Saddle Up by CJ Bishop

CHAPTER 11

“The Message”

Goddammit!

Garland laid down on the cold metal bench bolted to the floor of the holding cell. He draped his arm over his face and cursed his fucking temper. That prick wasn’t worth it, and Garland had known it—even while he was smashing his face with a pool ball.

So, why did you let him get under your fucking skin?

He didn’t know. The excessive alcohol sure as hell didn’t help. Garland was convinced he would have walked away from the asshole if he’d goaded him about anything other than…

Heff Wilder.

Why had Slader’s bullshit rhetoric set him off like a firecracker? Because he’d accused Garland of nailing a teenager? Or because… the accusations were true?

“Fuck…” Garland swallowed hard, and his arm came up off his face, the side of his fist smacking the brick wall with force. “Fuck!” His vision blurred as he stared up at the high ceiling of the cell. Not only had he gotten his ass arrested—he’d beaten the shit out of a fucking cattle baron’s son! Harrison Slader had the power to cause a shitload of problems for Frank and the ranch if he decided to get involved—rather than let his asshole son take his licks for once in his life and maybe learn to keep his fucking mouth shut. But Harrison Slader wasn’t known for staying out of things, especially when it came to his son.

Garland might be in more trouble than he bargained for—and his shit was bound to splash over onto Frank, Mandy, and the ranch.

• ••

The storm raged outside, beating at the walls from every side. Garland opened his eyes halfway, the lids heavy like lead. The room was dark but for flickering firelight.

Where am I?

He looked at the low log ceiling for a long time before realizing he was in the hunting cabin. But how…? His head a little clearer, he vaguely recalled falling from the saddle. No… not falling… something knocked him off the horse. A tree branch ripped loose by the storm? That seemed right.

Garland could feel the lingering chill in his bones, but not nearly as bad as before. Two thick blankets covered him, generating a comforting warmth. His clothes had been removed—all but his underwear. The dream of Heff lying beside him haunted his mind. He was too exhausted to deny the disappointment of waking up and finding it really was just a dream.

What would you have done if it wasn’t a dream? Fuck him again—as if you somehow had that right?

It didn’t matter because it was a dream—

Movement in the cabin silenced the thought. Garland turned his head, and the room swayed a little. He closed his eyes against the light dizziness—then something touched him. Something… cold and wet. Garland opened his eyes again to find the hound dog nuzzling him with its nose. He stared at the animal, shocked and confused. Was he still dreaming? None of this made sense—how he got to the cabin… the fire… the dog. He didn’t remember anything between hitting the ground and waking up here.

Garland swallowed and tried to speak, his voice hardly more than a raspy, raw whisper, “What… what’re you doing here… boy?” Had the hound gotten loose and followed him, getting caught in the storm as well?

The dog whined excitedly and nuzzled him again before flopping one paw on the bunk.

“Happy to see me alive?” Garland’s throat felt inflamed and hurt like a bitch to swallow. Breathing the arctic air for God knows how long had likely done a number on the tender flesh of his throat canal. If he didn’t catch pneumonia, it would be a wonder.

Garland attempted to reach out and pet the dog, but his arms lay heavy by his side, his body fatigued to near paralysis.

“Good to… see you… too,” he mumbled as his eyes drooped closed. How he’d made his way to the cabin, built a fire, changed out of his wet clothes, and gotten into bed… was a mystery to unravel later when he had strength of mind and body. For now, he welcomed slumber. Maybe he would slip back into the dream with Heff… rather than the other. He didn’t want to go back to the other.

But as was often the way of life… one rarely got what they wanted.

• ••

“Do you want to explain how a simple trip to the auto parts store resulted in a drunken brawl—with Henry Slader of all people?” Frank practically shoved Garland out the door, not bothering to sugarcoat his frustration with his younger brother. “What the hell, Garland? You were supposed to come right home. We were going to fix the tractor tonight.”

Garland groaned when he spotted Mandy waiting in the car. “Why did you bring her?” Garland mumbled, still tipsy. “She should be home resting…” His words slurred a bit. “… not out in the middle of the night dealing with my sorry ass.”

“She wanted to come.” Frank shoved him against the trunk of the car and jabbed a finger in his face. “No more of this shit, do you understand? What the hell got into you?” He shook his head. “You know better than to get into it with Henry Slader. That guy is bad news, always has been. We can’t afford to stir up trouble with Harrison. Especially now, with…” He calmed a little, a light seeping into his eyes. “… with a baby on the way.”

Garland sagged against the trunk, a small smile forming. “She told you.”

“Yeah.”

“Happy?”

Frank ducked his head, a grin creeping across his face. “Am I happy?” He looked up. “Hell, yes, I’m happy.”

“Bring it in.” Garland swayed as he stood up and opened his arms. “Give me some love, daddy.”

Frank rolled his eyes and hugged him. “You’re still in trouble, dumbass.”

“Don’t I know it.” Garland smirked. “Mandy’s gonna kick my ass.”

Drawing back, Frank looked at him seriously. “Yeah, she is. Don’t make light of this. There’s no telling how Harrison Slader will retaliate. You could get charged with assault—go to jail. You know that. So, I’m going to ask you again—what the hell caused this?”

Garland looked away and shrugged. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Wrong time, wrong place, I guess.”

“Yeah, well, don’t expect Mandy to buy that excuse.” Frank gripped his arm when he swayed again. “Or me. Come on, get in the car, and let’s get you home—and pray for minimal fallout.” He opened the rear passenger door. “And don’t you dare puke in the car.”

