Cowgirls Don't Cry(114)

“Oughta be the other way around. She oughta be here askin’ us for visitation. That boy belongs with his family. If you’d hired a decent lawyer that specializes in these cases—”


“You mean that ambulance chasin’ bozo from Cheyenne? Wrong. Besides, Landon belongs with his mother.” Brandt glanced at his mom, but she was busy studying the floral pattern on the placemat.

“So you here to gloat that you got what you wanted? My only grandson taken away from me?”


Like Casper had paid any attention to Landon while he was here. He didn’t want him, but he didn’t want anyone else to have him either. “No. I’m here to tell you that I’m marryin’ Jessie.”


Silence.

His dad slowly stood. “Is this some kind of goddamn joke?”


“No.”


“What the hell is wrong with you, Brandt? It ain’t enough that she made your brother miserable, and that misery got him killed?”


He retorted, “She had nothin’ to do with Luke’s car accident. And I ain’t gonna argue with you about who was more miserable in their marriage because neither you nor I lived with them. But that’s all in the past now.”


“Past? Sounds like you’re not putting her in the past where she belongs.”


“That’s because she belongs with me. Her future is with me.”


“That right? So she spread her legs for you. Big f*ckin’ deal. Don’t mean you gotta tie yourself—and us—to her again. The only good thing to come outta Luke’s death was her leaving.”


This was a f*cking nightmare, way worse than he’d anticipated. “She didn’t leave voluntarily. You forced her out. Which was the shittiest thing you’ve ever done.”


He shrugged. “So you say. And you ain’t exactly unbiased, are you?”


Count to ten.

“I’m marryin’ her and there’s nothin’ you can do about it.”


His dad moved closer, a sidewinder about to strike. “Oh, don’t be too sure about that, son. Don’t forget who owns this ranch and who pays your wages.”


Brandt’s fingers tightened on the back of the chair. “Is that a threat?”


“Just stating the facts. Everything you’ve got, except that pitiful chunk of land you and your brothers bought, comes from me. And I can take it back any goddamn time I want. Your name ain’t on the papers, boy, mine is.”


Before Brandt could say a word, his mother stood. “Casper. Don’t do this.”


The mean glint intensified. “I’ll do anything I damn well please, and it’s time this boy really understood that. So if you insist on tyin’ yourself to that woman in any way, you won’t inherit a single inch of McKay land. And you know I don’t bluff.”


At that moment his dislike for his father bloomed into full-blown hatred. The next thing Brandt knew, he’d pushed the smarmy son of a bitch into the wall and pressed his arm across his father’s windpipe, holding him in place.

He vaguely heard his mother say, “Brandt, stop,” but the rage had overtaken him.

“Let me tell you something, you mean goddamn bastard, I’m done. I’m done puttin’ up with your bullshit excuses for why you haven’t turned the ranch over to your sons. I’m done with you lording it over us. We’ve been runnin’ this ranch since before Luke died, not you.”