Page 33 of Cowboy Heat
Sometimes, I hate that sound.
I hate that feeling.
Now, I need him invested, so the worry is a consequence I’ll take.
I sigh deep and true. “Not specifically, but well, first I guess I need to catch you up on what’s been going on here real quick.”
It takes me until I’m at the main house on Blue Lolita to fill Lee in on the highlights of Robin’s Tree since I’ve come to town. If it had been Maximus, I’d have an earful waiting at the end of it. Macy, a few words. Killer and Jesse? It would depend on their moods, and on what I planned to do next.
Lee, though, is going from one problem to the next. He’s glad Alice Dean is recovering; he’s ready to tell me what he’s found on Everett. “He’s not in any criminal database that I can see, no warrants or felonies. No real big red flag. I ran a Google search of the name and it looks like there are…two? Two stories here. The first dates back a two years ago, the second…four years. Want me to summarize?”
I park my rental and tell him yes. Instead of going inside and using my own laptop, I like the relay. I’m too involved, too amped up.
Too close to… Well, I don’t know what, but Lee isn’t. He can read the articles and be objective.
Find the important things, not the things that might trigger my already distrustful thoughts on Everett Guidry.
He’s quick. Lee’s always been quick. “Looks like Everett Guidry isn’t a true Robin’s Tree local—they don’t say where he’s from, though—but he was cited as the town’s only living resident to receive the Good Samaritan award.”
“Only living?” That was odd phrasing. “As in, the only local still alive who received it, or the rest received it posthumously?”
There’s some quiet. “Yeah. Posthumously. There are three others who received the award after their deaths.” I hear him clicking around. “The second article, dated four years back, talks about a land dispute between a man named Tobias Martin and Levi Reed. Apparently, Martin was angry over a fence Levi built along his property line. The police were called after the altercation turned physical.”
“That made the news?”
“It looks like the dispute was a big talk of town. That’s where Guidry comes in. He was one of three people quoted. He said that land disputes had never been handled by the law before and it was a, get this, ‘disgrace’ that it had come to the cops being called in. That-That seems to be the last mention of his name. That was also a story from a local source.The Amant Parish Journal. It’s still running now but looks like it’s online-only.”
I shift my legs. I don’t know what I expected him to find, but none of that was it.
“If you’re getting a bad vibe from this guy, there’s nothing online that backs it up,” Lee says into my silence. “But that’s not saying there isn’t something there. How’s the rest of the town about him? Seems a big deal he was given the Good Samaritan award.”
“He definitely holds some kind of feeling over the people I’ve interacted with, which again, hasn’t been many yet. His brother even had the entire bar go quiet when he walked in. Like there’s a reverence to the name Guidry.” I shake my head. “I just can’t figure out what either Guidry has to do with Kissy, though. I can’t tell if she’s terrified of Everett or in some kind of relationship with him.”
I hear something that sounds like Lee might be scratching his chin. When he goes thoughtful, he makes a show of it. “I guess you already asked her?” he says.
“Not outright. I don’t think I’m going to either.” I realize. “None of this is my business.”
I’m looking for Lee to tell me I’m wrong, but he surprises me. “It’s not,” he agrees. “It’s not your business at all. But whatisyour business is your gut.” His tone changes. So drastically, so deeply, that I’m twelve again, standing in Ray and Martha’s living room with five other boys. All of whom are staring at the tallest, the oldest of us, looking for a push. For orders. For courage. “Remember what Maximus told us that day?”
He doesn’t have to clarify what day he’s talking about.
None of us will never forget the day we went after the Girl Beneath the Floor.
“If your gut starts yelling at you, you’d better yell right on back,” I say, word for word what Maximus told us. What he told me while the rest of the Montgomery boys stood at our sides.
“Don’t beat yourself up for listening to your gut,” Lee clarifies. “If this Guidry guy feels like trouble, you can try to see if he really is.”
I nod.
But I’m not all there.
When I speak again, I know my tone has completely changed too. “I have as many reasons to believe my gut as I have to not believe it.”
There’s a heavy silence on the other end of the line.
In the darkness past my car’s hood, I see her silhouette. Small, scrunched down. Getting farther away as I run back up the stairs, a boy terrified.
Then my leg hurts.
