Brandt’s face had gone the mottled red that indicated he was a hair away from exploding. “How’d the conversation where Dad told you all this come about?”
“He came to the trailer. Spewing his usual bullshit about me. You two only put up with me because you didn’t have a choice. He baited me and like I’d done way too many fucking times in my life, I took the bait.” He upended his beer. “He leveled the boom that I wasn’t a McKay. Mom had an affair and tried to pass me off as his kid, but he’d always known I wasn’t.”
“Bullshit,” Brandt spat. “How is that even possible?”
“Did you know that Mom actually nutted up and left Casper one time?”
“No. Where’d you hear that? From him?”
“Yep. But Mom mentioned it in another conversation. Here’s the kicker. It happened nine months before I was born.”
Both Brandt and Tell’s faces went white from shock.
Dalton should’ve taken a breath, given them a chance to absorb it, but he kept going. “That would’ve been enough to give anyone doubt, so when you add in the fact he’s called me Mama’s boy, a mutant, a freak and waste of space my whole life, it cements that doubt.”
“Dalton—”
“And let’s not forget he secretly beat the fuck outta me for years, like I was a redheaded stepchild,” he said, ignoring Tell’s interruption. “Yes, I’ve got blue eyes and dark hair, but I don’t have the same blood type as you guys.”
Brandt paled further.
“Casper hammered away at me. And I fucking hated I stood there and let him do it. I was at the lowest point of my life—other than when Luke died—and he went out of his way to make it worse. To make me doubt everything I thought I knew about myself and who I was.”
“Did he tell you to leave?” Tell asked.
“Nope. He suggested no one would notice if I did go. Especially not you guys.”
“Fuck.”
“And after that conversation, nothin’ could’ve made me stay in Sundance. Nothin’.”
Silence fell between them.
Finally Brandt said, “It doesn’t matter.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. It mattered to me. It changed me in a fuckin’ instant. I had to face the fact that so much of my identity for twenty-seven years was based on havin’ the McKay last name. If I wasn’t a McKay, who was I? Up until that point my life was predetermined. Grow up, get married, be part of the McKay ranch. I knew that life was no longer an option for me.”
“Why didn’t you come to us? Talk to us?” Tell asked.
“Probably because that’s what Casper expected me to do.”
“Did you talk to Mom about it?”
“I couldn’t make myself ask her. Afraid to know either way, I guess. But within a month of my conversation with Casper, within a month of bein’ gone from here, I felt freed. I didn’t have the fear I’d turn into a raging asshole for no reason. I stopped letting Casper’s influence be an excuse for everything shitty I did in my life. For fightin’, for drinkin’, for usin’ and discarding women.”
“Do you believe it? That he’s not…?” Brandt asked.
“He offered to take me in for a paternity test, which also went a long way in convincing me that I wasn’t his kid. It’s a moot point to me now whether or not we share DNA. Whatever definition I needed about who I am I found on my own.” He released an embarrassed laugh. “I swear I haven’t become some philosophical hippie-type, yammering on about finding myself. But I had to go.”
“Jesus, Dalton. I don’t even know what the fuck to say to this.”
Dalton looked at Tell. “Which is why I didn’t share this shit with you guys.”
“It’s also why you didn’t wanna come back here, isn’t it?” Brandt asked.
“Yeah.”
“What are we supposed to do with this?”
Dalton leaned forward. “I’m asking for one thing. I don’t want you to bring this up with him. Period.”
Tell shook his head. “The mean motherfucker can’t—won’t—speak so it’s the perfect time to give him a piece of my mind about the absolute fucking wrongness of what he done to you. ’Cause he can’t say shit back and he’ll have to sit there and take it like we did for so many years.”
“Damn straight,” Brandt agreed.
“To what end? He’s in the hospital. You really gonna be able to forgive yourselves if by layin’ into him he has another stroke or something? No sir. I won’t have that on my conscience or yours. So promise me you’ll leave it be. Both of you. You’ll never bring it up with him.”
