Chapter Eleven
Nope. She knew.
The minute we all limped back home and saw the bright yellow bug light glowing, we knew Granny was awake.
Easing out of the truck, I took care to close the door softly, but the front door opened anyway.
All six of us—I was including Hanley now, since he had tossed the gloves during our scrum, making him a Bastian in spirit even if he lacked the last name—stalled halfway up the steps.
“Guess you all need some antiseptic and some ice. Get inside. I’ll tend to them that’s hurt the worst first, then we’ll move along down the line.
” Granny, in her robe and slippers, held the inside door open for us as she kept the screen door open with her backside.
“Never seen such a bedraggled group since that time I found them kittens alongside the road when I was ten. Course, them kittens couldn’t help the situation they found themselves in, while you all certainly could. ”
“Sorry, Granny,” we all muttered as we shuffled indoors.
“I know you are. And when I get the whole pure story, I’m sure the Lord will forgive you for acting a fool in public.”
Granny followed us into the kitchen, where a fresh pot of coffee and some warm buns with soft butter awaited. It took an hour for her to triage us all to her satisfaction. During that time, we explained a few times what had happened. And why.
“Well, I guess the Lord did say a righteous man who falters before the wicked is like a murky spring and a polluted well. I’d say you all stood up against evil and hatred. I’m proud of you for that.”
Lady lay on my feet as if to ensure I was okay and not going anywhere. I had no plans to go anywhere other than into the craft room to paint. Things were crazy out of order once again, but a few hours with paint and brush would help.
“Reckon you all should wash up and get some sleep,” Granny said to the painfully silent room.
We all rose, one at a time, to climb the stairs.
Except me. I went to my table. The little men were lined up perfectly, just as I’d left them, frozen in various acts of cowboy life.
Riding, lassoing, shooting a gun into the air.
Villains and cowpokes, each one had a story to tell.
I plucked up a different one, a bad guy.
I could tell by the mask covering the lower half of his face.
This would be Rip. I should finish the sheriff I’d begun, but something told me it was more important to paint this bad guy.
So I did, with care. I created a miniature replica of Rip, right down to his dark, hateful eyes.
Fingers speckled with blue, yellow, and dark green, I placed the tiny metal Rip in a circle of cowboys, mostly all unpainted still. They had him backed into a corner by Bella’s bright pink pin cushion.
Lady yawned at my feet, which made me yawn. My phone showed it was ten past two. I needed to get to bed. Tomorrow would be a tense, early day. There was a lot simmering between me and Baker. I was too damn mad to even think about talking to him. Maybe I would never talk to him again.
“You’re a dick,” I whispered to tiny Rip as I plucked him out of the circle of heroes—if you could call us Bastian’s heroes—and tossed his metal ass into Granny’s old wicker sewing basket, sealing it with the loop closure. “Enjoy your time in jail.”
That felt good. Right. Now I could go to bed. “Come on, girl.”
My phone buzzed. A text from Aiden. I sat back down, a wash of something comforting flowing over me despite the jagged edge I was riding.
Are you okay? ~ A
Yeah. Why aren’t you in bed? ~ F
Probably same reason you’re not. ~ A
That’s fair. ~ F
I love your brother but I’m not letting him dictate who I date. ~ A
Me either. Are we dating? ~ F
Are we not? ~ A
That one took me back. Staring at our little bubbles, I couldn’t quite settle on how to reply.
Ford? ~ A
Sorry. Tired brain. Can we talk later about everything? ~ F
Sure. We’ll set something up. I do like you. ~ A
I like you too. Goodnight. Dream of me. ~ F
I will rest assured. ~ A
Sleep didn’t come easily, but it did come. I didn’t dream of Aiden. I dreamt of running, being caught, and fighting for my life against various villains. One that looked a lot like Rip Leary and one that stayed in the shadows but had a long, long, long reach.
***
Tired from spending a fractured night battling demons, I was not in the mood for Baker.
Yet there he was, bright and early, washed but battered, like me.
Granny was also awake, the slap-slap-slap of her slippers on the old linoleum.
Her gaze met mine as I walked through the kitchen to the mudroom.
Not one word was said. It made me feel bad, as I loved Granny, but I knew she would take Baker’s side.
Everyone in the house would, I was sure.
They’d all preach to me about seeing Aiden, what a man whore he was, how he was too old for me.
