Rough Edge (Tannen Boys 2)

Hot. Hot. Hot.

My legs are on fire, actual flames licking along my calves, reaching for my knees.

I cry out, but it’s lost in the sound of everyone else cussing and yelling. Todd tackles me to the ground, and my head hits the asphalt hard, ringing my bell. I blink, trying to focus and trying to breathe beneath Todd’s weight.

“Be still!” someone yells.

“Close your eyes and hold your breath!” someone else yells at the same time.

It’s so quick, but it’s in slow motion too, like every second has been teased apart for maximum carnage. I feel the cool foam of the fire extinguisher hit my legs where there should be jeans and moan at the stinging sensation even though it’s better than the burn.

“Patricia called 9-1-1. Ambulance is on its way,” Ed says. “Hang in there, Todd. You okay, Rix?”

I realize that Todd is no longer smooshing me and thrash my head around to find him. “Todd?”

“You okay, Rix?” he says from my other side, his voice rough and tight. I turn to see him lying on the ground next to me. Someone has taken his helmet off, and he looks pale and clammy, his eyes getting shinier and more vacant by the second. My legs hurt, and I can’t see what’s wrong with Todd, but I can tell he’s a lot worse off than I am.

“I’m good, Todd. We’re gonna get you some help, ’kay?” I look back up to Ed and dig deep for my balls. “Get that fucking ambulance here now, Ed!” I bark.

He tries to chuckle, a watery smile trying to come through, but he fails and instead his lips just quiver. “Even down for the count, she’s a bossy one, our Rix.”

Jerry pats my head, something that would normally piss me off royally. Right now, it’s just what I need. But not who I need it from.

“Hey, Ed?” He leans over, coming into my field of vision, his brows raised. “Call my dad to meet us at the hospital.”

He nods, looking grim. I think we all know the shit just hit the fan in a spectacularly fucked up manner, and we’re all going to pay the Keith Cole price for keeping this from him.

Chapter 25

Brody

Motel rooms used to be so exciting. Once or twice a year, Dad would take me to the market auction to buy and sell for our herd, and it’d seemed like such an adventure. Fancy towels, folded toilet paper, fresh sheets, pizza delivery, and just the boys. We’d sit around with no shirts on, not shower, and once I was in high school, Dad would even let me have a beer or two.

Those are some of my best memories of my dad, actually, because back then, he really was amazing. I looked up to him, admired him, and respected him. He was worthy of it, earned it by giving us his time, attention, and lessons about his years of ranching.

Only now, as an adult, do I realize how hard staying in a motel can be. Everyone you care about is back at home, carrying on without you. You worry about germs in the towels and sheets, which aren’t fancy at all and are actually cheap and scratchy, and a pizza and beer diet makes you feel like shit.

I send a silent thank you to Dad for making it seem like fun when I realize how hard it must’ve been for him. But only for that. Not for the later shit when he was angry, miserable, and spreading his poison around like fertilizer. I forgive him, mostly, but I still blame him for being weak when we most needed him to be strong.

“Good picks today,” Mark says from his double bed. He’s leaning back against the headboard, long jeans-covered legs crossed at the ankles, his chin dipped low and eyes closed even though he started the conversation.

I grunt, knowing he’ll hear the agreement about the few cows and calves we bought.

“What’d you think of the buyer?” His sock-covered toes wiggle as he scratches one foot with the other.

“He’s all right. Fair price.” I sit on the other bed, elbows on my knees and rolling my neck to stretch out the tension through my shoulders.

Market day is hard on both of us, the high-pressure culmination of a year’s worth of work, blood, and sweat. No tears because we’re fucking cowboys, I think with an internal cocky smirk. It requires chatting up other ranchers about everything from hay prices to cattle weights, and being personable isn’t either of our strong suits.

Even so, we sold every head we brought to the same buyer, making it a convenient exchange. The cattle have already left the sale barn with their new owners, and we’ll load our purchased ones up tomorrow for the drive home. All in all, it’s left us in a good position for the next year of ranching.