Cowgirls Don't Cry(32)

“Now sit on Jessie’s lap and be a good boy so we can get this over with, okay?”


Landon nodded and Brandt grinned. The kid was already getting better at communicating and it’d only been a few days.

“Brandt?”


He whirled around and looked into the beady eyes of Margene Hieb. Margene and her husband Larry lived up the road from his folks. They’d been friendly neighbors for years until their oldest daughter, Pandora, became the walking wounded due to Luke’s heartbreaking ways. Consequently, Margene took every opportunity to run her mouth off about anything less than flattering about the McKay family—and there always seemed to be plenty to talk about.

“Margene.” Brandt peered over Margene’s shoulder. “Where’s Larry?”


“At home.” She sidestepped Brandt and stood in front of Jessie. “Oh my. It is true. I wasn’t sure, you know how rumors are, never know how they get started.”


Usually by people like you.

“He really looks like his father, doesn’t he?”


Jessie said not a word.

Margene sighed. “Such a shame that Luke won’t be around to watch him grow up. It’s an even bigger shame…” She shook her head at Jessie. “I don’t know how on earth you’re just sitting there, holding him, like he was your own. Granted, he is a cute little boy, and you were married to his father, but I don’t see


how you can overlook the fact he was born on the wrong side of the sheets.”


“She can overlook that fact, Mom, because Jessie was used to Luke cheating on her, like he cheated on everyone before her.” Pandora, mean, nasty Pandora, tossed her fat head and Brandt thought he might’ve seen a snake or two trying to slither out of her hair. “Honestly, the only thing that surprises me?

That more of his secret spawn haven’t shown up. The man couldn’t keep his pants zipped to save his life.”


As she waited for the next play, she realized it’d been ages since she’d goofed around outside with no real purpose. Likewise, Brandt, Tell and Dalton worked in the great outdoors every day, no matter what the weather did, so they tended to stay indoors when they finished for the day.

Maybe the sunshine and crisp air had brought out her melancholy. But it bolstered her spirits to see these three banding together outside of the hours they spent working on the ranch. It hadn’t always been that way, due to Casper’s tendency to pit his sons against each other, so at least one good thing had come out of Luke’s death.

“Stop chasin’ butterflies, Jess, and pay attention,” Tell shouted right before he threw her the ball.

She yelled, “Crap!” but somehow managed to catch the football. Then she took off.

Behind her came a loud oof as her teammate tackled one of his brothers, but she didn’t stop to see which one, because guaranteed, the other one was chasing her.

She’d almost reached the goal line—a stick jammed in a dirt pile—when she was brought down.

Hard. Hitting the ground on her side with a bone-jarring thud knocked the wind right out of her.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

“Jess? God, I’m sorry.” Brandt rolled her on her back. “Are you okay?”


No air had entered her lungs yet. Her eyelids seemed glued shut.

“Fuck.” Gentle hands swept the hair from her face. “Come on, sweetheart. Wake up.”


Footsteps stopped by her head.

“Jesus, Brandt. How f*cking hard did you hit her?”