Western Flame

Chapter 32

Dermott had a coffee cup halfway to his mouth when Cecil brought Tanner and Jake into the house. Tanner took in the threadbare furniture, the worn linoleum, the pile of dirty dishes and jumble of boots by the entrance. A dusty picture of Dermott with his father clacked against the wall when the door closed behind them.

"Dermott. Wests here to see you," Cecil said and Dermott immediately looked up, eyes narrowing in on Tanner.

"What the fuck do you want?" he sneered, but didn't get up.

"Need to talk to you about some men you hired," Jake cut in before Tanner could respond. "Heard they split a few nights ago."

"What's it to you?" he shot back, and then did stand, but turned to his foreman. "Cecil, you square the crew away for the day?"

"We were watching Yousef try and get somewhere with that peabrained gelding you brought home. Got himself a broken nose for his troubles. But yeah, they're squared."

"Fuck, shoot that damned thing. It's no good to me if I can't ride it," Dermott muttered. "Shoulda left it where it was. Thought it might make a nice reining horse, but there's more where that came from."

"I'll deal with it," Cecil said, not a twitch as he responded.

Tanner was trying his best not to let the attitude rolling off of Dermott get to him. Jake's knuckles cracked as his hands fisted, and he knew his brother was having the same difficulty. Why Dermott was such a prick he'd never understand. He'd always had a big chip on his shoulder for some reason.

"Why do you need to know about them?" Dermott asked. "None of your damned business how I run my ranch, West."

"Those two hands are cattle thieves. The ones we put in prison two summer ago," Tanner hissed through clenched teeth. "Did you know?"

Dermott turned to him, and Tanner noticed the bloodshot eyes, the broken blood vessels across his nose, the almost faded bruises. He was looking at a man with a bad run of luck. Given how shabby the house was, he wondered what was going on. Old man Nelson ran a tight ship when he was the boss. He almost felt sorry for Dermott, but he'd made his own bed long ago.

"You've got to be kidding me," Dermott said, and sat back down with a thump. "They said they knew West Line when we were out that night, talked a lot of shit about you. Couldn't say I minded, may have contributed a little."

Tanner surged forward, but Jake caught his arm. "You piece of shit, did you tell them to run my brother off the road?"

"Wait now, I heard he just spun out on ice. You can't pin that on me," Dermott said, gesturing at himself. "I wouldn't do that."

"No, but your crew would, apparently," Tanner hissed. "We found their truck, which was stolen from another spread. My brother's fiancee identified them as the idiots you had out with you the night you harassed the women at Liana's place."

"How much do you want to bet the bullets the cops gathered from that shoot up on our property yesterday will match one of your rifles?" Jake added.

"I had nothing to do with that," Dermott spat quickly.

Cecil had remained silent up until now, and he cleared his throat, a look of shock on his face. "You tellin' me they were with you the night you came home drunk, weaving up the road? You kept yellin' you had to show some loose girl what messing with you got her, when I hauled you out of the truck."

"Cecil, shut your hole," Demott warned. "They weren't with me. Hightailed it when the cops showed up."

"What did you say about Liana?" Tanner said, barely in control. Jake's grip on his arm tightened.