living with demons i've mistaken for saints

"I've met more women that would enjoy this date than ones that would enjoy a fancy dinner," she smiled and put the rifle back down as she turned to face him. There was something there in his tone when he talked about his siblings. It was like he was far away living in a memory for a moment. She couldn't relate to that really. There weren't many memories she wanted to go back to in her life which was probably something she needed to talk to a therapist about. "But maybe I'm just particular about who I spend my time with. It might come as a shock but I'm not the fancy dinner type either so this is probably the most fun I've had since I got transferred here."

"Or her near her horses." He adding to Beck's list , then paused, "Near her anything."

With a sigh, he took a step towards the other, closing the space. He reached out a hand, and dusted the other's shoulder, "clean out that chip on your shoulder, you ain't got a right to have it." He said before taking another step back. He was done here. The threat would be taken or it wouldn't be, and if it wasn't unfortunately he'd have to follow through, and while this might get him in a little bit of trouble, that would probably toast him.

Beck reached into his pocket for his cigarettes, plucking one from the packet and lighting it as he walked. He was done listening to this shit. "Or near her horses," he repeated, cigarette dancing between his lips as he spoke, no longer even bothering to look at Noah as he continued the walk to his house. "Have a safe trip home, Noah. I'll see you around."

Tim grabbed two glasses for them and began to set the table. Old habits from his mother who insisted all of her children be decent hosts. He just sat placed a water pitcher down when Beck asked the golden question. "Well, I was going to warn you about the article before it printed. Outside of that, TJ noticed a few vehicles on the recordings," Tim said. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, pressing at them and a budding headache. "Now, all we do is mind our ps and qs. You weren't on those tapes at Castle Rock, but be mindful wherever you go and with who. Keep the fingers out of cop cars and all that. Try to do whatever business you can above board or at least far away from a damn camera."

Tim's advice was exactly what Beck had expected. Lay low. Keep your head down. Beck was doing his best with that. "Do you got copies of the recordings? D'you know who is in the cars or anything? I can take a look." They'd been helping Tim on stuff with Oceanview, and it'd been their idea to get the cameras set up, only seemed right. "Don't think I ever set foot in Castle Rock if I can help it. Not really a golf course kinda guy, 'less I got a wild hair about me and decided to go tear the thing up on a horse. Don't exactly count as minding your P's and Q's though. Property damage, tresspassing or whatever. But damn, it'd be fun."

He wrinkled up his face. "Relax, I'm not gonna do it. I'm behavin', I promise. But if they really had something on me, I reckon they'd have tried a lot harder to get a hold of me, right?" He could only fuckin' hope.

It seemed appropriate that just as her mind drifted to finances that Beck asked about the insurance company. Julie toed at a clump of dirt on the path, thinking of how to mince her words. Insurance was a scam, but saying so out loud made her feel a bit kooky. "Kind of. They'll pay to have me clean up the plot. Rebuilding? Not quite. Labor and materials are more expensive than they were back with Dot had the place."

"Aw hell, Julie. That sucks." Beck knew how much work Julie had put into her shop. To lose it over some fuckin' asshole who presumably wanted nothing more than to drive her out, it disgusted him. "D'you know what you're gonna do instead? I can't believe they aren't gonna pay out. Those fuckin' assholes. If you need me to go knock a few heads or twist a few arms, just say the word." It surely wouldn't take much to find out which insurance adjustor had handled her claim and 'convnce' them to change it. "Though, that ain't exactly layin' low, huh?" He offered her a sad smile. "I'm here for you, whatever you decide your next steps are. You know that."

As the conversation turned to Lia, Beck chewed the inside of his lip, suddenly very interested in whatever Banjo was up to, his eyes following the dog along the trail. "Ah, nothin' really. I thought we had somethin', or at least that we could've rebuilt something, but her dad decided to put his money into some other project, ski resort or something in Utah, I think. So she bounced." He shrugged. "Probably also for the best." Part of Beck wished she would've chosen him, but the other part of him was glad she was at least out of harm's way, far away from Obsidian and Cowboy business. "I've been seein' some other girl, but it's casual. Just havin' fun."

