Page 77 of Ransom
"Ransom?"
I closed my fist around the salt.
"What are you doing?"
I turned around. Winston was standing in the doorway, hat in hand, his face somewhere between confused and amused, trying not to be either.
"Checking the horse."
"With salt?"
"Yeah."
He came in and shut the door behind him. He stopped in front of me and looked down at my closed fist.
I opened my hand. The salt was sweating into my palm.
"Coyote was teaching Fenix something," I said. "I overheard. It's stupid."
Winston didn't say anything. He stood there with his hat in his hand and waited.
"You think I'm crazy?"
"Maybe."
I huffed a laugh through my nose.
He took the salt out of my fist without asking, pinched some between his fingers, walked it to the corner and dropped it where the floorboards met the wall. He came back to me, put what was left of the salt in my hand, and closed my fingers around it.
"Now your barn's clean, Lanza."
I shoved him back against the stall and kissed him hard enough to taste salt on both our tongues.
Galahad snorted and tossed his head. Damn horse.
Winston's free hand came up and fisted in the front of my shirt at the breastbone. He held on like a man holding a horse on a short rein, tasting like cinnamon and coffee.
The barn door scraped open.
"Ransom, Sierra said to ask if..." Mateo stopped at the threshold. "Oh. Aw, hell."
I pulled back from Winston slowly, keeping my hand flat against his chest.
Mateo had his hat off and was pressing it flat against his chest like he'd just walked into a funeral.
"You're not sorry, Mateo. What did Sierra want?"
"He wanted to know if you wanted the leftover sausage in the icebox or if he could put it in the dog's bowl."
"Tell him in the dog's bowl."
"That all?"
"That's all."
He paused at the door. "Boss."
"What?"
