“How did you annoy him?” Rael asked, getting closer to the dad, who looked spooked by the face paint.
The guy in the black leather vest described how he messed with the dad and his chair for the remainder of the flight.
Of course, we found that funny. The dad deserved it.
“Well, since you shared your run-in with us, let us tell you why we’re dealing with them. This little punk ran right through us. He bumped into and shoved several of us as he demanded we get out of his damn way.” Grim shook his head. “I’m not used to kids acting that way. None of ours do.” He shot the dad a glare. “Saw this guy hurrying over, but he didn’t bother to say sorry or excuse me. He just grabbed his kid’s arm and tried to walk off with him. We decided it was an opportunity to teach both of them some manners.”
Mammoth folded his arms over his chest and took a step closer to the pair. I had to admit, he looked scary as fuck with arms as big and round as tree limbs and all his ink.
“I get why you’d want to, but I’m afraid they’re beyond help. They’ll do this until one day they pay dearly for it. You can’t change the stupidity in some people. It’s a pity the boy is growing up to be worse than his parents.” The guy in black leather briefly cut his gaze to the father. “God forbid he ever procreates. Sorry for disturbing you. I’ll leave you to it. Be safe riding and keep the rubber side down,” he added.
When he turned to walk away, Grim halted him. “Wait. Why don’t you hang around for a few minutes? We’re done with these two. Can’t exactly beat this jackass with so many witnesses around. And though the boy needs an ass whoopin’, that’s his parents’ job. Have a drink with us. Unless you’re meeting someone,” Grim offered.
“Sure. I can have a drink. I do need to meet my friend in a bit, but I’ve got time.”
“Good.” He turned to the father and son. “As for the two of you, you should thank God that we didn’t run into you elsewhere. Mister, if we meet again, you’d better have changed your attitude and taught your kid manners. He’s gonna live a hard life if you don’t. As for you, you’ve got to have had your ass beaten a lot. It should’ve set you straight. Stop telling your kid you can whoop people’s asses. You’re a pussy, and you know it. Next time, someone is gonna prove it.”
“Yeah, you’re the kind I like to meet in the dark and take my time with,” Rael sneered before he gave him a spooky grin.
“I like to play with weasel dicks like you, too,” Mammoth added, dropping his arms and stepping forward.
There was an audible squeal from the dad. He turned a sickly pale color, and his eyes grew so round that I thought they might pop outta the sockets. His mouth opened, but no other sound came out.
His son still struggled to get loose, but the father seemed to regain what little sense he had. Wrestling with the child, he dragged his son off so fast his sneakers kicked up dust behind them. Never saw anything quite like that. The father never turned his back on us.
We stood there watching until they disappeared from sight. Once they left, none of us could hold back our laughter.
We grabbed a few beers afterward. Grim insisted on buying one for the guy in black leather.
“What’s your name, stranger?” Mammoth asked.
“It’s Cowboy. I can see all of your names. Thank God for cuts. Where’s Tonopah at?”
“Tonopah is about two hundred miles from here. We’re almost smack in the middle between Vegas and Reno,” Mammoth explained.
Rael ticked his chin toward Cowboy. “You seem to know some biker lingo. I doubt your family named you Cowboy. Is thata nickname? You wouldn’t happen to be in a club, would you?” Rael’s eyes narrowed, looking at him as the Sergeant-at-Arms and a bit wary.
“No, my parents didn’t name me that,” Cowboy answered carefully. “I should know a lot about bikers since I am one, as you guessed. It’s not a local club, hence the reason I’m not wearing my colors. I don’t step on other clubs’ toes or mess with their territories.”
Ah, that made sense. I could tell the others appreciated it.
“What brings you to the rodeo? You said you’re meeting a friend later. Is he from your club, too?” Grim asked.
I didn’t blame him for wanting to learn all we could about Cowboy. Trust was earned. He should know that.
“No, he’s an old rodeo buddy. He’s always here at the finals. It’s been a few years since I’ve seen him,” Cowboy admitted.
“He works at the rodeo?” I asked, curious. “Or is he one of the contenders?”
“Actually, he’s the veterinarian for the event. He’s never ridden, but he sure fixed up our horses and cattle if he could.”
“Goddamn! I knew I recognized you! You’re Zander Brashears, the former World Bull Riding Champion. I remember watching you ride and win the title.”
This was the first time Patriot spoke. He mostly looked menacing before now, taking in all the conversation and information like he was cataloging it for later use. His name fit his appearance, since I could see military-themed ink on his skin and a bandana wrapped around his head that looked like an American flag. I bet he was a veteran Marine.
“Yeah, that would be me, but these days I go by Cowboy.”
“I’ve got to shake your hand. Brothers, this guy is a legend. That ride was one of the best I’ve ever seen. And then you retired right after. You were so young,” Patriot mused.
