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Daryl hesitated for a few seconds, letting the situation sink in. Scotty probably served him three or four beers tonight, which was his usual for a Friday night, and I knew he was feeling the effects… could see it in his eyes.
“Fine, but next time, I won’t go holdin’ anything back, Mickey Finn. Next time, they’re gonna have to scrape you up off this here wooden dance floor, because I mopped it with your scrawny, no good, double-timing, sorry ass.”
Once again, Mickey tried his best to get at Daryl, but this time, Scotty stepped in his way and took the punch instead. He kept his footing, but both men yelled in pain, Mickey from landing the punch, and Scotty from being on the receiving end.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Scotty yelled. “You clocked me right in the face, you stupid asshole!”
Still, Mickey persisted in his aggression. I knew Scotty had been doing everything he could to block Jimmy from seeing Mickey’s misplaced anger. Both Scotty and I were his best friends, and we always had each other’s backs. Lately, however, having Mickey’s back seemed to be a full-time job.
“You were in my fucking way,” Mickey yelled, while he shook out his hand. This time, I didn’t care if anything was broken. He’d have to take himself to the ER.
Tammy, however, had come over to nurse Scotty’s bruised face.
“Fucking back off, Mick,” I told him, while standing right up against him. My voice was purposely harsh and low, so only he could hear me. “Cause if you don’t, Jimmy’s going to fire your ass right here, right now, and this time, I’m not fucking bailing you out.”
One thing Mickey knew for certain, if you wanted to keep your job, you did not, under any circumstances, annoy, bother, tease, or show even a hint of disrespect to the man who helped put a roof over your head. And in the next moments, I could see Mickey back down. He knew I was serious about my threat. There was a limit to what even I would do for him if he persisted on being a total ass-wipe.
“Let’s go, Daryl. I’m sure Donna’s home waiting for you, and she wouldn’t like it much if you had to tell her you sent Mickey to the hospital,” I told him, throwing my arm around his red-flannel-clad shoulders. I thought I’d appeal to the soft spot he had for his wife. When it came to Donna, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her, and one thing Donna hated most of all was Daryl getting into a physical fight with a friend.
Mickey had always been a family friend… at least until tonight.
Daryl may have been a professional boxer, but he was also a solid cowboy who ran a horse ranch right alongside Dusty Lasiter’s old ranch, now home to the band, Hot Sugar.
Daryl, Dusty, and Daryl’s wife Donna were once known as the unbeatable Ds. Unbeatable, because Daryl could whoop anybody’s ass who tried to cross them, and because between the three of them, they owned more land than anyone else in Sweet Whiskey. Plus, Daryl’s livestock was some of the best this side of the Rockies. When they held their yearly colt sale, ranchers and horse breeders came from miles around to pay top dollar for one of their colts. Last year, nearly two hundred people showed up to bid for twenty-six colts, the price ranging anywhere from thirty-five hundred dollars to ten thousand. It was all about the lineage of the horse and what that horse would be trained for over the winter while it was weened from its mother. The new owner bought the horse in early summer and brought it home that following spring.
“You want to tell me about it?” I asked Daryl once we were sitting inside my truck, and I’d pulled out of the parking spot behind Dirty Coyote.
“Nothin’ to tell. Mickey’s a bullshitter, is all,” he huffed out the words like he was still pissed that he had to even mention Mickey’s name.
“Yeah, so what else is new?” I spat out, knowing damn well he was keeping the real reason tight to his chest. “That’s not the reason you two were going at it. Has to be something else.”
“Ain’t none of your damn business,” Daryl said, like he meant it. I knew enough not to push him when he got this way, but I also knew if I didn’t get to the bottom of this argument, he and Mickey would be going at it again.
“Might not be. That’s true. Might not be any of my damn business at all. Still, it’s better to hear your side first than to hear it from Mickey. He has a way of twisting things to be in his favor, and I have a feeling this is one of those times when he’s wrong.”
“Damn straight he’s wrong… dead wrong. I thought he was a better man than this. Even though I know his reputation with women, I still thought he had some decency, but the man ain’t got one shred. Not one shred of decency. His mama would be so ashamed. I know she expected more than what he’s givin’. Loretta was a good, God-fearin’ woman, but when she died, she left him to that no-account father of his. Mickey’s got himself a selfish streak runnin’ inside him from his good-for-nothing daddy. It looks like the apple don’t fall too far from the tree, after all.”
I turned down the long dirt road that led to Daryl’s ranch house and noticed that the lights were still on inside.
“Looks like Donna’s still up waiting for you,” I told him.
“Got us some house guests.”
“Oh yeah? Anybody I know?”
“Again, it ain’t your business. Sides, all it will do is make things worse. Mickey’s gotta figure this one out on his own, and so far, he’s thinkin’ all wrong. He’s one troubled young man, and it’s a shame, is what it is. A real shame.” This time, Daryl sounded as if he felt sorry for Mickey, and after what happened tonight, I’d say that showed what a big heart Daryl had, despite whatever Mickey said to him to get him so riled up.
“Mickey’s got a good heart underneath all that bluster. You of all people should know that. It’s just that he’s always on the defense. Tell him anything he doesn’t understand or something that relates directly to him, and all his defenses come bursting out, blanketing all the good. I agree that this thing is between you and Mickey, but again, maybe if you tell me the problem, I might be able to get past all his barricades and draw out his kind heart, instead.”
I was trying my best to appeal to Daryl’s soft underbelly, that I knew he had. I’d seen it time and time again over the years with his wife and his niece and two nephews. They were like the kids he and Donna never had. They doted on those kids like they were their own, and because of it, all three of them would do anything for their aunt and uncle. Of course, they were all grown now and well into their twenties and thirties, but Donna and Daryl still doted whenever they came around.
I pulled up in front of the sprawling, two-story ranch house with its wrap-around porch dotted with enough chairs, swings, and rockers to accommodate any family and friend gathering… which he and Donna liked to do at least a couple of times a month during the summer.
And that’s when I spotted her, while I focused on the porch, sitting on a long whicker sofa, strumming on a guitar while she sang something I couldn’t hear, looking as pretty as a clear blue sky, CindyLou Geller, Daryl’s one and only niece, with a baby pulling itself up from the porch floor while holding onto CindyLou’s knees.
My pulse quickened just looking at her. I’d always had a thing for CindyLou and seeing her with a baby at her knees, I had to know more.
“Isn’t that CindyLou sitting up on your porch? Is that the company you referred to? Is that her baby?”
