Unbreakable (31 page)

“You can,” the other man said, his chair squeaking as he leaned forward. “After you and I have a conversation.”

“About?”

Ned gestured toward the chair at the side of his desk, waited until Casper gingerly sat. “Who this kid is, where he came from.”

“What has he told you?”

“Not much except to call you.”

So the sheriff didn’t know about New Mexico, or Clay being a runaway, or Casper harboring him with full knowledge. He supposed that was a relief, though his gut wasn’t feeling it. ’Course that could’ve been his ribs. “Thanks for doing that. Now what do I need to do to get him out of here?”

“Not so fast. That conversation, remember?”

“Fine. Let’s talk.”

“I’m assuming you won’t be pressing charges for him stealing your truck—”

“Borrowed. He didn’t steal anything from me.”

“There’s still the issue of him having no license or ID and being underage, which I’m assuming based on what I can see. And he did steal the spice bottle from Nathan’s. I’m also going to guess he’s Kendall Sheppard’s and Arwen Poole’s thief. Meaning I need to have a word with his parents or his guardians or whoever he belongs to.”

“He belongs to me. With me. He’s the son of a friend of mine. From out of town,” he said, figuring truth and evasion would work in his favor better than lies.

“Then I need to talk to this…friend. His mother, I imagine? Can I get a name and a number? Or an address?”

Jesus H. This
Law & Order
shit was what happened when a cop had too much time on his hands and too few tickets to write. “She’s…unavailable. That’s why he’s staying with me for now.”

Ned leaned back in his chair, his hands laced behind his head. “What about the rest of his family? Someone who can vouch for him.”

Because Casper vouching for him wasn’t good enough? Bracing his arms on his knees, he worried his hat in his hands. “There is no other family, Sheriff. That’s why he’s staying with me. I can vouch for him.”

Ned bobbed his head. “There’s still the matter of his shoplifting. And whether or not Nathan’s is going to press charges—”

“Over a five-dollar jar of some spice?”

“It could’ve been a penny candy. Or a ten-dollar paperback. Or two dollars’ worth of soda. Stealing is stealing, my friend.”

They were not friends. “I’ll settle things with Nathan’s. And with Kendall and Arwen.” Kendall had been taken care of,
thanks to Faith, but he’d still go by and make sure she knew Clay would be buying the rest of his books brand new. “And if you’re going to fine him or press charges for his driving without a license, I’ll see that he gets to court or whatever. Now, can I talk to him?”

The sheriff took his sweet time making up his mind, getting to his feet, leading Casper to the rear of the small building. He stopped at the doorway separating the cells from the office, pushing it open after he’d unlocked it and gesturing for Casper to walk through.

He did, the heavy door clanging shut and locking behind him. He blew out a suffocating breath and looked into the cell on his right. Clay sat on the built-in bench, his legs out in front of him crossed at the ankle, his head against the cinder-block wall, his eyes closed.

“Catching up on your sleep?”

“Nothing else to do.”

So smart-ass was how it was going to be. “What were you thinking? I gave you money.”

“I spent it. You said you liked the chili. That you could eat it every day.”

“I didn’t want you to steal the ingredients.”

“It’s just a jar of cumin. Not a big deal.”

“It’s not just a jar of cumin. It’s also a book. And bottles of Coke. And who the hell knows what kind of trail you left between here and Albuquerque.”

“Like I said. It’s not a big deal.”

Fuck this disrespectful
…“It goddamn well is a big deal. I don’t know what Angie taught you—”

Clay burst up off the bench and rushed the bars, grabbing hold and shaking, though the only thing he shook was himself. His eyes were wide and red and wet, and as angry as they were
scared. “My mother didn’t teach me shit, okay? She was too busy shooting herself full of heroin and fucking every cowboy who came to town.”

Casper stood back, rubbed a hand down his jaw to his throat, thinking for not the first time that he was in over his head, but for the first time understanding exactly what that meant. How in the hell was he going to help this boy when he was at the root of Clay’s problems?

He held his gaze, fighting the urge to walk away…which wasn’t about running, but about getting help, doing right by this boy, making up for the life he’d lived before coming to Crow Hill. Maybe making up for some of his own.

Then Clay collapsed, the fury driving him draining away. “Are you going to get me out of here?”

