Kissin' Tell (Rough Riders #13)(9)

Landon jumped off the seat and wrapped his arm around Tell’s leg. “Whoa there, buddy. Sit down. I’m right here. Didja tell Grandpa thanks for the ice cream?”


“Thanks.” Landon ducked his dark-haired head.


“It’s a shame the kid don’t know who I am.”


And whose fault is that?


“Your mother is probably poisoning him against me,” Casper said with a sneer.


Tell wouldn’t let that comment slide. “I reckon with you’re doin’ that just fine yourself. If you want him to know you, you’ve gotta spend time with him. Which you haven’t done, even when we’ve given you opportunities.”


“Doin’ the Lord’s work keeps me busy.”


And of course that was more important. Anything was more important than mending the rift with his family.


“I see your mother’s got you jumping through hoops now too.” He pointed at Landon. “How often does she ask you to watch the boy?”


Way too often, but Tell wasn’t about to give his father that ammo. “Me’n Landon are pals, right, bud?”


Landon nodded.


“Where’s my youngest son? Ain’t you two joined at the hip?”


“Dalton helped with chores and then he took off.”


“I ain’t surprised Brandt didn’t show up.” Casper shook his finger. “Remind him he’d better call me when that baby arrives. I’ve already talked to my pastor about baptizing the child.”


“You’ll have to take that up with Brandt and Jessie, Dad. Leave me out of it.”


“At least that’s one thing your mother and I did right. Havin’ all you boys baptized. Even if we didn’t follow through and raise you up proper in the church.”


Becoming a sober, born-again Christian hadn’t made Casper McKay any nicer. It’d just given him faith that he’d be forgiven by God for whatever mean thing that spewed out of his mouth.


Tell studied his father, knowing he hated it. Casper had been sober for a year and a half. He’d lost all the puffy, pasty skin and bloated body shape that had been the result of years of alcohol abuse. He’d let his hair grow instead of keeping it short, strands of silver prevalent against the black. His eyes, identical to the ones staring back at Tell in the mirror every day, were clear, yet still filled with the disapproval Tell had felt his entire life.


Landon shouted, “Gram!” He raced across the park, throwing himself into Joan McKay’s arms.


Tell couldn’t help but smile. Landon loved his grandma, and his mother loved having a living reminder of the son she’d lost.


As she walked over, holding Landon’s hand, Tell had to remind himself this relaxed, laughing woman was his mother. Not only did she look happier after leaving her husband, she owned an air of confidence—too much, maybe, to make up for the years she’d had none.


Tell whispered, “Lookin’ good, Mama,” and kissed her cheek. Then he offered his hand to her companion. “Bart. Nice to see you again.”


“You too, Tell.”


She looked at her ex-husband. “Casper.”


“Joan.” Casper gave Bart a full inspection, but didn’t offer his hand.


“So everything went okay? No problems?” she asked.


“We had a great time like we always do, huh, Landon?” Tell said, ruffling the kid’s hair.


“Yep. I got to ride on the four-wheeler three times! And Uncle Dalton buyed me a new toy, a backhoe, and we dug a big hole and he let me fill it with water!”


She laughed. “And I’ll bet your uncle had to hose you down outside afterward.”


“We had a water fight.”


“Boys will be boys.”


Casper snorted. “Dalton is long past bein’ a boy. He needs to grow up and start actin’ like a man.”


Joan stiffened. “And just where was Dalton supposed to learn how to be a man? Because you’re definitely not the example he oughta be following, Casper.”


Shit. This was not good. He hated how they verbally assaulted one another and that his brothers were never around to witness it or help him break it up.


Bart said, “Tell, how about if you give me your keys and me’n Landon will get his stuff.”


Tell tossed them over. Bart and Landon took off.


He didn’t blame them. Maybe he should’ve gone along.


“You’re getting mouthy in your old age, Joan,” Casper said.


“And you’re still an * in yours, Casper.”


“Does that young fella sharin’ your bed like your dirty mouth?” His eyes gleamed. “I remember when you used to—”


“Goddammit, Dad, that’s enough.”


Casper whirled on him. “Don’t you be takin’ the Lord’s name in vain. God wouldn’t smite me down for popping you one in the mouth for your blasphemy.”


“Oh, give it a rest,” Joan snapped. “We get that you’ve switched your allegiance from Jameson to Jesus. And don’t forget—”