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Her gasp echoes through the line and lands like lead in my gut.
“It was self-defense.” Her voice is mouse-like, so unlike anything I’ve ever heard from her.
“Bright, breathe.”
“Fuck breathing. They’re talking about arresting me. For defending myself. On my land. When my nephew was threatened. Fuck breathing.”
I pause, steadying my heart rate.
“Why would anyone who was trespassing on private property—hooded and aiming a gun at me—have any rights? Why does he deserve to be defended? He’s not the victim here. Sit me in that room, and I’ll tell a jury of my peers exactly what they can do with this subpoena.” The rest of what she says is to herself. She mumbles rhetorical questions and statements that are neither legal or law-related.
“Bright, I don’t want you anywhere near that chair in any room with any jury, grand or otherwise. I need to do some research on this. Give me a day.”
“A whole day?”
“Don’t act incredulous. This isn’t a made-for-TV movie. I need to wrap my head around this and make some calls.”
“What am I supposed to do while you’re juggling my fate and future over the course of a day?”
“Horses and vet shit.”
“Vet shit? Funny, Eli.”
“Take Luna for a walk. Go for a drive.”
“Now you’re talking. I need some Michelin therapy. It’s a beautiful day to take the top off.”
“That’s cute. When was the last time the top was on?”
“I’ll have you know that the top off in the rain is no fun, so the soft top has been in use for the last couple of weeks.”
“Poor you.”
“Let me get to work. Be safe. Love you, darlin’.”
We disconnect, and I call Jon. I get no answer but receive a text within a minute,
Jon:Can’t talk now. Will call later.
I’m in a holding pattern. There’s too much shit swirling. The election is done, sealing the deal on the conservancy if our long-shot plan doesn’t work.
I need guidance on where to go from here.
I tap the phone app and place the call.
“Well, this is a surprise.”
“Then shame on me.”
“You’re working hard. Don’t let me make you feel guilty about that,” Kimp says.
“You up for lunch?” It’s been a month since that horrible day in October, and Kimp is recovering well.
“Are we going somewhere public where I need to be seen? And do I need to bring my grandson?”
“We can go anywhere you want. I need your wisdom and that’ll come over diner food or sloppy burgers. And Colt is welcome. Your call on that.”
“How about the roadhouse in an hour? That work for you?”
