Cash's Fight
Page 40
“Often?”
“Shut up!” Tate’s frustrated voice had them both snapping their mouths closed.
It was an hour before another animal came into the clearing. I can’t catch a fucking break today, Cash thought as a small fawn came farther into the clearing with its mother walking not far behind.
Cash could just hear Rachel’s reaction if he let Bambi die. Thinking quickly, Cash had a sneezing fit that had the deer fleeing.
“Motherfucker, did you bring us out here just to bug the piss out of us?” Dustin’s harsh voice had Cash shrugging apologetically.
“I can’t help it if I’m allergic to Jace’s cologne.”
Jace glared at him but took the brunt of the brothers’ anger. The boy wanted the promised motorcycle enough to become the patsy.
“You wore cologne?” Dustin sniffed toward his cousin.
“I didn’t want to shower,” Jace mumbled.
“How about we just go on to the cabin and fix some breakfast. We can get an early start on fishing.” Cash stood as best he could in the small confines of the blind, going outside the small structure.
“I guess we haven’t got a choice with Jace polluting the air,” Greer grumbled as all the men came out.
They hiked the two miles to his cabin. When he opened the door, the Porters from oldest to youngest whistled.
“Now this is what I call a cabin,” Jace said admiringly.
“Put your backpacks up. I’ll fix breakfast.” It didn’t take long for him to fry bacon and eggs and make a strong pot of coffee. The men all dug in, eating as soon as he put the food on the table.
They spent the rest of the day outside fishing, getting along because they remained quiet. Jace had quieted down, too, throwing him hurt looks every so often. Cash felt like he had stepped on a rambunctious puppy’s tail.
However, everyone’s mood improved as soon as the fish started to be caught. The size of them had them all trying to outdo the others to catch the biggest one.
As Cash’s line pulled taut, he drew the pole back, and he could tell by the strength of the tugging it was a big fish. Unobtrusively, he released the line, letting the fish go.
Reeling in his line, they taunted him for losing the fish.
“You don’t fish any better than you can shoot,” Greer taunted.
Cash remained quiet.
After another hour, he stood and stretched. “How about I go back to the cabin and clean a few for dinner?”
“Sounds good. It’s not like you’re catching anything anyway.” Dustin laughed. “You might as well play bitch and cook.” Dustin laughed again, throwing his line back in the water.
“You sure you don’t want to stay and let us give you a few pointers?” Greer added, throwing the fish he had just caught into the cooler.
“We’ll save that for another day,” Cash replied, picking up the cooler and leaving Jace to pack Cash’s pole back when he returned with his cousins.
It took Cash a good hour to walk off his anger when he got back to the cabin. If he hadn’t wanted their approval for Rachel, he would have thrown them into the water and driven back to town alone.
After his walk, he burned off any anger he had left by gutting the fish and getting them ready to fry. The gas stove was old but had cooked many good meals. He remembered several of the ones he and his father had shared in the cabin that had been built by his grandfather and dad. There used to be an old, dirt road that led from his grandparents’ cabin to this one, but it had long ago grown over.
His father had passed away when he was in the service, and by the time he had returned to Treepoint, Mag had moved and he had liked the remoteness of the cabin. Only he, The Last Riders, and the Porters even knew the cabin was back this far in the woods. It was off the grid with two generators as back-up, well water, and propane for the stove and water heater. It had two bedrooms and a loft that held several bunk beds.
Cash was flipping the fish over when the Porters returned. After everyone washed up, they ate. The night dragged on while they played game after game of poker, which he lost.
Tate leaned forward to pull the last of his money toward him.
“I guess that’s it for me tonight.” Cash threw the cards down onto the table.
Greer smirked while Tate stared at him. “Sure you don’t want to play another game?” Tate asked, dealing out the cards.
“I’m sure. I’ll do the dishes.”
Greer opened his mouth, but Tate shot him a quelling look.
“I was beginning to wonder how long you were going to let us take your money.”
Cash hesitated in getting up. “What?”
“You heard me.” Tate didn’t look down at his cards; instead, he stared directly into his eyes. “Is five hundred all you think my sister’s worth?”
