SWAT Ed: Fox & Bull (Nothing Special 8)

“Why’d you bring him here?” Bull growled. He didn’t fuss with his dad often, but he knew this was the beginning of a huge mistake. He didn’t have time for this; he didn’t have time for Fox’s traps.

“He offered to come.” His father held his glower with his own.

“I just bet he did.” Bull took his hat off and ran his hand through his hair before he shoved it back down low on his forehead. “I know what he’s doing.”

“He’s helping us.”

“You’re not fooling me, old man. And I know damn well that Fox isn’t pulling one over on you either.” Bull bared his teeth. “Unless the two of you came up with this idea together.”

“He’s here to find out who’s harassing us, Dominic. Damn, you’re too damn suspicious, boy.” His father began to walk towards the mud porch, leaving him no choice but to follow. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m done relying on that sheriff.”

“He’s SWAT!” Bull blurted incredulously. “You really think we need all that for a destruction of property case? Fox isn’t here to catch a vandal, he’s here to catch—”

His father laughed as he hung his tan hat on a peg behind the door. “Let’s just see how it works out. Who knows? He might like being out here.”

“When are you going to let go of this unrealistic life you and Ma envisioned for me, huh?” Bull argued. “I’m single and I’m fine. All men don’t get to ride off into the sunset. This ain’t Gone with the damn Wind.”

“Will you both please lower your voices in my kitchen. It’s too early for that mess. The roosters ain’t even crowed yet,” Amelia said on her way out of the pantry with her arms loaded with supplies. His father hurried over and relieved her of a couple of items and placed them on the large island. She pointed upstairs, and Bull noticed the sound of footsteps above him. “Maybe with Mr. Fox here, you won’t have to stare at him on TV half the night.”

“Mr. Fox.” Bull gaped at the other meddler in his life.

His dad quirked one of his bushy gray eyebrows as if what she’d said made perfect sense. “Son, you do park your tail in front of that television every night and stare at the news like you’re watching an episode of Law & Order. Trying to get a glimpse of him. It’s sad.”

Amelia’s blue eyes danced with amusement. “I think he’s pretty fun, myself. Hey, come to think of it, why didn’t you ever give him those riding lessons in the fall?”

His father sat down at the breakfast bar with his cup of coffee, like he did most mornings, and prepared to watch Amelia make her biscuits from scratch. “Because he chickened out… like I knew he would. He canceled the lessons.”

“I didn’t cancel them… he did.”

“No. Fox had to postpone because of work. You could’ve reached out to him to reschedule.”

Bull ignored them and went into the living room. The shattered glass was still all over the floor and console table, and there was an ugly indentation in the wood where the brick had ricocheted off it. A chilly breeze blew through the offending gap, causing him to have to adjust the thermostat and get a fire going. He couldn’t allow his only family to get sick. The temperature wasn’t as cool today, now that the cold front had passed through, but he was sure it would drop again tonight. He needed to get some tarp or a piece of plywood tacked on until the insurance company could send someone out to take a look at the damage.

Bull stared at his father’s favorite recliner, then to the couch where Amelia sat crocheting each evening while they hollered out wrong answers at the Jeopardy! questions. He couldn’t take a chance on where the next brick would strike. He did need this to end, and unfortunately, their sheriff’s department had proved less than capable. Bull couldn’t let his pride stand in the way of protecting the people he loved.

Bull stomped across the hardwood floor and into the kitchen. “So where is he, huh? Shouldn’t he be investigating the crime scene so he can go?”

His father turned and stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Boy, hold your horses. He’s been here five minutes, what’s the matter with you?”

Bull felt as if his rib cage was taking a battering. He tried to calm his pulse, his chest heaving with each forced breath. “Fox needs to get on with it.”

“I already got his room made up. I told him where it was so he could put his things away,” Amelia added as she pushed her sheet pan full of sectioned-off pieces of dough into the oven. She wiped her hands on her apron and spun in a circle, little tendrils of gray and sandy-brown curls falling around her bright face as she fussed about their impromptu company. “Your father gave me one hour’s notice to prepare. Y’all are trying to kill me.”