Cowboy Logic - B.A. Tortuga Page 0,9
to be a video game shooter, not a real one.” He gave Dave a wry smile. “But I go to the range once a month with friends.”
“So you got here, and…” Dave trailed off, letting him pick up the narrative.
“And I was unpacking my things from the rental when the man came out on the porch to threaten me. Bailey locked him out, which I thought was very smart. I told him to leave. He argued. I was firm. Bailey threw his shit out, and he left in a huff.” And yeah, he might have shot toward the bastard a little, but this was Texas, right? He hadn’t hit anyone.
“I see. Well, that corroborates what Miss Bailey said. I think it’s pretty easy to see that Mr. Morrow is a threat to Bailey and the kids, and he has a history of, er, emotional problems. I’ll have patrols come by every few hours, and we’ll be picking up Mr. Morrow for questioning.”
“Good. Tell him my sister isn’t available and we’ll be filing restraining orders for him—me, her, and the kids.” The bastard needed to know he was being watched.
“Of course. I need to take some pictures. Of the porch and all.”
“Anything else, holler,” Logic murmured. That was not bad at all, and he knew it could have gone badly if he’d gotten someone on old Mr. Morrow’s payroll. Good to know Dave was honest.
He grabbed a Thin Mint and dipped it in his coffee, breathing. Goddamn.
“We did okay.” Bailey came in after Dave headed to take his photos. “The kids are going to spend the night at Janie’s, just in case. I’ll need to go check the barns as soon as Dave is gone. I want to see for myself that he didn’t circle back and try to poison the foals or something.”
“I’ll do it, if you want. Or come with you. Whatever.” God, he was tired.
“Thanks, Bubba. I would love a lookout. Come keep me company.” She snagged a cookie. “Chocolate good.”
“Chocolate excellent. Good choice.” He winked at her. “Guess what? I shot at your not-boyfriend.”
“I know! You were cool as a cucumber, man. I was damn impressed. I want fried pickles.”
“Like right now?”
“No, in an hour or two. Okay? You make the best.”
Logic shrugged. “Sure.”
He was pretty sure he could still make that. If not, he’d find a twenty-four-hour diner in Dallas and make the drive. Hell, if she had onions and mushrooms, he would do a big fry-up. The guys back home in California loved when he did that so they didn’t have to be seen in public eating fried food.
They were all damned worried about getting caught by their trainers.
Rolling his eyes, he ate another cookie. He would find a treadmill somewhere, right?
If not, he’d run stairs for a few hours a day. Whatever got his heartrate up. The garage apartment would be great for that.
“Okay, folks. I’m going to track down Morrow. I’ll call about any paperwork or further questions.” Dave stuck his head in and waved. “Thanks for your cooperation. It would be best if that shotgun disappeared, Mr. Whitehead. Bailey.”
“Bye, Dave. Thanks.” She caught him with a glare. “Seriously?”
“What choice did I have, honey?” He knew how shit worked here. He wasn’t stupid.
“I don’t know. You could have, I don’t know, done anything but go Wyatt Earp on him?”
“I guess so. I was doing what I knew to do.” Deputy Dave wouldn’t have made the guy leave. He knew it somehow. Honest or not, faced with Morrow and the whole possession is nine-tenths thing, he would have folded.
“Yeah. Yeah, I know. The good-old-boy system runs deep here. That’s why I didn’t call them.”
“Exactly. Especially when it’s a name like Morrow.” He shook his head. “Leave it to you, Sister.”
“He’s crazy, Bubba. Like genuinely.”
“The old-money rich ones are. Inbred or something. I wrote about that. Now I know why.”
She snorted. “There’s not much you haven’t written by now. You’re like a steampunk weird West Game of Thrones.”
“It’s a talent. I blame you.”
“Me?” Now she really did scowl at him. “Why?”
“You want the bullshit answer or the real one?” He had both on tap.
“I want the real one, dork.” They both grabbed more cookies, then dunked in concert.
“You never once told me I was full of shit. Not once. Not for the robots, not for the comic books, not for Star Wars or Firefly or anything.” She’d let him believe, in the middle of a shit show. She’d really let him believe.
She flushed a little,