Cowgirls Don't Cry(67)

One thing they didn’t speak of? What would happen when Landon’s mother got out of jail. As far as Jessie was concerned, nothing had changed on that front and Brandt knew it.

“Jessie?” came from behind her.

She turned and came face to face with Billy. Her father. Technically, her stepfather. Whenever she hadn’t seen him for a while, it surprised her how short he was, especially since he’d always seemed larger than life in her younger years. He wore a different hat—black, instead of the stained gray one she remembered. His plaid shirt was pressed. His faded jeans were covered in arena dust. A championship buckle was centered between his hips and above the cinch strap on his dark brown chaps. His boots were scuffed, scarred and faded. When he tipped his hat up, revealing his face, the lines bracketing his lips and stretching across his forehead startled her. Billy had always looked at least a decade younger than his actual age, but it seemed that’d caught up with him—he hadn’t aged well in the last three years. Not nice, but true.


“Billy.”


He gave her an awkward hug. “Glad you could make it.” He glanced over at Brandt. “Luke. Good to see you.”


Both she and Brandt froze.

Billy wasn’t aware he’d made a misstep.

“Luke died about two years ago, remember? This is Luke’s brother, Brandt McKay. Brandt, this is Billy Reynolds.”


They shook hands.

“Sorry about that,” Billy said. “Sometimes I think I’ve landed on my head too many times and my memory is goin’.”


Or you don’t give a shit about what’s going on in my life.

Acting like a ten-year-old much, Jessie?

Brandt placed his palm in the small of her back. “Got time to have a Coke or something before you ride, Billy?”


“Sure.” They walked to the concession area in silence.

Well, besides Billy stopping every fifteen feet to chat with someone he knew. Not once in those dozen or so times did Billy bother to introduce Jessie to his friends. So by the time they actually sat down, Jessie was wound so tight that one more snip to her tightly held control and she’d unravel.

Brandt’s touch stayed steady. He held her hand, or put his arm around her shoulders, or on her back, or on her thigh beneath the table. His support was absolute.

Billy had always been a man of few words, at least around her, so Jessie was taken aback when he started a conversation without prompting. “How’s your mother?”


“Good. She’s living in Riverton with Roger.”


He nodded. “Happy to hear it. She’s a great lady. Ain’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish…” He offered a sheepish smile. “Anyway, it don’t matter.”


“Have you heard from Josie?” Jessie asked.

“Off and on. For a while it seemed I saw her all over the damn place. And in the weirdest places.”


“Like she was following you or something?” she said, only half-jokingly.

“Yeah. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t like she was competing or dating a professional rodeo cowboy or nothin’.”


Professional rodeo cowboy. Sounded like a misnomer, but Jessie kept her mouth shut because it was probably just her bitterness about Billy considering himself a professional when he’d spent his entire adult life broke, on the road, chasing a dream. Didn’t sound very professional to her.

“I shudder to think she’s become one of them trashy buckle bunnies that follows the rodeo from town to town.”