“No, but it’s all I brought with me.” Cash’s hands clenched into fists.
Tate’s lips quirked. “Smart answer.”
“Jace told you?”
“Of course. He may want a motorcycle, but he’s our blood. Blood always comes first; you should have known better.”
“If you knew, then why did you come?” Cash stiffened in his seat. This could go really badly. He didn’t want to have to hurt any of the assholes to protect himself, but he sure as fuck couldn’t be with Rachel if he was six-feet under.
“Relax, Cash.” Dustin laughed, going to the refrigerator to get more beers, which he set on the table with a thump. Everyone reached out for a beer, the sound of the tops popping starting the negotiations.
“We’ve all come up with certain concessions before we give you our vote of approval to court Rachel,” Tate said, laying down his cards, literally and figuratively.
This didn’t sound good, but he was willing to see how far the bastards expected him to cave for Rachel.
“It’s just five simple rules. You should be able to live with them with no problems.”
“It depends on just what the five rules are, now, doesn’t it?” Cash said. Nothing was ever simple with the Porters.
“Yes, it does. Rule number one: no fucking around on Rachel. That means no women in town or those women you got stashed at that clubhouse of yours,” Tate began their demands.
“Rule number two: you can’t lay a hand on her when you’re mad. She can get a man’s temper riled, but you’re not allowed to ever hurt my sister.
“Rule number three: she gets to keep working with her plants and clients. They’re a pain in the ass—you can’t go to the fucking bathroom without having something disgusting growing on the shelf—but they’re important to her.
“Rule number four: you have to start going to church with her. We watched our parents fight about that for years. Rachel wants a man who will sit next to her in church on Christmas Eve.” Tate’s voice was much too chirpy when he voiced this rule. Everyone in town knew Cash’s feelings on attending church.
“Rule five, and it’s the most important to us: if you have kids, you have to let us be involved in their lives. I don’t give a fuck how much you hate us, but you won’t show our nieces or nephews that you do. We keep this personal bullshit between us. Deal?”
Cash didn’t hesitate. “Deal, but this doesn’t mean we have to become best friends, does it?”
“Shut up!” Tate’s frustrated voice had them both snapping their mouths closed.
It was an hour before another animal came into the clearing. I can’t catch a fucking break today, Cash thought as a small fawn came farther into the clearing with its mother walking not far behind.
Cash could just hear Rachel’s reaction if he let Bambi die. Thinking quickly, Cash had a sneezing fit that had the deer fleeing.
“Motherfucker, did you bring us out here just to bug the piss out of us?” Dustin’s harsh voice had Cash shrugging apologetically.
“I can’t help it if I’m allergic to Jace’s cologne.”
Jace glared at him but took the brunt of the brothers’ anger. The boy wanted the promised motorcycle enough to become the patsy.
“You wore cologne?” Dustin sniffed toward his cousin.
“I didn’t want to shower,” Jace mumbled.
“How about we just go on to the cabin and fix some breakfast. We can get an early start on fishing.” Cash stood as best he could in the small confines of the blind, going outside the small structure.
“I guess we haven’t got a choice with Jace polluting the air,” Greer grumbled as all the men came out.
They hiked the two miles to his cabin. When he opened the door, the Porters from oldest to youngest whistled.
“Now this is what I call a cabin,” Jace said admiringly.
“Put your backpacks up. I’ll fix breakfast.” It didn’t take long for him to fry bacon and eggs and make a strong pot of coffee. The men all dug in, eating as soon as he put the food on the table.
They spent the rest of the day outside fishing, getting along because they remained quiet. Jace had quieted down, too, throwing him hurt looks every so often. Cash felt like he had stepped on a rambunctious puppy’s tail.
However, everyone’s mood improved as soon as the fish started to be caught. The size of them had them all trying to outdo the others to catch the biggest one.
As Cash’s line pulled taut, he drew the pole back, and he could tell by the strength of the tugging it was a big fish. Unobtrusively, he released the line, letting the fish go.
Reeling in his line, they taunted him for losing the fish.
“You don’t fish any better than you can shoot,” Greer taunted.
Cash remained quiet.
