agreed. Zeke held back a grin. Cyril could be a tough old buzzard and he had a finger in every pie in this community. You needed to know anything, Cyril was your man. But he didn’t want him knowing all of Three C’s business, or his own for that matter.
“I’m hoping our campaign doesn’t bother you, Mr. Johnston,” Dena said. “I intended to call you this week and introduce myself. How strange we should run into you here. Nobody in trouble, I hope.”
Cyril was flustered for a moment then quickly got control. Zeke straightened, paid attention. His mother’s favorite expression, “atizar el fuego” ran through his mind. If he didn’t know better he’d think Dena was, if not poking the fire, at least baiting the old man.
“No, no trouble.” Cyril shook his head. He sneered. “We have a new ad campaign ourselves, over at West Coast—”
“Well, that’s great,” Dena said.
She sent him her dazzling PR smile and all Zeke could think was, uh oh.
“It’s healthy to have competition, don’t you think?”
Cyril glared at her. Zeke stood to one side, arms crossed casually over his chest, and observed the two.
Cyril’s eyes narrowed then he jerked his chin upward. “Can I speak with you for a minute, Zeke?”
“Sure. Hop in and turn on the air, Dena.”
Zeke didn’t look her way. He knew with her curious nature she’d be irritated. He had a suspicion that Cyril was the person Stanton had hinted at that had caused his business woes. And now Cyril had a new ad campaign. Huh. How about that? He walked over to the only spot of shade beneath a spindly tamarisk tree.
Cyril followed. “I’m concerned about that boy,” he said, wiped his hands on his handkerchief and stuck it back in his pants’ pocket.
“Who, Manny? That’s not really your business, but—”
“It is my business. Hell, it’s the community’s business,” Cyril said, and his tone got angrier. “I—”
“Wait,” Zeke said. He raised his hand. He’d been about to thank the man for his concern, hadn’t realized this was an attack on Manny’s character. “Manny is not in custody—”
“He’s wild…that kid…a gang-banger. A bad influence on the Latinos I hire,” Cyril said as if Zeke hadn’t spoken. He shoved at his dark hair. “I won’t use him in my fields, or any of his rough-n-tumble friends. The boys look up to him and—”
“And maybe they should look up to him,” Zeke said coolly, and stepped away.
“What?”
“He’s a fine young man, and a good worker. He does the work of three men, and without complaint. He’s never late, never calls in sick. And he loves and protects his mother—”
“I know that family,” Cyril said. “They belong to my church. She’s a good woman, but that boy—”
“Man,” Zeke said. “He’s a young man, an innocent young man.” Sweat beaded along his hairline. He wanted to take a swing at the old guy. “Now, if that’s all you have to say I’ll be going. I’ve got work to do.”
Zeke strode away. Cyril might be competition, might be well-known and liked in the community, but that didn’t mean he had to like him.
“Doesn’t matter what you do in your public relations campaign,” Cyril called out. “Big city lawyers aren’t worth diddly squat down here.”
Zeke turned and stared at him.
“While you’ve got the likes of him working for you, you won’t find an accomplished farmhand willing to work at Three C’s,” Cyril yelled. His face was red and contorted with anger and he moved closer again.
Zeke held back his comments. He’d let the guy spew his venom.
“They’re scared, the family men.” Cyril stopped, spread his feet wider and shoved fisted hands against his sides. “Want nothing to do with your place with its haunted grounds.”
Zeke’s fist tightened. He itched to take a swing at the guy but of course he wouldn’t. He’d heard whispers about the haunted grounds but that was ridiculous. He stood there in the concrete parking lot, sweat trickling down his face. No way would he walk off like some frightened kid.
Cyril turned, spat into the bushes. “You’ll have to make do with whatever wetbacks you can find.”
Zeke didn’t hire illegal aliens. Cyril knew that. Three C’s never had and never would. It was just a way for the man to throw another insult. Zeke ignored the taunts but it took every muscle fiber in his body to do so.
“See you around, Cyril,” he said, raised a hand in farewell and actually grinned.
He climbed into the car. Anger rose in his chest in waves,