Page 28 of The Banker and the Blue Collar Man

“I can walk.” Dalton lifted his chin as though he thought I’d challenge him on it. He was wearing Lucas’ boots, but they were broken in. He’d be fine. All I had to do was keep my mind focused on ersatz ice cream and hold on until noon, and I’d be fine, too.

I led the way along the sidewalk, past Chance News and the diner, and we crossed the intersection on the diagonal because there simply wasn’t any traffic.

The Dairy Queen was gross, now, in my eyes, with old gum on the red counter, and trash smeared into the concrete in the front, though I’d never thought about it before. We went up to the outside serving counter, below the red eaves and the white sign, and I pulled out my wallet before he could protest.

“What’s good here?” he asked, and then shrugged. “It’s been a while.”

“I like the Blizzards.” Then I added, “Butterfinger,” and squinted at the menu like I didn’t have it already memorized, all to keep from staring at him.

“I’ll have that,” he said. “Thank you.”

His phone rang, and he grabbed it like he was already mad about whoever was calling him. He walked off toward the outdoor seating with his hand over one ear, and I pretended to ignore him as I paid, though I could hear just about everything.

“No,” he said. “I saidno.” A pause. “Why should I use my vacation to house-sit while the two of you go off to Hawaii with your girlfriends? My PTO that I worked hard for?”

PTO was vacation, then. Got it.

“You can afford a house sitter.” The words snapped in the air. “Hell, you can afford a hundred with what Mom and Dad left you. Me and my twenty acres are just fine, thank you very much.”

He listened again.

“No, I don’t owe you.” He was just about shouting. “Why would I? I’ve been there for everything since they passed.Everything! I deserve some time to myself.”

His parents had died. That was bad. But it was the other part that troubled me: how upset he was. The words tumbling as he spoke. The way his voice shook as the person on the other end of the call pulled him into some imaginary obligation that seemed to be ripping him to shreds.

I wanted to go up and reach through that phone and punch whoever was on the other side.

I wanted to go to Dalton and comfort him.

I wanted him to let me.

“No,” he said again. “And I tell you what.” He whirled around, and for a second I thought he was angry with me, his scowl was that deep. Then his mouth opened, his eyes flashing as though in me he’d found an answer. “Lucas needs me to—Remember Lucas? Well, it’s his ranch I’m at. He needs me to go over the accounting. I’ve got that bank examiner’s certificate. I’ll use that to help my good friend, and you guys can look out for yourselves.”

He stared at me the whole time he was talking. He clicked the call closed with a hard stab of his thumb, just about vibrating from head to toe.

I knew for a fact that Lucas had gone over his own accounts as best he could. He was a banker, too, after all. But he also had other things to do at the ranch, and some of Walter’s bookkeeping methods were probably not what Lucas was used to. Maybe he could use some help.

I had no idea what a bank examiner was, exactly, but evidently Dalton had a certificate for it. Moreover, he’d just lied about his obligation to Lucas. All to keep him from having to ask how high when his family told him to jump.

He drew his hand across his face as he came over to me, jamming his cell phone into his back pocket as if it was on fire.

“Sorry,” he said. “My brothers. They always want me to, um, come when called. You know?”

I sat down at one of the red metal tables, partially in the shade of an old cottonwood tree, and held his Blizzard out to him. He sat down catty-corner from me and took the cup, his hand shaking.

“Yeah, I know,” I said. Because I did.

“It’s all stupid shit they want me to do, too, which makes me mad because they—” He shook his head. “Never mind.” He poked at his Blizzard with a long red plastic spoon and shoveled some into his mouth.

“They what?” I asked. I hadn’t taken a bite of my ice cream because this was more important.

When he looked at me in that dappled shade, his eyes were serious and sad all at the same time. “It took me two years to study,” he said. “It’s like a master’s degree. I flew to Chicago last December for the exam. My parents were coming to pick me up at the airport when I came back, and they slid into an icy lake and drowned. My brothers blame me.”

“They shouldn’t,” I said, puzzled by the story, but then, I’d never had a family of my own.

“Well, they do.” He sighed. “I didn’t expect a celebration, like my brothers had gotten when they got their master's, but would it have been too much for them to take me out for drinks?”

“I’d take you out for drinks,” I said, speaking before I could think. “Someday.”