Page 63 of Adam's Rising

He might not look strong, butfarmstrong was a whole different kind of strong than Lou Ferrigno.

Brett crossed his arms, eyeing Adam up and down as if he were a gelding for sale. “You’re a good kid. Hard worker, strong, and a damn savant with a horse. Never could get that Mustang to warm up to me. I’m gonna land on my feet. Always do. I’ll need someone like you. I’ll pay you — your brother, too — top dollar. Far more than the chickenfeed Clara Mae doles out.”

Adam’s brain misfired like one of his old tractors. Was the man for real?

Claire’ssmooth talkerremark about Lala’s father popped into his head. Adam had pinned Brett as one of those slick carnival workers almost from the start.

Still… Another one of his father’s teachings landed fast: Never burn a bridge.

Adam wasn’t even sure if he’d known what his father meant the first time he’d said it, but he did now. Not that he would ever want a bridge to wherever Brettlanded, but nothing good would come from causing a scene. Better to be gracious.

“Um, thank you, sir.” He’d almost added, but my father knew Clara Mae. New lesson he was learning on his own: Don’t supply any unnecessary information. He’d already said too much several times, pulling others into his current nightmare.

Brett waited a second, but when Adam didn’t say more, he finished with, “Okay, then.”

And that was that.

The man strutted off as if he hadn’t just been fired, grabbed another box from his office, plopped it on the Haulster, and drove off.

The confrontation he’d fretted over all day had turned into another job offer.

Adam went back to cleaning. It’d be nice if an owner would show up, then he’d have an excuse to do something else. Unlike Claire and him, it seemed many of the owners were fine visiting their horses weekly.

He wondered when Boyd would show up. He hoped he wouldn’t be around because dealing with a conman like Brett wasn’t that hard once you recognized a scam. Even bullies like George no longer got to him. A man who would rape a woman, though… Any woman, let alone his woman, Adam truly feared for how he might react.

Shuffling wood chips caught his attention. At least it was hard for anyone to sneak up on him in the barn. Years of his father and Thomas doing just that had conditioned him to stay on-guard.

Adam checked over the stall and saw Frank.

Great!

He hadn’t considered the stoner would show up. Not after he’d put the idiot on his back.

Yeah, he couldn’t stand for abuse on a woman, even one brandishing an electrified poker. If Clara Mae went after Adam with a cattle prod, he’d run. He’d never raise a hand to a woman.

“Whaddaya need?”

Frank crooked his head. “Just wanna talk.”

Adam swallowed hard while he was still inside the stall. Was Frank the dangerous one? Weren’t stoners usually like:Peace,Man!

Still gripping his pitchfork, Adam stepped out of the stall. “Yeah?”

Frank looked like a different man. Long gone were the farm clothes. Instead he had long bell-bottom jeans that nearly obliterated his shoes and a loose-fitting flowy top that looked like something Lala might wear.

Adam definitely wasn’t concerned. He was definitely a hippie. And they were supposed to be all about peace. Make love, not war.Right?

The man stepped forward. “I sure as hell didn’t sign up to rot in this dump, so I’m glad we’re outta here.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Not to hip on the knot you gave me, but whatever.” He tossed a look over his shoulder. “I ain’t no snitch, either, but so’s you know. Pete came sniffing around for some grass yesterday.”

Adam narrowed his eyes.

Frank bent forward, lifting a hand. “Weed?Dope? Whatever yousquarescall it.”

Frank mistook silence for stupidity. But Adam’s anger wasn’t for Frank — it was for Peter.

He knew Frank wasn’t lying. If he were, he would have called his brotherPeter, as had been said repeatedly on Saturday. Only in the last year had Peter started introducing himself as Pete, like he wanted a new identity.

Adam wanted to wallop him — Peter, not Frank. He’d already done a pretty good number on Frank.

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