“Joa brought coffee.”
“Yeah? Thanks. I…” Beau sat down with a thump, the chair groaning.
Raul glanced at him, then moved away, coming back with a pillow and a blanket only moments later. Balta smiled his thanks, because Beau needed to rest, if not sleep. “Joa has a deck of cards in the truck.”
“I’ll go get them.” Joa took off, and Raul got the pillow between Beau’s head and the wall.
“Y’all are coddling me,” Beau accused, but he didn’t protest otherwise.
“Shut up, Cajun. The others will be here soon. Coke. The others.”
“Oui? Is that good?” Beau opened his eyes, one pupil a slightly different size.
“Pharris is always good,” Balta said.
“Sim. He always has a plan.” Raul offered Beau a hand. “Raul.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re burning up the arena. I remember.”
Raul smiled a bit, but Balta could tell he didn’t understand a word. He chuckled, translating quickly.
“Ah!” Raul flushed with pleasure, Balta thought. “That means much from a man like you,senhor.”
Beau nodded, then just stared at Balta, eyes lost. “It looks bad, Silva. Real bad.”
“No. No, the doctors, they will fix it. He will come home to you.”
“From your mouth to God’s ear, buddy. I just want to sleep.”
“Nao.” He snapped out the denial. “Doc says five hours at least.”
“Five hours?” Beau glared at him like he was pure evil, like he was the demon he knew himself to be.
“I’m sorry. We’ll play cards. If you sleep, I will let Coke sing.”
“God, anything but that, Silva. I swear, he’s a bullfrog.”
Joa came back with cards, laughing when he overheard. “He is a bulldog.”
Then Joa began to howl, and Beau actually chuckled, at least a tiny bit. Raul offered Power bars around, and they settled in to play cards. Balta didn’t know how long Sam’s surgery would take, but he would not leave Beau.
They would stay until Sam Bell looked at him, spoke to him.
Balta owed that to his friend Sam, owed it to the cowboy code. He checked in with Joa and Raul, who seemed to be settled in for the long haul, proud that his Brazilians were ready to fight the hard fight with Sam.
