Cowgirls Don't Cry (22 page)
She frowned. “But I know we two-stepped.”
He shook his head. “Sorry. You only had eyes for Luke.”
No point in arguing that one.
They paid the entrance fee to the arena and tracked down the contestant’s area. No one was admitted behind the chutes, but the gatekeeper sent someone to locate Billy Reynolds.
Jessie’s old fears surfaced. What if Billy had changed his mind at the last minute and had bypassed the Gillette rodeo? Wouldn’t be the first time. In truth, Billy had left her hanging more times than he’d followed through with any plans they’d made. She could claim she’d outgrown that fear, but it was embarrassing that Billy Reynolds still had the ability to hurt and disappoint her.
Brandt’s warm, rough, strong hand slipped into hers.
Somehow he knew. Ever since the day she hadn’t walked away when he’d been hurting, things had changed between them. No declarations of love. Just a deeper level of acceptance. Even for things they didn’t speak of. Like what’d happened to Brandt that day to turn him inside out. Like now, when she reverted to the young girl hanging on the corrals, hoping for attention from an absent father before he took off again.
One thing they didn’t speak of? What would happen when Landon’s mother got out of jail. As far as Jessie was concerned, nothing had changed on that front and Brandt knew it.
“Jessie?” came from behind her.
She turned and came face to face with Billy. Her father. Technically, her stepfather. Whenever she hadn’t seen him for a while, it surprised her how short he was, especially since he’d always seemed larger than life in her younger years. He wore a different hat—black, instead of the stained gray one she remembered. His plaid shirt was pressed. His faded jeans were covered in arena dust. A championship 126
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buckle was centered between his hips and above the cinch strap on his dark brown chaps. His boots were scuffed, scarred and faded. When he tipped his hat up, revealing his face, the lines bracketing his lips and stretching across his forehead startled her. Billy had always looked at least a decade younger than his actual age, but it seemed that’d caught up with him—he hadn’t aged well in the last three years. Not nice, but true.
“Billy.”
He gave her an awkward hug. “Glad you could make it.” He glanced over at Brandt. “Luke. Good to see you.”
Both she and Brandt froze.
Billy wasn’t aware he’d made a misstep.
“Luke died about two years ago, remember? This is Luke’s brother, Brandt McKay. Brandt, this is Billy Reynolds.”
They shook hands.
“Sorry about that,” Billy said. “Sometimes I think I’ve landed on my head too many times and my memory is goin’.”
Or you don’t give a shit about what’s going on in my life.
Acting like a ten-year-old much, Jessie?
Brandt placed his palm in the small of her back. “Got time to have a Coke or something before you ride, Billy?”
“Sure.” They walked to the concession area in silence.
Well, besides Billy stopping every fifteen feet to chat with someone he knew. Not once in those dozen or so times did Billy bother to introduce Jessie to his friends. So by the time they actually sat down, Jessie was wound so tight that one more snip to her tightly held control and she’d unravel.
Brandt’s touch stayed steady. He held her hand, or put his arm around her shoulders, or on her back, or on her thigh beneath the table. His support was absolute.
Billy had always been a man of few words, at least around her, so Jessie was taken aback when he started a conversation without prompting. “How’s your mother?”
“Good. She’s living in Riverton with Roger.”
He nodded. “Happy to hear it. She’s a great lady. Ain’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish…” He offered a sheepish smile. “Anyway, it don’t matter.”
“Have you heard from Josie?” Jessie asked.
“Off and on. For a while it seemed I saw her all over the damn place. And in the weirdest places.”
“Like she was following you or something?” she said, only half-jokingly.
“Yeah. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t like she was competing or dating a professional rodeo cowboy or nothin’.”
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Professional rodeo cowboy. Sounded like a misnomer, but Jessie kept her mouth shut because it was probably just her bitterness about Billy considering himself a professional when he’d spent his entire adult life broke, on the road, chasing a dream. Didn’t sound very professional to her.
“I shudder to think she’s become one of them trashy buckle bunnies that follows the rodeo from town to town.”
“Maybe Josie just wants to learn more about your life on the road,” Jessie suggested.
Billy scowled. “Why? She’s a grown woman. She oughta have a life of her own, not worrying about mine. Or checkin’ up on me.”
Rather than argue, Jessie sipped her Coke.
Brandt asked, “So isn’t the rodeo season about wound down?”
“Yeah. Already been decided who’s competin’ in Vegas for the NFR. I came awful damn close to makin’ the cut, but fell short.” He shrugged. “There’s always next year.”
How many times had she heard that?
But Brandt wasn’t easily sidelined. “What do you do in the off season?”
Billy squinted. “Off season? Ain’t no off-season in rodeo. Even if some of the events ain’t got a qualifying purse, there’s always some place havin’ an expo or a one day event. So while I’m waitin’ for the season to get back into full swing, I’m tryin’ to get on as many broncs as I can to improve my buck off percentage for next year. Tryin’ to put a little jingle in my pocket that ain’t comin’ from my spurs.”
