Let It Go (3 page)

“Judge Buchanan, you asshole.” The deputy sighed. “One day, Eli, you’re going to push him too far and he’s going to lock you up for real.”

“And one day he’ll kiss my lily-white ass and pink and green kittens will burst forth, with wings.” Eli laughed and sat up as they turned onto a paved drive that led up to a low, flat ranch-style house baking in the Florida sun. Spread out behind it were several buildings, including a horse stable. “Welcome to Casa del Mason … such as it is.”

“This is yours?” Creed waited for the deputy to spring them from the back of the cruiser. He watched as Sly pulled the dually past the cruiser toward the stables. “What do you run?”

“Couple hundred head of beef cattle; there were more when my dad was alive. I’m not that into the whole ranch thing. I breed and sell the calves for cash, that’s about as busy as it gets around here anymore.” Eli climbed out first, stretching his stocky torso as he went. He looked tired and angry, Creed thought as he caught a glimpse of the man’s eyes before Eli headed over to help with the horse trailer.

“This used to be a showplace. Back when his parents were alive.” The deputy walked beside Creed to the stable where Sly was maneuvering the trailer inside with Eli’s direction. “His uncle took him away and let the place go. Don’t let him fool you about the cattle; he spent a few years buying stock to replace what his uncle sold off.”

“I thought you had it in for Eli, listening to you talk to him.” Creed couldn’t help noticing the change in tone now that Eli wasn’t around.

“He was my best friend when we were kids. When he came back he was changed. You know him better than I do,” the deputy said with a shrug.

“All I know about Eli is that he likes to drink, loves to start shit, and doesn’t like to lose,” Creed replied, wondering if maybe the deputy was putting him on. Someone couldn’t change that much, could they?

“And that’s more than I know now. Listen, Dickson, try to stay away from him as best as you can. This little experiment probably won’t last more than a few days before the judge lets him off the hook and drops the charges. Happens too often. Sorry you got caught in the middle this time.” The deputy slapped him on his shoulder in way of apology, but Creed was busy running everything that had happened this morning through his mind. Too much didn’t add up, and all of it sure as hell didn’t sit right with him.

“What’s the deal with him and the judge anyway?” He really didn’t expect the deputy to answer, and the one he got nearly floored him.

“Judge Buchanan is Eli’s godfather.” The deputy gave him a curious look as if he should have known that. How the hell was he supposed to know anything about Eli Mason? Besides what Eli’s fist felt like upside his head, he knew nothing and cared even less.

“Whoa, big fella.” Creed heard the familiar, hated voice from across the yard, a hint of panic in his words. He raced to catch up before Eli could do something stupid like spook the hell out of his horse. “Creed, man, come help with your horse before he kicks the shit out of me.”

“Get the hell out of the way, Eli, don’t you know better than to … never mind, it’s good that you switched to bulls.” Creed elbowed his way past the shorter man, his hand on the hindquarter of the startled animal. “Whoa, boy, whoa, it’s okay, shhh, shhh…” He crept to Kipper’s head and brushed his muzzle, murmuring. “Come on boy, we’re going to be staying here for a little while. You’ll like it. Lots of green pasture to run in. Looks like a couple of fillies out there. We’re taking a break. Gonna rest up for the big game. Yeah, that’s my boy. Shh…” He walked him backward out of the trailer, the horse’s ear flicking as he listened, his soft breath flaring over Creed’s hand as he whuffled once he was on the ground. “Yeah, that’s my boy. You smell the girls, huh, or the grass, yeah, smells sweet here. You want to go run? Yeah. Me too.” The horse snuffled again; his huge brown eyes rolled back a little before he settled down.

“Well, goddamn, a fucking horse whisperer.” Eli snorted in amusement as he watched Creed’s every step. His cold brown eyes rolled almost like the horse’s, but Creed knew it was pure meanness instead of fear.

“Where do you want me to put him?” Creed hooked the lead to Kipper’s halter and started to walk him into the stable if that’s where Eli wanted him. The fillies in the pasture were hanging over the fence watching now that they smelled new horseflesh.

“Is he gelded?” Eli looked at the skittish horse and back to Creed as Sly came up carrying Creed’s saddle and the bag that held Kipper’s tack. Creed nodded. “Put him in the pasture, let him run it off. Gear in the barn. Anyone else coming out of there?” He pointed to the other two horses still in the trailer.

