“They might.” He would think about it. Maybe get Joa to go shopping with him. “You should come to my ranch, huh? Take a few days on the next break. I have a pool now.”
“Yeah? Is there decent hunting out there?”
“There is. Deer, javelina. Quail.” Balta wasn’t fond of bird hunting, though.
“Javelina, huh? You got a pit to smoke one in?” Sammy’s leg started to bounce.
“Please, I am from Brazil. I know how to do barbecue, yeah?” He rolled his eyes, grinning hugely.
“Yeah. Yeah, well, I’ll talk to Beau, but I’ll be there, one way or the other, I think. Come hang out with you.”
“That sounds good.” Poor Sam. He could have been champion of the world a hundred times over if he could have stayed healthy one whole season.
“It does. We’ll see if you remember what I taught you about poker.”
“Oh, ho. I will make you play volleyball.” Watching American cowboys play volleyball was hilarious.
“So long as you don’t make my ass play soccer, man.”
“No, no. And it is football.” They had this argument many times, the Americans insisting on calling their sport football, even though only one man used his feet.
“Nope. Football has helmet, pads, quarterbacks, tailgate parties.”
“Ai.” This time he did roll his eyes. “Is there more beer?” His foot throbbed like it needed to come off.
“It’s your cooler, man.” Still, Sammy leaned over, got them both another and readjusted the ice on his ankle.
“Ah. Thank you.” They could sit for a while, wait for Doc to come back with the cast. If Doc remembered.
Of course, if Doc didn’t, Sammy would.
Balta believed it.
He rode.
He rode so well he won the short go and he had a check and moved into the top ten.
Beau Lafitte took the event, but Beau was a champion, like Balta, so that was good. There was no shame in losing to that cowboy.
None.
Joa headed down to the locker room, whistling under his breath. There were a group of guys around one door, whispering and chuckling.
Oh,Deus. Someone was being evil to someone.
Someone, he thought it was Eduardo, was taking pictures with his phone, and someone else was telling Kynan to shut his mouth. Beau poked Joa on the shoulder from behind. “What was, Joa?”
“Nao sei.” He stretched, staring. “Ah. Balta and Sam. Uh. Napping.”
Together. And drooling. A lot.
Beau had to push through to see. He was not so tall. Then he laughed, the sound hearty and happy. “Lookit that, man.”
Joa shook his head, chuckling under his breath. Bell’s eyes popped open, the bright green bloodshot and wide.
Balta jerked awake, too, one hand coming up to wipe his mouth. “Oi. We fell asleep, huh?”
“Yeah. We’re old fucks, Brazilian.”
