Page 35 of Legacy of Lies
“Naw, I’m just screwing with you. Shel told me how you’re hot for teacher right before we rode out today.”
“That traitor.”
“So, tell me the story, because you smell like a high school dance. All teenage flop sweat and bad cologne.” He sniffed and pretend sneezed. “Holy Axe overload there, Batman.”
Garrison stopped trying to check his scent when his brother laughed out loud.
“Whatever, Kerr. Look, there’s nothing to say. There’s no ‘us.’ In fact, I tried calling her last night after I got home from our dinner together. Then I called a few times today, but she didn’t answer her phone or return my calls.”
“Maybe milady is busy?”
Damn it, when Kerr started to poke at someone, he never let up.
That pleasant, molasses sensation in Garrison’s gut congealed into cold, unhappy concrete. “Where else would she be? I left two messages this morning and again at noon. It’s a cell phone. It’s with her all the time. And it didn’t go straight to voice mail, so it’s not like she didn’t know there was an incoming call.”
“Or twenty calls?” Poke, poke.
“I’m not that bad. Look, it’s fine. I can take a hint.”
“Methinks he dost protest too much.”
Novelty of having his brother back? Gone.
Thankfully, Kerr must have read the scowl because he backed off. “Okay. Let me get real with you, dude. First, she probably thinks you’re a stalker, calling her right after your non-date and again while she’s at work. So, strong work with the self-restraint to wait the standard forty-eight hours to call her. Second, which really bothers you more: the fact that she didn’tansweryou or the fact that she didn’t answeryou?”
“Fuck you.”
“Stand in line and wait your turn like everyone else.” Always a thorn in the side, Kerr. At least he retained his sense of humor and swagger. Garrison couldn’t have stayed positive after losing a leg and almost dying.
Garrison nodded toward the specks in the distance, trying to get his brother to focus on anything else but his own nonexistent skills in the woman department. “So what do you recommend?”
“I recommend that you go to this lady’s house and beg her forgiveness for whatever you did to piss her off. Don’t even worry about being specific, just keep saying ‘I’m sorry’ and hope to hell she buys it. If you are exceedingly lucky, she might lay a wet, sloppy one on you. Maybe even on your lips, if you play your cards right.”
And just like that, with a tip of his hat and an impish grin, Kerr pushed Garrison’s last button. The horse shied under Garrison, and he had to force his hands to relax on the reins. If he didn’t need so much help with the ranch, he would throttle his younger brother.
He took a deep breath and blew it out. Nope. Didn’t calm him down. “No, Kerr. What do you recommend? With the cattle.” He slapped his leg, making his horse jump. “And no, I didn’t piss her off.”
“Doesn’t sound that way to me.” Kerr put a hand on his chest. “And trust me, I know women. It’s best if you start every conversation you ever have with ‘I’m sorry.’ Really sets the groundwork for the makeup sex later.”
Garrison’s jaw hurt from clamping down on it. “Enough with the advice on women. The herd, man. What should we do about the missing cattle issue?”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” He winked. “Let’s fix the fence first and then disappear.” He flipped down the lens cap and carefully stowed his rifle on the saddle.
“Disappear? Like what you do?”
“No.” He winced. “Disappear. Like, you know, make a show of working, pretend to leave, and then pop up over there.” Kerr inclined his head toward a high point a mile away just inside their property line, near the national forest. “And see if we can’t get a better look-see.”
“Sounds good.” Garrison patted the Ruger in his waist holster.
After an hour of patching the fence for the second time in less than a week, they backtracked toward the ranch house for half a mile and then turned sharply to the north. They rode up a hill that gave a better vantage point over the neighboring valley and property.
As the horses topped the hill, Kerr raised the rifle and peered through the scope once more. Then he swung it toward the foothills bordering the national forest to their right.
“What’s that equipment off in the woods down there?”
Garrison rolled his eyes. “You’ve got the scope. I see nothing but little shapes.”
“Hmm.” He clicked his tongue. “Looks like a big truck, a metal frame with a conveyor belt, and ...”
