Chapter 6: The Council of Spoons
By afternoon, the diner was packed with transient riders, but Martha kept the corner booth reserved with a cracked porcelain salt shaker and a handwritten ""Out of Order"" sign.
She slid a plate of beef stew and two buttermilk biscuits in front of Jax, who sat staring out the window at the shimmering heat mirage on the blacktop.
""Eat, Jackson,"" Martha commanded, wiping her hands on her apron. ""You look like something the coyotes dragged out of the scrub.""
""She’s dying, Martha,"" Jax said, not looking at the food.
""I know,"" Martha replied quietly, sliding into the booth across from him. ""Dr. Evans from the clinic was out there this morning. Congestive failure. Her kidneys are shutting down.""
Jax rubbed his beard with both hands, his knuckles popping in the quiet corner. ""She wants me to take him.""
""And?""
""And look at me!"" Jax’s voice rose, turning heads two tables over before he reeled it in, leaning across the formica with a harsh, desperate whisper. ""I don't have an address. I have four hundred dollars in a sock, two warrants from a decade ago that haven't expired in Montana, and a reputation that keeps the sheriff's cruiser parked outside my shop whenever I'm in town. I am poison to that boy.""
Martha leaned forward, her hazel eyes narrowing into steel. She pointed a blunt, flour-dusted finger directly at the center of his chest.
""You listen to me, Jackson Lee,"" she whispered. ""A boy doesn't need an empire. He needs an anchor. You ran thirty years ago because you were afraid of becoming your old man. Your father was a drunk who used his fists because he was small inside. You’re not small. You’re just a coward who thinks running fast is the same thing as being free.""
May you like
Jax flinched, the words landing with surgical precision.
""You leave that boy to the state,"" Martha continued, ""and by sixteen, he’ll be sitting on a bench in county jail, wondering why the man who shared his blood didn't think he was worth stopping for. You take him, Jax. Or you hand your cut to the sheriff and admit you were never anything more than leather and noise.""