“Soon as I leave, I’m headed to see a lawyer. He’ll find out what’s going to happen, though I can’t imagine much of anything.”

“And you’ll take care of Kevin?”

“Jesus H. Christ, Clay. It’s not like you’re headed for the big house. You can take care of him when you get home.”

It took several long seconds, but a slow smile spread over Clay’s face at that.

“This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing. I just like the way you said home.”

T
HERE WAS SOMETHING
about the smell of leather in a law firm that set Casper’s nerves on edge. His saddle was one thing. The binding wrapping transcripts and precedents and what the hell into tomes was another. Not that he’d ever been in any real trouble during his life, or had any real reason to fear the legal system, but there was always the chance of his past catching up with him.

He didn’t like thinking about his past. He didn’t want to open himself up, even for a confidential flaying. He didn’t talk to anyone about the things he’d seen and done, why he’d made the decisions he’d made. Except to Faith. Faith made it easy. Greg being a virtual stranger, and Clay being the one in the most trouble, didn’t.

Even as a teen when he’d run with Dax, Casper had never stepped foot in the Campbell law firm. The building sat on Yegua Creek Road just off Main, as far away as possible from
the Municipal Plaza that housed the sheriff’s substation, while remaining inside Crow Hill’s city limits. Its lot was landscaped in low-growing scrub and cactus, the firm, like the succulents, thriving.

He imagined the place was a lot quieter now than when both Dax’s sister and father had practiced law here, too. Now it was just Greg. The bastard son. The brother Dax had never known he’d had. The son Dax was supposed to have been.

What Casper had said to the sheriff was true enough. He’d taken on a kid who had no one else, his mother a friend and unavailable. He’d left out all the rest—the mother being dead, the kid being a runaway, Casper knowing all this and not turning him in. But none of that had been relevant, so he didn’t see any reason to share it with Ned.

Sharing it with Greg was bad enough.

His legs crossed, a legal pad on his lap, Greg sat in the big leather chair next to Casper instead of in the one behind his desk. His black shoes and black pants and white shirt had Casper thinking of Faith. Two of a kind. Professionals. Neither one of them smelling like a horse.

Greg clicked the end of his pen. “You want custody of this boy who’s been staying in your house. The one who was arrested and is now in jail. Whose mother died a year ago, and who two months ago ran away from his foster home in another state. Is that what you’re saying?”

Put that way, it made him sound insane. “It doesn’t have to be permanent.”

“Custody is permanent, Casper.”

“What about him being an emancipated minor?”

“Is he old enough to support himself? Old enough to get a driver’s license if he needs to drive to a job?”

Crap.
“Okay, then, I could foster him or something.”

“So, you want to apply to be a foster parent.”

“I don’t know. I guess.”

“And he’d live with you at the ranch? Or in the house on Mulberry Street?”

Jesus. Did everyone know about Mulberry Street?
“The ranch,” he said, leaving out the part about how long Clay had bunked at the house. What potential parent would leave a kid in that place? Sure, it hadn’t been long. Casper had lived there longer. But it was enough, and it gnawed at him. “I moved him there from the house as soon as I got the okay from the boys.”

“Then they know about this, too.”

“But none of this is on them. Just me.”

“Has he been working for you?”

“Around the house. Some other chores. He cooks.”

“Do you pay him?”

“Just room and board. A few bucks for allowance. It’s not like I’m made of money here.”

Greg didn’t comment, just pressed on. “And you could get him to school?”

“Sure. I guess. If he has to go.”

“Unless you’re going to home school him, then yes. He has to go.”

Jesus H. Why the hell was he turning this into a federal case? Clay needed help. He wanted to help him. “I just want the boy out of jail, okay?”

“I understand that—”

“He doesn’t need to be in jail. Nobody does at that age.”

“Casper, I’m on your side here.”

“Then tell me what I have to do to make that happen.”

Greg looked down, clicked his pen again, then lifted his gaze and made sure Casper held it. “He’s a minor and a runaway. I’m not sure any of us can make that happen.”

“I thought that’s what lawyers did.”

“Work miracles? Sometimes we do. But that’s when the law goes our way. I’m not sure in this case it will.”

“Jesus H. Christ.” Casper brought a hand to his side, his taped ribs aching.

