He held up both hands and laughed. “I didn’t tell him what you said. Honest.”
“He didn’t,” Cy agreed. “Actually Bentley makes a lot of calls at my place during calving season. He’s our vet. Good man.”
“Yes, he is,” Cappie said. “He brought me home after a drunk ran into my car.”
Cy’s expression darkened. “I heard about that. Tough break.”
“Well, the man’s insurance company is going to fix our car,” Cappie added with a laugh. “It seems they were worried that we might sue.”
“We would have,” Kell said, and he wasn’t smiling. “You could have been killed.”
“I just got bruised a little,” she said, smiling. “Nice of you to worry, though.”
Kell grinned. “It’s a hobby of mine.”
“You need to get out more,” Cy told the man in the bed. “I know you’ve got pain issues, but staying cooped up in here is just going to make things worse. Believe me, I know.”
Kell’s eyes darkened. “I guess you’re right. But I do have something to do. I’m working on a novel. One about Africa.”
Cy Parks’s face grew hard. “That place has made its mark on several of us,” he said enigmatically.
“It’s still making marks on other men,” Kell said.
“The Latin American drug cartels are moving in there, as well,” Cy replied. “Hell of a thing, as if Africa didn’t have enough internal problems as it is.”
“As long as power-hungry tyrants can amass fortunes by oppressing other men, it won’t lower the casualty rates for any combatants working there,” Kell muttered.
“Combatants?” Cappie asked curiously.
“Two groups of people are fighting for supremacy,” Kell told her.
“One good, one evil,” she guessed.
“No. As far as African internal politics go, both sides have positive arguments. The outsiders are the ones causing the big problems. Their type of diplomacy is most often practiced with rapid-firing automatic weapons and various incendiary devices.”
“And IEDs,” Cy added.
Cappie blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Improvised explosive devices,” Kell translated.
“Were you in the military, too, Mr. Parks?” Cappie asked.
Cy hesitated. “Sort of. Look at the time,” he remarked, glancing at his watch. “Lisa wants me to go with her to pick out a new playpen for our youngest son,” he added with a grin. “Our toddler more or less trashed the first one.”
“Strong kid,” Kell noted.
“Yes. Bullheaded, too.”
“I wonder where he gets that from,” Kell wondered aloud, with twinkling eyes.
“I am not bullheaded,” Cy said complacently. “I simply have a resistance to stupid ideas.”
“Same difference.”
Cy made a face. “I’ll come back and check on you later in the week. If you need anything…”
Kell smiled. “Thanks, Cy.”