"No." He shook his head, "I'm saying that girl comes before everything." Beck didn't know how Noah had gotten his brand. If he had, this whole thing might make heeps more sense, but he wasn't that kind of friends with Beck and he couldn't count five people that knew that story. "The brand, the whole organization, the cause-- everything." He said it again, hoping that would be clear enough for him, "and I don't give a shit about who you tell that. Tell the whole fuckin' world for all I care." He paused a second before continuing, "but just to be clear, you ain't do a damn thing for us. There isn't a cause," not one he believed in anyways. Especially lately, not having a house to live in. "And it's kind of funny that you're going to stand there, so firmly behind it." Especially with how the other's brother died. That still didn't make sense to him, but he chose not to elaborate on that. "Good. Figure out a different way to do it. Maybe pick up a side gig. You know, if you can spare the time."

"You can question whatever the hell you want about me, but from what you just told me, I'm a hell of a lot more loyal to this brand than you are, so maybe you wanna dial back on some of that big-dick-swinging attitude of yours." Beck was being way more direct and confrontational than he'd normally allow himself, especially with a fellow Cowboy, but his patience was paper thin after the last few days. "I already told you there's no drugs here. There ain't gonna be any drugs here. But that's outta respect for Faye. Not for you." Beck usually picked up the shipment on his way out of town and got rid of it before he ever made his way back, but Noah didn't need to know that. "Not in the trucks, not in the trailers, I fuckin' got it, okay? D'you feel accomplished now?"

The urge to grab Beck by his collar and slam him against the metal barn, hopefully knocking some sense into him, was overwhelming. Caid finally had a short leash on his temper these days. Mostly because his wife asked him to be smarter, and he owed it to her and his kids. His fingers twitched at his sides. "You think that's war? This ain't nothing." Caid's face was a mixture of darkness, the man who was human was gone, instead there was a barely caged animal behind his eyes. The years of things that Caid had done, the life he'd stomped out — numbers that he didn't want to count but lingered there regardless — the look in a person's eyes went they saw death coming was something that he was acutely intimate with. The millions of ways you could break a person without killing them a deeper sin. Back in the time of Charlie, it seemed like it was weekly he was spilling blood, burying a body.

The Cowboys paved their way to power with blood and fear, something that people forgot because everyone wanted to be a Cowboy.

Caid gave a hollow laugh, as he was over this. "You only announce to the world about the cushioned place you have come from with your little pity production you just put on for me." Caid rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you'll do it, but complain the whole time. You'll do it, but cry about the consequences. I'm tired of the dramatics, Beck. I don't empathize or sympathize with you. I don't care about your excuses." Caid was close to washing his hands with this conversation. "You really haven't had to do much of anything, you really don't know what sacrifice means when it comes to being a Cowboy. That's not a debate, it's an outright fact. Tryin' to convince me of that is a fight you're going to lose. You should learn to shut up before you lose what little respect I still have left for you."

"I'm not a fuckin' coward, Caid. D'you know how easy it would've been for me to take off, like all my fuckin' brothers did, like my parents did? I chose this. I chose you. But I'm trying to be realistic. Because we can't do any more Cowboy Shit as you call it if we're in jail." Or if they were dead, but Beck didn't want to bring up that potential reality right now. Not when things were already so tense. "If they wind up gettin' rid of us, this community that we've fought for becomes a sitting duck. I'm trying to win this war with you, even if that means losing a battle or two. S'all I'm saying."

Beck had never seen Caid like this, but he was sure it wasn't the first time. It was just something Beck had been lucky enough to be shielded from so far. Further proof that he'd had it just as easy as Caid had said. "All's you gotta say is that you don't like my idea. What you see as me complaining or being a coward I see as trying to keep us safe. I don't wanna lose anymore of us. There's already been too damn many." Lucas. Randall. Charlie. Although Beck wasn't going to shed a tear about that last one. They'd come for Shawn. They'd come for Julie's shop. They'd taken Grayson. "I'm still here. I'm still fighting. Don't you see that? I want it to stay that way."

