“Do we got ourselves a deal, Goodwin? Or you gonna be a big ol’ chicken?” I cross my arms. “I’m not a chicken.” “Should I name one of ‘em after you?” “No.” “Lance-Bock!-Bock!-win? C’mon. That’s a good one.” Oh, fuck it. “Alright, Chad. You got a deal.” He grins. “Attaboy.” “But you might want to deal with that big charging bull one of your ranch hands set free behind you first.”
