been easier way back when.
Adam drove forever, right out into the swamps. Beau had given him a map at that last event, told him when he got the gumption to go that he should look for a red gate, a broken fence. He wanted to see Landon alone, to apologize for everything before they got working.
Missing Landon was like a hole in his belly.
Once all the folks were about, it was gonna be harder.
He knew he might have to fight his way through Landon’s twin, but he would bet he could make her understand, too.
He had to. He needed Landon like he’d never needed anyone before.
Hell, his brothers might not approve, but Beau did, and that seemed important.
There. Red gate.
He stopped and stared. Jesus. The porch roof was sagging and the second story siding was red while the floor was bright blue. There was a shored-up window air conditioner unit that had to be at least twenty years old, and about twelve dogs idling around the front.
Chickens scratched at the swamp grass for twenty feet or so around the house. A ramshackle barn sat off to the right, listing madly to one side.
He tried to imagine being there, a twelve-year-old boy without money, without family, and a sister to take care of. Hell, at twelve he couldn’t wash a dish without shattering it. His momma had despaired of him ever learning to iron a shirt.
And these two kids were just left to cope out here in the swamp, trying to stay together, stay afloat.
Christ.
Adam was a little frozen, to be honest, just sitting there in his truck, which he’d pulled off without even thinking. He couldn’t go there, could he? Oh, not because he was scared, or because he thought Landon should be ashamed of his home.
But because he felt like an ass pulling up in his fifty thousand-dollar dualie when they couldn’t even put a new roof on.
A tiny, long-haired girl in cut-offs and a tied-up men’s shirt walked out onto the porch, her black hair wild as a night storm. Must be Laurel. Christ. She was pretty as a picture, brown as a nut, and she looked like she belonged there. Like the land and her were tied together.
That Adam got. He felt that kinship with his family ranch. He loved that land almost as much as he loved his brothers, his Granny. Taggarts belonged there.
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t just go up there and talk to them. No way.
Adam backed his truck up almost to the bar ditch, then swung around, heading back to the main road. He’d just go to Beau’s and do what he did best. Rope bulls.
He fucking had to figure this. Somehow. It sure as shit wasn’t going to be now, though.
Fuck.