“Good match,” I say.
He shrugs. “Maybe I should fight in the city sometime.”
“You can. You have to get on the roster for those. I can call the guy…what’s his name?”
“Isn’t he also named Jensen?” Deacon says.
“Yeah, you know, I think you’re right.”
Gage appears, slapping Landis on the shoulder. “Let’s head into town. All they got is beer here tonight.”
They both want to hit the bar in West Lancaster before it closes. I’m not really a late night drinker anymore, but when we go out to the stockyards, I allow for a little more free rein than usual. Deacon glances at me, and I nod, grabbing my hat.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
It’s about three when I finally get home and sink into bed beside Della. She rolls onto her side, throwing an arm across my chest. In the dark, I lift her hand and kiss her knuckles. She sighs and snuggles close.
Then, it’s morning, and I’m peeling my tired ass out of the bed, wishing I hadn’t gone so hard last night. I’m not hungover, just too old to be up all night. It takes a cold shower and a cup of coffee in the kitchen to put some life back in me, but I’m back in the saddle by the time the front door opens.
My eldest daughter, Delia, walks down the hall. She got all my looks, light brown curly hair and blue eyes. A quick smile and a smart mouth came along with that too.
“Hey, Dad,” she says, setting her purse down. “I’m just stopping to drop off some eggs.”
Ever since they got chickens, she’s always trying to get people to take the eggs off her hands. All she does is get chickens, have too many eggs, and then keeps buying more of those damn birds, like that’ll help somehow. Her husband doesn’t say a word about it either. He’s turning her into an egg distributing menace.
“We have enough,” I say, pulling out a chair.
She sinks down, sighing. Her hand rests over her belly, almost nine months along at this point. Her husband is a good guy, some twice removed relation of my retired lawyer, Jay Reed’s, family. He worked up on Sovereign Mountain for a while then came down to train horses with Deacon. Maybe a little older than I would like at thirty-two, but I have absolutely no leg to stand on in that department.
“You want some coffee?” I ask.
She nods, blowing out a long breath. “This kid won’t sleep. I’m churning like a cement mixer all night.”
I laugh, because she really is just a female version of me, right down to the construction references.
“You sound like your mother when she was pregnant with you.”
“I don’t believe I was ever this wild.”
I set the percolator up and lean on the counter. “Not as bad as Julie-Mae. I think that was Della’s worst.”
Delia gets a look on her face, but as soon as I look over, it’s gone, replaced by a sweet smile. I narrow my eyes.
“Wait…I thought Julie-Mae was with you,” I say. “She doesn’t work morning shift.”
“She went out for coffee or something,” she says. “In Knifely.”
“We have coffee here.”
She smiles, hands folded on her belly.
“Delia,” I say. “Where is your sister?”
“She’s having coffee in Knifely.”
“With who?”
There it is, the guilty look that tells me I’ve hit the nail on the head. I turn the percolator off and set a hot cup on the table, sinking down into the chair beside her like this is an interrogation room.
