headed to my dad right now.”
The look in Shane’s gray eyes was so raw Blue couldn’t look away. The wings of his collarbone stuck up through his T-shirt, sharp enough to poke through his skin.
“My dad would b-break your face if he was here,” he said to Blue.
“You don’t have a dad to do jack for you, boy,” Gordon boomed, scornful of Shane’s fantasy. “You haven’t noticed that yet?”
Andie Lee gasped. Shane flinched as if from a blow.
Gordon held him with a terrible glare.
“If you did have a daddy you’d be nothing but a disgrace to his name,” Gordon said. “It’s your mother who’s killing herself trying to help you.”
“Shut up!” Shane yelled, his voice panicky.
But Gordon was relentless.
“You haven’t got the sense God gave a wooden goose. Look at you—fooling with that stinking dope again, stealing guns and kidnapping girls like some little outlaw wanna-be.”
Gordon took a threatening step toward the boy.
“And telling me to shut up is another piece of stupidity. If you ever show disrespect like that to me again, I’ll hang your hide on the fence just like any other coyote’s.”
That took the sand out of Shane. His jaw sagged and tears sprang into his eyes. Helpless, he pulled at his hands anyway, but all he could do was stand there with his face naked in front of the world.
Blue stepped up closer, set himself between the kid and Gordon and all the rest of them. Gordon was one cold bastard.
The boy held his own, kept on trying to stare Blue down until his eyes were so full of tears he had to blink them away.
He was tough enough, though, that he never let them fall.
That gave him strength. He got a handle on himself and the tears went away but his gaze stayed on Blue’s.
Don’t get in my way again. I hate you. You can’t stop me next time. Nobody can stop me next time.
Those eyes held another message, too, though.
I’m scared. I’m caught and I’m handcuffed and I’m scared.
Not half as scared as he would be at the end of the road he was taking.
Gordon pushed in between them.
“You could be in jail for weeks—for years, maybe,” he said. “I’m gonna leave you there. I’m gonna decide when you get out. I’m gonna decide when and if you come back here. Think about it.”
“You think about this,” Shane said, his voice strengthening with each word. “Chase Lomax is my dad and he’d do anything for me. Insult him again and it’ll be the last time you insult anybody.”
Andie Lee cried out and grabbed his arm again. She talked to him some more. In a low tone that held a whole world of fury and sorrow.
Blue stepped away. He couldn’t bear to hear it.
Gordon made a gesture to the highway patrolman, who took Shane and started toward the patrol car. Andie Lee stuck right with them and so did Gordon, talking in a low voice to the lawman.
Shane’s shoulders sagged and he hung his head so far down he couldn’t see ahead of him while he walked. The guy in the slacks and silk shirt followed and touched Shane’s shoulder.
Shane threw his head up like a spooked deer and twisted toward him. “Jason,” he said, his voice louder than before. “Thanks for nothing, dude.”
“Get back,” the lawman said, motioning Jason away, keeping Shane moving.
Andie Lee kept her shoulders straight and her spine stiff, yet the way she looked at her wayward son reminded Blue of Rose again. Money didn’t always make a difference, after all. Not after the addiction took hold.
“Shane. Man. When you get back, we’ll talk about it,” Jason called. “We can adjust your…rewards, Shane. In your treatment program. And I’ll…”
The other three went on toward the patrol car, but Gordon turned and started back for Jason, his sardonic voice lashing out like a whip.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, Jason. You’re gone, too. Hit the road.”
Jason’s head turned around fast. He stared at Gordon and backed up a couple of steps.
“Mr. Campbell, it isn’t my fault that Shane…”
Gordon grabbed hold of his collar at the back of his neck and shoved him forward into a stumbling stagger.
“Make tracks off this place and don’t ever let me see you again,” he yelled. “If you can’t keep drugs out of here you can’t get these kids off of ’em.”
He pointed at the office building with GORDON CAMPBELL TREATMENT CENTER written above the door.
“Get your stuff and get out. Ten minutes.”
Jason flushed bright red. He whirled around to face Gordon but he didn’t stop moving, walking backwards, glaring and pouting like a kid. He looked nearly as young as Shane, but Blue judged him to be in his late twenties, maybe.
Only six or eight years younger than Blue, but it might as well be a hundred—one glance and a man could see that Jason’d had it soft all his life.
“You’re just angry,” he said, “because I called the police. That’s it, isn’t it, Mr. Campbell? You want to be the law and the judge and the jury all by yourself. But kidnapping and threatening someone with a gun is a serious matter, one for the authorities, and—”
“On this ranch I am the goddamned law,” Gordon roared. “And no judge or jury on earth can save your job, so shut your trap and do what I tell you, boy, before I stick my boot up your worthless ass and kick you into the next county.”
Jason was scared but he was as stubborn as Gordon. He, too, was accustomed to being the boss. He’d probably grown up a spoiled brat.
“There’s no need for you to use abusive language,” he said, his eyes blazing, his cheeks even redder with fury and embarrassment. “I’m afraid I’ll have to report this to the board and…”
Gordon went after him.
“I’ve been paying you big bucks and this kid’s still an addict, just like he was the first day you saw him,” Gordon yelled, pointing at Shane. “You’re worthless. Not get the hell out of here while you’re still able to walk.”
Jason turned around, fast, and started toward his office at a jog trot. Finally, everybody else moved, too.
The lawman opened the door to the back seat of his car and didn’t even bother to put his hand on Shane’s head, it was already bent
