The Last Real Cowboy by Caitlin Crews

Author:Caitlin Crews
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

12

“Are you finished sulking, Denver?” Ty asked a couple of days later, throwing the question out there like it wasn’t insulting. Complete with one of his big, wide, rodeo smiles that dared Brady to take offense.

Guaranteeing that Brady would rather die than indicate he was in any way offended.

“Am I sulking?” He treated his brother to a genial grin of his own, there in the late-morning light that was losing its battle with the cold wind rushing down from the mountains. “I thought we were out here repairing fences.”

They’d been at it all morning. Gray had ridden out with the foreman and paid hands to handle an irrigation issue, leaving Ty and Brady to wrestle with the fencing that had gone down overnight. Worse than usual today, thanks to a little rainstorm that had spooked the herd into all kinds of shenanigans.

Brady liked to complain about the fences. They were always going down for various reasons, which meant he was always putting them back up, but the truth was, he liked the work. It was hard enough that he could work up a sweat, repetitive enough that he both couldn’t think too much or too little, and left him pleasantly tired when done.

Too bad about the company.

“You’ve been wanting to get all that stuff the other day off your chest for a long while, I imagine,” Ty said, with less drawl than usual. It usually meant he was being serious. Brady straightened, wiped at his forehead, and eyed his older brother warily. “It was good you did. But all this storming around and giving everyone the silent treatment for days is kind of taking the legs out from under the argument, don’t you think?”

“When Gray chooses not to talk about something, it inspires people to start comparing him to John Wayne. Has it been sulking all this time?”

“And when I’m quiet, you all think I’m a raging alcoholic neck-deep in a bottle,” Ty countered. He shrugged. “Welcome to your family, little brother. Suck it up.”

The fence they were working on was fully repaired, tragically. Brady had no choice but to swipe his bottle of water from the cab of the truck and then stand there. And take it.

Always taking it. What would happen, he wondered then—out in the fields with nothing for miles but the cut of the wind and the two of them with the same old resentments between them like stones—if he just … stopped?

“I’m not storming around, and I’m not sulking.” He sounded more patient than Ty deserved. “And I’m really tired of having to explain myself every three seconds. I have a better idea, since we’re having this heart-to-heart. Why don’t you tell me when you decided you didn’t want to sell? And why you’re waiting for me to come to that conclusion on my own rather than stepping up and telling me yourself?”

Ty was lounging against the side of the truck in his usual imitation of something boneless. Brady had always considered that position Ty at his most dangerous, so he was surprised when Ty nodded.

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