The rodeo announcer tested the PA system.
Brandt stirred his soda.
Jessie fiddled with her straw.
Billy smiled. “Speakin’ of jingle…”
Not a very smooth transition, Jessie thought, but subtle never fit Billy. “Yeah?”
“Any chance you could help your old dad out?”
Dad. Right. He’d insisted she call him Billy round about the time he’d left her mom. “Whatcha need?”
He leaned forward, the portrait of sincerity. “The transmission went out on my truck. It’s at a repair shop here in Gillette, but I’m a couple hundred short on the repair bill.”
So. This requested meet up with Billy wasn’t spur of the moment. He’d called her because he wanted something. Money.
Like that’s news, Jessie.
She couldn’t resist poking him. “How long has it been in the repair shop?”
“Since Wednesday. Damn thing blew up right after I got to town. Luckily, I rode well Friday night and ended up in first. Last night I finished second. I’m guaranteed a top five finish today even if I get throwed on my ass. If I finish first overall, it oughta be enough cash to get my truck back. But I ain’t 128
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countin’ on it, because them stock contractors brought seriously rank stock for the finals today. I’d rather be safe than sorry, instead of worrying I’ll have to scrub oil pans or something to get my rig outta hock, know what I mean?”
He’d been around for four days and hadn’t bothered to call her. That stung worse than the fact he was hitting her up for cash.
No. That stung like hell too.
Brandt stopped caressing Jessie’s leg beneath the table and reached in the back pocket of his jeans.
She didn’t try to stop Brandt from opening his wallet. She didn’t give a shit if her protest would’ve hurt Billy’s feelings, but she’d never point out to Brandt that his show of generosity was for a man who didn’t deserve it.
He tossed three hundred dollar bills on the table and two fifties. “I have a cousin who’s on the road as a professional bull rider, so I know how tough it is when cash is tight. I’d like to think someone would help him out if he needed it.”
Billy neatly folded the bills and shoved them into his threadbare wallet. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.
I really do. And I’m considering this a loan, ’cause I will pay you back. Every penny. My word is good as gold. Ask anyone ’round here.”
Liar. She noticed Billy didn’t tell Brandt to ask
her
if his word was good.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Brandt said without much conviction.
“So, what’s your cousin’s name?” Billy asked with feigned interest, because even as self-absorbed as he was, he understood it’d be rude to take Brandt’s money and run. “Maybe I know him.”
“Chase McKay. He’s in the PBR.”
“Never heard of him.”
Another lie. With as much as Billy Reynolds lived and breathed the world of rodeo, he had to’ve heard of Chase, since Chase McKay ranked as one of the top fifteen bull riders in the world.
“Yeah, well, he’s an up and comer,” Brandt said.
They chatted politely about nothing.
Jessie tuned them out. She was too busy wondering if everyone saw
hopeful sucker
stamped on her forehead or if it was as invisible as she was.
Billy’s, “Wow, look at the time,” brought Jessie back to their conversation. “I gotta stretch out before my ride.”
“Understood.” Brandt thrust his hand across the table. “Good meetin’ you, Billy.”
“You too Brandt. Take good care of my girl.”
God. Just stop pretending I ever meant anything to you. Stop pretending you care now. You got what
you wanted.
“Will do.”
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“Jessie, it was great seein’ you. I hope we’ll cross paths again soon.”
“Give ’em hell on those broncs today, Billy.”
“Always.” As he shuffled away, she noticed he didn’t have the same spring in his step as he used to.
Maybe the years beating the shit out of his body had finally begun to take its toll.
It was ironic Billy’s favorite saying,
you reap what you sow
, popped into her head at that moment.
Jessie and Brandt sat side by side, in silence, for several long minutes. Watching people passing by.
Inhaling the scents of popcorn, nachos, hot dogs and mini-donuts drifting from the concession stand.
Feeling the anticipation in the air because rodeo kick off time neared.
When Brandt rubbed her back in a show of support, she had the overwhelming urge to bawl. Instead, she said, “Let’s go home.”
His hand stilled. “You don’t want to stay for the performance?”
“I’ve just seen Billy Reynolds’ best performance today, so let’s call it good and get the hell out of here.”
Brandt didn’t say anything until they were out of the arena, in the truck and back on the road. “You okay?”
“No. I’m such a fucking idiot. I can’t believe I fell for his bullshit. I should’ve gone with my first instinct and told him I was too busy today to drive to Gillette. Now, we’ve wasted a few hours and you’re out four hundred bucks.” She sighed. “Which I will pay you back for, of course.”
“Like that’s my biggest goddamn concern right now, Jessie,” he snapped. “How long has this been goin’ on?”
“What? A man only showing up when he needs something from me? My whole goddamn life.”
His lips flattened.
Jessie didn’t bother to assure Brandt he was the exception because he wasn’t.
She expected he’d push her to talk, but he didn’t. Not for several miles. Then he simply said, “I’ve been tryin’ to think if you’ve told me anything about your childhood. About Billy.”
“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.”
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“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.
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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.
