Page 33 of Cowboy Dreams

Sylvester touched the paint, then looked at his fingertip where a tiny fleck of black clung. “They heard their parents griping about it, maybe? Someone who thinks we might take some of their business?”

“You’re not going to cut into the profits of Annie’s diner or the Shadyside Motel.”

“Probably not.”

I took a few more pictures, then turned to Sylvester who was standing a bit crooked. “Why don’t you go lay down for a bit. Cops’ll get here when they get here, for something nonviolent. You should be rested to deal with that.”

“I can call the security firm.”

“Sure. On your cell phone, from your bed, flat on your back.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy?”

“Pretty sure the only bossy shit in this relationship is standing there leaning ten degrees to the left.”

Sylvester laughed and turned toward the house. Which left me wondering what I could do to get that nasty word out of my head. I went into the barn and pulled up our planning notes on the phone. Sylvester would end up with eight bedrooms, so we were planning for twenty horses at full capacity. Starting smaller, though. I couldn’t wait to have an excuse to go round to the local breeders and auctions and try out different rides, wave money at them.

The smell of the barn soothed me. I picked clean the two stalls I’d used that morning, even though they were mostly fine. Ran the barrow out to the manure pile. Caught up Donner and gave him the post-ride brushing he deserved.

When a sheriff’s cruiser pulled up out front, I was settled and ready to handle Morse. Except it was Deputy Lancaster who got out, slapping her hat on her red curls, which meant the conversation was going to be a whole lot easier. She didn’t promise anything, just asked questions like, did I hear anything in the night? Which, fuck me, I was up and down off that danged couch and still, no, I didn’t. When her report was filled out, she asked to see the property owner. Which was Sylvester and that only made sense. Even if I’d rather run interference for him, it wasn’t actually my place.

I called as we came in the door, so he could get decent, or upright, if he wasn’t. “Hey, Mr. Georgiadis? Police to see you.”

He came out of the office walking okay, only stiff if you knew how he usually moved. “Officer?”

“Deputy Lancaster.” She nodded. “Just need to go through this information with you and get your signature on your statement.”

I stood back while they checked off the info on her tablet, and Sylvester added the little he could contribute. Then he signed his part and she headed out, the sound of her cruiser disappearing down the drive.

“Mr. Georgiadis?” Sylvester cocked an eyebrow at me.

I shrugged. “Wouldn’t want to give the cops the wrong idea.”

“Or the right one? We haven’t been that discreet.”

True enough. Morales had said,Your barn, meaning me and while he’d corrected himself, we probably weren’t fooling anyone. Still, the cops were different.

I must’ve looked uncomfortable, because Sylvester set a gentle hand on my arm. “Either way. It’s fine, Joe.”

Wasn’tfine, that knee-jerk impulse I had to hide my truth around the law. But I’d work on it. I touched his hand for a moment and said, “Thanks.”

Sylvester’s shoulders relaxed. “Now what?”

I checked my phone for the weather. “We’re up to forty degrees outside, so paint might stick. I’ll have Morales start painting the barn, and I’m looking at some trail clearing.” That was slow work, but somewhat easier in winter when the leaves were gone, revealing trunks and vines to be clipped.

“It’s your day off. You don’t have towork.” He let that last word drawl suggestively.

“You got something better for me to do?” I waved him off before the interested look on his face could go anywhere. “Nah, I’ll wait till I can blow you without you screaming in pain.”

“I might be willing to take that chance.” But he was standing bent over again and I thought he might be relieved.

“You heal up. I’ll go earn some more of those shares you offered me.”

“Absolutely. Add today to your equity.” He didn’t admit that in real money, my fair salary wouldn’t make much of a dent. But it wasn’t all fiction. I was pulling my weight for him and would do so every day.

“Take some meds. You’re still crooked. And lay down. Save the effort for when we need it.”

“Security’s coming by tomorrow, a city firm no one here should know,” he told me. “And yeah, now I don’t have to get up in a hurry to deal with Morse, I’ll go sack out.”

---