Andy snorted. “He’ll be back by the finals.”
Jason nodded. “Even if it kills him.”
“There you go.” They all smiled, knowing Coke’s determination. The man didn’t have an ounce of quit. “Missy’s looking ragged. Y’all need to help out more.”
Andy flipped Beau off, and Jason ducked his head.
“Hey, now. I ain’t bitchin’.” He wasn’t. Not yet. “But she’s pregnant again, and she needs you to cowboy up, okay?”
Jason flushed dark. “Maybe we oughta go back to Momma’s, Bax.”
“Oh, stop it. It gets too much, she can call in the family brigade, and we’ll go see Gramps.” Andy slapped Jason’s leg.
Jason jumped, then snorted, breaking out into a grin. “Where the fuck is AJ? The sorry bastard never rides a full season.”
“He’s supposed to be home soon.” Beau chuckled, but Jason was going to have to…learn to do shit, right? Like normal, everyday bullshit. No one rode forever, seeing or not. “Missy gave him fits on the phone.”
“Good on her. She’s been a trouper.” Jase’s grin faded a little bit, but didn’t disappear altogether. “Me and Bax have been taking Benj a lot, but that’s it.”
“That has to be a help. I bet we can do better, though.” Beau was good at organizing things, and Sammy was good at making them happen.
“Yeah. Yeah, we can.” Sammy sat on the edge of the chair, leg swinging.
“Oh, now, Andy, get that look off your face.” Beau was ready to start whacking things. “I mean all four of us, together.”
Sam kicked Andy’s leg. “You need to have a fight, man? We can go outside and beat the shit out of each other, iff’n you want.”
Andy stared a minute, then jerked his head toward the door. Lord. Beau would bet they ended up talking more than swinging, but it didn’t make no nevermind.
Sam’d give Andy what he needed, and him? He’d talk Jase out of that white-knuckled grip on the Coke.
They’d figure it. Jason was talking to him, had explained why they’d drifted off.
It made all the difference in the world, and he’d do whatever he had to. Whatever Jason needed.
Sammy leaned against the barn,catching his breath. There’d been some blows, but neither of them was trying to hurt nobody. Now it was time for beer. And bitching.
“You got any beer squirreled away out here, man?” He knew that Jason wasn’t drinking, but damn.
“I do. Come on.” Andy had a split lip, but it was the way his shoulders sagged that worried Sam.
“I’m right behind you.” They were fixin’ to work this shit out, one way or the other. This wasn’t Andy Baxter, not at all.
Andy led him back to the tack room, where there was a little fridge tucked away. Andy pulled out a couple of Buds. “Here.”
“Thanks, man.” He settled. “So, is Coke talking out of his ass?”
“Whut?” Andy’s brows went up. “Oh, you mean about Jason riding? No. He can do it. Hell, if he keeps his eyes open, it’s like he was never hurt.”
“No shit?” He popped his top. “That’s fucking cool. So, why’re you all strung tight?”
“Why?” Andy stared now, eyebrows snapping down. “He cain’tsee, Sammy. Are you stupid?”
That was a loaded goddamn question. “Sometimes, yeah. I mean, it sucks, but he ain’t dead or limp-dicked or crippled up or nothin’. He likes dogs.” They gave blind people dogs, right?
“He told me he wanted me to take care of his momma, Sammy. Before we got him riding. He was gonna…” Andy’s fists clenched, and Sam thought maybe they ought to whale on each other some more.
“Shit. Well, thank God he got you to kick the shit out of him.” He reckoned it was one of them things, though. Being hurt bad made you all woe is me sometimes.
