“I heard you just fine, boy,” he mutters. “You’re a smooth talker, but you’re not that smooth. No, I knew what you was up to when you rolled into town and set up shop. I’m betting a lot more people did than you think.” He aches a brow at me “You’re clever, but you’re not that clever.”
I look down at my hands.
“But,” Jeb adds. “People need to feel like there’s a higher power—that someone’s got their butts when they fall on ‘em. You sell that sense of being cared for, and watched out for, and if some folks are willing to pay for it, well, it is what it is. Like I said, it’s nice to think of the world as pure good or evil, but a man does need to eat.” He frowns. “There are worse things people do out there for money, believe me.”
“Jeb, I never meant to—” I frown. “I mean Paul.”
He frowns. “My son made his own choices, and he just can’t stop picking the wrong one sometimes.” He shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry for that, Gabriel. He did what he did, and he’s going to pay for his crimes. His mama and I love him dearly, but sometimes, you need to fall on your ass to remember that gravity always wins.”
He winks. “But hell, that was actually pretty sneaky of you.”
I grin. “I have my moments.”
“So I gather.” He clears his throat. “You know, I did call some of those towns Paul was yammering about.”
My jaw tightens.
“They’re still mad as hatters at you up in Lockton, that business with the minister’s wife?”
“That never happened,” I growl. “She made a play, I said no—”
Jeb chuckles. “Relax, I believe you. I do, really. That minister still doesn’t, poor man, but the local sheriff does, and he set my mind right.” He clears his throat. “Then I called that place in West Virginia. Got ahold of a man named Winston Maples. Seems you stopped a couple of skinhead neo-Nazi shit-heels from beating him up.”
I say nothing, and Jeb nods.
“That says a lot about you, as a man, you know.”
“Thanks.”
“And then I called Worthington, up in Minnesota.”
I scowl, but he shakes his head and waves a hand. “Rest easy, they’re not even mad at you anymore up there. The girl came clean about that diary. Actually, the mayor’s been trying to track you down to apologize and offer you some compensation for…” he chuckles. “Well, apparently there were some shots fired on your way out of town?”
“They got the back window of the Winnebago and put a hole in my last baptism tank.”
Jeb chuckles. “Well, he’d like you to give him a call, so he can reimburse you for that one.”
He sighs and folds his arms over his chest, and his eyes narrow at me. “So let’s talk about my daughter.”
“Jeb—”
“You love her? No, hold up, before you open that smooth-talkin’ mouth of yours,” he growls. “I want you to look me in the eye and give me an honest—”
“Yes,” I hiss, with zero hesitation. “Yes, I do.”
His mouth tightens.
“I mean really, boy. Do you—”
“I love her with every single part of my soul, and my heart,” I growl. “Utterly and completely. Sir, I love Delilah like some people love God, or Jesus. More than that, actually.” I shake my head. “I won’t lie to you and pretend that I’ve got faith, or that I see a higher power. I don’t know if I do, and I don’t know if I ever will.”
I take a breath and look him right in the eye.
“I don’t know if I believe in God, but I do believe in loving your daughter.”
Jeb holds my gaze, and slowly, a grin begins to spread over his lips.
“Hell,” he grunts. “You are pretty damn good at talking, you know that?”