Page 163 of My Cowboy Freedom
Elena screamed.
Lefty took a swing at Rock.Rock, who had been too busy worrying about Elena to notice he was even in any danger.
Chandler called out something unintelligible, Pastor gave a horrified squawk, and Lefty roared, charging like a bull with a hornet’s nest up its butt.
“You faggot motherfucker. This is the last fucking time—”
I stepped between them.
“Ow. FUCK.”The blow meant for Rock hit my left forearm and broke it, instantly.
Blinding, bewildering pain left me speechless with rage.
Then came those goddamn reflexes. Reflexes never lead anywhere good.
IknewI was going to regret anything I did without giving myself a solid ten minutes of deep-breathing before I considered a course of action, appropriate or otherwise.
But they’re calledreflexesfor a reason.
Lefty Wheeler may have broken my left hand.
But I hit him with my right.
Lefty’s chin gave a very satisfyingcrunch. Blood spurted from his mouth and nose and he fell like a broken doll. He was breathing. But he wasn’t going anywhere.
Rock’s pastor had already called the EMTs for Elena, so I stood there, panting. Wondering what was next.
No... not wondering.
Dreading, because I knew exactly what was next.
The sheriff’s deputies drove up, lights on, no sirens—two cars positioned at an angle to us, officers behind the engine block, just like they were trained. Doors open. Weapons drawn. They screamed at me to lie down and place my hands behind my head, and somehow, despite my broken arm, I assumed that awful, familiar position.
While I screamed in agony, they cuffed me. Cuffed Lefty. Cuffed Rock. Now there were sirens. Maisy barked, Elena was telling her side of the story, Rock hollered, and Lefty, who’d come to, was screaming at me,screamingI was a menace to society and I needed to be put away for everyone’s own good.
Pot. Kettle. Black. What the fuck ever.
I knew what was really happening.
Unlike Rock. Unlike Elena. Unlike the pastor and almost everyone there.
Ikneweverything I cared about was now beyond my grasp.
Chandler pounded on the roof of the car. He seemed to be saying something. I couldn’t hear him, because one of the deputies had hooked me under the arm and was pulling me up and someone was howling.
“Ow. Jesus, Fucking Christ.Ow.”
“Stop.” Rock had tears streaming down his cheeks now. He was inconsolable. “Stop hurting him. Take me. This is all my fault.”
Chandler’s banging became strident, rhythmic:Bam. Bam. Bam.
Everyone looked his way.
“Car hit!” He pointed at Elena and then at Lefty Wheeler. “Hit.Her.”
Everyone started talking at once.
Boss got spitting mad again.
