Page 16 of Nomad

Cann looked down at Bud. “Truthfully, I don’t know.”

Bud narrowed her eyes at Cann like he was a traitor, but her more logical half agreed that he had no way of knowing who she was, what she’d do, or why she’d do it.

She put her bag on the ground, unzipped it and left it open for them to look. Then she unzipped her jacket, held it out to the sides and turned around slowly.

That seemed to satisfy everybody because they turned to going about their assigned tasks.

Brash called his wife to come quick because she was pretty handy around a pair of scissors. She was there in ten minutes.

When Cannon walked out into the club’s main room, Bud had to do a double take. He looked ten years younger without the beard and the cut. He was wearing a gray knit hoodie. But his youthful look was overshadowed by the menace of the glower he was wearing. She was having second thoughts about not mentioning her daddy’s profession, but she really hadn’t thought the old man would pull strings to make it look like she was a kidnap victim.

“All loaded,” Brant said as they walked toward the dually. “Take the back way and don’t poke your heads up until that girl is legal. Here’s directions to the house.” Cann took the map and printed directions. “We’ll call the caretakers. There’s a family close by that will tidy up, make sure the sheets are clean, stock firewood. This time of year might be cold at night. Might be hot as blazes durin’ the day. They’ll leave you some gallon-size bottles of water and bags of ice in coolers. Closest thing to a refrigerator. Maria’ll stop by once a day to see if you need anything.”

“Sorry to bring this down on y’all. I didn’t know,” said Cann.

“I know you didn’t. Now get going. This ain’t the old days. We’re not lookin’ for shootouts with Rangers. Speaking of that. There’s some artillery in the floor compartment. Sometimes ther’re hostiles in the badlands. Do not do anything to call attention to yourselves.” Cann gave a tight nod and turned the engine over. “There’s two thermoses of coffee there,” he pointed to the thermal carrier, “‘cause you’re not sleepin’ tonight. Stay away from the interstates. Head toward Uvalde and Del Rio. Take 90 out to Marfa and then drop down.”

“I know how to avoid confrontations, Brant.” Cann felt bad about bringing trouble to the MC doorstep, but he still had a modicum of self-respect.

Brant pressed on undeterred as was his right as the last word on what happened on SSMC grounds. “Yeah, well, you’re not by yourself this time, are ya? House is so close to the river… if you see somebody comin’ who looks suspicious, the two of you wade across and call me on this.” He handed Cann a burner phone. “Rangers won’t cross into Mexico.” Brant lowered his voice. “But I’m tellin’ you right now, donottouch that jail bait. Find a way to keep your wick soft for a week. There’s no hot water out there. So it shouldn’t be hard.” Brant laughed when he caught his own accidental pun.

Cannon Johns gaped at the prez in utter astonishment, not finding him the least bit funny.

“Just sayin’.” Brant chuckled softly. “And when you get back you and I are gonna have a real-McCoy-type sit down concerning your future. For now you take this.” Brant handed over a fistful of cash. Five hundred dollars worth of U.S. currency. Five hundred dollars in fifty, one hundred, and two hundred peso notes.

Bud had been listening so intently, trying to overhear what was being said between Cann and the old guy she’d secretly named Billy Goat Gruff, she jumped when Brigid knocked on her window. She looked around for the button that would lower it.

“Hi.” Brigid smiled. “There’s not time to go shopping or gather stuff up for you, but here’s what we had around the clubhouse. A few magazines.”

“Thank you.”

Bud’s tone was so sincere that Brigid was struck by it. It made her wonder if small kindnesses had been rare in her young life.

CHAPTER Four

Cann turned away from town.

Bud said, “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t the way you expected your homecoming to go.”

“Yeah, well.” He rested both hands at the top of the steering wheel. It didn’t escape Bud’s notice that the pose showcased his biceps. “Turns out it’s a textbook case of no good deed shall go unpunished.” He snorted derisively. “Happy birthday to me.”

Bud let that comment hang heavy in the air of the truck cab for half an hour before saying, “Where are we going?”

“Just on the other side of Big Bend.” Cann’s anger was still palpable, but starting to wear off. “You been there?”

“Big Bend? No. We didn’t, um, do vacations.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s wild. Remote. That’s not all bad. One of the best things about it is that you can see the stars just like it was a thousand years ago. No light pollution in the night sky.”

“Light pollution,” she repeated quietly.

“I know what you’re thinkin’.”

“What?”

“That you can’t plan cities without lights. You need ‘em to drive by and keep people safe. All the advertising though? We could do without it.”

“Commerce is what fuels modern life.”

---