“Why are you smiling so big?” Cletus’s tone told me he was suspicious. But then Cletus was always suspicious.
Ignoring my brother, I asked Drew, “So what’s Cletus going to be doing while I’m managing the bears?”
“They have a couple of old tractors, real primitive stuff, and they need help keeping the machines working. I guess their supplier didn’t know they wanted the things to actually run, not just sit pretty in the background,” Cletus answered for Drew.
“Fine. That’s fine.” I was only half listening; Cletus and his machine tinkering weren’t of much interest to me. If encouraged, he would talk about it for hours. “So, when do we start?”
“Today, more or less.” Drew set his hat on his head. “You’re meeting with the director next Monday at noon, a week from today. Her name is Tabitha Johnson. ’Til then, you’ll be scouting the perimeter, keeping bears out of the prairie. Take the traps and use The Beast to move them.”
The traps were the custom-welded bear traps of Drew’s design; they caged the bears without harming them. The Beast was a Ford F-350 Super Duty truck.
“Also, you might want to load up on ketamine,” Drew added, motioning for Roscoe to join him.
“Sure, but I think the traps should work.” I set my hands on my hips, not wanting to tranquilize the bears unless absolutely necessary.
“The ketamine isn’t just for the bears.” Drew gave me a sympathetic look, then promptly turned and left, Roscoe on his heels.
“I think he expects me to use the ketamine on the film folks.” I chuckled, knowing Drew wasn’t serious. It was pretty darn close to a joke though. I was proud of my boss, he rarely made jokes.
“Or use it on each other.” Cletus gulped the rest of his coffee, smacking his lips before adding. “If these movie people are as crazy as Drew thinks they are, we can self-medicate until we pass out. It’s always good sense to have an escape plan.”
I was glad to have Cletus along.
I wouldn’t have been able to move the traps on my own. Cletus was good company, just as long as he didn’t have anything up his sleeve. The problem was, Cletus usually had something—or several somethings—up his sleeve.
Luckily, today was one of those infrequent days where we were able to share space, time, and work without me having to worry he was plotting my demise.
“. . . so we’re going into Nashville to play the opening set. Now I just need to convince Claire to sing the vocals, because there’s no way Billy or Drew can be persuaded to come around.” Cletus was referring to his bluegrass trio. My brother played the banjo every Friday night at the community center during the weekly jam session. He and two of his fellow musicians had recently formed a bluegrass band, but they were still looking for a singer.
“You’ve tried blackmail?”
He nodded. “With Billy, yes. But he won’t budge.”
“But not with Drew?”
Cletus gave me a probing stare. “Under what circumstances do you think it would ever profit to blackmail Drew Runous? He’s as honorable as the Mesozoic Era is long.”
“I guess no profit, if I thought on it.” I grinned, ceding his point. “But what about Ashley?”
Cletus lifted an eyebrow, holding the trap base so I could crank open the door. “What about Ashley?”
“Well, she’s been back in town for nearly two months, and she’s got a great voice. If Claire don’t work out, you could ask Ash.”
“Huh.” Cletus nodded slowly. “I could ask Ash. And I bet she’d agree straightway, too. Good idea, thanks.”
“No problem.” I grinned wider.
Arriving at this place with Cletus—where he actually spoke in a congenial tone rather than constantly plotting my demise—had taken five years and a great deal of effort. His thanking me with any sincerity was a small victory I’d happily take.
We worked in silence for a time, finishing with the first trap after forty-five minutes of setting up. The Beast could only carry four traps at a time, so we’d have to make ten trips in total over the next week. I wanted to have all the traps set and checked at least once before meeting with the film director.
“You’re whistling again,” Cletus remarked as we climbed back into the truck.
“Am I?”
“Yep. It’s that froufrou song again, the one Roscoe can pronounce without sounding like he’s from Tennessee.”
“I don’t even know where I heard it.” I started the ignition, checking the rearview mirror.
“Momma used to listen to it when we were growing up. She’d make us dance with her whenever it was on.”