“What does the sheriff know? About Clay’s people in Albuquerque?”

“I don’t think he knows anything. Clay ditched his ID before leaving, so Ned’s only got my word that I know who he is. I told him there wasn’t anyone else to vouch for him.”

“Knowing Ned Orleans, he’s started digging by now, looking for runaways, missing kids.” Greg shifted in his chair, recrossing his legs. “It’ll take him a while to get answers, work his way out of Texas.”

“Then we’ve got time. Just do what you have to. I want Clay out of there before Ned figures out what’s up. That happens, he’ll be shipped back and lost in the system and it’ll be too late.”

“I can probably get him out, but if Clay knows what’s coming, that we’ll be contacting New Mexico about custody, he could very well run away from you.”

Casper shook his head. “I won’t let that happen.”

“He’s run away before.”

“But not from me. Even when I threatened to turn him in,” he said before he realized what he was admitting. “This is attorney-client privilege, right? I can’t get busted for harboring a runaway?”

“As long as Clay keeps his mouth shut, I don’t see any reason Ned needs to know about the conversations the two of you had.”

“So you’ll help me?”

Greg got to his feet. “Let me get over to the sheriff’s office. I’ll see where things stand and we’ll go from there.”

“Thank you,” Casper said, slower to stand.

“It’s what I do, Casper. The only thanks I need is a check that won’t bounce.”

“Huh. My reputation precedes me?”

“Something like that,” Greg said, though only his mouth smiled.

“But you’re not asking for a retainer up front?”

“This boy’s in trouble now. And you’re my brother’s partner. I doubt you’re going to skip town.”

“He’d probably take your head off if he heard you call him that. Dax.”

“Yeah, well, blood will be blood. He’ll get over it.”

“H
AVE EITHER OF
you guys seen Clay?” Casper asked later that evening, walking into the barn where Dax and Boone were brushing down their respective rides. “Or Kevin, for that matter?”

“Not since you brought him home earlier,” Boone said.

“Huh. I checked his room. Some of his stuff’s there, but I can’t find his backpack.”

“Sounds like an invasion of privacy to me,” Dax said, jerking his chin toward Boone. “You know, like the way Coach used to go through that one’s things.”

“I wasn’t going through his things,” Casper said, thinking this couldn’t be happening, that he couldn’t be so dumb. “And I’m not his old man.”

“You’re the closest thing he’s got,” Dax reminded him, heaving that load of responsibility toward him like a hay bale. Or a bag of feed.

“You didn’t find a note or anything?” Boone asked. “He could’ve gone out with the dogs roaming, exploring. Getting his
head together or something. Might’ve needed the time alone after this morning.”

“Shit.” Casper kicked at the corner of the closest stall, the impact like a shotgun blast against his side. “Greg said this might happen.”

“Whoa,” Dax said, rearing away from the horse toward him. “Tell me I didn’t just hear the bastard’s name come out of your mouth.”

“You told me to use him, you dick,” Casper said, knocking Dax’s hat from his head, biting off a curse at shotgun blast two.

Dax snagged up his hat, dusted it against his thigh. “Why did he think Clay might split?”

“Because of his getting arrested on top of this runaway custody foster care bullshit,” Casper said, leaning a shoulder into the stall. “He thought Clay might realize this newest music on top of the other would have things swinging in the favor of the law.”

“I can’t imagine Nathan’s will press charges,” Boone said, returning from the tack room fridge with two apples, handing one to Dax, slicing the other for Sunshine.

“They’re not.” He and Clay had stopped and paid Lizzy Nathan for the cumin before ever leaving town, and she’d graciously accepted Clay’s apology, as had Kendall Sheppard when he’d made a second stop there.

Arwen had fed them both lunch, telling Clay to ask for food if he was hungry. That most folks would see his need. Dax had found himself a good woman in that one, which took Casper’s thoughts to Faith, before moving back to Clay. “But he was still driving without a license. Sheriff Orleans is being an ass and making him go to court for that.”

“He’ll get a fine, or a warning, but being a kid and a scared
one, I could see him not thinking straight.” Boone rubbed a hand down Sunshine’s nose and over his muzzle. “Could’ve sent him running. He gets taken from you, who knows where he’ll end up.”