Raising the Stakes

Another little flare of curiosity went through his blood but Gray ignored it. “That’s very flattering,” he said politely, “but—”

“Bull patties,” Jonas said curtly. “I ain’t tryin’ to flatter you, an’ you wouldn’t give a tinker’s damn if I was.”

Gray sat down on the edge of the bed. The old man was good at this. He played people like a virtuoso played a Stradivarius, but Gray wasn’t going to let himself be drawn in.

“You’re right,” he said, “I wouldn’t. Look, whatever this is about, I’m not interested. I’m in the middle of a case.”

“You could fly down in the mornin’, fly back by nightfall.”

“I’m afraid I can’t. Besides—”

“Besides, you’d sooner work for a no-account horse thief than me.”

The only good thing about Jonas was that he was always direct. Gray often thought it was the single quality he and his uncle had in common.

“Yeah.” He smiled into the darkness. “That about sums it up.”

“You know, boy, it ain’t my fault your father’s spent his life suckin’ up to my money.”

Gray rose to his feet. “It’s late,” he said coldly, “and I’ve had a long day. Good night, Jonas.”

“Wait!” The old man huffed audibly. “I need your help.”

Jonas Baron needed help? His help? Gray paused with his finger on the disconnect button. “In what way?”

“You fly down to Espada and I’ll explain.”

“I have no intention of flying down to Espada. Tell me the problem now.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Jesus, I don’t believe this! You get me up in the middle of the night, you mutter some crap about legal advice, and I’m supposed to drop everything and head for Texas?”

“Yes,” the old man said sharply, and Gray suddenly realized his uncle’s just-folks accent had disappeared. “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.”

“Here’s a news flash for you, Uncle. I’ve never done what I was supposed to do and I’m not going to start now.”

“You might find this interesting.”

“I doubt it.”

“Gray.” Another exhalation of breath, this one slightly ragged. “I’m an old man.”

Ah, hell. Gray sat down again. “Look,” he said, “it’s true, you and I never really got along, but—”

“We’d have gotten along fine if we hadn’t based our judgment of each other on your father.”

Gray laughed. Definitely, direct and to the point. And maybe even dead-on correct. “I guess that’s possible. But we did, and it’s too late to go back and change things.” His voice softened. “Jonas, I wish I could help you. But I really am in the middle of a case, and—”

“I’m getting old, boy. Real old.” Jonas cleared his throat. “And—and I did something, a long time ago, that I need to atone for, before my time comes.”

“Hell, I’m no clergyman.”

“Dammit, are you listening to me? I don’t want some candy-assed preacher to hear me confess my sins. What I need is a man I can trust.”

“And you

think that’s me? Why? You and I hardly know each other.”