to check the water troughs, letting Kip take a long drink. Next thing I remember was sitting in the horse shower with the hose turned on me.”
“You should have said something—if I hadn’t watched you turn red, man, your brain could have boiled in your head.” Way to go asshole, kick the man when he’s down. Creed flinched again. “Shit, you did say something. I was being an ass. Giving you shit about being a tenderfoot. Still can’t believe you never worked a real cattle drive before. With your herding abilities and the things I’ve seen you do with a rope.”
“Not much call for herding or roping calves when you’ve spent your entire life driving from town to town chasing the damned rodeo.”
“Can I ask you something? I mean no bullshit, honest to God question, not meant to do anything but appease my curiosity.” What the hell was he thinking, lying here with Creed, talking to him as if they were friends or something? Next thing he’d want to play dress up or do each other’s hair at this rate.
“No bullshit? When Eli Mason isn’t full of bullshit, Satan will likely be ice skating.”
“Seriously, why don’t you go to veterinary school? I see you with the horses. Not just the grooming and the talking to them like they’re people thing you do. It’s the way you are with them. Checking the foals. The mares. You have a gift. I’m not rich or anything, but I can help you pay for the classes you need—”
“Last time I checked you had to have a college degree of some kind to even be considered for the vet program.”
“Yeah, so you’d probably have to go back for—”
“Eli, just drop it, okay? I’m not going to vet school any time soon. Okay.” Creed climbed out of bed, dragging the quilt with him. His shoulders were stiff, his eyes shuttered again. “I am, however, going to take a shower. I feel like I was hosed down in a horse stall.”
“Why not? Just give me one good reason and I’ll leave it alone.”
Creed stopped in the door, letting the quilt drop off his shoulders. His eyes had gone cold and detached again. Dead. He was dead inside. No emotion. Nothing. Walking zombie.
“I dropped out of school when I was sixteen. Never looked back. Are you happy now?” He didn’t wait for Eli to respond; he left him sitting there, stunned. Stunned. He’d never even considered that Creed hadn’t … the kid was always reading, always so damned smart. He thought he’d taken the time. Those years he wasn’t running the circuit. Where the hell was he for the last three years if he wasn’t in school?
He heard the shower come on in the bathroom. “Well, fuck,” he said as he pounded the bed. This seeing Creed fucking Dickson—no, strike that: Creed fucking Running Wolf—as someone to pity was not going to happen. He fucking didn’t ask to be stuck here with the man. He didn’t want to know and didn’t care. Let the man drag himself out of the hole he was in all by his self.
Eli left the room, closing the door behind him, and went to check the soup simmering on the stove while he called Judge Dickhead one more time to plead his case. Or at least plead Creed’s. He needed him gone.
Now.
Before Eli did something stupid.
Like give a shit.
Chapter 6
The cold November air chilled him through his threadbare T-shirt. He stumbled on the path behind the motel leading back to the truck stop, his feet too big in his worn-out boots. He tripped over everything lately. His clothes fit like a second skin, jeans too short. He was too old to have another growth spurt, but there was no stopping the inevitable. He had fifty dollars in his pocket, and food in his stomach. That was all that mattered. Didn’t happen all that often, but tonight he’d been lucky. He’d worry about the rest of it later.
“I know what you are.”
He heard the voice coming from the dark cave that housed the ice machine at the back of this rattrap motel. His heart beat too fast. The voice was familiar. Gruff. He
“You should have said something—if I hadn’t watched you turn red, man, your brain could have boiled in your head.” Way to go asshole, kick the man when he’s down. Creed flinched again. “Shit, you did say something. I was being an ass. Giving you shit about being a tenderfoot. Still can’t believe you never worked a real cattle drive before. With your herding abilities and the things I’ve seen you do with a rope.”
“Not much call for herding or roping calves when you’ve spent your entire life driving from town to town chasing the damned rodeo.”
“Can I ask you something? I mean no bullshit, honest to God question, not meant to do anything but appease my curiosity.” What the hell was he thinking, lying here with Creed, talking to him as if they were friends or something? Next thing he’d want to play dress up or do each other’s hair at this rate.
“No bullshit? When Eli Mason isn’t full of bullshit, Satan will likely be ice skating.”
“Seriously, why don’t you go to veterinary school? I see you with the horses. Not just the grooming and the talking to them like they’re people thing you do. It’s the way you are with them. Checking the foals. The mares. You have a gift. I’m not rich or anything, but I can help you pay for the classes you need—”
“Last time I checked you had to have a college degree of some kind to even be considered for the vet program.”
“Yeah, so you’d probably have to go back for—”
“Eli, just drop it, okay? I’m not going to vet school any time soon. Okay.” Creed climbed out of bed, dragging the quilt with him. His shoulders were stiff, his eyes shuttered again. “I am, however, going to take a shower. I feel like I was hosed down in a horse stall.”
“Why not? Just give me one good reason and I’ll leave it alone.”
Creed stopped in the door, letting the quilt drop off his shoulders. His eyes had gone cold and detached again. Dead. He was dead inside. No emotion. Nothing. Walking zombie.
“I dropped out of school when I was sixteen. Never looked back. Are you happy now?” He didn’t wait for Eli to respond; he left him sitting there, stunned. Stunned. He’d never even considered that Creed hadn’t … the kid was always reading, always so damned smart. He thought he’d taken the time. Those years he wasn’t running the circuit. Where the hell was he for the last three years if he wasn’t in school?
He heard the shower come on in the bathroom. “Well, fuck,” he said as he pounded the bed. This seeing Creed fucking Dickson—no, strike that: Creed fucking Running Wolf—as someone to pity was not going to happen. He fucking didn’t ask to be stuck here with the man. He didn’t want to know and didn’t care. Let the man drag himself out of the hole he was in all by his self.
Eli left the room, closing the door behind him, and went to check the soup simmering on the stove while he called Judge Dickhead one more time to plead his case. Or at least plead Creed’s. He needed him gone.
Now.
Before Eli did something stupid.
Like give a shit.
Chapter 6
The cold November air chilled him through his threadbare T-shirt. He stumbled on the path behind the motel leading back to the truck stop, his feet too big in his worn-out boots. He tripped over everything lately. His clothes fit like a second skin, jeans too short. He was too old to have another growth spurt, but there was no stopping the inevitable. He had fifty dollars in his pocket, and food in his stomach. That was all that mattered. Didn’t happen all that often, but tonight he’d been lucky. He’d worry about the rest of it later.
“I know what you are.”
He heard the voice coming from the dark cave that housed the ice machine at the back of this rattrap motel. His heart beat too fast. The voice was familiar. Gruff. He
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