Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 60342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
“Oh, you know that bullshit wedding they had going on in Brickfield. Brought half of California with ’em. I ain’t been able to get a damn thing done over there in a week. But now it’s over, and we can go back to normal.” He takes a bag of tobacco out of the front pocket of his overalls. “Surely, you heard about that mess.”
I heard about it all right.
My jaw sets, and I head toward the stalls my grandfather worked in as a farrier and his father before him. The nostalgia I usually enjoy here is overrun with Cotton’s gossip.
“Do you mind if I do Moe first?” I ask.
“That’s fine.” He spits in the dirt. “You oughta take a lesson from this fiasco.”
I give Moe a scratch before leading her to the clean, dry spot Cotton prepared for us. He stands in the doorway instead of returning to the house like usual. Great. Just my luck.
“What kind of a lesson?” I ask, getting the horse and myself situated.
“Well, you’re still young and ain’t got married yet. Take a look at how that panned out.”
I grimace and get to work, running my hand down Moe’s leg. She picks up her foot. I start removing her old shoe.
“I’m good,” I say a little louder than necessary. “There’s no wedding on the horizon for me.”
“Ah, it’s more than that, kid. It’s how you pick a wife or a companion if ya ain’t getting married. You gotta be smart about it. Find someone tough. The world is a nasty place these days. You better find you a woman who can stand by you through it all.”
My heart pumps at Cotton’s insinuations—that Laina is weak for not going through with the marriage. You’re at work, Luke. He’s just an old man. He doesn’t mean anything by it.
He chuckles.
Fuck it. “What are you saying, Cotton? Spit it out.”
“I’m not saying nothin’, Luke. Just trying to give you some advice.”
I bite my tongue and focus on Moe. Cotton takes a call outside the stable.
Moe’s shoe comes off fairly easily, and I get to work cleaning her hoof. Thankfully, she’s not too much of a mess. She’s calmed down a lot in her old days, making her my favorite—and she knows it.
“You’re a good girl, Moe. You’re officially the only thing that’s cooperated with me in the past few days.” I glance up at her big brown eyes. “Well, you and Gavin.” I make a face at her, then get back to work. “The world might be ending, come to think of it.”
“That new kid I just hired already called in sick for tomorrow,” Cotton says, ambling back inside. “How in the hell do people pay their bills when they won’t show up for work?”
“Beats me.”
He chuckles. “Of course, you don’t know. You have the work ethic of your granddaddy.”
I keep my head down but nod in appreciation of the compliment. I’m still too pissed about his earlier advice to play too nice.
“Did you ever know your grandmomma?” Cotton asks.
“No. She died the year Mallet was born, I think.”
“That’s a shame. She was one hell of a woman.”
I wipe my brow with the back of my hand. “I’ve only heard good things about her. But people don’t generally tell you all the shitty things someone does once they’re gone.”
“I’ll tell ya.” He spits again. “Your grandaddy went to the grave owing me fifty bucks from a poker game.”
I snort without looking up.
“It was late one night,” he says. “A bunch of us were up at The Wet Whistle trying to stay out of trouble, and someone decided a poker game was the ticket. That was back when you could have alcohol wherever you wanted because the feds weren’t sticking their nose into everything like they are now.”
“Yeah, you can’t do that now.” I fit a new shoe onto Moe’s hoof. “Unless you’re in a casino, I don’t even think you can drink and play poker in the same place.”
“The world has gone to hell.”
I chuckle.
“Anyway, your grandaddy borrowed fifty bucks from me on the last hand and lost his ass.” Cotton’s belly jiggles as he laughs. “I never let him live it down.”
“Want me to pay you back?”
“Hell, no. I shoved another fifty in his casket just so he’ll owe me double when I see him next.”
I shake my head, not sure what sense that makes. But whatever.
“You look like him, you know that?” Cotton asks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were your grandaddy workin’ on that horse.”
Why are you doing this today?
“Listen to me,” he says, chuckling again. “I’m getting old and soft.”
“It happens to the best of them.”
“That it does.”
I sense his proximity growing closer. I finish Moe’s shoe and look up. Cotton stands with his hands on his hips, a wad of chew in his lip, staring at me.