He didn't ranch. He owned five fast-food franchises and lived in Hera only to escape "metropolises" like Tulia and Floydada.
Galloway had welcomed him with a "Thank you for coming so quickly, Mr. Davison."
"I'd've come whether you asked me to or not. Soon's I heard my boy was holed up here, I was anxious to get here. I was on my way out the door when you called."
Dendy, who'd been fuming in the background, had grabbed Davison by the shoulder and spun him around.
He thrust his index finger into the other man's face. "It's your fault my daughter is in the mess she's in. If anything happens to her, you're dead and so is the miscreant you spawned-"
"Mr. Dendy," Galloway had interrupted sternly. "Once again I'm on the verge of having you physically removed from this van. One more word and you're out of here."
The millionaire, ignoring Galloway's warning, had continued his harangue. "Your kid," he'd declared, "seduced my daughter, got her pregnant, and then kidnaped her.
I'm going to make it my life's mission that he never sees the light of day or breathes a breath of freedom. I'm going to make certain that he spends every single second of his miserable life in prison."
To Davison's credit, he had kept his cool. "It appears to me you're partly to blame for all this, Mr. Dendy. If you hadn't come down so hard on those kids they wouldn't've felt the need to run away. You know's well as I do that Ronnie didn't take your girl against her will. They love each other and ran away from you and your threats, is what I think."
"I don't give a fuck what you think."
"Well, I do," Galloway had said, shouting over Russell Dendy. "I want to hear Mr. Davison's take on the situation."
"You can call me Cole."
"All right, Cole. What do you know about this? Anything you can tell us about your son and his frame of mind will be helpful."
To which Dendy had said, "How about some sharpshooters?
A SWAT team? Now that would be helpful."
"Using force would risk the lives of your daughter and her baby."
"Baby?" Davison had exclaimed. "It's come?"
"From what we understand she delivered a baby girl about two hours ago," Galloway had informed him. "Both are reportedly doing okay."
"Reportedly," Dandy had snorted. "For all I know my daughter is dead."
"She's not dead. Not according to Ms. McCoy."
"She could've been talking to save her own hide. That lunatic could have been holding a gun to her head!"
"I don't think so, Mr. Dendy," Galloway had said, striving to remain calm. "And neither does our psychologist, who was listening to my conversation with Ms. McCoy. She sounds in perfect control, not like someone under duress."
"Who's this Ms. McCoy?" Davison had wanted to know.
Galloway explained, then he'd regarded Davison closely. "When was the last time you spoke to Ronnie?"
"Last night. He and Sabra were about to go over to the Dendys' house and tell her parents about the baby."
"How long have you known about the pregnancy?"
"A few weeks."
Dendy's face had turned beet red. "And you didn't see fit to tell me?"
"No, sir, I didn't. My son confided in me. I couldn't betray his trust, although I urged him to tell you." He had turned his back on Dendy and addressed the remainder of his remarks to Galloway.
"I had to run up to Midkiff today on account of a deep fryer going out. I didn't get home until late this evening.