“How’s the hand, Nutbutter?” Gramps asked.
“Getting better all the time.”
“Good. That was some quick thinking today.” Mr. Coke nodded like that was that, so at least he wasn’t gonna yell.
“Had to do something, huh?”
“Yup.” Those hazel eyes landed on him. “Carry a knife on you, next time.”
“Yessir. Like a bullfighter, no?”
“You know it. You’re a damn good safety man. You should do that work more often.”
He beamed. No one had ever said that to him before. It meant a lot, coming from Mr. Coke. Fearless Coke Pharris was everyone’s hero, including his.
Dillon nodded. “I’ve never seen anyone leap off a horse onto a buckin’ bull. Steers, sure…”
Landon ducked his head a little, not sure if that was good or bad.
“Shit, cowboy, not even Tag has done that.”
“I needed to help,” Landon murmured, trying to make them understand.
“I can tell. You got it in you, the angel thing.” Coke sounded so sure, and it soothed him, deep.
Mr. Sam wandered out, then. “There you be all.”
“Hey, Sammy. Have a sit.” Dillon motioned to another chair with his iced tea.
“I do.” Sam sat. “Nice night.”
“It is.” Mr. Coke lit all up with a goofy smile. “Y’all should get a pool.”
“Shit. Have big damned lizard teeth in it, we did.”
“Ain’t that why you got the dogs? To hunt ’gators?” Surely Coke was joking. Bloodhounds like Beau and Sam raised weren’t ’gator dogs.
“Nope. Dogs is for rugs,” Sam said, motioning at Daisy, who lay on a rag rug by the back door.
“I ain’t never seen a dog liked hunting cocodries. Nutria, though? They love that.” Landon took the dogs to get them beasties a lot. Otherwise they ruined the walls of the ditches and you had floods.
“The bassets hunt those when we come down.” Dillon rolled his eyes. “Someday they’ll drown.”
“The Cajun got them floaties, cowboy.”
Landon almost choked on a shrimp. Oh, Lord. “I’d pay to see that, Gramps.”
“Bassets are heavy.” Coke nodded solemnly.
“They got some bones,” Sam agreed.
“Yes, sir.” Them pups were heavy as all get out. Adam’s legs were probably asleep in there, in the kitchen, where Adam was without him.
He glanced over his shoulder, feeling the weight of someone’s stare on the back of his neck.
Adam stood there, staring at him from under the brim of his Stetson. Landon couldn’t see those mossy eyes, really, but he knew Adam was thinking hard. Not holding a basset hound anymore, either.
Landon looked away, refusing to do anything. He’d done said his piece.
