Page 112 of The Best Kind of Bad

“I think you need to know the truth about the man you’re getting into bed with.”

I think he means in a figurative sense, but either way, he’s way over the line. “I don’t care to hear any more gossip.”

“It’s not gossip if it’s true, Marnie. You have a right to know how your Uncle Gus and Dusty came to work together in the first place. Did he tell you?”

I hesitate.

Jerry shakes his head. “Didn’t think so. Your Uncle Gus was a good man. Big heart. But people with big hearts tend to be an easy target. And them damn Larsons would steal a dollar from a nun.”

“Dusty’s an honest man. A good man. He’s not a liar or a thief.”

“But that’s where you’re wrong. When Dusty was seventeen, your Uncle Gus caught him stripping wire from a pivot out west of town.”

“Stripping wire?”

“They do that. The lowlifes and druggies around here. They’ll steal batteries. Copper wire. Anything they can sell. The scrap yards shouldn’t buy it, but there’s no way to ID something like scrap metal. Those druggies can make a pretty good living off it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He tips his head. “I don’t blame you. This would be hard to swallow. But it’s the truth. Gus caught him in the act.”

“If that’s the case, why didn’t he call the cops?”

“Because your uncle had that old-fashioned sense of honor. The cowboy way, he called it. He offered to let Dusty work it off instead. Andthatis how your uncle and Dusty came to work together.”

“I think you’re full of shit. What I don’t understand is why you’ve got it out for him.”

He huffs a laugh. “I don’t have it out for that kid. He’s had a hard life. I can see that. But I also think he’s no good. He’s got the wool pulled over everybody’s eyes. Your Uncle Gus. You. My wife.”

“Your wife?”

He shrugs. “She’s Sienna’s caseworker. You knew that, didn’t you?”

“She told you all this?”

“I’m her husband. She tells me everything.”

I put my hands on my hips, stretching up to my full height. I still barely come up to his shoulder. “Well, she shouldn’t have told you a damn thing. She shouldn’t have told you and you shouldn’t have told me.”

“I thought you should know who you’re working with.”

“Uncle Gus trusted him and so do I.” I pat Ed’s head, wishing he was the kind of dog you could sick on a man. “And, Jerry? I suggest you keep all this knowledge to yourself. If it got out that your wife had been running her mouth, she might be out of a job. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got other things to get to.”

He frowns, face turning an interesting shade of red. I can tell he wants to say more, but the threat towards his wife’s job seems to have landed. With a huff, he turns and stomps back to his truck.

I watch him go, my heart racing, wishing I could throw something at him.

74.

Dusty

That damn well on the East Quarter is acting up again. I’m going to have to call the welder to fix it, but I know he’s backed up on his own jobs. I’m fretting over the heat wave that’s due over the next week and the fact that we won’t be able to water the crops, when I nearly careen into another pickup truck in the driveway.

My shoulders tense when I recognize the sparkly new truck. He idles at the road, so I slow down, too. His window rolls down. With a long-suffering sigh, I roll my window down. I can’t imagine he’s going to say anything I want to hear.

“Dusty.”

I nod at him. “Jerry. What brings you by?”

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