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“We gonna arrest those guys who beat us up?”

“Yeah, we’ll get around to it. Soon as we have room for them in our jail.”

Harlan laughed and held onto his side.

“What’s wrong with your side?” I crossed the kitchen and made him pull up his shirt.

“Banged it on the truck bumper when that fucker tackled me. I wasn’t ready for him, and I should’ve been. My own stupid fucking fault. I’m a better fighter than that.”

“That’s a nasty scrape. You need salve and a bandage over that whole area. I’ll fix it as soon as I have a coffee.” I filled a mug, sat down, and swilled down three Advil.

It was tough going at the barn to get through the chores, but we forced ourselves to get ‘er done. It looked a lot like rain, so Harlan wanted to leave the horses in the barn.

We cleaned up and got ready for work, both of us starving for breakfast, but I didn’t feel up to cooking anything.

“We’ll grab breakfast at the diner. It’ll save time and save me having to stand at the stove.”

Harlan nodded. “How bad did they hurt your fucked-up leg?”

“Bad enough. The fucker is so swollen, I’m lucky I can walk on it.”

“Molly’s gonna notice we’re beat up,” said Harlan, wincing as he touched his face near his very black eye.

I laughed.

Sheriff’s Office. Coyote Creek.

Molly had fed the prisoners and made coffee for them by the time Harlan and I got to the station. I sent him across the road to get our breakfast while I made more coffee in the break room. I hesitated to let Molly see what a mess I was.

I didn’t bother going into the run until after Harlan and I had eaten something, and we were feeling a little more like working.

Ted showed up and he was definitely better than he’d been on Friday. At least the weekend did somebody some good. “Have a coffee, Ted. You seem better.”

“Yep, lots better. I think I can work today.”

“Great. We’ve got a lot to do, and we can use the help.”

“What happened to you guys?” he asked.

“Art Andrews happened,” I said. “I didn’t have the goods to arrest him and his junkie cousin.”

“We can go get the fuckers up at the trailer,” said Ted. “I hated Art in high school, and I don’t like him any better now. He’s a prick.”

My mood was one of the worst ever after what I’d done to myself and my family on the weekend, so I was none too gentle cuffing Hannah Hargrove and handing her out of her cell to Ted. He stood at the open door waiting to take her to the squad.

She spun on me like the vicious witch she was, dug in with her fingernails and ripped a painful strip of skin off of my cheek.

“Ow,” I hollered and gave her a healthy shove towards Ted. He grabbed hold of her while I swiped at the stream of blood running down my face. “Get this bitch out of here, Ted.”

I managed better with Rick Samuels, Hannah’s hired hand. He had to lean on his crutch in order to walk and he was less dangerous than Hannah. I couldn’t cuff his hands together until he got to the squad outside and didn’t need the crutch any longer.

Going out the back door of the station, I hollered to Harlan, “You and Molly book the two new rustlers and log their lassos into evidence.”

“Copy, boss. We’ve got it covered.”

Molly took Carl Spofford out of his cell first and started the booking process with him. Harlan put him back in his cell when they were finished and brought out Dan Creighton.

Both of the rustlers had been wounded by Annie-girl during their capture and their right arms were disabled with stitches and bandages. They didn’t have much to say during their bookings.