Page 88 of Cowboy Heat

He has a gun in the back of his jeans.

His friend is slower to rush into what he must perceive is new danger. It’ll cost him. I yank the gun out and unlock the second door.

It’s only after the fact that I think on what might’ve happened had the man gone through the second bedroom and not the one I’d run in from.

Instead, right now I run into the open space, and it’s as empty as the rest of the Fulton house.

I could keep going. I could run into the hall and maybe sneak my way back downstairs. Leave the house. Run any way I want and come to someone who could help me.

I could be safe and certain and never know what it’s like to shoot a gun.

But I think of Beau when I whirl around and look back into the bathroom.

I think of him smiling at me, his scar shining.

I think of him slouched downstairs, bleeding and unconscious.

I think of Micah and him standing together and looking out at the ranchland.

I see the other man walk up to the doorway of the bathroom opposite me, Grant unconscious between us.

He has a gun in his hand, but I’m already aiming at him.

Now I don’t think of anything at all.

I squeeze the trigger.

CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT

Beau

I’m twelve.

I know it as sure as I know something is wrong. That I’m wrong. That I’m dreaming? Maybe I can wake up?

Maybe I’m dead.

I wake up in my bed, sweating.

It was a nightmare, and I’m finally awake.

I’m twelve again.

The house I’m staying in is cluttered. There are boxes and dirt and little toys smooshed into every corner. I’m in my room, but I can’t see it. Then I’m in the kitchen, and Martha and Ray are there. I know we’re talking about the movies and how I shouldn’t have gone to see one alone. They’re sorry they don’t have time to take me.

They’re fighting about money. Ray hates his job.

He yells at Martha.

She yells at me.

I’m on the front porch now, and I know Maximus is there too. I can’t really see his face. I still know it’s him.

He’s mad.

He doesn’t like Ray and Martha, but he really doesn’t like Deaton Brennan.

“Let’s go,” he says, and there’s a bat in his hands. It’s wooden and chipped. The paint is faded red.