"That doesn't mean a fuckin' thing. Are you actually that stupid? Just because something's been consigned somewhere, doesn't mean she's going to be there. People can sell horses without actually being there. They can buy them without actually being there, and if she was there, the only people that would know would be people she told and people who saw here there. And I trust all the assholes there, more than I trust you." Noah rolled his eyes, the pacing picking up speed a bit before stopping in front of the other, "No, that's the problems isn't it? You're not hard to find-- on the road, here, in her trucks, riding her horses." He paused, "do I need to continue?" He didn't think he did. He thought the point had been made so he quick.

"What I don't understand is, you just said she's been so good to you, and yet you still use trucks with her name on them, to transport drugs. You know she'd fire you if she knew that?" He said with a pause, "without a second guess, and then she'd call the cops." He didn't know that, she probably wouldn't in all reality-- call the cops that was. She didn't call them on him. Which at this point was a stroke of luck. The problem with all of this however, was he couldn't be sure they weren't aiming for him either. It wasn't like he hadn't thought of himself already, but the world knew they broke up, didn't know they spent any time together at all, so he didn't feel all that guilty, he did however, look to the next guiltiest person, which in his mind would be Beck.

"Here's the deal Beck," he finally started again after a long second, "you're not using her shit to do anything with the fucking drugs anymore, understand?" Bold of him to demand something like that, but what else could he do? "A truck with her name on it, a trailer with her name on it-- hell one of her horses in a different trailer all together." He continued, "if it has anything thing to do with her, it has nothing to do with Cowboy business. Nothing." He didn't have the authority to command any of this, but he was getting tired. Tired of everyone hurting or killing people directly in his life. "And if you decide you're gonna do it anyways?" He said, "her firing you will be the absolute least of your worries. I'll kill ya myself." He said, "I don't fuckin' care about the rules of the brand, not in this." The main one being if you wore one, no one was supposed to fuck with you. Noah didn't care. No one was off limits when it came to her.

Beck grit his teeth. Someone had been spilling to Noah. "Who says I've been doing that?" He played dumb, but his mouth was bone dry, his knuckles clenched at his side. He could see the seriousness in Noah. The guy wasn't fucking around. Beck couldn't blame him, either. He wasn't immune to losing his shit when it came to a girl. He'd almost been ready to risk everything for Ophelia, and look how that would've turned out. She'd left town without a second thought. Of course Faye would've called the cops if she caught Beck moving drugs. Of course it would cost him his job. His dream job. Caid said Beck never sacrificed anything, but every time Beck travelled cross-country with Cowboy product on him, he was risking almost everything he loved.

Beck stopped in his tracks as Noah stepped in front of him. For a moment, he was sure Noah was going to hit him. He braced himself for it, but Noah didn't move, just stood there like a hefty oak door, solid and inpenetrable. Serious as a heart attack. Smartest thing would've been not to challenge him. Apparently Beck wasn't big on being smart. "So you're saying your girl comes before Cowboy Business, that it? Not that I'm confirming anything, but anything I did do would be for us, for our cause." He had to wonder if Caid knew that Noah was asking this of him, but given their last conversation, Beck wasn't exactly in a position to be tattling on anyone right now. If Noah went to Faye about his suspicions, this whole thing could blow up, and they'd all suffer, but especially Beck. "Point taken. No drugs. No Cowboy business. I got it."

"I'm just a hot person," Chuck shrugged as she reloaded but didn't fire again. Instead she just watched as he did the same as she had just done, albeit slightly slower. Clearly he knew his way around a weapon but she was certain he'd never used one in a life or death situation. Something about how people held them made a difference. That had never really been what attracted her to a person. She found that men considered that more attractive than women did.