“No,” Creed said. He looked sadly at the animals he’d cared for these past few months, but they weren’t his. Sly would take care of them now. “They’re heading to Texas.”

Eli nodded his understanding before turning his attention to Sly. “Are you in a hurry to get on the road? The least I can do is offer you some breakfast or something after the delay I caused. You can let the horses out for a while.”

“I appreciate it, son, but the rest of the guys are waiting to get moving. I’m gonna say so long to my boy here and get on my way.” Sly sounded tired. Old and tired.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” Eli took the saddle and tack and left them standing beside the trailer. The deputy followed, taking Kipper’s lead and walking him into the stable.

“This is bullshit, Sly, what girl?” Creed said the moment they were alone. He ran his hand through his hair trying to remember. “I don’t remember any damned girl.”

“She stepped between you and Eli before he threw the first punch; you tried to move her out of the way. You don’t remember that?” Sly half laughed as he walked back toward the truck where he’d stashed Creed’s bags. “What the hell were you looking at not to see a whole person?”

“A pair of mean sumbitch eyes. Why don’t I ever remember he’s left-handed? And mean as hell when he’s drunk. If he kills me, take care of Kip, okay? He’s all I have left.” Creed took his beat-up hat and placed it on his head. His bags sat on the ground beside him. “Want me to check on the others before you head out?”

“The boys took care of them while I was at the courthouse; they’ve only been in the trailer for about an hour, so they’re fine. It’s gonna be okay, Creed. Maybe Red did you a favor.” Sly took a deep breath. He held up a hand to cut off whatever protest Creed was about to spout, not that he could find one. “I’ve been watching you, son; you’re burned out. You weren’t meant for this life. Maybe, just maybe, this will give you some time to figure out the life you want instead of following the road your daddy paved.”

“I have a GPS monitor on my ankle and a felony case pending. How is this supposed to give me time to figure anything out? I could end up in prison for something stupid. And that judge, he’s Eli’s damned godfather. What the hell, Sly? I don’t have any money to hire a lawyer. All I have is a horse and a belt buckle.”

Sly wrapped his arm around Creed’s neck, startling him so much he stopped talking and returned the hug.

“It’s going to be fine, Creed, I talked to the judge before the arraignment. He knows your situation, at least some of it. If it comes down to it, he’ll appoint you a good lawyer. Or you can do what Red told you to do. Plead guilty. Pay the fines—”

“And have a record the rest of my life. How exactly is that the smart thing to do?” Creed had absolutely no idea how he’d earned this life. Shit life, shit happened, always to him.

“Record of a misdemeanor or prison for nothing. Lesser of two evils, son. With any luck this won’t matter in a few weeks. Give me a call on the cell later tonight with a number I can reach you at. And Creed, don’t kill him; he might deserve it but try to resist the urge.” Sly hugged him again and with one last check of the truck he climbed inside. “Close up the back, will you? I’ve got a lot of road to travel today.”

“Be careful, old man,” Creed called out with a wave after he secured the back of the trailer, and then he was standing in the middle of fucking Florida looking out over acres of green fields without actually seeing a thing.

* * * *

Dust from the road still lingered in the air when Eli found himself alone with Creed. He stood in the stable archway trying to decide how this could get any worse. Creed was quiet. Tall, proud shoulders, chin held high, jaw clenched. Quiet. The quiet unnerved Eli more than anything else about the man. That and the occasional spoken truth that always came out of his mouth like a fist. That first day. Yeah, Eli wasn’t as good a rider as Creed. Truth. Slam. Upside the head.

He looked to the ground, spotting Creed’s bags. One beat-up leather suitcase that looked as if it came from a prior century, possibly the one before the last one. And one grungy Army surplus canvas duffel that looked to be about half full. Was that all he had? A horse, a saddle, and two bags of belongings? Pitiful.

“Come on, let’s get you someplace to crash for as long as you’re here, and later we’ll talk about how we’re going to get through this fucked-up situation.” Eli bent to retrieve the suitcase, expecting it to be heavy; it practically flew off the ground when he lifted it. “Jesus, Creed, is this all you have? Where’s all your shit, man?”

