Chapter 24: Even Cowboys Drink Tea
Tucker’s Bed and Breakfast
Bathroom
June 15, 20—
12:48 P.M.
Tucker asked, “What the hell happened to you, cowboy?” as I came into his bed and breakfast. He was sitting in the small living room that looked more like a garden—veined spider plants hanging in baskets, fresh-cut roses in two vases, a bouquet of wildflowers on a nearby table, pots and pots of hip-high ferns, sunflowers on a baby grand Strauss piano—and he was reading an oversized paperback with a tattered cover that looked to be a Wayne Mansfield novel.
“A little brawl,” I replied, passing through the living room area to the dragonfly-themed powder room.
“Is your palm bleeding?” After I passed him, I heard Tucker get up and follow me into the powder room.
It was. I couldn’t lie, and wou