It was bittersweet to talk about his brothers. Of course, he missed Lucas more than he could ever put into words, but he missed the rest of them, too. He should call them, and check in. "I'm just lucky you're the kinda girl that likes it. Not much of a fancy dinners kinda guy." He slipped his arms around her waist, guiding her to face him. "Are you having fun though?"

Noah remained silent as he followed Beck to where he wanted them to talk. It was almost funny, listening to the other describe the place as if Noah had never been there before. Not that Beck would really know-- maybe he did, maybe he didn't, Noah didn't know nor care. But the thought was mildly funny.

"You keeping any drugs here?" He finally asked when they were further away from any permanent buildings, less lighting. Felt more concealed, safer to talk. "In the barn? At your house? In the trucks-- the trailers?" He elaborated, "because when my girlfriend comes to me," not a conscious descriptor nor was it true, but it was already out of his mouth without him even thinking of the label, "and tells me that theres irrefutable evidence that someone ran her fucking truck off the road on purpose, killed a trailer full of her favorite horses in the process, then scapegoating her out to make her think she did it to herself it doesn't make sense. Much like you in this fucking organization, but now both of these things are things I have to live with." He laughed, "it doesn't make sense because I wouldn't trust anyone other than her to pull a trailer pull of horses I gave even one shit about." He shook his head, "and you're out here, doing whatever the hell you want-- running drugs up and down the road with her fucking trucks, so that begs the question," another pause as he turned to look at Beck, "were they lookin' for you and just got the truck wrong? Or did you tell 'em where she'd be?" Noah didn't leave enough space for Beck to interrupt, "because she ain't ever done anything to anyone to make them wanna kill her, and I'm sure you have."

It didn't take long for Noah to reveal why he was upset. The drugs. Shit. Beck tried to keep that kind of stuff on the quiet side, like any other Cowboy business. It'd cost him his job, land him jail time, put the other Cowboys at risk. The dealing was usually left to the associates or the Fingers, those lower on the totem pole, but when Beck found himself travelling, it was a good cover for moving product, and it gave him a little extra pocket money. "No, Noah. I don't keep drugs here. You think I'm fucking stupid?" With all the security on the ranch, it would've been suicide.

At Noah's revelation about Faye's trailer, Beck's eyes widened, body language visibly stiff. "Wait, someone hit her on purpose? She said she just fell asleep at the wheel..." Faye hadn't wanted to talk about it, and who could blame her? Beck could only imagine how frightening and traumatic it had been. The thought that someone might have been aiming for him never even occurred to him. His whole demeanor shifted from nonchalant to almost desperate.

"No, no way. Noah, you gotta believe me. I wouldn't ever hurt Faye or the horses. Faye's been nothin' but good to me. This job is one of the best things that ever happened to me." His stomach was in knots. He felt as if he had just been plunged into an ice bath, and any color had almost drained from his cheeks. It'd made his heart hurt, hearing what had happened, thinking about Faye and poor Stumpy, the other horses, how terrified they all must've been. Even if Beck did have a reason to go after Faye, going after her in a way that hurt the horses would've been unthinkable to him.

"I didn't tell anyone anything. The cosignments are all on the online catalogue. Anyone who looked into it knew she'd be at that sale. I fuckin' swear, it wasn't me." But had someone thought it was him in the truck? Why would they think that? "If they wanted me, I'm not hard to find," he added, almost reasoning with himself just as much as Noah.

On top of that, Caid had a list about a mile long of illegal activities he'd done over the last two decades he was around the Cowboys, all for the Cowboys and for that bead of altruism he claimed to have. "How's changing with the times gonna solve what we already got on us?" Caid snorted a laugh that wasn't a laugh. It wasn't about the brand, it was about accountability, he realized. No one wanted to have to face what they did. The brand was a visual reminder of that accountability. "Everyone wants to be a Cowboy till it's time to do Cowboy shit," he rolled his eyes. As soon as shit got hard, it wasn't like they couldn't handle it. Caid knew what he was in when he got into it. The ugliness was not what scared him, the fear came later, it came when he looked his wife in her eyes and started to not recognize the man that reflected back.

