Cowgirls Don't Cry(96)

“They didn’t.”


“Good.” Chase shivered. “I forget how goddamn cold it is here.”


“You’re spoiled competing in all those warm climes.”


“That’s a fact, which is probably why I’ll end up livin’ someplace down south. Speakin’ of… Did your dad talk to you guys about them starting to legally restructure the ranch?”


“No. Should he’ve been?”


“According to my dad, Uncle Carson and Uncle Cal, yes.”


“Does this have to do with Keely getting a chunk of McKay land as a wedding gift?”


“Partially. But a couple of us are opting out of bein’ part of the McKay land trust permanently.”


Brandt froze. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”


Chase kicked back and rested his shoulders on the porch support post. “You really had no clue?”


“Nope. So who’s opting out?”


“Me, for one.”


Brandt looked at him curiously. “Why?”


“Because I’ve got my own life outside of the ranch. Even if I quit ridin’ next year, chances are slim I’d move back here and be part of the McKay cattle business. Quinn and Ben always were more involved than me, they wanted this life more than I ever did, so it makes sense that my portion goes to them.”


“Quinn and Ben agreed?”


Chase shrugged. “Oh, they tried to protest, but in truth, it was a relief. I have other income. They don’t.”


“Who else is opting out?”


“Cam. Like Keely, he’s trading his stake for a chunk of land, in his case, for the fifty acres around his house, which borders the neighbor’s acreage, so it’ll be an easy deed transfer. Carter is still debating, but I think he’ll opt out too. With his art career takin’ off, not to mention he’s helpin’ Cash Big Crow with his ranching operation in River Bend, he’s spreading himself thin driving back and forth when he doesn’t have to. There are plenty of McKays to keep the cattle business goin’.”


Brandt fought the surge of anger. This was the type of ranch business his father should’ve been telling him.

Would he have told Luke?

Yes, goddammit.

“I’m gonna kick my old man’s sorry ass.”


“Lemme know ahead of time. I’ll sell tickets.”


One thing Brandt admired about Chase; he just said what was on his mind, straight up.

Chase’s cell phone rang. He dug it out of his front pocket and scowled. “It’s my publicist. Excuse me.” He snapped, “Sugar tits, you’d better have a goddamn good reason for calling me on Thanksgiving.”


Whoa. Chase called his publicist… sugar tits? That didn’t sound very professional.

Brandt finished his beer and returned inside. He tried to sneak past the living room where the mamas and babies were holding court, but he heard, “Brandt! Come here.”


Two million pairs of eyes bored into him. Okay, it was only India, Skylar, Libby, Ginger and Macie, but it seemed like more. “What?” he said to India, who’d tucked her new baby boy Ellison so closely to her breast he only saw a blanket covered lump.

“We were just talking about you.”


“Should I be worried?”


Silence.

Shit.

“Actually, we were talking about Jessie,” Ginger said, shifting the baby in her lap.