“No promises.” Garland fell onto the backseat and slowly righted himself as Frank closed the door. He waited, staring at the back of Mandy’s head. It didn’t take long.

“Garland, what were you thinking?” Mandy demanded, though not quite as callous as her husband.

“I wasn’t, apparently.”

“Apparently not,” Mandy agreed. She twisted around and looked over the back of her seat, concern on her face. “Are you all right?”

“Uh-huh.” Garland smiled crookedly. “He didn’t get in one shot.”

“Well… I’m glad for that… I suppose.” She faced forward. “But don’t act proud of yourself.”

Garland looked out the side window as Frank climbed in behind the wheel. “I’m not.”

“Not what?” Frank asked.

“Proud of myself.”

“Good.” Frank buckled in and started the car. “Because you sure as shi—” he glanced at his wife and revised, “… shootin’ have nothing to be proud of. You may have really stepped in it this time.”

Garland sighed. “I know. Sorry.”

The reprimands ceased for the time being as silence settled between the three occupants. When conversation resumed, it wasn’t about Garland’s dumbass stunt.

“I’m going to call Heff when we get home,” Mandy said, the excitement coming back into her voice. “I can’t wait for his reaction—I bet he squeals, like I did.” She laughed. Frank laughed.

Garland didn’t laugh. He had hoped she’d already made the call.

“I’ll put it on speaker,” she told Frank. “So, you guys can hear. I’m serious, I bet he squeals.”

Speaker. Garland didn’t want to hear his voice. He hadn’t heard his voice for five years and didn’t want to hear it now. But Mandy wouldn’t let him leave the room, even drunk as he was. She would want him and Frank there when she gave Heff the good news.

Garland couldn’t be there.

“Pull over.”

“What?” Frank glanced back.

“Pull over… I’m gonna puke.”

Frank pulled to the curb and hardly got the car stopped before Garland shoved open the door and wretched on the sidewalk. He spat a couple times and climbed out.

“Hey…” Frank hurriedly unbuckled. “What’re you doing?” He got out and came around to the sidewalk. “Get back in the car.”

Garland wiped his mouth and leaned against a nearby parking sign, shaking his head. “If I get back in, I’ll puke in the car.” He rubbed his eyes. “I’ll get a motel room… and come home in the morning.”

“I’m not leaving you with your truck keys.”

“I’m not going to drive. I’ll just get a room and go to bed.” He raised his hand weakly. “Scout’s honor.”

“I’d rather you come home.”

Mandy rolled down her window. “What’s going on?” She looked at Garland. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “But I’m gonna get a motel room.”

“What?” She got out. “No. You’re coming home.” She glanced at Frank. “Tell him he’s coming home.”

“I did.”

“Good,” she said matter of fact. “Then we’re in agreement. Everyone, back in the car.”

“No.” Garland shook his head. “I’m getting a room. Be home tomorrow. I’m won’t cause any more trouble, I promise. Just… too sick to ride all the way home.”

“Frank…?” Mandy arched her brow at her husband, not at all on board with the plan.

Frank sighed. “It’s fine. Can you handle a ride to the motel?”

“It’s just around the block,” Garland said wearily. “I can walk.”

Frank held out his hand. “Give me your keys.”

“I said I wouldn’t drive. And I need my truck in the morning to get home.”

“I’ll come get you.” He snapped his fingers. “Your keys, now—or I’ll stuff you in the car and take you home whether you want to go or not.”

“I vote for that plan,” Mandy spoke up, dead serious.

Garland groaned and dug out his keys, dropping them in Frank’s palm. “Happy?”

“Nothing about these events has me feeling particularly happy.” He gripped Garland’s shoulder. “Now, get your butt to the motel and sleep it off. And if I find out you went anywhere but straight to the motel… I will kick your ass good and hard.”

“Not going anywhere else.”

Mandy stepped closer and Garland flinched, ducking away a bit. She squinted. “I’m not going to hit you, though you probably deserve it.” She hugged him instead. “Call one of us when you get to the motel, so we know you’re there.”

“Yes, mom.”

Mandy smiled. “I’d pop you for that except…” She moved to Frank and slid her arm around him. “… I kind of love being called mom.” She flattened her palm on her stomach. “I can’t wait for this little bundle of joy’s first word to be ma-ma.”

“Who says that’ll be his… or her… first word?” Frank countered playfully. “Maybe it’ll be da-da.”

Garland smirked; eyes heavy. “I’m bettin’ on unc’l. In fact, I plan to coach the little one.”

Mandy laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I’m serious.”

Shaking her head, Mandy grinned. “I know.”

Frank opened the door for his wife, and she climbed back inside the car. He turned to Garland. “Straight to the motel. And call us.”

Garland nodded.

When they finally drove away, he began his trek to the motel, his steps unsteady. He used the buildings for support and finally made it to his destination. As soon as he entered his room, he hurried to the bathroom and puked again, then washed out his mouth and returned to the other room where he collapsed on the bed… passing out on impact.

He woke up an hour later, remembered he was supposed to check-in, and sent a call to Frank’s cell, his apology ready.

No answer.

He called Mandy’s phone.

No answer there, either.

Sighing, still half out of it, he left her a message. “Sorry for not calling sooner, sis,” he mumbled sleepily. “But I’m here at the motel. Didn’t go anywhere else. No need to bust my berries.” Another sigh. “Sorry again for… everything. I’ll make it up to you guys, I promise. Love you.”

He dropped the cell on the nightstand and was out like a light seconds later.