A table with Byron McKay and his twin boys, Winston and Gareth. The boys were sixteen and fortunately didn’t look much like their dad. They both had strawberry blond hair like him but favored their momma otherwise, and they had that look of too much money and not enough responsibility.
Ben Stillwater was a twin, too. His identical twin, Grady, was in the army and stationed in Afghanistan. Ben had stayed home to rodeo and continue running the Stillwater ranch. They were identical, but that didn’t mean they were exactly alike.
“Who do you have with you?” Ben asked, reaching for a chair at a nearby table and placing it next to him. “Is this Jenna’s almost grown son?”
Brandon grinned and took the seat next to Ben. “I’m five.”
“I reckon you are.” Ben shot Carson a questioning look that he could only answer with a shrug of a shoulder.
Carson took the other empty chair and turned over the coffee cup sitting in front of him. The waitress, Sally Ann, only worked Saturdays. She smiled at the two of them as she hurried their way with coffee and menus.
“What are you all having today, Carson?”
“I’ll take the Saturday-morning special and Brandon would like pancakes and bacon. And to drink he’ll take—”
“Chocolate milk,” Brandon shouted.
Next to Carson, Ben laughed. “He’s going to keep you on your toes, my friend.”
“Yeah, I guess he will.”
Brandon gave Carson a look and then he turned to Ben. “I don’t think he can get on his toes. And Ruby is going to take him down a notch.”
Ben laughed loud and long. People turned to stare. Carson shot him a look, hoping to quell his mirth.
“That’s about the best thing I’ve heard in a long time.” Ben held his hand up. “Give me a fiver, little man.”
Brandon grinned and slapped his palm against Ben’s. Carson turned away from the two, hoping that would keep Ben from asking questions about Ruby and how Brandon would have heard her say anything about him.
The conversation across the table between Byron and another rancher caught Carson’s attention. He sipped his coffee and listened to the coffee shop gossip.
The foreman for the Marley ranch, a spread on the other side of town, came in and sat at the table next to theirs.
“Is it true you all got hit last night?” Byron asked as he shoveled a big bite of eggs into his mouth.
“Yeah, ten head and they burned a few bales of hay. That’s leading me to believe we don’t have professional cattle thieves on our hands. Professionals don’t light up a blaze to let everyone know they’re around.”
“Professionals don’t keep hitting small and taking things that don’t really matter,” Ben interjected as he cut up his biscuits and gravy.
The waitress showed up with Carson and Brandon’s food. She refilled his coffee, placed the bill next to his plate and took a second to talk to the little boy in their midst. He was eyeing pancakes heaped with butter, chocolate chips and syrup.
“Byron, have you all seen Betsy since her daddy died?” Ben asked, always being the one willing to wade right into troubled waters.
Brandon, only five but not oblivious to tension, looked up, watching the men at the table. Carson sighed, wishing Ben had left well enough alone. Byron and his cousin Mac McKay had never been close. Mac had run his small farm, but that hadn’t been enough to pay the bills. And when it all had come crashing in, when he’d needed the help of a relative, Byron had turned him down flat.
No one wanted to dwell on the night Mac, in a drunken stupor, had walked in front of a car. Betsy, his only child, had left town. Eighteen and on her own. Carson liked to think there were folks in town, himself included, who would have helped her out had she stayed. He only wished Mac would have taken his offer of help.
“Betsy isn’t my problem,” Byron blustered. That brought Carson back to the conversation. “The girl is just like her dad. She isn’t going to get anything out of life if she isn’t willing to work for it. I didn’t give Mac handouts and I won’t give her any.”
“She’s a kid,” Winston McKay spoke softly from his chair just a few seats down the table. He glanced at his dad and went back to eating.
The two boys looked at each other. Meaningful looks. Carson watched, interested, and his opinion of the two boys came up a notch.
Byron didn’t seem to share his opinion. “If I find out you two have been helping her, you will find out what it’s like to not have anything.”
Ben cleared his throat. “Let’s take it down a notch. We’ve got a little cowboy here trying to eat his breakfast. And I’d like to enjoy mine.”
“Agreed,” Carson voiced his opinion to let things settle a little.
Byron blustered and set his cup down, slopping coffee on the bill next to his plate. He brushed it off with a napkin.
“Yesterday Lucy went out to the Donovan place again,” Byron said, changing the subject without much finesse. “I still say that kid is guilty and we ought to just arrest him.”
Carson sat back, looking at the other man and wondering why he couldn’t just be reasonable. “Byron, there are a few problems with that thought. Number one, ‘we’ can’t arrest anyone. Number two, the kid doesn’t have any of the stolen property. You can’t arrest someone just because you don’t like them.”
“And you’re only taking up for him because that sister of his is back in town, and you’ve forgotten that your daddy didn’t want you messing around—”
“Be quiet.” Carson leaned across the table. “I’ve had enough, Byron. You want to accuse your neighbors, stir up trouble and pit people against each other. But as far as I know the Donovans have never done a thing to you.”
“I’m just saying they aren’t any better than that cousin of mine was. Mac wanted my money, my resources. They’ll take what they can—”
Carson raised a hand. He didn’t need to hear any more. He was sure his dad had probably told Byron about the payoff to Ruby. That didn’t mean the rest of the county needed to hear it.
“Byron, the last thing I need today is a case of indigestion, so let’s leave off. We can talk about something that matters or enjoy a little peace and quiet.”
Ben cleared his throat. “I hear she’s giving riding lessons. I sold her a pony a few weeks ago. She’s going to need saddles if anyone has old ones they aren’t using.”
Carson started to answer but before he could get the words out, Byron scooted his chair back and stood. He gave his boys a meaningful glare.
“I guess I’ll just leave,” Byron grumbled as he grabbed the bill next to his plate. “But I want you to know, as vice president of the league, I’m going to start organizing patrols. Call it a neighborhood watch if that makes you and Lucy happy. If our sheriff can’t
