“What can we do?” Joa couldn’t think of anything, but he had to ask.
Nate shrugged. “Ace is dealing with the money part. Just keep the fucking reporters away from things, I guess.”
“We will help as much as we can.”
Beau came out from around a corner. “Sure. Sure. Nate?” Beau jerked his head back from where he’d appeared.
Nate followed, Sam Bell right behind.
Joa watched Beau start talking and Nate shake his head. Nate’s face was dark as a thundercloud.
He frowned. Coke must be bad. Real bad.
It was a shame. The man was a legend.
Beau’s face went red, and he shook his head, holding up his hands. Sam got all tight-lipped, folding his arms over his chest.
Joa blinked at Balta, who motioned for him to keep quiet.
Right. They didn’t involve themselves in the Americans’ problems. Not ones of the personal kind.
When Nate came back, leaving Sam and Beau deep in conversation, Balta put a hand on the man’s broad shoulder. “Do you need some food,amigo?”
“I don’t think I can, man. I gotta figure out who’s gonna stay when I have to go. I gotta work the rodeo for the next three days.”
“We’ll work it out.” Nodding at him, Balta smiled. “Joa and I can stay for two more days before we have to go. We can help, huh, Joa?”
“Yeah. Yeah, sure. No problem.”
Nate smiled. “Good deal. He won’t wake up and start fighting for at least a couple days.”
“We’ll help watch over him.” Balta was a good man, no matter what he said.
“Thanks.” Nate rubbed the back of his neck, grabbing his phone as it rang again.
Balta turned to him, putting a hand on his arm. “I think we need to get Nate a sandwich, at least.”
“Sim. I’ll go.” Sandwich. A coffee. A cupcake. Chocolate.
“Obrigado, doce.”
“I’ll go, too.” Sam Bell smiled at him, hands in his pockets.
They headed down the hall, following signs. “Nate okay?”
“He’s pissy. I guess I cain’t blame him.” Sam shrugged. “That was a good ride in the short go, Joa.”
“Thanks. It’s a good event for me.”
“It is. You and Montana, man.” They got to the tiny cafeteria, which was mostly closed. There was a bored girl at one register, and a case of refrigerated premade snacks.
He grabbed two for Nate and the entire basket of wrapped cookies. Someone would eat them.
“You guys here for the rodeo clown?” the girl asked with a pop of her gum. “I heard that was bad.”
“He’s not a clown, ma’am.” Sam’s lips pulled back from his teeth, but it wasn’t a smile. “Mr. Pharris is cowboy protection.”
Joa nodded. “A bullfighter.”
