Stuck Together (Trouble in Texas Book #3) by Mary Connealy Page B

and a thick gray mustache. He wasn’t a fast-moving man, but there was no job on the ranch he’d ask anyone to do that he couldn’t do better himself. Ruthy had trusted him ever since he’d helped Luke get the S Bar S back from Flint Greer.
    “Yep, that cow didn’t think I needed to touch her baby. But the calf’s in the barn now and the mama alongside it. They’ll be fine.”
    “Sit down and share our meal.” Luke glanced at Ruthy.
    She smiled and waved Dodger to the table. “There’s plenty. Get off your feet for a spell.”
    “That chicken looks mighty good, Mrs. Stone. I’m sure the food in the bunkhouse has gone stone cold by now. I’mobliged for the offer.” Dodger sank down at the kitchen table with a muffled groan. One arm went to his ribs, yet he didn’t complain. Ruthy resisted the urge to offer medical help. Dodger wouldn’t appreciate his weakness being pointed out. He was banged up, but if he was really hurt, he’d probably say so.
    Ruthy bustled about, getting a plate and filling it with chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy. She laid a slice of freshly baked bread on the plate, pushed the butter and jelly closer to Dodger, poured everyone a fresh cup of coffee, and sat down to join them.
    A few minutes of silence passed, the only sound that of their clinking silverware. Ruthy saw the determined expression on Luke’s face. But he bided his time, letting Dodger eat in peace.
    Finally, Dodger swallowed the last bite and lifted his coffee cup, turning to Luke. “What’s going on, boss? I’ve seen that look before. It means there’s a problem.”
    “There is a problem, for a fact. Wilcox was drunk today at work.”
    Dodger set his cup down with a click of tin on wood. “He was?”
    “He bumped into Ruthy. She smelled liquor on his breath.”
    Dodger turned and locked his eyes on Ruthy until she wanted to squirm. “Is that all he did, ma’am? You’ve got a mighty kind heart. Are you saying less than the full truth because you’re worried about him losing his job?”
    Luke turned to study Ruthy closely while waiting for an answer.
    Dragging in a calming breath, Ruthy said, “I am worriedabout him losing his job. We can’t have a drunkard around the place, but just because he had a drink today doesn’t mean it’s a habit.”
    She hadn’t answered Dodger, not completely. She sincerely hoped no one noticed.
    “More often than not, drinking during the day, especially a workday, does mean it’s a habit.” Dodger took a drink of his coffee.
    Luke worked his jaw until she saw muscles tense in his face. She thought he was reading her mind, seeing the few moments when she’d been just a bit frightened.
    Without goading her to say more, Luke turned to Dodger. “I’ve never had a hard-and-fast rule about drinking on the job because I’ve never needed one. No man tries to work cattle while nipping at a bottle.”
    Dodger shrugged a shoulder. “No man who wants to live to an old age anyway. A cowpoke needs his wits about him when he’s out dodging hooves and horns.”
    Though Dodge sat there exhausted and battered, Ruthy knew he’d be fine. What if he’d been as unsteady as Wilcox? Ruthy knew there was no sense letting an already dangerous job get worse.
    “Let’s go talk to the varmint.” Dodger pushed back his chair.
    “Reckon he’s asleep by now.” Luke waved at the cup in front of his foreman. “Finish your coffee. We’ll talk with him first thing in the morning, if his head’ll stay on his shoulders.”
    “Why wouldn’t his head stay on his shoulders?” Ruthy gasped.
    Luke gave her a tight smile. “A drinking man tends towake up with a sore head. And the best cure for it, to a drunkard’s way of thinking, is to take another drink. A man can have a heap of trouble getting out of that cycle.”
    Turning back to Dodger, Luke went on, “A man unsteady because of drink can put himself, the other cowpokes, and his horse in danger.”
    “You sure we shouldn’t go see the