Chapter 26
“He knows.”
Gus Lewis slammed his can of beer down on the granite island, uncaring that the alcohol splashed on him. He glared across at Terry Perez. “Enough, goddammit!”
Terry’s hazel eyes narrowed. “Deny it all you want, but you’re as scared as I am.”
“What can one man do?” Berny asked from the couch as he lifted the bottle of tequila to his lips.
Gus glanced at Berny, who had bags of frozen peas on his left arm and ribs. “Clayton East was a SEAL, you dumb fuck.”
“So?” Berny said before issuing a loud burp.
“He’s drunk,” Terry stated.
Gus grunted. If he’d received the whooping the kid had given Berny with the bat, he probably would’ve gotten drunk, too. “I think he has a broken arm.”
“We’ll wait until he passes out before we set it.”
Gus downed the last of the beer even though it was now flat. It was supposed to have been a simple job. Steal some cattle from the largest ranch around. The Easts had so many, they wouldn’t miss a hundred or so.
Fuck. Had they ever been wrong.
Then the kid had to get caught.
Gus dropped his chin to his chest and raked a hand through his hair. He was in way over his head. He’d known it as soon as Ronald Baxter asked for his help. But Gus had never been able to tell Ronnie no.
And Ronnie knew it.
“Why did you shoot Abby? Weren’t you supposed to go after the other kid? Caleb?”
Gus lifted his head to meet Terry’s gaze. “We told Brice there would be consequences if he told anyone. I gave Brice a warning.”
“So you think he told?”
“We don’t know that he didn’t. Need I remind you that Clayton drove around the ranch yesterday?”
Terry’s already thin lips disappeared as he pressed them together. “I’m the one who told you and Ronnie, asshole. So, no, I don’t need reminding. All East did was drive around.”
“But he came to the ranch, Terry. He was here.” Gus jabbed the tip of his finger against the counter a couple of time.
“He didn’t find the cattle. Nor will he.”
Gus blew out a breath that was filled with frustration and irritation. And fear. “We were lucky.”
“Ronnie isn’t going to let anything happen to us,” Terry said as he leaned his elbows on the island counter.
Gus didn’t reply. What could he say? Terry and Berny had never seen Ronnie at his worst. But Gus had. Twice. And he never wanted that kind of anger directed his way.
Gus crushed the empty can in his hands and tossed it in the garbage before he walked to the fridge to get another one. Standing with the refrigerator door wide, he opened the can and guzzled half the beer before he closed the door with his elbow.
“You should’ve shot at the youngest Harper. That’s what Ronnie wanted,” Terry said.
Gus didn’t bother to reply. He’d barely been able to shoot at Abby. He’d fired the first two shots wide in hopes that it would scare all three Harpers out of the house. Instead, both Brice and Caleb had gone nuts.
There was no way he’d be able to kill the youngster. Hell, Caleb was his nephew’s age. It also didn’t help that he knew Abby.
“Christ,” he murmured and downed the rest of the beer.
But there was no amount of alcohol that could numb him enough to continue on the path Ronnie had set them on.
He blamed Ronnie, but ultimately, Gus knew it was his fault. He could’ve said no to his friend. He should’ve said no. It didn’t matter that Ronnie could talk green off a leaf. Everything about this operation was wrong.
And Gus had known it from the beginning.
Since the fourth grade, when he and Ronnie had become friends, he followed Ronnie into whatever trouble awaited them.
Smashing the things inside the Harper house had been easy.
They were just things that could be replaced.
He’d do that all day long rather than point a gun at someone again.
It didn’t matter that he was a dead shot with any gun or rifle he picked up.
That didn’t mean he had the right to take a life.
And neither did Ronnie.
If only Gus had the balls to tell his friend that.
Actually, if he was the man his father had wanted him to be—the man his sister thought he was—then he’d go to the sheriff right then.
Gus tossed aside the empty can and stalked from the house, slamming the door behind him. But when he got in his truck, he couldn’t start the engine.
Ronald Baxter. There was something about that name that sounded familiar to Clayton. He searched his mind, hoping he’d make some kind of connection. Finally, he went into his closet and pulled out the box from high school.
In the middle of his floor, he sat and opened the box. Crushed homecoming boutonnieres were set aside, as well as his cap and gown and other memorabilia from his senior year. Finally, Clayton came to the bottom of the box where his four yearbooks rested.
He began with his freshman year, thinking that maybe Ronald was older. It wasn’t until he was looking through his junior yearbook that Clayton found Ronald Baxter—a freshman.
Clayton stared at the smiling kid with his black hair and vivid blue eyes. He remembered Ronald—Ronnie—as being rather popular. Ronnie had been on the football and baseball teams as well as track.
