Lang and Rose stood with their mother, saying goodnight as guests strolled out into the night. Their father was at the far end of the tent, talking with a group of ranchers. Rose stood between her brother and Martha, aware of the tension mounting on either side of her. She had witnessed Lang’s dance with Beth Morgan, and she had seen her father stagger out of the bar tent over an hour earlier.
“You okay?” she whispered to Lang.
“I’ll be better when he’s in bed and Mom’s safe.”
“Hush!”
“He’s drunk, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit, Rosie. I’m not the only one who’s been watching him reel around all night.”
She elbowed him as her mother stared at first one, then the other. “What are you two whispering about?”
“Nothing, Mom” she said, patting her arm. “Did you have fun tonight?”
“It was lovely, darlin’. The loveliest party I’ve ever attended.”
“Good,” Rose said, nodding to the guests filing by. “We’ll all be ready for bed soon.”
“Good luck gettin’ your daddy up, chickadees. He’s gonna stay till the bitter end.”
“I’ll take care of him,” Lang said, voice an angry growl.
“Now, Lang, darlin’. Please don’t make a scene. I can get him up. Neecy and Manual will help me.”
“No, they won’t. I’ll do it. Least I can do after all you’ve been through.”
Rose gave him a sharp look. “This has been a beautiful night. Let’s not spoil it, please, Lang.”
As the last guests headed out, Jaybo Dillon staggered their way, full glass in his hand. He dropped it on the dance floor, red wine splashing everywhere. Normally impeccably groomed, the elder Dillon’s shirt was half untucked, his tie askew, and red wines stains trailed down the front of his white shirt.
“Jesus Christ,” Lang muttered, heading toward him, leaving his mother to say the last goodbyes to friends. As he neared his father, Neecy and Manual appeared out of nowhere. They had obviously been watching their boss, ready to step in when needed.
Rose ran after her brother. “Leave him be, Lang! It will only make it worse if you get into it.”
He shrugged out of her grasp and confronted his father, who was now propped on either side by a Rodriquez. “Hey, guys, I’ll take over, thanks.” He took the right side, which Neecy yielded. Her husband still held Jaybo Dillon under his left arm.
“Oh, boy, here we go,” Jaybo said. “Back east big shot gonna step in and meddle where he’s not wanted. Valley not good enough for you, and now you’re back, thinking you can push everyone around. Well, we don’t need you here!”
“Come on, Dad, let’s get you to bed.”
His father staggered and almost fell. Lang looked over his father’s shoulder and met Manual’s eyes. By tacit agreement, the latter stayed at his post.
Jaybo lashed out, swinging first at his son, then Manual. As the two men dragged him out the side door, Lang repressed an urge to pause and knock him cold. Mercifully, all but a few guests had departed, so the only witnesses to their slow, raucous exit were the caterers and ranch staff.
His father was heavy. He continued to shout and swear at the world and his son as Martha and Rose followed, both in tears.
When they got to the house, Jaybo seemed to get a second wind, and he stood straighter, shrugged out of their grasp, and shoved Lang. “Get the hell away from me, boy.”
In deference to his mother and sister, Lang repressed the “fuck you,” on his lips and said as calmly as possible, “Come on, Dad. Time for bed. You’re upsetting Mom and Rosie.”
“As if you care about them or anything here!” Unseeing eyes focused intermittently as Jaybo lashed out, first at his son, then Manual, knocking the latter down, ripping his jacket, and sending a tray of dirty glassware crashing to the floor. Several members of the catering staff stepped back to stare.
“That’s it,” Lang said. “We’re not dragging him up the stairs. Manual, are you okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You,” Lang said to one of the bartenders who had just stepped in with a tray full of glasses. “Can you give us a hand?”
The young twentysomething man, with a blond crew cut and a broad, beefy frame, hesitated and glanced over at his boss, who nodded her approval. “Yes, of course, Dennis, help them for goodness’ sake.”
“Good. Okay, guys. We’re gonna dump him in his study.”
“Oh, no, you don’t, you little twit!” Jaybo stood straighter and shook himself free. “I’m sleeping in my own bed tonight, and my bride’s comin’ with me.” Unsteadily, he strode the length of the kitchen and flung open the door to the front hall. They all followed, with Martha slipping in front of the men and taking her husband’s arm as they started up the stairs. His arm circled round her shoulders, and they made it to the top without a word.
As they reached Jaybo’s bedroom, Lang grasped his mother’s free hand. “Mom, let me. You go to bed.”
“We’ll be fine, darlin’, don’t worry. You and your sister go to bed. Thank you for a lovely evening.”
“But?”
“No, Lang, no.” Her eyes pleaded with him as the couple stepped inside and she closed the door.
Rose touched his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go down and leave them be. She’ll be okay. She’ll flop him into bed, then head through to her room.”
“Jesus Christ, what a nightmare,” he said as he turned and followed Rose downstairs.
They met Neecy and Manual in the front hall. Both averted their eyes, ashamed for them and the household. “Can I bring you anything?” Neecy asked. “Coffee or something stronger?”
Lang smiled at her. “Thanks, Neecy. I’d kill for a tall seltzer water with lime.”
“That sounds lovely,” Rose said. “Me, too. We thought we might sit on the porch. You two are welcome to join us.”
“Thanks, but we’d better stick to our cleanup right now,” Neecy said as the two disappeared into the kitchen and the siblings headed for the front porch.
Lang took a deep breath and leaned back in the rocker to gaze at the blaze of stars overhead. “She’s not ever gonna leave him, is she?”
“No,” Rose said softly. “She loves him. He’s her whole life.”
“She deserves better.”
“Yes.”
“Would it help for us to talk to her?”
“I think it makes it worse. She’s embarrassed, you see.”
“Screw embarrassment. That bastard could kill her. She’s half his size.”
“Neecy and Manual look after her.”
“What about getting a counselor in?”
“Can you see Dad in marriage counseling?”
“I don’t mean for them. I mean getting someone for Mom. An abuse counselor who can help her break away.”
“She won’t do it, Lang. We tried after he broke her jaw. The hospital brought someone in. She went to a few sessions, insisted everything was fine, and never went again.”
“Well, I’m not leaving until I know she’s protected.”
“That’s good news. You’re moving back for good, then?”
“Ha, ha. I’m on the road soon, come hell or high water. I will talk to him and if I have to, I’ll hire a bodyguard for Mom.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Just at night.”
Rose shrugged and sipped her seltzer as she gazed out into the night. “What about Beth? Will it be hard to say goodbye to her?”
“We’re just friends, for the hundredth time.”
“Hey, right, and I’m flying to the moon in an hour.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Love often is.”
“I loved Cilla. Thought we’d be together forever, you know? We fit. Then we didn’t. I don’t trust myself in the love business anymore.”
“What a load of horseshit. I always thought my big brother was smarter than that.”
“I care about her, Rosie, I really do. And we have chemistry up the wazoo, if you get my drift. But she’s a mess after her breakup, and I live three thousand miles away and may still be licking my wounds from Cilla.”
“So why not at least see where it leads?”
Tired of talking about his love life, he looked over at her. “Is that what you’re planning to do with Sam Morgan?”
“Very funny.”
“Talk about chemistry. The man was all over you.”
“Was not. Besides, I’m not his type.”
“Which is?”
“I’m just boring, you know, and he tends to fall for interesting women.”
“Now who’s talking a load of horseshit! You’re the least boring woman I know. You’re accomplished, funny, smart, beautiful.”
“Mousy, shy, unstylish.”
“Baloney. Any man would be lucky to be with you.”
“Stars are pretty tonight,” she said, reaching across to take his hand.
“Yup.”