Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders #6)(122)

“You might say that.”


“Anyway, about that time, I met your mother. I ain’t gonna get graphic and gooey, but sweet baby Jesus, did I want that woman in the worst way. She was an innocent eighteen-year-old beauty. I was a hard-edged, twenty-four-year-old cowboy who got by on charm and looks and lived to raise hell. I convinced her to marry me, over her family’s objections, over my family’s objections, hell, over everyone’s objections.


“Sad to say, I didn’t change once we said them vows. I still drank. I still went to the bars and fought anyone who looked at me cross-eyed. And if they looked at your mother? I tried to kill them. I still did whatever the hell I wanted, whenever I wanted. Within three years we had one baby and one on the way, we were livin’ in a trailer, hand to mouth. She shoulda left me. Many times. I thank the heavens she didn’t because she’s the only one who could ever get through to me when I hit rock bottom.”


The idea of his staid, gruff, in control father, hitting rock bottom, startled Colt into blurting out, “No shit?”


“No shit. I’ve been there, son. More than once, sad to say.


Didn’t know that about your old dad, didja?”


“No.”


“That’s because Caro’s pulled me up by the bootstraps every time I fell and covered my ass. ’Bout the time you rolled around, I’d gotten my ducks in a row, became the responsible man I needed to be. And ain’t it ironic that you were around that same age when you saw the writin’ on the wall?”


He took another drink.


“What I’m sayin’ is I’m proud of you, Colton. You’re a stronger man than I ever was. What you done, you done on your own. As much as I admire that, I wish it hadn’t played out that way.


I’m sorry. I wish I coulda been a bigger man and a better father and not let you deal with so much shit on your own.”


Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry. Be a man.


Fuck all if he wouldn’t shed a tear when he’d just gotten everything he’d ever wanted from the man he admired most in the world.


A gentle breeze wafted by, filled with the scents of sage and dirt, of horseflesh and water. Smells he’d always associate with home.


Colt didn’t look at his dad because he suspected the man wasn’t completely dry-eyed. He allowed a couple minutes to compose themselves before he cleared his throat. “Thanks, Dad. I needed to hear it as much as you needed to say it. We’re both livin’ proof that people can change. And it can stick.”


He kicked a clod of dirt. “Will you give us all another chance?


I figure, maybe it’s time we worked to earn your trust instead of the other way around.”


Colt didn’t mention his brothers had already come to that determination. “It’d be good for all of us to start fresh. It’s been a long time comin’.”


“Good. And if you wanna take a month off and go to Hawaii, then so be it. You’ve earned it.” His dad turned and smiled.


“’Course, part of me is hopin’ you’ll be there on your honeymoon with India. I like that little gal. She’s a spitfire. Gotta say, it takes real guts to confront mama bear Carolyn McKay about one of her cubs.”


“Or a deathwish,” Colt muttered. “What happened?”


“India said her piece. Caro said hers, something about India surpassing her expectations and being exactly the type of woman you needed. They both started cryin’ and carryin’ on and were best pals by the time I hightailed it outta there.” Carson stood and scratched his head. “Now I’m afraid I’m gonna come in from checkin’ cattle someday and hear my wife’s gone to town and gotten herself a tattoo.”