a cool, level glance. “Need to talk to you about a job. You interested?”
A job. Brady had to force himself to swallow down the shot of hope that surged through him. “It better be at least a hundred miles away because no one in this town’s going to hire me.”
“Don’t be so sure. Meet me at the Lucky Punch. Twenty minutes. And leave the attitude behind.” Then Jake hit the gas and was gone, roaring up Main Street.
Brady stared after him.
A job.
Against his will, he felt again that small stirring of hope. Ever since he’d punched Deputy Mueller and walked out on his construction job with the McDonalds, he’d been certain everyone in Lonesome Way hated his guts.
And he couldn’t blame them.
Punching the deputy had been a stupid-ass thing to do. And it had been a sucker punch, too. Mueller, a nice guy, had only been trying to offer a word of condolence about Cord and find out if he was okay. Brady had been drunk. Stupidly, idiotically drunk—weaving his way through the streets between the Double Cross Bar and Grill and the Lucky Punch Saloon…
But he knew his excuses didn’t amount to a hill of beans. The truth was, he was ashamed of himself.
Head down, Brady loped in the direction of the park where he’d left his bike. Before going to the hardware store and then into Benson’s, he’d wasted a few minutes sitting on a bench under a cottonwood, watching some high school kids picnicking on the grass during their lunch hour.
Remembering better times, and feeling sorry for himself. Because he was on his own now, his folks gone, and Cord, too. He was used to his parents being gone, of course. But he missed his brother with a raw open pain. Even when Cord had been on the circuit, away for weeks, months at a time, he’d never felt this alone.
Nothing to be done about that, he thought, throwing a muscled leg across the Harley.
By the time he was roaring toward the Lucky Punch, he told himself that maybe things were starting to look up. After all, he had a date with the most beautiful girl in town, even if they had nothing to say to each other anymore. And he had a possible lead on a job.
Could be my luck is starting to turn around,
he thought. Then he reminded himself to hold the hope in check. Better not to count on it. Better not to count on anything.
Denny McDonald studied Jake incredulously over a beer and a steak in the Lucky Punch Saloon. “Let me get this straight. You want us to fix up your three cabins, build four more, a barn, and a corral,
and
renovate your private cabin
again
—turn it into a guest lodge? For a bunch of bullied kids?”
“And their families,” Jake corrected him with a grin.
“Well, okay, yeah, but you sure about that last part, Jake? We just expanded and remodeled your place for you a couple of years ago.”
“You did.” Jake sipped at his beer. “And I’ve stayed there under that big old roof maybe a week, ten days total since you put in all that work, Denny. I’m always on the move.Now I’ve found a way to put my land to much better use. And when I come to town, which, as you know, isn’t very often, I can always bunk in one of the new cabins if they’re available—or stay with my family. No big deal. It’s not as if I’m here in Lonesome Way all that much—”
He broke off as Brady stepped inside the Lucky Punch, halted just inside the doorway, and squinted around through the noisy dimness. Brady spotted him quickly, then his gaze shifted to Denny. Even from this distance, Jake saw him flinch.
“Suck it up, kid,” he murmured, both sympathy and amusement glinting in his eyes as he took another bite of his own steak.
“What’d you say?” Denny looked baffled.
“Brady. Just came in the door. Looks to me like he’d rather jump off Coyote Cliff than come over here and look you in the eye.”
Denny twisted around and saw Brady staring at him. He looked like a sturdy young calf with a rope tightening around his neck.
“I hope you know what
A job. Brady had to force himself to swallow down the shot of hope that surged through him. “It better be at least a hundred miles away because no one in this town’s going to hire me.”
“Don’t be so sure. Meet me at the Lucky Punch. Twenty minutes. And leave the attitude behind.” Then Jake hit the gas and was gone, roaring up Main Street.
Brady stared after him.
A job.
Against his will, he felt again that small stirring of hope. Ever since he’d punched Deputy Mueller and walked out on his construction job with the McDonalds, he’d been certain everyone in Lonesome Way hated his guts.
And he couldn’t blame them.
Punching the deputy had been a stupid-ass thing to do. And it had been a sucker punch, too. Mueller, a nice guy, had only been trying to offer a word of condolence about Cord and find out if he was okay. Brady had been drunk. Stupidly, idiotically drunk—weaving his way through the streets between the Double Cross Bar and Grill and the Lucky Punch Saloon…
But he knew his excuses didn’t amount to a hill of beans. The truth was, he was ashamed of himself.
Head down, Brady loped in the direction of the park where he’d left his bike. Before going to the hardware store and then into Benson’s, he’d wasted a few minutes sitting on a bench under a cottonwood, watching some high school kids picnicking on the grass during their lunch hour.
Remembering better times, and feeling sorry for himself. Because he was on his own now, his folks gone, and Cord, too. He was used to his parents being gone, of course. But he missed his brother with a raw open pain. Even when Cord had been on the circuit, away for weeks, months at a time, he’d never felt this alone.
Nothing to be done about that, he thought, throwing a muscled leg across the Harley.
By the time he was roaring toward the Lucky Punch, he told himself that maybe things were starting to look up. After all, he had a date with the most beautiful girl in town, even if they had nothing to say to each other anymore. And he had a possible lead on a job.
Could be my luck is starting to turn around,
he thought. Then he reminded himself to hold the hope in check. Better not to count on it. Better not to count on anything.
Denny McDonald studied Jake incredulously over a beer and a steak in the Lucky Punch Saloon. “Let me get this straight. You want us to fix up your three cabins, build four more, a barn, and a corral,
and
renovate your private cabin
again
—turn it into a guest lodge? For a bunch of bullied kids?”
“And their families,” Jake corrected him with a grin.
“Well, okay, yeah, but you sure about that last part, Jake? We just expanded and remodeled your place for you a couple of years ago.”
“You did.” Jake sipped at his beer. “And I’ve stayed there under that big old roof maybe a week, ten days total since you put in all that work, Denny. I’m always on the move.Now I’ve found a way to put my land to much better use. And when I come to town, which, as you know, isn’t very often, I can always bunk in one of the new cabins if they’re available—or stay with my family. No big deal. It’s not as if I’m here in Lonesome Way all that much—”
He broke off as Brady stepped inside the Lucky Punch, halted just inside the doorway, and squinted around through the noisy dimness. Brady spotted him quickly, then his gaze shifted to Denny. Even from this distance, Jake saw him flinch.
“Suck it up, kid,” he murmured, both sympathy and amusement glinting in his eyes as he took another bite of his own steak.
“What’d you say?” Denny looked baffled.
“Brady. Just came in the door. Looks to me like he’d rather jump off Coyote Cliff than come over here and look you in the eye.”
Denny twisted around and saw Brady staring at him. He looked like a sturdy young calf with a rope tightening around his neck.
“I hope you know what
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