So far two men were dead; Zane had shot one and they’d watched one pretty much commit suicide trying to escape justice. Deuce supposed Redjacket could be alive somewhere downstream. In his opinion it was unlikely. So unlikely that they’d elected not to waste time and energy trying to find him. He glanced to Earflaps, sprawled on the ground on the far side of the fire, trussed up and snoring noisily.
Deuce looked up across the fire at Earl, who sat staring into the flames with a frown set on his face. It didn’t seem the time or the place to address any issues pertaining to his father and Ty, did it? Or was he just terrified of doing it and being in the middle? He shook his head and glanced to the side, where Ty and Zane sat next to one another. Ty was hunched over and rocking slightly, just like he always did when he let his self-control slip a little. And it was probably serving a secondary purpose of keeping him warm.
It was alternately fascinating and painful, watching Ty and Zane together. They fought and they argued, sometimes cruelly. But Ty had brought Zane up here, hoping Deuce would help him, and Zane had been willing to leap into that river with nothing but dumb luck as a lifeline just on the off chance that he might be able to help Ty. They were a study in extremes, and as much as they denied it, they seemed well matched. After watching Zane take Ty’s face in his hands and lean forward to speak to him—when it had very much looked like he’d been about to kiss him—Deuce suspected they were better matched than they knew themselves. But that wasn’t really a topic Deuce could bring up now, either, not in front of Earl.
Deuce squeezed his eyes closed and massaged the bridge of his nose, fighting a headache. “So, Ty,” he finally decided on, tired of the tense silence. “That was some distraction ploy you used back in the camp,” he complimented, looking at his brother closely in the flickering light. “How’d you know they wouldn’t shoot you?”
Ty looked up at him blankly, appearing not to understand. “What?” he asked in confusion. Zane turned his chin, watching Ty with a small frown.
“Yelling at the ass**les with guns,” Deuce provided with a small smile. “Pretending you were losing it.”
Ty pressed his lips together tightly and then looked back down at the tin plate he held. “Yeah,” he answered flatly.
Deuce continued to look at him. So, mental breakdown and not a clever ploy, then. That was good to know, at any rate. Just as worrisome were the slight changes on Zane’s face when Deuce glanced at him; the frown went flat, Zane’s eyes narrowed, and then he squeezed them shut for a few seconds before reopening them and focusing on Ty again.
“You were pretending, right?” Deuce asked Ty.
Ty looked up and glared at him.
“He’s a dumbass for doin’ the yellin’,” Earl stated, pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders.
Deuce looked over at his father as his head began to pound harder. “Dad,” he said in frustration. “Would you just shut the hell up for one f**king minute?”
Earl looked up slowly, looking at Deuce in shock. Ty stared at Deuce with much the same expression Earl was, his mouth slightly agape. Zane snorted and ducked his head as he rubbed at his eyes.
“Is there a reason you’re on his case more than usual, or are you just getting meaner in your old age? ’Cause you sure as hell ain’t gettin’ smarter,” Deuce snapped.
“Deacon,” Ty said softly, his voice surprised and full of dread.
Deuce didn’t look away from his father. He saw Earl’s jaw tighten as he ground his teeth. Neither of his sons had ever spoken to him like that. In fact, Deuce was pretty sure no one had ever spoken to Earl Grady like that and walked away except perhaps for Mara. Earl looked as if he was about to say something, but then he began to nod slowly, and he sighed. He looked from Deuce to Ty slowly. Ty met his eyes, though he did so with clear trepidation, and he shifted nervously where he sat. Deuce thought he might have caught sight of Zane’s hand gently settling on Ty’s leg.
“He’s right,” Earl said to Ty in a rough voice. “I’m sorry, boy,” he offered.
Ty stared at him in obvious surprise for long, tense moments before he nodded jerkily. “Yes, sir,” he responded almost inaudibly.
Zane leaned closer to Ty and murmured something—he didn’t look at all appeased. When Ty just shook his head, Zane leaned back and kept his mouth shut. But his dark eyes were filled with something menacing that confused Deuce. Not many emotions inspired that kind of darkness: fury, desperation… utter devotion.
One thing was certain. If Zane ever came to any family holidays with Ty, it would be interesting.
They ate in silence, all of them too tired and too hungry to argue any more or try to make idle conversation. As soon as Earl had finished, he stood with his bedroll. “Night, boys,” was all he said as he turned and walked a few feet away to settle down for the night.
Deuce waited until his father had done so before he scooted closer to Ty and Zane and lowered his voice. “You didn’t have a plan, did you?” he asked Ty. It came out as more of a statement than a question. Ty glanced at him sideways before looking back down at the tin plate in his hand. He shook his head in answer. Zane looked up as well, but this time there was no emotion to be read on his face.
Deuce watched them both in growing anger. “Do you two have any idea how completely dysfunctional you are?” he asked them.
“Dysfunctional?” Zane repeated, though his voice was low.
“You’re both practically suicidal,” Deuce pointed out, forcing himself to keep his voice low. The last thing they needed was for Earl or Earflaps to weigh in on this. “First Ty goes ballistic and starts begging people to shoot him; then you go off and try to dive into that river without even thinking about how you’d get back out.”
Ty flinched and turned to look at Zane questioningly, but Zane was watching Deuce. Deuce rolled his eyes and looked away. “Dysfunctional” was an understatement.
“Look, can this wait until we’re not all freezing our balls off?” Ty asked sedately as he continued to eat slowly. They’d taken all the MREs they could carry from the ATV, and that was all the food they had unless they wanted to forage. “Thought I was done with these damn things,” Ty muttered as he poked at the food.
“Here,” Zane murmured, handing over the little mini-package of M&Ms out of his meal.
Ty glanced at it and then up at Zane with a small, tired smile. “Keep your damn chocolate,” he muttered gruffly.