Beck's tone rubbed something feral within Caid and the calm, sinister feeling of ugliness rose from deep within him. His lips curled upward, his teeth showing in almost a predatory way. Caid was a perfectly reasonable guy, until he wasn't. He was perfectly respectful, until he wasn't. "You have lived most of your life in a very cushioned place. You have existed in this organization during a very peaceful time. That time is now over. If you think I won't take you on out to the train station, that would be a mistake. I've done it before. Charlie wasn't the first or the last Cowboy that went goofy or was just plain dumb." That truth lingered there. "I don't think you'd be a mole knowingly. I'm far more concerned with what decisions you make not thinking through the effects, and you should be more concerned about them too. Our enemies know who we are, and they're much more sophisticated than we are. They don't need to see the brand to figure out if we're in. I'd bet they got a list."

"Peaceful? I came into this after my brother was murdered, then you guys found out it was because one of our own stabbed him in the back. The person who was supposed to be leading us betrayed him. They're finding bodies at the apartment buildings, shit, they're making more bodies at the apartment buildings." Beck didn't know how peaceful things were, but Caid was right. It was getting more intense day by day. There was people clearly feeding info to Obsidian behind their backs, there was arson and car accidents that weren't accidents.

"It's ramping up. I know that. But don't say I won't do Cowboy shit. I've done everything you've asked of me." He had been prepared to spy on and screw over Lia and her family if it meant protecting the Cowboys, but he'd also been prepared to tell her the truth about his life if things had gone that way. That would've been a decision that could put them at risk if it had turned out she couldn't be trusted. "I would never betray you guys. Everything I do is for us. So if you wanna take me to the train station, go ahead. Send me to Luke so he can tell me what a disappointment I am, too."

Beck had already been given plenty of food at Mia's place, but he filled his own bowl and ate anyways. He was working long hours, putting hours in on the two-year-olds on the ranch and trying to get ahead as much as possible before his medical leave, but you couldn't rush horses. Didn't do 'em any good to put in more time than they were ready for. They learned at the pace they were gonna learn at. He still wanted to fit in as many sessions as he could reasonably manage. Sometimes that meant he forgot to eat or worked through lunch. His body seemed to be reminding him to catch up. He was still starving. "What do we do now?" Beck asked. "What were you gonna say when you came over?"

What would Caid do. That was easy, he'd whip him off his horse in eight seconds, then scare the religion right back into him. But this wasn't that kind of situation. Well, it might of been who really knew. Not Noah, not anyone. But the more he stood there, looking at Beck, talking to him, the more he just didn't like it. Now, did he think that Beck was the person who actually hit Fayes truck? No. But did he have a hand in it? Noah didn't know. "Well I don't know Beck." Noah spoke, his words bouncing, "maybe it's because you look guilty." Something wasn't always wrong around here, at least not to Noah, and if it was to Beck, they were playing two different games, and Noah didn't like it.

As the other spoke, the mistrust grew. Though, if he was being honest, nothing Beck could have said would have put Noah at ease. After seeing that video, not that Beck was on it, how could he trust any of them? They were all out here for themselves, they had to be. A group full of criminals didn't exactly have golden motives. Moreso, he never really understood why Beck even joined. He'd done it before Noah had, but when he heard he was Tilly's little brother, why in hell would he want to join? If he knew what it did to Tilly? Why would he want to go down the same path? Didn't make a whole lot of sense. Didn't before Randall died, and now that he had and he was ten feet deep it made less. If Randall had died before Noah had gotten a brand, there was no way in hell he would have joined. As a matter of fact, he would have stayed away. So that begged the question, what in the hell was Beck getting at?

