kid bought it. “Oh.”
“See that you don’t let her—or me—down,” Rio charged, putting the dog to the ground, where she stood wagging her tail and grinning up at them.
“Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. I won’t.”
“We won’t talk about this again,” Rio said. “It’s forgotten.” He gave Rick a hearty slap on the back.
Rick gave an anguished cry, and his knees buckled.
“What is it?” Rio asked, but even as he asked the question, he knew.
Rick squared his shoulders. “Nothing,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m just body sore from all this manual labor.”
“And I’m your friendly Avon lady,” Rio quipped, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Take off your shirt.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Take off your shirt.”
Rick clenched his fists and shook his head. Moisture glimmered in his eyes. “You can’t make me.”
Rio’s voice was as gentle to Rick as it had been to the dog a few minutes earlier. “You’re dead wrong there, boy, but I’m not up to proving it, and neither are you. I know what I’ll find under that shirt…”
A single tear slithered down Rick’s pale cheek with its end-of-the-day stubble that somehow made him look younger.
“And I know your life is hell. I know that you get so mad you want to do to the whole world what he does to you, but there’s a better way.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” Rick asked in an angry, sarcastic voice.
“Don’t get mad—get even.”
Rick looked surprised. “How?”
“By being a bigger man than he is and not lowering yourself to his standards. By taking all that frustration and anger inside you and channeling it into something constructive.” Rio thought he saw a glimmer of hope in Rick’s dark eyes. “You do it by standing beside your mom and giving her the strength to press charges. You do it by making good grades and going to college so that you can walk away from this life to something better.”
A single sob racked Rick’s wiry body. He crossed his arms and hugged himself tightly, regarding Rio from eyes that had seen far too much. “How do I do all that?”
“I’ll help you,” Rio said. “Maggie and I will help you. If you’ll let us.”
For long moments Rick just stood there, looking into Rio’s steady gaze as if he were trying to figure out whether or not he was telling the truth. Finally he swiped at his face with his shirtsleeve and gave a sharp nod.
Rio felt his body relax. “And you won’t show me your back?”
Rick shook his head.
“Probably just as well,” Rio said. “If I saw what he’d done, I’d just have to knock some sense into him. He’d press charges, I’d wind up in jail, and Maggie’d have my hide.”
Rick gave him a quick, sideways glance. “I thought you didn’t hold with violence.”
Rio rubbed at his eyebrow with his thumb. His smile bordered on sheepish. “I don’t believe in abusing animals, but then, I like them a lot better than most men I’ve met. Usually when an animal hurts you, it doesn’t mean any harm. Can’t say the same for most of mankind, though. They seem to like to brood on other people’s misdeeds and plot their own little revenges.”
A frown creased Rick’s forehead as he thought about that. “I guess you’re right,” he said at last. “It doesn’t say much for us, does it?”
“No, son, it doesn’t,” Rio said, his heart heavy. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
Bull Farmer’s battered truck sat in the front yard, angled as close to the porch as he could get. Probably so he wouldn’t have to crawl very far to the front door when he came home so drunk he couldn’t walk, Rio thought with rare uncharitableness.
When he recalled Rick’s tortured features and the tears of shame in his eyes, Rio’s jaw knotted in a fresh surge of anger. Come what might, he had to say something to the sorry outfit who’d sired Rick, just a little something to take him down a peg or two.
Rio could picture Maggie telling him it wasn’t his place to interfere, to let the law do its job, but without Ada’s cooperation, the law’s hands were tied. Besides, it was his place in a way. Rick was his employee, and Bull’s actions indirectly affected the boy’s work performance.
Rio stifled a sarcastic grin and shut off the truck’s engine. The reasoning sounded good, anyway, he thought, getting out of the truck.
“What are you doing?” Rick asked.
“I need to have a few words with your dad.”
Rick’s face turned chalky. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Mr. Langley.”
“If you’re worried about him taking it out on you, you can bunk at my place until he gets over it.”
Rick looked Rio straight in the eye. “Only thing left he can do to me is kill me, and that might be a blessing. It’s you I’m worried about.”
Rio reached out and clasped the kid’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. I’m a big boy. And don’t you ever let me hear you say anything like that again, Rick Farmer. Life is a gift. Granted, yours might be rougher than most, but you can’t ever give up hoping and working toward something better.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“You could be right. I don’t know exactly where you’re coming from. Nobody ever beat me, but my life hasn’t been a bed of roses, believe me. I had a pretty sorry life myself until I met Maggie. Now I realize that everything I experienced was preparing me for her and our life together now.”
Rick just looked at him uncomprehendingly.
Rio shook his head. “Look, I don’t know how to explain it. All I know is that if you don’t ever have any bad in your life, you can’t really appreciate the good when it comes along.” He offered Rick an embarrassed smile. “Let’s go in. Or would you rather wait out here?”
“No. I’m coming in, too,” Rick said, falling into step beside Rio. They crossed the yard to the small frame house. Rick wiped his feet on the mat outside the door and went inside. Rio followed suit, taking off his Stetson when he stepped through the entrance.
The first thing he noticed was that the Farmer house was scrupulously clean. Furnishings were minimal, and the decor was Early Flea Market with a little Chip and Scratch thrown in, but what possessions the Farmers owned were spotless.
An uninspired gray Formica-topped bar separated the living room from the kitchen, where Ada stood tending a skillet of frying pork chops.
Bull, who spent most of his time on the road driving
