Page 28 of Gotta Dig Deep
Horse settled back into the chair and twisted to look at Duane as Blackie closed the door. “What do you think about all that?”
Duane’s mouth twisted. “That’s some bullshit. That’s what I think about it. Motherfuckers took your ma, beat her to hell, and you don’t even get to skin a knuckle on their janky asses. That’s some bullshit, brother.”
“Yeah, no argument there. But the reaction? Sounded like Rebels burned some intel or info to get to the right dude. Who is this Fury, anyway?” Horse shook out his hands. Muscles tense for hours hadn’t quite gotten the message that all was well. “And my mother.” He tipped his head back with a groan. “Just like her to leave the hospital. I bet some good-intentioned doctor got an earful on her way out too.”
“Tough.” Duane thudded a fist against the table. “Apple didn’t fall far from that tree with you.”
Horse chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I need a drink.”
“Let’s walk to the bar. See what kind of trouble we can find.”
“I’d be down for trouble tonight.” Horse stood and stretched. “Long as it can be solved with fists or fuckin’, I’d be down.” He hesitated. “I’ll follow you in a minute, yeah?”
Duane slapped his shoulder as he walked past. “You bet.”
The door closed behind him, and Horse stared down at his phone for a moment, then dialed from memory.
“Dotty? It’s Graeme. You doin’ okay?”
Chapter Eight
Glenna
“Haw there, cow.” Glenna turned the four-wheeler in a tight circle, blocking the exit a reluctant cow thought she’d spotted. “Get into the damn paddock.” With a shake of her head, the cow stood for a moment and bawled loudly, then trotted up along the fence and through the open gate. Glenna shook her own head as she roared up and stopped, bailing off the vehicle and grabbing the wide metal divider. Swinging it closed, she looped the chain through the slot and clipped the links together. “About damn time.”
Leaning on the top rung of the gate, she surveyed the cattle milling in the three paddocks closest to the barn. Today’s work was done, bringing all the animals in so they could be sorted, doctored, and then either released or loaded on trailers and headed for the sales.
“Done all I can do on my own.” Glenna slapped her worn ballcap against her thigh, knocking a layer of dust off both. “Better go make my calls.”
She turned and stared at the house, noting again the slight sag in the porch roofline, tiny peeling strips of paint around the windows, and the porch steps that angled up on one end, loose nails giving a warning squeal every time a foot dared tread on them. Penn’s truck was parked next to the house, dust covered and unmoving.
In the years since Penn had died, she had thrown herself into taking care of what she could with the least amount of outside help possible.
A glance over her shoulder showed a reminder that the reason she could corral the cattle on her own was because she ran about a quarter of the number they’d had before. Small enough she could deal with virtually everything by herself, but still make enough money to live on when the yearlings went to the auction.
“I’m gettin’ by just fine,” she muttered to empty air before climbing back on the four-wheeler. With a twist of the key, the vehicle roared to life, and she settled into the seat, riding the quarter mile to the house without thought, her mind forced into silence by the pain that lurked just under the surface.
She kicked her boots off just inside the kitchen door, setting them in the low box reserved for that purpose. It looked empty, holding just her sneakers, boots, and flipflops for when she needed to plod around outside. Glenna blinked and overlaid was a picture of the box overflowing, two pairs of Penn’s boots stacked near the back, his running shoes and knockabout sneakers lined up beside her own, his plastic slides resting on top of her flip-flops so when she wanted them, she always had to move his shoes. Another blink and it was back to the new normal, which was just her footwear.
“I’m doin’ okay.”
Whirling, she reached for the phone just as it rang, and a quick glance at the answering machine showed her Cooter’s number incoming. She answered with a smile.
“Cooter, I was just about to call you.” He’d remained the go-between for her and his father, because the older man seemed to think it was okay for her to ask and pay for favors from Cooter, but balked at taking money directly from her. “I got the cattle moved close today, so we’re good to go for tomorrow. Vet’ll be here early enough, so we can start at seven or so. Sound okay?”
“Right to business, just like always.” Glenna closed her eyes and imagined Cooter’s grin taking over his face, pleasant and known. “I wasn’t calling about tomorrow, though. I never doubted you’d have everything penned and probably sorted before we get there.”
“What’s up then?” Snagging a finger through the loop on the sole upside-down mug in the drainer, she poured cold coffee nearly to the brim before placing it in the microwave. It was chugging away before she realized Cooter hadn’t answered her. “Cooter? What’s up?”
“I wondered if you wanted to get dinner?” His familiar voice had turned strange, strained and thin. “Tonight?” He cleared his throat roughly. “With me?”
Glenna stared at the mug turning in useless circles inside the microwave, the spinning wheel underneath it driving the movement. The light went off and the device started its annoying beeping. One beep. Two beeps. There wasn’t enough air in the kitchen to breathe, but her feet were stuck to the floor. Ten beeps, then a long shrill tone before silence fell around her.
“Glenna? You there?” Cooter’s voice was still strange, tight and filled with tension. He was waiting for an answer.
“I gotta go.” She didn’t wait to hear his response to her broken whisper, blindly thudding the receiver against the wall a half a dozen times before it caught on the hook.
She turned and walked through the entry to the front room. The room where Penn had danced with her so often, dipping and twirling around as lights flashed brightly in her eyes.