The list was long, I knew. But they didn’t know how his arms eased me, or how his smile lifted me.
All they saw was a man who jumped from bed to bed without a care.
I was so mad I flung myself outside without hooking Lady to her check cord.
She bounded out the door to find a place to squat then trotted about sniffing the cold, white grass.
“Hey,” Baker shouted as I exited the house.
I kept walking, breath fogging in front of me, my eye swollen nearly shut.
It hurt. My whole body ached. They never showed how miserable it felt to be in a fight in the movies.
Action heroes never had to take aspirin after a row.
They just got up, delivered the killing blow, and then walked off in super slow-mo as something massive exploded behind them.
Not once had I ever seen Chuck Norris check his urine after a fight to see if he was pissing blood from a shot to the kidneys. “Hey, Ford.”
“Nope,” I growled, stalking to the goat barn as the sun was just starting to tint the sky a light pinkish-blue.
A lone bird sang out from the tree beside the dress shop.
Lady was over at the barn ahead of me, waiting, tail wagging.
Without her cone. Where had she ditched it?
Damn it. I’d have to find that later. Clever girl.
Very clever. Guess I needed to get my head out of my ass.
“Ford, God damn it,” Baker snapped, stomping up to catch me.
He grabbed my shoulder to spin me around.
I shrugged it off. So the bullheaded ass pushed around me, face to face now, his jaw unshaven, his eyes blazing.
“You’re acting like Dahn. Someone has something to say that you don’t agree with and you stalk off to pout. ”
“Fuck. You.” I went to step past him. He moved to the right to block me. “Baker, seriously, I don’t want to see you right now.”
“Tough shit. You’re going to look at me, and we’re going to get this settled right here and right now!”
His voice climbed at the end. I made a fist, wincing inside at the pull of scabbed skin and bruised knuckles, reminding me of last night. As if I could forget.
“You’ve got nothing to say to me that I want to hear.
” I gave him a shove. Hard. Two hands to his chest. He stumbled back a step, which was less than I had hoped.
I’d wanted to knock him on his ass, but he was too strong.
He glared at me, tipped his hat up from where it had shifted down into his eyes, and took the one step needed to get his face into mine.
“Listen, kid, if you ever do that again, I’ll—”
“Enough!” Granny’s voice rang out. I glowered at my eldest brother.
The back door slammed shut. “You two look at me right now before I come down there and crown you both with my cane!” My sight darted to the old woman on the back stoop.
Fleece pants, slippers, a bright red OU sweatshirt, and her cane.
Tiny and stooped, she was still formidable.
I turned slowly to face her. Baker did as well.
I yanked my hat off my head at the same time as my brother.
A cow lowed in the steer pen. Frost coated the rails of the back porch.
She looked us over and shook her head. “You two goats can butt heads later. One of them lady friends of Dodge’s mother’s just rung the house.
Seems last night they heard screaming outside, sounded like a woman or something, they claimed.
I told them it wasn’t nothing other than a coyote probably, but they’re city women, so they’re too scared to come outside unless someone checks the area.
Sounds like a good thing for the two of you to look into. ”
“Granny, I don’t mean to be disrespectful—” Baker started.
“Then don’t be. Take a couple of horses and go see what was prowling ’round the Double H cabin.”
“We’d make better time on the ATVs,” Baker said.
Granny shook her head. Her roots were starting to show. I’d keep that to myself, though. She looked disgusted enough with me right now.
“This is a ranch. Take a couple of horses. Ride up looking handsome and manly. Give them gals something to dream of when they get back to California.”
“They’re lesbians working on a queer eco-justice project outline,” Baker explained.
“I know they’re lesbians. Think I don’t know they wear the violets? Don’t mean they can’t dream about handsome cowpokes. Everyone dreams about good-looking cowmen.”
Wear the violets? What did that even mean? Was it some ancient ’60s term for a lesbian? I’d have to look it up later.
“But the ATVs are—”
Baker never got to finish. Granny rapped the rail with her cane. My eyes flared.
“Studebaker, stop being so contrary. Nothing makes a man with a thorn in his balls feel better than riding out over his land on his horse.”
“Seems pulling the thorn out of his nuts would make him feel better,” I mumbled, got a dark look from Granny, and pressed my lips tight.
“Fine, fine, we’ll take some horses. Jesus Christ!” Baker stalked off to the horse barn.