Page 92 of On the Land, We Shoot Straight
Grady reached for Cole’s hand and inspected it. A nice chunk of wood was residing in his palm, angry red on the edges but bleeding only a little on account of the splinter stopping the flow.
“I reckon I’m gonna need the pliers on this thing,” he said.
Cole snorted. “I can do it.”
Grady shook his head. He needed to let Cole go and get tweezers, iodine, some tape. He didn’t want to let Cole go. He tugged him closer with the arm around his shoulders and held on.
“You can let me go, I ain’t gonna go crazy again,” Cole muttered.
“Yeah, but I might,” Grady replied.
Cole lifted his head, unsure eyes flicking on Grady’s.
“Not on you.” Grady heaved a sigh and brushed Cole’s hair out of his eyes. “On account of you hurtin’.”
“I’m all right,” Cole said quickly. “Just wanted to get this finished is all.”
Grady took a deep breath, kept his gaze on the level. “You ain’t all right.”
“I am, I just wanted—”
“It’s all right.” Grady gripped him by the nape. “You don’t gotta be all right, I ain’t goin’ anywhere. I shoulda said where I was goin’. And I shoulda said it before now—you don’t gotta be all right.”
Cole’s eyes brimmed with tears, but he dropped his head back to Grady’s shoulder, sucked in a sharp breath, and stopped them from falling.
“All right,” Cole whispered. “All right.”
Grady rubbed his back, listened to Cole getting himself back under control and wished he’d let it all out. But he’d do it when he was ready, Grady knew that much.
After Grady sorted his hand, got him a beer for the pain, to which Cole snorted, Grady noticed him smiling just a little bit more, his feet on the ground a bit more solid when he followed Grady out to the truck and they headed for Redbo County.
47
“W
ell?” Cole asked.
Grady looked up at him sitting there, drumming his fingers on the table, looking expectant and impatient. The afternoon sunlight came through the kitchen window and glowed like a halo around his head, the shiny black strands of his hair appearing almost auburn in the light.
“Well,” Grady replied. He dropped his pen and sat back.
Cole waved his hand around in the “get on with it” motion.
“Well, I reckon we’ll probably break even with that there harvest.” Grady picked up his pen again and tapped the wool column. “And the wool prices being good.”
Cole blew out a relieved breath. “Good.” He nodded. “That’s good.”
He craned his head into Grady’s space and studied the columns and figures, and Grady knew the moment he landed on the deduction.
“What’s this?”
Grady sat forward to grab his beer, coming right up against Cole in order to do it. He kissed the top of his head as he came back because he could and he always felt like doing it.
“That there’s a redraw.”
“What for?” Cole craned his head up and pinned Grady with narrowed eyes.
Grady sipped his beer and said the lie as easy as breathing. “Reckon I’m gonna expand the harvest next year, try and make up on these losses.”
