So he’d wormed his way back into the house…my home was full of his shit, full of his kids’ shit. It never felt less like a big happy family or home but for some reason I was still there for him. The financial aspects of our life became more prominent after this. I was working full time but Tucker needed to be able to buy cattle for himself. Because of his “unfortunate and undeserved” incarceration, he could not get a checking account of his own and he convinced me we would have our own business…together. I had come to love riding and training horses during the year and half I’d spent with him and he made it all sound perfect. In hindsight of course, I was giving myself a good reason to stay. He painted the most grandiose pictures of me being able to train and sell the barrel horses and help him with the roping horses and he’d be able to broker cattle as well. All I needed to do to make this beautiful dream come true was to get a DBA and a business account at my bank.
Again, I should have taken this time to extricate myself instead I said, “Sure!” It didn’t happen as easy as all that; I mean I was sort of sane. As it turns out though, when you’re hanging with a conman, you get your shit conned.