Page 109 of My Cowboy Freedom
I put my hands behind my head, spread my legs, and let them shove me over the fender of Mrs. Chandler’s MG. Fucker didn’t stop with a pat down. I got some action from his gloved finger too, making sure I hadn’t secreted anything between my ass cheeks or under my tongue.
Rock didn’t take them touching me like that lightly either, and Maisy went bug-nuts crazy when they tackled him to the ground.
For ten minutes, I thought I’d go deaf from all the barking, shouting, and threatening going on.
None of that would have made even a blip on the big picture that was the Rocking C, except right then I caught sight of Maisy, who skittered between Rock and the boss, yipping worriedly. She circled and circled and then barked some more. Was Maisy alerting?
“Hey, Rock. You okay?”
I watched his face closely as he pet her.
He seemed okay. She calmed down a bit—enough so that when they dragged me out of the shed with my hands zip-tied behind my back I wasn’t concerned Rock was having a seizure. We all trooped over to the bunkhouse, where the sheriff’s deputies took their time tossing my room. Thorough, thorough boys, there, especially since everything I owned fit in a single drawer.
Rock sat beside me on the porch, his eyes soft and worried. “Don’t they have to have a warrant or something?”
I shrugged. “I’m still technically in custody. I have no rights.”
Privately, I thought this was a bit much. Chandler’s doing, no doubt. His type was born doling out specialty justice. Plus, he knew I’d never make a formal complaint. No con would.
And, you can’t say he didn’t warn you.
“Sterling?”
Rock’s anxious tone got my attention. I followed his gaze toward the boss, who was talking with his hands, trying to make himself understood.
Chandler’s color was all wrong, pale and blotchy. White around his lips. Beads of sweat dotted his skin. He looked awful—shouting so loud, the tendons in his neck stood out. But nothing he said made sense.
The expression of naked terror on Rock’s face scared me far worse.
He’d leaped to his feet. “Uncle Sterling!”
Chandler’s eyes lost focus and he plunged to the ground. Over the sickeningthudof his fall, Rock shouted. “Somebody, help Sterling.”
One of the deputies got on his radio while the others gathered around Chandler’s motionless form.
“This is Clay over at the Rocking C. We’ve got a medical emergency.”
None of us knew what the hell to do then.
And it’s true. You never see the end of the world coming.
