Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
“God damn it, Pharris! What in the Sam hell are you doing on the motherfucking ladder?” Tag’s voice rang out, sharp as hell.
“Looking at the roof,” he called back.
“Because there aren’t ten million goddamn Brazilians and Gardners running around here that ain’t got broke necks and busted-up hands? Chrissy! Chrissy, get your ass out here and find me someone that ain’t our age to work like dogs!”
Chris Taggart walked into Coke’s view, peering up at him. “Coke is on the roof.”
“You are one observant asshole.” Tag could sure snarl. “Find. Me. Some. Brazilians. Not Balta.”
“God, no. His back is as bad as Coke’s.” Chrissy trotted off.
Coke didn’t know what they figured a Brazilian was gonna do. He was already up on the roof, wasn’t he?
He hammered down a couple three shingles, staring at the trucks parked all over Aje’s acreage. Lord have mercy.
The ladder leaning against the gutter shook violently, and Joa clambered up on the roof, grinning at him. “Tell me what to do, Senhor Coke.”
“Hey, kiddo. You ever been on a roof?”
“Lord, yes.” He got this crookedy-assed grin, the man more Texas than Brazil. “I was roofing since I was thirteen. You just tightening shingles?”
“I am.”
“I got this. I think Tag wants you, Gramps.” Joa lowered his voice. “And if it’s not him, it’s Nate or Hank or one of the others, so if you want to hide up here, I got your back.”
Coke hooted and nodded, but he wasn’t the type to shirk and these folks all looked to him to be the center of their particular thing, didn’t they?
“I’ll go then. You fall off, I will never hear the end from Balta, so you stay up here.”
“I swear.”
Coke started down and by the time they got down there were a pod of cowboys standing around. “Don’t y’all got stuff to do?”
“We need to talk.” Tag nodded toward the barn.
“No. No, I need to talk to him.” That was Balta, then there was Hank, whose eyebrows were gyrating madly.
Well, shit fire and save matches. “I don’t have time to have tea, y’all. We can all confab together.”
They headed off to the barn, with Tag shooting glances over to Balta and Hank. “Pharris, Jason’s coming. Soon.”
“I know.” That he did know. He also knew Balta ruled the Brazilians with an iron fist and that the man needed to understand the situation, to help. Just like he knew Hank already knew because him and Aje was best buddies.
“Of course Jason will come,” Balta said, frowning deeply. “AJ is his friend.”
“Yeah. In the barn, y’all. Hank, you run interference and don’t give me the innocent look, ’cause you’re ugly and I know better.”
Hank grinned, nodded. “You got it, Hoss. Nate?”
“If he shows, send him in.”
“You got it.” Hank fired off a salute and turned at the door to hang out.
Balta, now, Coke could feel the big guy breathing down his neck.
They sat and he stared at one of his oldest friends on the circuit. “We got to chat, man, because I need your help. For Jason.”
“Anything for Jason Scott.” Balta’s normally smiling dark eyes went completely serious. “Tell me.”
“He’s blind.” There wasn’t no easy way to say it, so he just did.
Balta stared, just like Coke had hit him in the breadbasket. Even Tag grimaced, and he already knew.
“No.” Balta shook his head. “No, it is not right.”
“Docs say he shook something loose in his brain,” Tag added.
“So…”
“He cain’t see. We’re gonna teach him how to ride, but we ain’t telling.” Coke had to get Balta on his side.
“How to ride what?” Balta’s expression was dawning horror. “Bulls? No! That’s crazy.”
“It’s not. We’ve had him on level ones and a couple three twos. It ain’t crazy.”
Tag shot him a look. “It’s a little crazy, Pharris.”
“A lot.” Nattie wandered in, holding up a hand. “But I seen him ride, y’all. He’s as good as he ever was.”
“They won’t let him, the…the…chefe… You know, sim? With the money?”
“We ain’t telling the suits. Not even Ace, you know? None of them. We do this together.”
“Then what?” Tag asked. “Seriously, you get him to ride and he does. Then what? Someone’s going to know.”
He had no fucking idea. None. He was winging this, just the same as all of them, had been from the very start.
Thing was, he couldn’t let on. Jason couldn’t lay down and die. He needed to ride, so Coke would make it happen.
A man could only do his best, damn it.
Nattie had his back. “Then Jason will win the frickin’ title and have more money than God and he can do what he wants. Buy a guide dog. Whatever.”
“Right. Then they’ll make a movie and hire James Patterson to write a book based on a true story.” Dillon came wandering over, grinning at all of them. “Or maybe the book comes first.”
“Don’t be an ass, Dillweed,” Tag grumbled.
“Hey, the movie deal will be worth millions,” Dillon said. “Are you in, Balta?”
“I do not think this is a smart thing, but I will be in. I will help, but…” Balta stopped and stared Coke right in the eyes. “Sam can see and he is violado, sim? Broken. How can we not break Jason Scott? How can we not break you?”
“I don’t care ’bout me. I was put on earth to be broke dick. I want this, Balta, and I intend to get it.”
“Hoss gets what he wants and we help or get out of the way,” Nattie said. “The big thing will be after he rides. The get off.”
Dillon shook his head. “No. The big thing will be the cameras.”
Balta snorted. “It will be the talk. Everything in this is about the talk now.”
That got Tag to nodding. “No shit on that. The damn computers and the phones and all. You already done opened this can of worms, we might as well have it all out.”
“There’s a lot of wrong,” Dillon said, coming over to sit next to him, leaning some.
“But there’s good, too. Jason is the least social rider on tour.
He doesn’t shake hands, he doesn’t do interviews.