But back to it, what would Caid do. Noah rolled his eyes, "yeah sure, don't know how you knew I liked long walks on the beach." He started, sarcasm dripping thorough his thick accent, but he followed anyways. That was the first thing the other had said that Noah didn't think was completely stupid. That was the thing about cameras, they had a way of catching people on them and Noah was trying his best to stay off them, unlike some of the other group members.

Once they were out he didn't feel any more at ease. If anything, he felt a little less. "Why don't you tell me." He said, "because something ain't right around here, and I don't know if its what you're doing or if its not." Because really, who joined the group that killed their brother after their brother died, if not to fuck that group up from the inside out. That would be the only thing that made sense. And how else to do that, other than trying to kill someone that would impact the group as a whole. Because that did make sense to him.

"Long walks on the beach. More like long walks in the desert, but the ranch is real beautiful at sunset." Beck truly did love the place. He didn't wanna get too deep into anything when they were still in the barn. The good thing about the ranch was that there was lots of wide open space, lots of places to talk. Beck tried to keep Cowboy business away from the place, visitors, too, but it was rough when he lived on the property. Beck listened as Noah spoke. Wasn't hard to tell that Noah was far from happy. Who could blame him? They headed up towards Beck's small house a little further up the property. It was a decent walk, plenty of time to talk.

"What are you getting at?" he asked, knitting his brows together. Beck was on their side. The Cowboys' side. Anything other than that was a ridiculous notion to him. It was almost unthinkable to him that anyone would think different. "We know stuff ain't right. But it ain't because of me. I ain't doing nothin' except try to help us." He couldn't help but wonder how many others were looking at him as the potential leak, too. It made him uneasy. Was he naïve for trusting them? If he had to pick out a potential mole, where would he look? Probably not at his fellow hands, or the top hands, probably to the fingers or associates. His research with Tim hadn't uncovered anything substantial yet, but they were trying.

"I am going to warn you one fucking time, my wife is not your fucking friend when it comes to Cowboy business. She is married to me, and that's enough fucking involvement in any of this bullshit, you hear? It's not her job to tell me shit about you, and you shouldn't be relying on her to tell me things about you. Especially not medical information that is private. It's also not her place to give you advice on how to handle Cowboy business. She didn't want this life, she just happened to love me a lot and I was already in it. She's not a Cowboy, she's my wife. My family — my family, and mine alone — is already too fucking close to this shit. I'll tear off the fuckin' head of anyone who dares get them any closer, including you."

His wife and his kids were always his line. Despite Julie telling him that it wasn't on purpose, it had been her place and she had worked late and by herself plenty of times before. It was purely coincidence she wasn't there. Then, his eldest son was strapped with guilt that didn't belong to a ten year old, no understanding how much of his father's fault this really was. Caid had always had a temper, and he always had a temper when it came to protecting Julie — even before she was his. Now it was amplified. Caid shook his head and swore under his breath. His vision had something of cleared after drawing the line, but his tone didn't, moving to address the rest of the question.

"If the cops see it, you might end up in jail. The mark is in police records on two known Cowboys. They know what it means. Plus I am pretty sure our enemies already know who each one of us is." A little tidbit that he was starting to suspect was that Obsidian knew a lot more about The Cowboy Mafia than they ever should have. All thanks to Randall for deciding to sleep with someone and tell all the trade secrets and for what? Sam was a fantastic wife, a better person than he deserved. Anger seeped through him on so many levels. Caid took a breath, trying to steady himself but his anger had him by the collar.

"That's why we tend to avoid the hospitals around here. Samara Cross, she's a nurse. I've used her for more than a few scrapes. Nish works pretty good in a pinch, if you don't maybe mind an ugly scar. Sam has tighter sutures. Should've been a plastic surgeon. We also tend to be pretty critical with who we decide to fuck around with. Last cowboy who slept with the wrong person ended up dead in a hotel room." Caid gave Beck a sharp glance. "Beck, I don't got time to do all the thinking for you. I don't know how many times I gotta say this, but this isn't a damn game. Start thinkin' just a little more critically about the shit you do before you go do it, because if you end up in jail I can't fuckin' save you. More importantly, if the dumb shit you do ends in someone else going to jail or actually getting killed, we're not forgiving about it."

