Cowgirls Don't Cry(58)

Brandt gave his mother’s car a cursory glance and parked his truck behind his barn.

Too bad he didn’t have backbreaking tasks like splitting wood or digging new postholes that would exhaust him. He shucked off his coat and let his anger lead him into total destruction mode. Grabbing a sledgehammer and a crowbar, he began to rip apart the last stall with the loose and broken boards. He couldn’t afford to upgrade to metal and they were too damn dangerous as is.

The sledgehammer came down, the loud thwack followed by another thwack thwack thwack until he couldn’t hear anything besides the blood pounding in his ears. Sweat poured down his face. When he had the boards loosened, he used his hands to break them free. The muscles in his back screamed. Slivers penetrated his holey gloves, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Not until it was done. Not until this consuming fury was gone.

He finally took a break when he was down to one long board on the backside. Placing the heels of his hands above his knees, he bent over, sucking in huge gasps of air, half-wondering when he’d started heating the barn because his skin was on fire.

The hinge on the barn door squeaked and he blinked the sweat from his eyes as he glanced up.

His mother stood in the doorway.

No one he cared about should ever see him like this. Embarrassment had him snarling, “What?”


“Jessie called about thirty minutes ago when she couldn’t reach you on your cell. She’s on her way here.”


What the f*ck? “I told her I was gonna be late.”


“Something tipped her off to your mood.” Her gaze darted to the destroyed stall and back to him.

“Which is a little destructive.”


“This piece of shit needed to be torn down.”


“I’m not worried about the stall, son. I’m worried about you.”


“It’d be best if you went back on up to the house and let me finish this.”


Her eyes focused on his cheek. “You’re bleeding.”


“Where?”


“Your face. Come inside with me and I’ll clean it up.”


Brandt shook his head. “I’m sure it’s just a scratch.”


“Made by a rusty nail. When was your last tetanus shot? Just let me take a quick look—”


“No,” he practically bellowed. “Don’t you understand? I cannot be around anyone right now.”


Her face registered surprise, then hurt. “Why not?”


His entire being quaked and words poured out a stilted mess. “I hate that he still has that much power over me. I hate that he can get a reaction out of me when no one else can. I hate it’s a test to see if I’m strong enough to fight this…f*cking rage I inherited from him. I’ve tried so hard not to end up like him. So f*cking hard and when I act this way, I’m exactly like him and I hate it. I hate myself.”


Her eyes overflowed with pain, not tears, which was harder for him, because he suspected she’d cried herself out over the years.

“You’re nothing like him, Brandt. Nothing. Don’t ever give yourself an excuse to act like him by saying it’s inevitable that you will end up like him, because it’s not. You’ve chosen to be different. Even when you’re like this you’re different. Remember that.”


For the millionth time he wondered how this caring woman had coped with Casper McKay’s bitterness for so many years.

“Anyway, I thought I’d give you a heads up about Jessie, so you can, you know…”