He rides and he goes to the back, takes the fine rather than signing autographs. That doesn’t have to change.”
“Right. And he’s got Bax. Andy’ll have his back.” There was no question of that.
Balta nodded slowly. “All right. What is our… How you say? Timing? Life line?”
Tag chuckled. “Timeline?”
“Sim. Timeline.”
“He’s got to do some little rodeos, yeah, Hoss?” Nate looked at him expectantly, so Coke nodded.
“Yessir. He’s working on keeping his eyes open.”
Balta gave him a weird eyebrow wiggle thing and Coke shrugged. “He tosses cookies if he rides with them closed.”
“Ah. Yes. Me too.”
“The doc says he can still see with his eyes. It’s his brain that doesn’t process it correctly.” Dillon always understood shit better than anyone else.
Balta nodded like he got it, which maybe he did. Balta was one of the smartest sons of bitches he knew. It was just hard to tell because he spoke Brazilian. His English was… Well, it was like watching a movie with those subtitle thingies.
“Shit, y’all!” Hank pelted in from outside. “Ace Porter just pulled up out there with Cash.”
“What the fuck?” Nattie stood up, knocking his bench over. “Hoss?”
“Hey. Hey. Jase ain’t here. Ace is coming to check on AJ and the rest. No matter how much he’s in the money, somewhere he’s one of us. Stands to reason he’d come to offer help.”
Everyone needed to breathe and not fuck up.
Dillon nodded easily. “I’ll go say hey so you can all stop being all guilty, eh?”
“Good deal. Tag, take Hank out with you to the barns, Nattie, fetch Benji. He’s the one that’ll slip. Balta, you’re with me, huh.” God knew Ace had been calling about a million times anyway.
Balta gave him a knowing wink. “I will run interference.”
“He’ll want to talk to me, but I’ll let you.” And be grateful for it, too.
They all knew their jobs now, and Dillon left first, trotting out to glad hand the bigwigs.
Natty was already on the phone with Tracy and they didn’t have to worry on Aje because he was at the hospital.
Now someone just had to call Jason and made sure he didn’t show up while Ace was still there.
Dillon was standing there, chattering at Ace and Cash, pointing this way and that, and he knew that his cowboy was explaining—so and so was here, Balta was here, the Taggarts.
Ace caught sight of Coke and waved him over, smiling wide, taking off his sunglasses so they could see eye to eye.
“Ace. How you doing, man? Cash?”
The smile seemed genuine enough, so he answered it, letting him put his worry away.
“Hey, Gramps.” Cash winked because him and Cash, they were off an age.
Ace clapped him on the shoulder. “Been trying to check in on you, Pharris. How are you doing?”
Check on him? Huh. “I’m working on it. My hand is knitted up and now we have to get Miz Gardner home and them babies born.”
“Babies?” Ace asked.
“Yessir. Twins.”
“Jesus Christmas,” Cash said. “Well, I’m here to help, if y’all need it. I got my work boots on.”
“Same here.” And just like that, the King of the Cowboys threw in.
Almost made a man feel bad for lying to him.
Almost.
Coke grinned. “Well, Joa’s up on the roof, so no one has to do that.”
“Well, he’s younger than us, huh? Where’s AJ? I want to see him, right?”
“He’s at the hospital. Y’all want directions there?”
“Yeah, I’ll head out there and also do a grocery run,” Ace said. “I’ll be back with steaks and burgers for everyone. Weather looks like it’s going to hold okay.”
Coke nodded. “Grab stuff for a huge batch of chili and cornbread, plus black-eyed peas, would you?”
“Yessir.” Ace winked at him. “Cash, you coming or staying here?”
“I’ll stay here and help out. If nothing else, I can clean shit.”
“Such an old lady,” Ace teased. “Dillon, ride with me.”
“You got it.” Dillon glanced over his shoulder, winked at him
“You don’t got to look so relieved,” Cash said.
“Shut up.” He clapped Cash on the back. “How’s it going, man? You have a good Christmas?”
“It was okay. Spent a bunch of time with the sister and her family.”
“Ah.” Yeah, Cash’s sister was kinda…famous in her own mind. When she came to a show everyone ducked for cover. She did make good green bean casserole though. “I met Dillon’s sister. She’s a decent egg.”
“Is she? Does she freak you out like the clown does?” They headed up for the house, Cash taking in everything. The man would have half the work needed done by the end of the day and Coke knew it.
“Not even a bit. You know Dallas and Houston? They’re the ones directly older than Aje.” Coke said when the boys joined them.
“Don’t worry about telling us apart. We all look like daddy.”
Cash chuckled. “Howdy, boys. What can I do to help?”
“Don’t be afraid to put this old man to work. He’s a stock contractor and he knows his way around cattle.”
“You want to come check out some of our mommas? B-35 got through the fences and we got Jurassic Park babies.”
“You bet.” Seemed like Cash was always up for dealing with cattle instead of people. He waved at Coke, then headed off with the boys.
“That was not too bad, sim?” Balta nudged his arm. “Come to nap, hmm? Everyone is busy. We can hide.”
“You’re a bad man, de Silva.”
“I am. So lazy, too.” Balta gripped his arm and dragged him along. Pansy and Jerome met them at the porch, wagging madly.
He whistled them up and they found his room, both of them kicking off their boots before settling in together, bassets acting as the world’s best heating pads.
Balta groaned. “I might need one of these dogs.”
“Mmhmm. They do a good job. I like them.” God, he hadn’t even known he was tired. His eyelids drooped, and Jerome began to snore.
“They do. Like a hot sandbag. Sleep, Coke.”
“Sleep.” He nodded, gave Balta a half grin, then let it go.