Long Tall Drink (12 page)

“I know, son,” Ray said.

Then Jesse looked back to Sam, pinned him with a forceful stare, and pointedly said, “Travis is my friend.”

“You see?” Sam’s voice rose. He flapped an arm in Jesse’s direction. “He’s already infecting my boy.”

Both of Ray’s eyebrows shot up, surprise clearly evident in his otherwise checked expression. Travis distantly registered the dull thud of nearing hoof beats followed by boot heels hitting the hard ground. Disturbed dust drifted on the breeze and tickled his sinuses. Sam was growing more agitated by the second. Volatile tension radiated off him like a locomotive without brakes on the edge of a long descent. And that was much more concerning than the growing audience.

“Infecting?” Ray repeated. The sharp, hard edge of his voice sent a shiver up Travis’s spine. “Are you fucking serious?”

Sam flinched, and his gaze flickered nervously to the hands that had dismounted and discreetly formed a loose horseshoe around them, those still on horseback making up a second line of defense. His jaw worked, but Ray didn’t give him a chance to say anything.

“What about Ross and Clay? They’re all friends. They sit next to each other at mealtime and hang out after work. Is Travis poisoning them too? And what about me? I work beside the man every fucking day. Am I
infected
?” Ray spat that last word out like someone had dipped his cinnamon sticks in cow shit.

“I don’t like him, Ray. He ain’t right.” Having lost a little of his hard edge, Sam’s voice sounded almost petulant. For a second, Travis thought Sam would start stomping his feet like a five-year-old having a temper tantrum.

“You don’t have to like him. You don’t have to talk to him. Jesus Christ, Sam. You don’t even have to work with him.” Ray continued in a cutting tone. “The man’s here to do a job. Just like you. Simple as that. I don’t see how anything else should be a problem for you. Let alone your concern.”

“He ain’t right,” Sam argued weakly.

“So you said. And you’re entitled to your opinion. However. Again. I don’t see how that affects your job here.”

“He’s bad for the ranch, Ray.” Sam squared his shoulders. “Shouldn’t be here.”

“The only bad thing for this ranch is your homophobic paranoia,” Jesse cut in, his cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment. “You have no clue about—”

“Don’t you backtalk me, boy,” Sam threatened as he turned on Jesse with a raised fist. “I’ll give you a lesson you won’t soon forget.”

The sudden aggressive movement startled Red, who jumped sideways and began a prancing dance on the spot.

Flashbacks tore through Travis like an explosion: slivers digging into his back, the painful crack of his nose breaking, and the man he’d once called father threatening to kill him. He’d do everything in his power to prevent even one more kid from having to go through something like he had.

“You son of a bitch,” Travis said to Sam, his voice deathly flat. “You lay one hand on that kid and I swear to God, you’ll regret the day you set foot on this earth.”

Travis took a step forward, but a hand across his chest stopped him. He glanced at Ray, who shook his head once in warning.

“Fucking cocksucker.” Sam took that second of distraction to round on him. Travis ducked, but this time Sam’s fist was faster than his reflexes and clipped the edge of his jaw. The horseshoe guard broke rank, and Ross and Clay quickly restrained a raging Sam, who spouted off a string curses and inflammatory slurs.

Ray stepped forward, putting himself between them, his back to Travis. It was a protective gesture Travis wasn’t sure Ray realized he’d made or how telling it was. He just hoped no one else enjoying this little show was as observant.

“Settle the fuck down, Sam.” The fury roiling in the bass notes of Ray’s voice was unmistakable, and Sam immediately stopped fighting his hold.

“Where the fuck does he get off telling me how to reprimand my own kid?”

“Sam…” The stern warning was clear in Ray’s voice.

“I ain’t working here with the likes of him, Ray,” Sam continued. “Won’t fucking do it.”

Ray remained still for a long moment facing Sam, then turned an unreadable glance over his shoulder at Travis. For a second, Travis had the fleeting and disappointing thought that Ray was going to fire him. He wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the way it went. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. What did surprise him was the sharp, stabbing pain in his chest at the prospect of it. He didn’t want to leave the ranch, leave Ray. Not yet.

Light flickered briefly in Ray’s eyes, and Travis exhaled. If he was reading the man right, he wouldn’t be making an early exit from Ford Creek Ranch.

