But my luck had never been that good, and I realized too late that Mother Nature was a bitch, just like karma.
And they were both chasing me.
Chapter 10
Roughstock
Iwoke up before the sun even thought about rising. Normally, I slept good, but not having Cheyenne next to me caused me to be restless. After slipping on a pair of jeans, my work boots, and a heavy flannel shirt, I made my way to the kitchen. The single pod coffee machine was a pain in the ass, but at that minute, I needed its quickness. After the last rivulets of the black coffee poured from the machine, I grabbed the cup and took a swallow.
It was colder this morning than it was when I passed out four and a half hours ago, and I checked the weather report to make sure Cheyenne would be able to make it back home before the snow started. I didn’t want her to be stuck on the reservation without a way to get home to me, and I contemplated calling to wake her up but didn’t want to disturb the whole house.
Walking outside, I took a seat on the front porch as the first specks of gray began to push the inky black sky away. The sound of the ranch hands waking up to take care of the animals came out of the barn near the side of the house, and I cast a glance to see if I was needed. Seeing I didn’t need to go help, I leaned back and finished the last of my coffee.
The relative silence of the morning was broken when my phone started ringing from inside my shirt pocket. Pulling it out, not wanting to miss a call from Cheyenne, I was confused why Warhol was calling meso early.
“What’s up?” I asked when I answered, not needing the pleasantries most people were used to.
“Are you at home?” he asked.
“Where the fuck else would I be?” I asked. “It’s barely six in the morning.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said and hung up on me.
I looked at the phone, trying to figure out who the hell he thought he was talking to. And why the hell he was disturbing my peaceful morning. I wouldn’t have long to wait, so I walked back inside and started another cup of coffee for myself as well as filling the carafe and starting a pot in the percolator. Warhol wasn’t the kind of person who enjoyed being up early, so I wanted to have caffeine for him when he got here.
When my cup was ready, I walked back outside and slipped my hand into my pocket as I took a swallow from the cup. Seeing the dust rising from the long driveway and watching it get closer, I knew he’d arrived. The sound of his pipes rumbling closer had one of the ranch hands sticking his head out to see who was here. He looked at me, and I shrugged before he turned and went back inside.
Since I yelled at everyone the other day, they’d been attentive and protective of the ranch. I heard them talking about taking turns patrolling the land, like the cowboys from the past, and I didn’t stop the conversation. If they felt enough loyalty to me, the ranch, and by proxy the club, then I wasn’t going to stop them from being proactive and alert.
Warhol pulled his bike up next to mine and turned the engine off. He looked up the stairs at me as he swung his leg over the seat and got off. He was a tough motherfucker to read,so when he climbed the stairs and I saw worry and anger in his eyes, I knew it was something big.
“Let’s go inside. I just started a pot of coffee,” I stated and turned to walk inside.
He stopped at the doorway and wiped the bottom of his boots on the brush at the side of the door before stepping inside. Warhol was crazy, unpredictable, and sometimes a little scary, but his manners were impeccable.
I pulled a coffee cup down from the cabinet and poured some of the steamy black liquid before handing it to him.
He looked down and back to me before clearing his throat. “Do you have any creamer?”
“In the fridge,” I remarked, and he scooted around me.
After topping off his cup with one of the half-dozen bottles Cheyenne had, he turned to me as he took a healthy swallow. His eyes closed and he sighed contently before speaking again. “Please tell Cheyenne I said thank you.”
When he leveled his eyes to mine, I nodded to the table near the big window in the kitchen and he followed me. Sitting down, I waited for him to explain what was going on.
Reaching into his cut, he pulled out Pops’s phone and slid it across the table to me. “I spent all night going over the phone and reading the reports from Callahan.” He whistled and said, “That motherfucker is scary with all the access he has to just about everything. He’s someone we want as a friend of the club.”
“Agreed. My cousin, Adam, said there’s not much he doesn’t have eyes on.” Casting my gaze to the phone, I asked, “What did you find?”
“It’s what I didn’t find that has me concerned. I went through every email, message, and text and couldn’t find anything that would’ve caused someone to want to hurt him.”
“So, we’re at square one still?” I inquired, wanting to put my hand through the wall. “Maybe Cheyenne will have better luck speaking with the people at the store on the reservation.”
“Not likely,” he interjected, and I gave him a confused look as he finished the last of his cup and stood to refill it. Patiently, I waited, though I wanted to yell at him to hurry the fuck up. Finally, he turned back to the table and began to explain. “After hitting every dead end you could imagine, I started to think about data. Where it’s stored, how it’s handled, if you can delete it, that kind of thing. And that’s where I started to find a few things.”
I was intrigued by where this was going and by the way his mind worked. He saw pieces of puzzles that no one else could and figured out how they fit together. That’s why I wanted him on this situation, and it seemed he may have been on a path that could lead to the people who betrayed my Pops.
“If you’ll open the phone, I’ll show you,” he stated and shifted seats to be next to me.
