Cowgirls Don't Cry(70)

“Not much to tell. My mom was a single parent until she met Billy. He charmed her, bedded her and wedded her. He adopted me the same year my sister Josie was born. You saw him today, Brandt. He’s always been that way. Around when he wanted something, gone when he didn’t.”


“Have you ever met your biological father?”


What a loaded question. She knew where Brandt was going with this line of questioning. “No. My mom put ‘father unknown’ on my birth certificate because he’d washed his hands of her when she found out she was pregnant with me.” She pressed her fingers against her burning eyes and managed a laugh.


“Sounds like I have abandonment issues, huh? My ‘real’ dad bailed on me. Billy bailed on me. But with Luke…he mentally checked out of our relationship before he physically left. So I’ll argue it was different with him. He abandoned me before he died.”


“Not every man is like that.”


“All of them in my experience have been. So that’s all I know.”


Another line of logic Brandt couldn’t dispute.

“Jess—”


Jessie held up her hand. “Please. No more. I have a splitting headache and the glare off the snow is making it worse. I need to close my eyes for a bit.”


Brandt didn’t look too happy, but he said, “All right.”


And she must’ve been more drained than she’d thought because she slept all the way to Brandt’s house.

Chapter Fourteen


Brandt waited in the visitation room of the women’s correctional facility in Lusk, wondering if he looked calmer than he felt. It seemed a bad sign, Samantha requesting this meeting, especially when she’d indicated that she didn’t want him to bring Landon.

The door opened and Samantha shuffled in. She wasn’t handcuffed or shackled, but the neon orange jumpsuit dwarfed her. No doubt Samantha Johnston was a beautiful girl—Brandt still had a hard time thinking of her as a woman. She had milk pale skin and dark brown, almost black hair. But her eyes were the palest shade of blue he’d ever seen. Her eastern European heritage was evident in her facial bone structure. With her slight frame, she looked like a good, stiff wind would knock her over. Striking as she was, she just looked so damn…young.

Samantha slid into the chair, clasping her hands in front of her on the table. “Brandt. Thanks for coming.”


“No problem. Is it stupid to ask how you’re doin’?”


She shrugged. “I’m doing…all right. Except I hate the food. I hate the mandatory therapy sessions. I hate we’re locked down so early at night because I’m a night owl. But I don’t mind working in the laundry.

At least it smells clean in there. And they’ve got a computer in the classroom so I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with my life when I get outta here.”


“Anything in particular jumping out at you?”


“Not yet. Since I’ve got my GED I’m allowed to check out the courses at the community colleges.

Being’s they’re real big on rehabilitating us here.”


A guard poked her head in. She nodded to Brandt and the door shut with an ominous thud and a series of clicking locks.

They only had so much time, and Brandt wasn’t the type to make idle chitchat, especially with someone he didn’t know very well. “So why didn’t you want me to bring Landon along for this visitation?”


Samantha bit her lip, focusing on her ragged fingernails. “I can’t believe it’s been more than a month since I’ve seen him. Time is totally different in here.”