If Casper McKay was happy he’d push back in his chair and tip his hat up to meet your gaze. If Casper was out of sorts, he wouldn’t acknowledge your presence at all.
Brandt studied him. In the last two years he’d aged ten. His black hair was mostly gray. The deep blue of his eyes had faded into the hue of old denim. His eyebrows were still black, still drawn together in a frown. The firm set to his mouth gave the appearance of a permanent scowl. His lean face and long neck flowed into a hard, tight frame, a body weathered on the wide-open spaces of Wyoming. A mindset that was as cold, hard and unforgiving as the land that’d forged him.
No smile. No “How are you?” just a calculating stare and a curt, “Brandt.”
Definitely in a piss poor mood.
Brandt left his hat on and he grabbed the back of the dining room chair in front of him. “Dad.”
“You here for a reason?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, spit it out.”
His mother brought Brandt cup of coffee and refilled Casper’s cup before attempting to hightail it out of the room. Brandt snagged her elbow. “Stay. I want you to hear this too.”
She nodded and slipped into the chair on her husband’s right side.
“Well?”
“Landon’s mother picked him up yesterday and they’re gonna be livin’ in Casper. After they get settled she wants to talk about visitation rights.”
“Oughta be the other way around. She oughta be here askin’ us for visitation. That boy belongs with his family. If you’d hired a decent lawyer that specializes in these cases—”
“You mean that ambulance chasin’ bozo from Cheyenne? Wrong. Besides, Landon belongs with his mother.” Brandt glanced at his mom, but she was busy studying the floral pattern on the placemat.
“So you here to gloat that you got what you wanted? My only grandson taken away from me?”
Like Casper had paid any attention to Landon while he was here. He didn’t want him, but he didn’t want anyone else to have him either. “No. I’m here to tell you that I’m marryin’ Jessie.”
Silence.
His dad slowly stood. “Is this some kind of goddamn joke?”
“No.”
“What the hell is wrong with you, Brandt? It ain’t enough that she made your brother miserable, and that misery got him killed?”
He retorted, “She had nothin’ to do with Luke’s car accident. And I ain’t gonna argue with you about who was more miserable in their marriage because neither you nor I lived with them. But that’s all in the past now.”
“Past? Sounds like you’re not putting her in the past where she belongs.”
“That’s because she belongs with me. Her future is with me.”
“That right? So she spread her legs for you. Big f**kin’ deal. Don’t mean you gotta tie yourself—and us—to her again. The only good thing to come outta Luke’s death was her leaving.”
This was a f**king nightmare, way worse than he’d anticipated. “She didn’t leave voluntarily. You forced her out. Which was the shittiest thing you’ve ever done.”
He shrugged. “So you say. And you ain’t exactly unbiased, are you?”
Count to ten.
“I’m marryin’ her and there’s nothin’ you can do about it.”
His dad moved closer, a sidewinder about to strike. “Oh, don’t be too sure about that, son. Don’t forget who owns this ranch and who pays your wages.”
Brandt’s fingers tightened on the back of the chair. “Is that a threat?”
“Just stating the facts. Everything you’ve got, except that pitiful chunk of land you and your brothers bought, comes from me. And I can take it back any goddamn time I want. Your name ain’t on the papers, boy, mine is.”
Before Brandt could say a word, his mother stood. “Casper. Don’t do this.”
The mean glint intensified. “I’ll do anything I damn well please, and it’s time this boy really understood that. So if you insist on tyin’ yourself to that woman in any way, you won’t inherit a single inch of McKay land. And you know I don’t bluff.”
At that moment his dislike for his father bloomed into full-blown hatred. The next thing Brandt knew, he’d pushed the smarmy son of a bitch into the wall and pressed his arm across his father’s windpipe, holding him in place.
He vaguely heard his mother say, “Brandt, stop,” but the rage had overtaken him.
“Let me tell you something, you mean goddamn bastard, I’m done. I’m done puttin’ up with your bullshit excuses for why you haven’t turned the ranch over to your sons. I’m done with you lording it over us. We’ve been runnin’ this ranch since before Luke died, not you.”
Casper choked on his own spit as he tried to say something.
But Brandt wasn’t about to let him speak before he said his piece. “So if you think you’ve got it in you, old man, to do everything yourself, then by God, I’d like to see you try. But we both know that won’t happen, will it?”
When his father didn’t respond, Brandt eased up on his chokehold. “Answer me, goddammit.”
“You think you’re so f**kin’ smart.”
“I know it don’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that you’ve got no one in your life to help you if I walk away from the ranch. Tell and Dalton won’t stick around. And you’d rather let this place fall into ruin and let the cattle starve before you’ll ask your brothers for help, wouldn’t you? So yeah, chase me off. You go on out there in the bitter f**kin’ cold and deal with feeding twice a goddamn day. Good luck with calving season and everything else that it takes to run this ranch, since you haven’t done a goddamned thing for close to ten years. Ain’t that right?”
“You think I owe you something? I don’t. I owe you nothin’.”
Brandt got right in his dad’s face. “I’ve busted my ass for years even when nothin’ I ever did pleased you. I’ve put up with your bullshit. I’ve watched you prefer the company of a twelve pack to the company of your wife. I’ve watched you destroy any chance of a relationship with me, Tell and Dalton, because you’re pissed off at God and the universe that we’re here and Luke isn’t.”
“He shouldn’t have died.”
“But he did. And it’s no one’s fault, least of all Jessie’s.”