“The sheriff’s here to ask you a few questions.”
“I don’t remember anything,” Jesse announced. “What the hell happened?”
“You stormed into the Round-Up, drunk off your ass, and shoved Shay so hard she fell backward,” Clay replied. “If I hadn’t been there to catch her, she’d have been hurt.”
For a moment, Jesse looked as though he not only remembered, but regretted his actions. Then disdain soured his handsome features and he only appeared surly. “Yeah, you’re always there to help out the ladies, aren’t you?” He took a sip of coffee and made a bitter face. “Clayton Trueheart. Mr. Chivalrous.”
“That’s me,” Clay responded, giving him a humorless smile.
“Why did you go to the bar last night?” Luke asked.
“I heard this no-good Indian was cozyin’ up to my woman,” Jesse said.
Luke bristled, taking instant offense.
So did Clay. “That’s a goddamned lie,” he growled. “I only went over there to see the baby. Tammy needed money for diapers.”
Luke realized they weren’t talking about Shay, and the slur wasn’t intended for him. Jesse hadn’t gone to the bar last night to confront Luke; he’d been there to fight with Clay over Tamara.
“If my wife needs anything, she can get it from me,” Jesse said, squinting at Clay. “And I mean
A dull flush crept up Clay’s neck, but he didn’t respond to the provocation. Again, Luke suspected Clay’s interest in Tamara Ryan went beyond chivalry, and he would give the lady whatever she asked for.
It seemed as though Jesse knew it, too. Reluctantly, he turned his attention to Luke. “Is Shay all right?”
Luke thought about his encounter with her at the Visitors’ Center and started to feel a little hot under the collar. Last night, she’d been ridiculed, manhandled, and pushed around. Jesse hadn’t been very nice to her, either.
“She’s fine,” he said, clearing his throat.
Jesse studied his face. “I wouldn’t want to see her get hurt.”
It amazed him how quickly the man could transition from one female to the next. “Shay isn’t your concern, slick. And from what I gather, she hasn’t been for quite some time.”
“Shay will
Luke rubbed his thumb over his itching knuckles, tempted to let Jesse out and give him his best shot. But he recognized that Jesse’s attitude was more protective than proprietary, the reaction of a friend, not a lover. Although their relationship was over, Jesse still cared about her, and Luke couldn’t fault him for that.
He also felt a surge of possessiveness. Shay was
“Like Yesenia Montes was torn apart?” he asked after a moment, not ready to let Jesse off the hook.
Jesse blanched. “I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
Luke surveyed their surroundings. “You look pretty comfortable in there. Have you done time?”
Jesse’s mouth twisted with resentment as he pushed away from the bars. Placing his cup down on the concrete bench, he stood in front of the urinal and unzipped his pants, showing Luke exactly how he felt about the question.
“What do you drive?” Luke asked, unconcerned by Jesse’s bad attitude.
“I have an old Monte Carlo,” he said over his shoulder. “But I usually ride my bike.”
A car and a motorcycle. Neither of those had bed liners, last time Luke checked. “You have any trucks in the garage?”
“Nope,” he said, hitching up his pants when he finished. “Am I free to go, or what?”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Luke arched a glance at Clay.
“Did you see Dad after work yesterday?” Clay asked.
Before that moment, Jesse’s behavior had been belligerent, but predictable. Now his expression changed, and a hint of guilt flickered across his face. “Yeah,” he said, hiding the reaction behind more bluster. “So?”
“What did you talk about?”
“None of your goddamned business,” he sneered.
“Did he tell you I’d been over at Tamara’s?”
“Maybe.” An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.
Jesse finally seemed to realize this visit wasn’t about the minor brawl at the Round-Up last night, and he turned a little green. He swallowed a few times, fighting with his hangover. “What are y’all here for?” he asked. “Is Tammy… is something wrong?”
Clay stared at his brother, his expression full of disdain. And pity.
Jesse reached through the bars, grasping the front of Clay’s shirt. “Is something wrong with Grace?”
Clay disentangled himself coolly. “Nothing’s wrong with Grace. But I can’t let you go just yet. I’ve got some paperwork to finish first.”
Jesse nodded, but he appeared shaken. “Sure, man,” he said, sitting back down on the bench and putting his head in his hands. “Do whatever you have to.”
Luke and Clay walked away from the holding cell, heading down the gleaming hallway together. Before they reached the exit, Clay stopped short, as if he had something to get off his chest. “Jesse wouldn’t hurt our dad,” he said, giving Luke a warning glance. Daring him to dispute the words.
Luke just shrugged. “But?”
“He owes people money.”
“Indians?” he interpreted.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Some guys at Wild Rivers. Loan sharks.”
Luke was familiar with Wild Rivers Casinos. It was a multimillion-dollar corporation, and co-investors in the current project on Los Coyotes. But surely Clay wasn’t suggesting a loan manager would try to collect Jesse’s debt from Bull Ryan, and scalp him in the process. “You don’t suspect them of-”
“No,” Clay said with a scowl. “I’m just getting it out in the open. Jesse can be irresponsible and selfish. But he’s not a killer.”
Luke appreciated his honesty. He also found it telling that Clay seemed genuinely worried for his half brother. What was it about Jesse Ryan that everyone found so goddamned loveable? His utter lack of integrity, or his puppy dog eyes?
“Let him stew in there. The feds will make him cry like a baby.”
The corner of Clay’s mouth turned up. “They’ll want to interview me, too.”
“Were you and Bull close?”
Some of the light drained from Clay’s eyes. “No. He acted like he didn’t know I was his. But he did know. He had to have.”
Luke was saddened, but not particularly surprised, by the admission. During his summers on the rez, he’d seen other men like Bull Ryan, married men who treated Indian women like conveniences and fathered children they never acknowledged. It was only natural that Clay resented the situation. Jesse had been born under the sanctity of wedlock, and he was accepted by his family despite his multiple screwups. Clay was the brother who had done well for himself, but due to the circumstance of his birth, was unable to gain his father’s respect.
The radio on Luke’s belt kicked on, emitting garbled language and a slew of static. Hearing the words, “Dark Canyon,” he turned up the volume.
“Twenty-six-year-old female, five-ten approximately 150 pounds,” the operator said. “Possible venomous snakebite. Patient is being admitted to Palomar Medical Center.”
Holy Christ. They were talking about Shay.
“You know where that is?” he asked Clay.
The younger man was already moving toward his truck. “I’ll drive.”
“I’ll follow you,” Luke decided.
The next thirty minutes were the longest of his life. Palomar Medical Center was the closest hospital in the Tenaja Falls area, but it wasn’t nearly close enough. Luke computed the time it would have taken an ambulance to reach Shay and get her to the hospital.
Over an hour. An eternity.
With the miracles of modern medicine, very few people in the United States died from snakebites. As a public servant, Luke knew this was partly due to fast medical treatment and the availability of antivenom. If there wasn’t