“Fine then,” Ray said as he turned back to Sam. His voice level and clear. “You don’t work here anymore. Come by tomorrow morning to pick up your final paycheck in Hollis’s office.”

Travis tensed, bracing himself for more violence, as did the rest of the men standing guard. Every one of them had a finger on the trigger. Ross and Clay tightened their hold on Sam. But the man’s only visible reaction was the blood that rushed to his face in a frightening flush. The now ex-hand stood rigid, as though his brain was still processing how he’d suddenly ended up out of a job. Travis could feel the fury thrumming off the man’s body as he bore holes through Ray.

“You’re firing
me
? Over
him
? A fucking faggot?” Sam asked incredulously, like it was the most mind-blowing thing the man had ever heard.

“I’m firing you for your belligerent attitude and fighting on my ranch.”

Sam clenched his fists. His gaze drifted over the small crowd looking for backup but clearly finding none.

“We’re done here. Leave quietly, now, or you’ll find yourself with an escort off my property,” Ray said.

“Fine,” Sam snapped and shrugged angrily at the hands holding him. Ray nodded, and the men let go but didn’t step out of reach.

Sam looked over Ray’s shoulder at Travis and said, “You’re going to pay for this. Mark my words.”

“Enough, Sam,” Ray barked.

Sam turned his furious gaze back on Ray, then spit on the ground, just missing his boots before he spun around.

“Get off that horse, Jesse,” he ordered as he began walking away. “We’re leaving.”

“No.”

Sam stopped dead in his tracks and spun around. “What did you say to me, boy?” His voice was frighteningly flat.

“I said no,” Jesse repeated defiantly. “You got fired. I didn’t. I have a job here, and I’m staying.” He glanced nervously at Ray, who gave an assuring nod, then back to his dad and sat a little taller in the saddle.

Sam turned a homicidal stare back on Travis. The message was clear, and Travis would be ready. He would not back down from the likes of the Sam Davises in the world.

Without another word, Sam turned on his heel and stormed across the yard to his truck. When the rusted pickup had charged down the long driveway in a cloud of dust and its chugging engine faded into the distance, Ray turned back to the crowd that had formed.

“Anyone else have an issue here with how I run my ranch or who I employ?”

Every head shook.

“Right. Y’all get back to work now.”

As the men cleared out, Travis found himself rooted to the ground, facing Ray for what felt like hours. Ray had just put himself on the line for Travis, and the gravity of that action wasn’t lost on him.

“Jaw okay?” Ray asked.

“Yep.”

The shutters lifted, and those warm, soulful brown eyes that Travis was coming to love looking into burned a smoldering path straight to his groin. Ray nodded once, then turned and walked back across the yard to the house.

Chapter Eleven

Two seats remained empty as Ray and Dot sat down at a rather subdued table for breakfast the next morning. Ray forced back the disappointed sigh building in his lungs. He’d hoped Sam would have let Jesse come back to work. He shouldn’t have to pay for Sam’s issues, and Ray couldn’t help but feel responsible for it. He was the one who’d fired Jesse’s dad, after all.

Ray heard the front door close as he began loading up his plate. All heads turned when Jesse walked into the dining room with his head down. He’d taken off his hat but was still wearing a pair of mirrored sunglasses. He mumbled an apology for being late and pulled up a chair beside Travis. Jesse’s hair was mussed like he’d just crawled out of bed, and his shirt was rumpled. The same shirt he’d been wearing yesterday. A bad feeling slithered through Ray’s chest.

“No hats, boots, or glasses at the table, son,” Dot said. “You know the rules.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jesse’s quiet voice was ragged. He carefully removed his sunglasses, neatly folded them, and hung them in the V of his shirt. He didn’t look up, didn’t make eye contact with anyone, and Ray saw why all the way from the other end of the table.

There were so many gasps around the room, it sounded as if the walls themselves had heaved in dismay. Jesse’s right eye was swollen shut, and the socket and cheekbone sported painfully angry shades of blue, purple, and black.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Travis’s deep voice reverberated through the floorboards like an earthquake. The fork he’d been holding fell from his hand and clanked loudly against his plate. “Did Sam fucking do that?”

Cold fury laced Travis’s voice like barbed wire and shocked Ray. The depth of anger in that usually smooth baritone was something he’d never have expected from the carefree drifter.