He didn't know if Lucas' death had been the start of it, or if it had just been the thing that made reality hit, but over the years, they'd all moved on, got their own lives in different cities. Even Beck's parents didn't spend their time in Paxton anymore, and yet Beck had stayed, some invisible string holding him here, like all the problems were his to solve. He had thought the Cowboys were his family. Maybe he was wrong.

Hearing that he might end up in jail if the cops saw the brand wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear. He was terrified of the police, and with good reason. His hands weren't as bloody as some, but they definitely weren't clean. "I'm askin' if we should maybe change with the times. If the cops are onto the brand, maybe we cover 'em up, do something different as a sign of loyalty." Beck was suggesting something rather than asking a question, but that was the kind of thing Elias would decide.

Caid was usually firm with Beck. Beck didn't mind that. He typically responded well. Something about his tone today hit different, though, and it ran through Beck like a knife. "And what dumb shit would that be?" Beck asked. "You wanna take me to the train station, Caid? You think I'm one of the moles? I've been working with Tim to try and find 'em."

Beck's nerves radiated off his shoulders. Julie looked up at the mention of the surgery. "Well, that's good news, right? Are you excited?" She asked, ignoring the comment about running.

"I'm happy, I am. It's been a long time coming." Insurance companies really made you jump through hoops for this stuff. He'd had to see a therapist, prove he'd been living as himself, get an official diagnosis, then there was a year long waiting list, even after insurance approved everything. "I just wish it didn't feel like I was doing it to hide. It's something I've wanted for a long time."

Beck was guilty, though. He wasn't gonna say that, but there was plenty they could get him on if they looked in the right places. He wasn't involved in what had happened to Randall, hadn't even lived here when Raina had disappeared, but he was far from clean. "Well, can't get much more keeping my head down than laying on my couch for two weeks watching TV. Did you hear anything else about your shop? From the insurance people?"

Shawn looked up from her book with a sad smile. The current climate in town was taking it's toll on every one of them, some were better at hiding it than others. For her, it depended on the day. For Beck, it seemed to depend on who he was around. More and more Shawn was becoming that person for the Cowboys.

"Well since Dad lives here and some of the stuff he did back in the day would probably curdle milk..." she let her words trail off as she turned the page quietly. She didn't mind having any of them around even if law enforcement was considering them armed and dangerous. They were. But only to the people that needed it. For better or worse. "So far they've left Dad alone but, as far as anyone really knows these days, he's just an old man in failing health. Hardly worth their notice. Well, unless you're a suit. In which case he shows you just how much of a Cowboy he still is."

She sighed and closed her book watching Beck look like he was relaxing for the first time in days. "You look like shit. You're not sleeping are you."

Beck wasn't great at asking for help, especially when it came to things that made him vulnerable. "I look like shit?" He repeated, his chuckle low and humourless as he cracked open the beer and took a sip. He'd have to stay long enough to make sure he was sober before the drive home. Hopefully wasn't an imposition. "You're so freaking charming, Betancourt. Who needs my siblings around to roast me when I got you?" He sat up just a little straighter for a second, adjusting his posture.

"Sleep ain't exactly my friend right now. I'm scared, Shawn," he admitted, his jovial nature disappearing for a moment. "Luke died in prison. He was a sitting duck in there. I'm scared that if I…" He groaned, shaking his head, changing the subject. "Anyways. I'm getting outta town for a couple days. Timing is kinda a coincidence, but… I was gonna see if you'd maybe give me a ride to the hospital. And pick me up when they release me. It's in Scottsdale." Beck managed a small smile. "I'm seeing a surgeon, and I'm getting top surgery. No more binders in the Arizona summer for this guy."