Page 65 of His Fresh Start Cowboy
“I didn’t do nothin’,” Joey snapped back. But when the bouncer glared, Joey backed down. He collected his friends and headed for the door.
Brand turned and relaxed a fraction to find Hugo only an arm’s reach away, his eyes blazing but his skin blood-free. Their gazes met, and something zinged between them. A silent promise that they had each other’s back, no matter what.
The bouncer made a circling motion with his hand and the music went back up. Folks turned back to their drinks or the dance floor. Ramie came over with a towel of ice for Brand’s busted lip, which stung like a motherfucker now. “You really know how to liven up a Thursday night,” she quipped.
“All we wanted was a quiet drink,” Brand said. “Those assholes got on Hugo’s case.”
“I knew someone would,” Hugo whispered, still clearly angry—but now Brand wasn’t sure if he was angry at the assholes who’d interrupted their evening, or at Brand for insisting they come out tonight.
Brand didn’t regret it one bit, even though his lip and chin did. “Yeah, well, you didn’t steal shit, and I will defend you to anyone who comes at you.”
“I learned some pretty good self-defense moves of my own from a friend back at Clean Slate, but I appreciate the help.”
Ramie glanced between them, seeing everything neither man had actually said out loud. “Yeah, well, maybe next time stick to brawling in the parking lot? You’re lucky you didn’t bust a table or chair.”
“I’ll do my best.” He squeezed her wrist. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem.” She looked at Hugo. “And if it helps, I believe you. If Brand says you’re innocent, then you’re innocent. Besides, Sheriff McBride isn’t the most popular guy in the county. Last election, he nearly lost sheriff to a challenger, but at the last minute a deputy found a bag of weed in the guy’s car. Lost him a lot of votes, so McBride won.”
Brand thought back to the moment last night when McBride had gotten coffee from his roommate. The man had a temper for sure, and Brand did not want himself or Hugo on the wrong side of it.
“If he’s got a target on my family’s back because of Buck,” Hugo said, “then I’m not surprised the guy doesn’t like me. Even if I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Don’t take it personal.” Ramie squeezed his wrist, a gesture Brand wished he was brave enough to make in front of others. “There are folks who are on your side. Gotta get back to work.”
After she left, Brand glanced around but no one else was openly staring at him or Hugo. The brawl was over, attentions elsewhere for now. Brand sipped his warming beer, not really sure he wanted it anymore but it was a good prop while the ice against his chin slowly melted into the towel. That cut and bruise would be fun to explain to Dad tomorrow morning.
“Thank you,” Hugo whispered. “For defending me.”
“I always will. You’re my friend and my...you know. I’ve got your back.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of them finished their beers before leaving. Brand felt eyes on him as they threaded their way to the front doors and left. Warm June air had Brand sweating almost immediately, and he undid the first couple buttons on his shirt on the walk across the parking lot to his truck. Nearly there, three shapes came out of the shadows, and Brand went on instant alert.
Joey and his two buddies stood between Brand and Hugo and the truck, and all three were as menacing as vipers, ready to strike at any provocation. Brand stopped walking and subtly shifted to block Hugo from them, Hugo’s self-defense training be damned. Anyone who wanted to touch him had to go through Brand first.
“You really wanna go another round?” Brand asked. “‘Cause I’m tired and wanna go home.”
“Ain’t our fault you hang with the wrong people, Woods,” Joey said. “My daddy knows a lot of folks at the slaughterhouse. You keep this up, you might find yourself with a little bit of trouble slaughtering your herd when the time comes.”
Brand sensed more than saw Hugo bristle. “If your daddy is as smart as you, the folks he probably knows best are the dead cattle themselves.”
Joey snarled and pounced. The second fight lasted longer than the first, and Brand took a few solid licks to his ribs and back before gaining the upper hand. Hugo hit the gravel parking lot once on his hands and knees, and the blood on his hands made Brand see red. Between them, though, they fought off Joey and his pals, knocking one guy nearly unconscious, while a small crowd of at least half a dozen gawkers gathered.
Thankfully, no one called security or the sheriff over this fight. Brand drove him and Hugo home, furious by the blood streaming from Hugo’s nose and the raw scrapes on his hands. Brand’s own mouth throbbed with a fresh cut, and his ribs ached, but he didn’t regret any of it. Not really.
At home, he dragged Hugo into the dark house, illuminated only by the kitchen light and the moon outside. He got them both ice, and they sat together in silence for a while. Mom must have heard the commotion, because she came downstairs, took one look at them, and got the first aid kit. She didn’t ask questions, just fixed them both up. Hugo’s nose had stopped bleeding and it was slightly swollen. “I don’t think it’s broken,” she said. “You’ll probably have black eyes in the morning, though.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Hugo said. “I’m sorry to be a bother.”
“You’re no bother. If I know my boy and you, the men who started this fight are the bother.” She assessed Brand’s slightly numb face, thanks to the ice. “You won’t need stitches but that cut on your chin might leave a scar.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I take it you boys beat whoever it was that you fought with?”
“Sure did. Twice, actually. Some guys just don’t know when to stay down.”