“Travis,” Ray said calmly, the same tone he’d use on a skittish horse. “Settle down.”

Travis didn’t even acknowledge that Ray had spoken. His gaze was fixed on Jesse, his lean body beginning to vibrate.

“Don’t worry about it, Trav,” Jesse said quietly, “I’m good.”

“The hell you are.” Travis jumped from the table. “I’m going to teach that son of a bitch a lesson.”

“I’m coming with you,” Clay said as he slid his chair back and rose.

“Travis,” Ray barked loud enough to break through the dark tunnel Travis had begun to slide down. Travis spun his head around and shot a livid glare at Ray. Under any other circumstances Ray may have responded to the challenge in kind, but he saw something swim alongside the frenetic anger in Travis’s eyes that held him back. Pain.

“You know he did this to the kid, Ray,” Travis said tightly. His voice and body trembled under his tenuous restraint. “I’m not about to sit by and let him get away with it.”

“No, you’re just going to make things worse. Antagonizing Sam is only going to put Jess in further danger, and I won’t have it.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Travis threw back. “I’m done putting up with people like that.”

“Fine,” Ray conceded. “But you’re not buying trouble while you’re on my ranch. You’ll follow my rules or clear out.”

“Fuck your rules, Ra—”

“That’s enough!” Dot’s voice was a sharp, ear-piercing crack of lightning that rendered the room suddenly mute and froze the air in every man’s lungs. The grandfather clock’s peaceful
tick-tock
continued its steady rhythm, oblivious and undisturbed.

“Travis Morgan, you sit your butt back down in that chair right now,” Dot commanded forcefully. “You too, Clay Fisher.”

Clay plopped down like his legs had been shot out from under him and then bowed his head. Travis stood for a second longer; his hands clenched in tight fists. The muscles in his jaw ticked while a nuclear inferno raged in his eyes. He lowered himself slowly to the chair with obvious force.

“Now,” Dot continued. “No one is going off on any half-cocked mission to ‘kick Sam’s ass.’ We’ll discuss what happened and how to handle it rationally and privately with Jesse. And there will not be any more swearing at my goddamn table. Are we understood?”

Clay nodded, but Travis remained still as a statue, his gaze now fixed on the breakfast plate before him.

When it appeared Dot had the room under control, albeit tenuously, she turned her attention to Jesse, her tone now soft and motherly. “Are you going to leave home, son?”

“Yes, Miss Dottie.” Jesse’s gaze remained fixed on a spot on the table as he spoke. “I left right…right after. I-I told him I was going to move to the ranch. Move in with Clay.” He shot a quick nervous glance at his friend. “If that’s okay.”

“Don’t even have to ask, dude,” Clay assured. “You know I got your back.”

“Good,” Dot said. “Except you’re not moving into Clay’s cabin. It’s too small.”

“We’ll get a bunk bed for them,” Ray said.

“Nonsense. You’ll move in here, young man. We have plenty of room.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t do that, Miss Dottie,” Jesse said with another quick glance up.

“You can and you will, and that’s final.” Dot’s voice was firm. And anyone with any brains knew better than to argue when she was in control. Facing down a stampeding herd of elephants would be easier. “Clay, honey, you take a truck and go pick up Jesse’s things when you’re done your with breakfast. And stay clear of Sam.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“All right then,” Dot said as she glanced around the table and waved her hand. “Y’all finish your meal while it’s still warm. We have a ranch to run here.”

Ray watched as the men returned to their meals before his gaze landed on Travis. He hadn’t spoken since Dot ordered him to sit down—he’d barely moved—and now sat staring distantly at his half-eaten breakfast. His body was still coiled tightly, jaw set hard, and a rapid tattoo pulsed in the thick jugular vein in his neck. Ray couldn’t see Travis’s hands under the table but had no doubt they were still clenched in knuckle-whitening fists.

Travis cleared his throat and pushed away from the table.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said to no one in particular. “I have a busy day ahead.” He picked up his plate, remaining food untouched, and dropped it on the trolley as he made a hasty exit.

Ray had a feeling he was going to find something broken out there in Travis’s wake and decided to give him a little time to vent before he went to work.

“I’m so sorry,” Jesse said when the room once again fell silent. “I shouldn’t have come back.”

“Don’t you dare, young man,” Dot admonished. “You did the right thing. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, and you’re staying right here.”