Chapter 9 #2
Joa watched Beau start talking and Nate shake his head. Nate’s face was dark as a thundercloud.
He frowned. Coke must be bad. Real bad.
It was a shame. The man was a legend.
Beau’s face went red, and he shook his head, holding up his hands. Sam got all tight-lipped, folding his arms over his chest.
Joa blinked at Balta, who motioned for him to keep quiet.
Right. They didn’t involve themselves in the Americans’ problems. Not ones of the personal kind.
When Nate came back, leaving Sam and Beau deep in conversation, Balta put a hand on the man’s broad shoulder. “Do you need some food, amigo?”
“I don’t think I can, man. I gotta figure out who’s gonna stay when I have to go. I gotta work the rodeo for the next three days.”
“We’ll work it out.” Nodding at him, Balta smiled. “Joa and I can stay for two more days before we have to go. We can help, huh, Joa?”
“Yeah. Yeah, sure. No problem.”
Nate smiled. “Good deal. He won’t wake up and start fighting for at least a couple days.”
“We’ll help watch over him.” Balta was a good man, no matter what he said.
“Thanks.” Nate rubbed the back of his neck, grabbing his phone as it rang again.
Balta turned to him, putting a hand on his arm. “I think we need to get Nate a sandwich, at least.”
“Sim. I’ll go.” Sandwich. A coffee. A cupcake. Chocolate.
“Obrigado, doce.”
“I’ll go, too.” Sam Bell smiled at him, hands in his pockets.
They headed down the hall, following signs. “Nate okay?”
“He’s pissy. I guess I cain’t blame him.” Sam shrugged. “That was a good ride in the short go, Joa.”
“Thanks. It’s a good event for me.”
“It is. You and Montana, man.” They got to the tiny cafeteria, which was mostly closed. There was a bored girl at one register, and a case of refrigerated premade snacks.
He grabbed two for Nate and the entire basket of wrapped cookies. Someone would eat them.
“You guys here for the rodeo clown?” the girl asked with a pop of her gum. “I heard that was bad.”
“He’s not a clown, ma’am.” Sam’s lips pulled back from his teeth, but it wasn’t a smile. “Mr. Pharris is cowboy protection.”
Joa nodded. “A bullfighter.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Uh, I’m a townie.”
Wonderful. Joa offered her a warm smile, trying to remember how Balta did it. “He’s a legend. Very important.”
“Poor guy.” Now she actually looked sympathetic, and he could hear it the moment Sam’s teeth stopped grinding. “Well, I hope he gets better real fast.”
“We all do.” He put the cookies and sandwiches on the counter. “Is there water? There are a lot of men waiting.”
“Yeah. Back here.” She showed him the coolers with bottled water and sodas.
“How many, Bell?”
Sam shrugged. “Get a dozen. I’ll put in for half.”
He grabbed a dozen waters and a handful of Cokes.
Sam handed over some cash. “I’m gonna make some calls, okay? Tell Beau I’ll be outside?”
“Sure. Sure I will.” He carried the food and drinks back, making sure Nate got the first pick. “Any word?”
“I don’t know, man. I wanna be here when Hoss wakes up.”
“Well, then we need to find you a place with a bed, not just a pull out chair or a cot. Someone can go get you clean clothes.”
It was Sam that stepped up. “Nattie. Go to the hotel. Me and Beau’ll take it today. If anything happens, I’ll call you.”
“Yeah? It don’t matter what time, huh?”
“I know, man. You go, call your woman back, sleep.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll…” Nate rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t let him do nothin’ stupid, he wakes up before I’m here.”
“Shit, I’ll send Boug here to sit on him. The man’s got leverage.” Sam winked.
“That’s a good idea.” Balta moved close to Joa, hip bumping his slightly. “Thank you for getting food.”
He smiled, nodded. “It’s been a long day.”
“It has.” Balta didn’t say it, but Joa knew. It could have been one of them. It was always that way. You worried about your friends, but you thanked God it wasn’t you.
“Let’s take Nate to the hotel. Get some rest.” No one knew what tomorrow would bring.
“Sim. Sim. Beau and Sam, they’ll stay.” Balta went to Sam, whispering something before steering Nate toward him, making the man drink some water.
It took some doing, but they got Nate in the truck, started the roundabout drive to the hotel. Balta kept up a steady stream of chatter, letting him drive. Nate’s head bobbed, the man exhausted, dozing.
He pulled into the driveway and parked, the sudden silence shocking.
Nate snapped upright. “Sorry. Sorry. Where’s my room?”
“You’re on the first floor. Two doors down from us. Come on.”
“Thanks.” Nate seemed completely done, gray and staggering.
Balta glanced at him, raising a brow. “Come on, Nate. We’ll get you set, huh? Help call the wife.”
God, Joa felt like all he did was nod and follow. His own tie up with the bull in the chute, plus the rides were starting to catch up to him, too, leaving him aching, sore.
They got Nate to his room, boots off and on a bed, before Balta dug out Nate’s cell phone and found Nate’s wife’s number. They left him mumbling over the phone, already half-asleep.
Then they went to their room, the gear puffing up dust as they dropped it.
“Oh,” Balta groaned, staring at the bed with longing. “We should shower first, huh? I’ll never get up if I sit.”
“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure he was going to make it. “Go ahead. I’ll sit and wait.”
“Oh, doce.” Balta caught him before he sat down. “Wait. Come on.”
Gentle hands stripped off his clothes and boots, Balta clucking over Joa’s bruises. He brushed off the concern, but truly, it felt good, to be cared for. They made it to the shower, Balta all but holding him up, hands moving on his skin. Balta washed him carefully, getting blood off his scrapes.
“Baltazar.” He kissed Balta’s jaw in thanks.
“Mm-hmm. You’re all bruised, Joa.” Those hard hands were gentle on his leg, where the bull had hit him in the chute. “I will have to get you some ice.”
“You don’t have to take care of me.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Balta smiled up at him. “You care for me so well.”
He felt the heat in his cheeks. “You are…Balta, sim?”
“I am. But I am your Balta.” Balta stood, rinsing him off under the flow of the water, grabbing a towel once they were done. There was always one hand touching him, helping him.
He headed for the bed, stopping only to turn the air conditioning down. Balta lowered him to the bed, set the alarm for in the morning, and plugged their cell phones in. Then Balta slid into bed and snuggled with him.
“Will Coke be okay?” He knew that Balta didn’t know any more than he did, but, still, he asked.
“He will. Coke is a tough old bird, huh? That’s what they say, I think.”
“Sim, sim. That’s it.”
A tough bird, like Balta.
The old ones were cowboys down to the bone. They would always survive.
Please, Deus. Please. Let them always survive.