He pushes one across to me without looking up. I sit in the leather chair across from him and pick it up.
"Five days I’ll be gone," he says.
"Enjoy them. You hardly ever get away from here."
He looks at me then.
The blue Lyle eyes, the sandy-red beard, the lines at the corners of his eyes that he didn't have the first time I met him a decade ago.
"Blaze runs church if church needs to happen. Spur takes the ranch operations. Banshee's got the gate. Thunder has protection."
"Yes, Prez."
"But… you run security operations. I need your eyes, Rogue. Anybody walks up to my fence, you handle it. Hartley pings, you handle it. Todd does somethin' stupid, you handle it. You don't wait on me. You don't wait on Blaze. You don't wait on a vote."
"Understood."
"You handle it the way you handle it. I won't ask the question."
"Yes, Prez."
He's quiet for a moment as he takes a sip of coffee. "Grace told me about your woman."
"Nothing ever stays quiet around here."
"No, it sure doesn’t."
"Yeah."
He almost smiles. "She's been worth waitin' for, brother."
My throat tightens before I can stop it. "Yes, sir."
Phantom stands up and so do I.
He comes around the cypress desk and clasps my forearm—the Lyle-brother grip, his hand wrapping the Shotgun Saints patch tattooed on the inside of my left forearm, the patch he gave me years ago in this same office.
He holds it a second longer than usual. "Take care of my ranch, Rogue."
"You know I will, Prez."
"And take care of your woman."
"Yes, Prez."
He lets go, steps back and turns to the window like the conversation is done.
* * *
I walk back across the gravel to my cabin.
The sun's up high now. All of the dogs are awake.
Banshee's truck is pulled up by the gate and he's standing in the bed of it looking down the access road with his hat low.
I lift a hand and he lifts one back.
I let myself into my cabin, hang the hat on the hook and sit down at the desk.