Creed turned those damned green eyes on him and for a moment he forgot what he was saying or thinking. The stark vulnerability he saw in the other man’s eyes sent Eli reeling. But then that second of pain turned to anger. “It’s all my shit. You got a problem with traveling light? I bet you have to haul around an entire suitcase for your hair care products alone.”

“Well, damn, he has a mouth after all. I thought for a minute you’d been struck dumb. Grab your bag,
Creed
. I stink and I’m hungry and I don’t want to stand out here sweating while we argue about nothing.” Eli didn’t wait for him to find his voice again; instead he started for the house, his keys digging a hole in his palm. He was supposed to leave today, the place was a mess, and his housekeeper was off for a few days. “I might have to send out for food. I should have thought of that while we were still in town.”

“What’s the deal with these houses?” Creed had sniffed in a condescending fashion about the possible lack of food. Eli had no idea what he meant about the houses. “Everywhere in Florida. This concrete-block-style house. I’ve always wondered.”

“Hurricanes, man, don’t you know anything?” Eli smiled to take the edge off the words as he opened the door to the mudroom. “The Florida Ranch, popular all over the state. Stacked cinderblock with stucco to make it smooth; all we have to replace is the roof when one roars across the state. And since we’re about forty miles from the coast that is more often than I care to think about.”

“Makes sense, but why pink?” Creed actually laughed at that. “Dude, you live in a pink fucking house.”

“My mom wanted a pink house, so my dad had it painted pink. Nothing wrong with that.” Eli felt his mood shift back to lousy. He didn’t want to travel down memory lane with Creed fucking Dickson. Hell, he didn’t want Creed fucking Dickson in his house. But there he was taking up way too much room with those long arms and legs and—shut the fuck up, Eli.

“Didn’t say there was.” Creed looked around the tiled floor house at the old furniture and photos of too many decades back. Eli looked too; he hadn’t really since he’d moved back in the winter after he turned nineteen. Nine years. He hadn’t looked at anything in nine years. Run-down, outdated. Family pictures he didn’t want to see. Some beach paintings side by side with horse paintings. Strange mishmash of his parents’ interests. “You need to maybe touch it up some, it’s faded.”

Eli snapped his head around to look at Creed. He’d forgotten he was here. The family portrait of his parents and little brother over the mantel left him unable to breathe. Gone. All of them gone. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

He dragged Creed’s bag through the house to what had been the guest room back in the day. “I have no idea how long ago those sheets were changed. I’m sure there are some clean ones around here somewhere. We can wash later. There’s a bath. There might even be towels. I have a housekeeper come in a couple times a week so it’s clean at least. I’ll let you know her schedule so you can pick up your shit. She doesn’t pick up clothes off the floor. But she’ll wash what’s in the hamper.”

“I can do it myself.” Creed moved into the room and looked around. There was nothing here. Not one memory. This was a safe room. “I thought you were going to make me sleep in the barn.”

“Well, if you’d rather. I think there’s a cot out in one of the stalls. You seem to be part horse anyway.” He meant it as a joke, not that Creed with his sharp facial features had a horse face or anything, but the look the man gave him said that was how he took it. “Listen, Creed, I’m sorry about all this. Judge Dickhead isn’t usually such a hard-ass. We’ll get this straightened out and I’ll get you home to Texas. In the meantime, I guess I could use someone to help me out. My stables are a mess. The judge was right. I’ve ignored my horses. I’ve got a couple of mares in brood. And I fired my foreman in May. I pay pretty good. And room and board I guess for you and your horse. It’s not a big-ticket win, but it should equal out in the end, you know.”

Creed stood in the room, watching him with those eerie eyes as Eli raced and stammered his way through that speech. He tapped his beat-up hat against his leg. Damn, why didn’t he say something instead of staring at him like that? Eli felt the weight of Creed’s gaze burrowing into his brain, clawing and digging a hole through his confidence with every second that passed. “Wyoming,” he said finally as he tossed his hat on the dresser beside an ancient television set.

“Okay … What?” Eli’s whirling thoughts came to an abrupt halt with that one little word.

“I’m from Cheyenne, Wyoming, not Texas. Just because we met in Texas doesn’t mean I’m from there. But you didn’t even know my last name until this morning, did you?”

Eli started to deny the accusation; he even opened his mouth to tell Creed how full of shit he was, but damn, he wasn’t. “I never got past your pussy first name to even consider that you might have a last name. And what the hell did it matter where you were from?”