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“No problem. You seemed to be in a hurry.”
Hehadbeen in a hurry—to get away from Ellen.
The bartender returned with Hendrix’s beer, then went to make someone else a drink while Hendrix squeezed the accompanying wedge of lime into the bottle. “How do you like working with Ellen?” he asked Ben.
The kid seemed taken aback by the question. “I like it fine. I’m glad I have a job.”
“You don’t plan to go to college?”
“Nah.” He dipped some fries in ketchup. “I hate school.”
“But she treats you right...”
“We get along.”
“Somehow I didn’t expect you to say that.”
He lifted his own beer and took a long swig. “Why not?”
“She seems like a difficult person, if you ask me.”
Ben bit into his burger, then had to talk while he chewed. “She probably wouldn’t like me tellingyouthis, but she’s not as badass as she wants everyone to believe.”
“Really...”
“Really. She’d be the first person to wade out into a flood and risk drowning while trying to rescue some flea-bitten feral cat, you know?”
Ben chuckled but Hendrix didn’t. An idea had popped into his head, a way to show Ellen that there were consequences to picking a fight with him. A way to show her without having to go so far as to lose money drilling for even less than she was. “Don’t you get tired of doing all the heavy lifting while she takes home the majority of the pay?”
Ben didn’t seem to know how to answer that question. After several seconds, he took another swallow of beer, then said, “She owns the business. I figure sheshouldtake home the majority of the pay. She certainly works hard enough—harder than most men, if you want the truth.”
The respect in his voice irritated Hendrix. Because of her attitude and the way Ellen bleached her hair—or turned it pink or purple, depending on her mood—and the piercings and tattoos, most people in Coyote Canyon steered clear of her. She made her own way and didn’t apologize for it, and they didn’t like that she dared to be different.
But he was talking to someone who’d spent a great deal of time with her in the past two and a half years, and Ben clearly admired her. “She pulls her own weight, huh?” he said, still digging to see if there was an opportunity here.
“And then some.” Ben drained his glass. “What she lacks in physical strength she makes up for with determination. If we need to get something done, she figures it out. I’ve never known anybody like her.”
“Still. You gotta look out for yourself,” Hendrix said, pointing at him with his bottle of beer. “Do what’s best foryou.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I have a job opening. One of my drillers is moving at the end of the month, which means I’m going to have to replace him.”
Uncertainty descended on Ben’s face, but what Hendrix had said was true. Randy Bettencourt was relocating to Billings so he and his wife could be closer to her family when they had their first child, due in three months. Hendrix was going to have to hire someone to replace him and suddenly saw this as a way to solve both problems.
“And...” Ben prompted.
“I’m thinking the job might be of interest to you. You’ve had a couple years of experience now, and I’m assuming she’s trained you right.”
“I’m a good driller,” he said. “What’s the pay like?”
“It’d be a lot more than you’re making now. Probably twenty or thirty percent more.”
Ben put down his burger. “You’d pay me that much?”
“You’d be earning it. Heading up a drill crew comes with a lot of responsibility.”
Again, the kid didn’t seem to know what to say. After a few beats, and a long exhalation, he finally admitted, “That’s a good offer.”