His good looks propelled him to be the “It” man of his grade. The girls all wanted to date him, and the guys all wanted to be him. Clayton had only known Ronnie because they played sports together. While he hadn’t had an issue with Ronnie, there were others who did.
Now that Clayton had a face to go with the name, he was ready to dig deeper into Ronnie’s life and find out why the bastard had stolen his cattle.
He put everything back into the box and then returned it to the shelf in his closet.
Clayton was descending the stairs when he heard his mother’s voice from the living room, followed by Abby’s.
“Brice hasn’t said much,” his mother said.
There was a slight pause before Abby spoke. “He’s always tried to be the man of the family. He struggles because he can’t do the things he feels he should be doing.”
“You and the boys are welcome to stay here for as long as you need.”
“That’s very sweet of you, but I don’t want to impose.”
His mother tsked. “You could never do that.”
Clayton walked toward the living room and peered inside. Both women were on a sofa looking out the windows where Brice sat atop the paddock fence as Caleb aimlessly walked around the barn.
“I’m worried about them,” Abby said after a moment of silence.
“They’ll talk when they want to,” his mother said. “You can’t push them. I know from experience. And, sometimes, they never talk.”
Clayton realized his mother was thinking about Landon’s death and how Clayton had refused to discuss it after he’d explained what had happened. His mother had wanted him to share his feelings and how much he hurt.
But he couldn’t. Not then. Hell, not even now.
Clayton wasn’t sure how he’d managed to tell Abby the story. There were just some things that could never be put into words—and watching his brother die right before his eyes had been one of them.
“I’ll talk to them,” Clayton said.
His mother’s head jerked around to him. Abby moved slower, but the smile on her face was all he needed to see.
“If either of them will talk to you, it’ll be Caleb,” Abby said.
He walked to her, fighting not to touch her. Then he stopped struggling against it. He stopped beside the sofa and touched her shoulder. “How are you feeling? Is there much pain?”
“It’s manageable,” she confessed.
His mother set down her coffee cup on the table beside her. “I can get your pain meds.”
“No, please,” Abby hurried to say. “I don’t like how I feel when I take them. I’ll handle things until it gets too bad. Then I’ll take another.”
His mother smiled and patted Abby’s leg. “Just let me know, dear.”
Clayton looked at his mother to find her knowing gaze on him. He shot his mother a wink and turned his attention back to Abby. “I don’t want you in the office. Take it easy today and rest.”
“Oh my God,” she cried out, her blue eyes widening. “I didn’t call Gloria.”
His mother pushed from the sofa and rose to get the phone. “I’m sure she already knows, but I’ll call and fill her in.”
“I can do it,” Abby said.
But it was too late. His mother had already begun dialing. “She likes to dote on others,” Clayton told Abby.
“I’m not used to that.”
“If it gets to be too much, just let her know.”
Abby looked at him askance. “I’d never do that. She’s so kind. I would never want to hurt her feelings.”
He squatted down beside her. “Are you really okay?”
“No,” she admitted, resting her good hand on the arm of the couch.
Clayton covered her hand with his and squeezed. “Remember what I said. No one is going to harm you here. You and your brothers are safe.”
“I know,” she replied softly.
He glanced out the window and cleared his throat. “You never accepted the job I offered you.”
Her eyes crinkled in the corners as she grinned. “I wasn’t sure after we . . . .”
She trailed off, but he knew exactly what she was referring to. “I’m not going to lie. I want you here all the time, and if giving you a job gets me that, then I don’t see a problem.”
“What if things go . . . sour?” she asked in a hushed voice, her face pinched with worry.
“I could give you a lot of promises, and I could tell you that regardless of what happens with us, you’ll always have a job here. But you won’t believe them. Actions are what you need.”
She swallowed and licked her lips. “People say a lot of things that end up being lies.”
“I can have a contract drawn up that will protect you as well as my family.”
“I’d feel better about that.”
He nodded. “And the two of us? I’d like to talk about that.”
“I—”
She was cut off by the return of his mother. Clayton stood while he listened to his mother explain the conversation that she had had with Gloria. Somehow, his mother had negotiated the next week off for Abby—with pay.
Clayton inwardly grinned. There were few who could stand against the force of Justine East. With Abby in capable hands, he gave her another squeeze and stood.
She held his hand tightly before he walked away.
Clayton stopped at the back door and put on his coat and hat. Then he walked outside toward Caleb.
He was taking Abby’s advice, but Clayton also knew it was going to take longer for Brice to sort through everything going on in his head.
Because if the teen was anything like him, Brice was trying to come up with a way that he could’ve said or done something different that would’ve prevented his sister from being shot.
Once he accepted that nothing would’ve changed the outcome, he would open up. And Clayton would be there when he did.