Cool Hand Hank / A Cowboy's Redemption: Cool Hand Hank / A Cowboy's Redemption. Kathleen Eagle
week,” Sally said.
“Sorry, Hoolie. You got a ways to go.”
“I broke a wing before. Twice.” Hoolie flapped his foldedarm. “But never a leg. Sure cramps a guy’s style.”
“I’ll request the Funky Chicken,” Hilda promised. “When the mother of the groom and the father of the bride are both unattached, they get one of those spotlight dances. Right, Sally?”
“Absolutely. We make our own rules. Don’t we, Hoolie? I think I might have found us a sitter.” She flashed Hank a smile. “Hank’s almost convinced.”
“What kind of a sitter?” Hoolie scowled.
“The kind who looks like he can keep the mice at bay while the cats go play. Hank’s perfect, so help me put him over the edge.” She laid her hand on Hank’s shoulder and crooned, “Come on out to the big Double D, where the horses run wild and the cowboys live free.”
Hank chuckled. “Yeah, that’s gonna do it.”
“Hell, yeah, we want those kids to have their honeymoon.” Hoolie leaned closer to Hank. “You like horses?”
“He’s a farrier,” Sally said.
“Thought you was an MA or a PD or some kind of code for junior doctor.”
“PA,” Hank said. “Physician’s assistant.”
“For people, right? And you can shoe horses besides?” Hoolie grinned. “Yeah, you need to come see our place. You got some time? Say about—”
“Three weeks? They don’t trust you to mind the store either, Hoolie?” Hank asked.
“They would if I hadn’t gone and—”
Sally whapped Hoolie in the chest and nodded toward a paunchy silhouette in an oversized straw hat looming in the doorway to the dining room. “What’s he doing here?”
Hoolie peered, squinted. “Don’t ask me.”
“Annie thought about inviting the Tutans. Double D diplomacy, she said, but after the last stunt he pulled—I know damn well it was him—I said it was him or me.” Sally’s hand found Hank’s forearm again, but like Hoolie, he was zeroed in on the uninvited guest. “He cut our fence,” she was saying. “We keep the old horses in a separate pasture, and Tutan cut the fence. He said he didn’t, but it was definitely cut, and that’s how Hoolie broke his ankle.”
“That was my own damn fault.”
“We have special fencing separating the young horses from the retirees and the convalescents. Those horses don’t get through a four-strand fence without help.” Sally slid her chair back. “I’m sure it was a trap. I don’t know if it was set for the horses or for you, but I know he did it to cause us trouble. And he’s about to get his.”
“Hold on, girl.” Hoolie’s chair legs scraped the floor. “Not now.”
“I don’t want him anywhere near Annie’s wedding.”
“C’mon.” Hank was the first one to his feet. “This is my kind of fun. Don’t worry, Hoolie. We’ll keep it civil.” He smiled as he helped Sally with her chair. “But there’s nothing wrong with showin’ a little claw.”
Tutan. The name ping-ponged within the walls of Hank’s head as he took in the face for the first time. He kept pace with Sally, who had a point to make with every deliberate step. No hurry. I’m in charge here. His admiration for the woman’s style grew with every moment he spent with her. And now, here was Dan Tutan. Her lease challenger. His father’s leash holder. Mr. Tutan.
“We’re on our way to Rapid City, thought we’d stop in and offer our best wishes. Did you get our gift?”
“We did. Thanks, but you really shouldn’t have.”
No hello, no go to hell. The way Sally was bristling and the man was posturing, Hank expected a little snarling. He was disappointed.
“We’ve been neighbors a long time, Sally.” The man with the round, red face adjusted his hat, hitched up his pants, and finally folded his arms over his barrel chest. “We figured our invitation got lost in the mail.”
“Annie wanted to keep it small. Family and close friends.”
He eyed Hank. “Close friends?”
“Hank Night Horse.” No handshake. A nod and a name were more than enough. “I’ve known Zach a long time.”
“Night Horse.” Tutan went snake eyed. “I had a guy by that name working for me years ago. Any relation to you?”
Keep looking, Mr. Tutan. “Where was he from?”
“I don’t think he was from around here. Coulda been Montana. Isn’t that where Beaudry’s from?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“I like that Crow Indian country up there. Real pretty. Is that where you’re from?”
“Nope.” Crow country is Crow country. “But Night Horse is a common name. Kinda like Drexler and Tutan.”
“That guy that worked for me…there’s something…” He kept staring, the rude bastard. But he shook his head. “No, if I remember right, he was shaped more like me.” He patted his belly and laughed. “And he was a good hand. Except when he got to drinking. Fell off the wagon and got himself killed somehow. Hard to tell by the time his body was found, but they thought he might’ve been out hunting. That’s one sport you don’t want to mix with too much Everclear.” He shook his head. “Tragic.”
“Sounds like it.” Hank stared dispassionately, kept his tone tame and his fists tucked into his elbows.
“Maybe that wasn’t his name. Pretty sure it was some kinda Horse.” Tutan turned to Sally. “You’re looking fit. Some new kind of—”
“I’m doing well, thanks. Very well.”
“Good. Good to hear.” He tried to peer past Sally, but it was Hoolie who limped into view. “Good man, Hoolihan,” Tutan enthused. “There’s sure no keeping you down. Where’s the bride? I just want to give her my best. I’ve known these girls most of their lives, and I want little Annie to know that the Tutans wish her well.”
“She’s on a tight schedule,” Hank said. “We’ll tell her you stopped in.”
“This time tomorrow I guess the happy couple will be off on a nice honeymoon.”
“That’s the main reason I’m here.” Hank drew a deep breath, steadying himself. “Zach and Annie won’t have a thing to worry about. I’ll be keepin’ these two in line.”
“You’re gonna have your hands full, son.” Tutan threaded his thumbs under his belly roll and over his belt as he moved in on Sally. “Tell your sister I wish her well. She and Beaudry would do well to get out of this crazy horse thing you’ve got going and live their lives. You and your wild ideas. You’re just trying to keep your sister from leaving you without—”
Hank caught Sally in time to save Tutan from what undoubtedly would have been a nice right hook if she’d followed through.
Backpedaling, Tutan wagged his finger. “Your father’s rolling over in his grave over what you’ve done to the Double D, Sally.”
“This is a private party, Tutan,” Hoolie said.
Tutan’s angry gaze didn’t waver. “Hell, girl, I’m sorry for all your troubles, but I ain’t rollin’ over. I’ve got a real ranch to run.”
“Let me go,” Sally grumbled as Tutan turned on his heel and stomped across the lobby.
Hank eased up, but he wasn’t letting go until Tutan was out the