After another hour, he stood and stretched. “How about I go back to the cabin and clean a few for dinner?”
“Sounds good. It’s not like you’re catching anything anyway.” Dustin laughed. “You might as well play bitch and cook.” Dustin laughed again, throwing his line back in the water.
“You sure you don’t want to stay and let us give you a few pointers?” Greer added, throwing the fish he had just caught into the cooler.
“We’ll save that for another day,” Cash replied, picking up the cooler and leaving Jace to pack Cash’s pole back when he returned with his cousins.
It took Cash a good hour to walk off his anger when he got back to the cabin. If he hadn’t wanted their approval for Rachel, he would have thrown them into the water and driven back to town alone.
After his walk, he burned off any anger he had left by gutting the fish and getting them ready to fry. The gas stove was old but had cooked many good meals. He remembered several of the ones he and his father had shared in the cabin that had been built by his grandfather and dad. There used to be an old, dirt road that led from his grandparents’ cabin to this one, but it had long ago grown over.
His father had passed away when he was in the service, and by the time he had returned to Treepoint, Mag had moved and he had liked the remoteness of the cabin. Only he, The Last Riders, and the Porters even knew the cabin was back this far in the woods. It was off the grid with two generators as back-up, well water, and propane for the stove and water heater. It had two bedrooms and a loft that held several bunk beds.
Cash was flipping the fish over when the Porters returned. After everyone washed up, they ate. The night dragged on while they played game after game of poker, which he lost.
Tate leaned forward to pull the last of his money toward him.
“I guess that’s it for me tonight.” Cash threw the cards down onto the table.
Greer smirked while Tate stared at him. “Sure you don’t want to play another game?” Tate asked, dealing out the cards.
“I’m sure. I’ll do the dishes.”
Greer opened his mouth, but Tate shot him a quelling look.
“I was beginning to wonder how long you were going to let us take your money.”
Cash hesitated in getting up. “What?”
“You heard me.” Tate didn’t look down at his cards; instead, he stared directly into his eyes. “Is five hundred all you think my sister’s worth?”
“No, but it’s all I brought with me.” Cash’s hands clenched into fists.
Tate’s lips quirked. “Smart answer.”
“Jace told you?”
“Of course. He may want a motorcycle, but he’s our blood. Blood always comes first; you should have known better.”
“If you knew, then why did you come?” Cash stiffened in his seat. This could go really badly. He didn’t want to have to hurt any of the assholes to protect himself, but he sure as fuck couldn’t be with Rachel if he was six-feet under.
“Relax, Cash.” Dustin laughed, going to the refrigerator to get more beers, which he set on the table with a thump. Everyone reached out for a beer, the sound of the tops popping starting the negotiations.
“We’ve all come up with certain concessions before we give you our vote of approval to court Rachel,” Tate said, laying down his cards, literally and figuratively.
This didn’t sound good, but he was willing to see how far the bastards expected him to cave for Rachel.
“It’s just five simple rules. You should be able to live with them with no problems.”
“It depends on just what the five rules are, now, doesn’t it?” Cash said. Nothing was ever simple with the Porters.
“Yes, it does. Rule number one: no fucking around on Rachel. That means no women in town or those women you got stashed at that clubhouse of yours,” Tate began their demands.
“Rule number two: you can’t lay a hand on her when you’re mad. She can get a man’s temper riled, but you’re not allowed to ever hurt my sister.
“Rule number three: she gets to keep working with her plants and clients. They’re a pain in the ass—you can’t go to the fucking bathroom without having something disgusting growing on the shelf—but they’re important to her.
“Rule number four: you have to start going to church with her. We watched our parents fight about that for years. Rachel wants a man who will sit next to her in church on Christmas Eve.” Tate’s voice was much too chirpy when he voiced this rule. Everyone in town knew Cash’s feelings on attending church.
“Rule five, and it’s the most important to us: if you have kids, you have to let us be involved in their lives. I don’t give a fuck how much you hate us, but you won’t show our nieces or nephews that you do. We keep this personal bullshit between us. Deal?”
Cash didn’t hesitate. “Deal, but this doesn’t mean we have to become best friends, does it?”