“Dalton, be reasonable—”
“Promise me,” he bit off.
“Fine, fuck, I promise,” Tell snapped.
Dalton looked at Brandt. “You too. I need your word.”
“You’ve got it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So nothin’ changes.”“With Casper? If I had a quarter for every time I hoped he’d change, I’d be a rich man. The whole freakin’ point of this conversation was to clear the air between us.”
“Has it?”
“Other than the smoke comin’ outta your ears? As far as I’m concerned? Yes. The topic is done. Now can we talk about something else?”
They tried. But by the thirty-minute mark Dalton knew it was a lost cause. Although it was still early, they called it a night.
Brandt texted Jessie to let her know he was on his way home, but he had things to do in the barn so not to wait up.
He’d managed to keep it together at the bar. But the instant he stepped into the barn, stripped off his shirt and slipped on boxing gloves, every bit of rage exploded.
He didn’t think. He just started hitting.
He didn’t fucking care if Dalton was Casper’s kid. Dalton was his fucking brother. And the fact Dalton had been hurting for three long goddamn years, with no support from either of his brothers, with him believing they thought the worst of him, that they were no different in their opinions than their dad, just kicked his rage, sorrow and sadness to another level.
And he kept hitting the bag harder.
No wonder Dalton had left. It was a wonder he’d opted to return.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He punched until he couldn’t punch any more.
Once Brandt had stopped moving he felt the chill in the air. His lungs burned. His face was wet. Sweat for sure. Maybe some tears. His arms ached. As did his shoulders and his jaw. But not as much as his heart ached. The weight of it had him clinging to the heavy bag.
“Brandt?”
Her sweet voice roused him from the darkness as it always did.
“Yeah,” he said hoarsely.
“Come inside and let me patch you up.”
“How long you been standing there?”
“Long enough.”
“Go back inside, Jess. I’ll be there in a sec.”
“I’ll wait.”
“The boys—”
“Are sound asleep.” He heard her footsteps on the gravel getting closer. “You gonna tell me what happened tonight?”
I don’t know if I can.
Jessie approached him slowly. The beat-the-fuck-out-of-the-heavy-bag sessions were rare these days, but he didn’t try and hide the fact he needed them. Jessie accepted everything about him. Even this.
“Brandt?”
“I didn’t know. I didn’t fucking know.”
Her arms came around him. “Come on. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”
She led him into the house. In the bathroom she cleaned his hands, spreading antibiotic ointment on his bleeding and bruised knuckles. As she fixed him up, Brandt started to talk.
When he finished speaking and looked at his wife’s tear-stained face, he realized something was missing. Somehow she’d known at least part of the story.
“Jess. This doesn’t come as a shock to you?”
“The part where Casper convinces Dalton he’s not his kid? Yes. Then again, I shouldn’t be shocked by anything that twisted fucker says or does.” Jessie met his gaze. “But yes, I knew that Casper had physically abused Dalton.”
Brandt fought a surge of anger. “How?”
“From Luke.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you knew?”
“Because I wasn’t sure if you knew about it.”
“Not until after Dalton left. Tell finally told me. Just how long have you known?” Brandt saw the guilt in her eyes. She’d known longer than he had. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“For the same reason you kept it to yourself after you learned the truth from Tell.” Jessie placed her hands on his cheeks. “Brandt. I love you. You know that. I was married to Luke and although we had issues, one thing I’d never do is break a confidence.”
“Even after he’s dead?”
“Even then.” Her eyes searched his and Brandt felt his guts twist up all over again. “Up until now. I didn’t tell you because I saw what it did to Luke; it ate at him like a damn cancer. He didn’t know about the abuse until the day Dalton finally stood up to Casper when Dalton was fourteen years old. Luke was in the machine shed that day, sleeping off a hangover, so neither Casper nor Dalton knew he was there. When he heard the voices and Casper demanded that Dalton drop his pants…” Jessie looked away.
Brandt had to clench his jaw to keep the bile from spilling out.
“Luke thought Casper might’ve been…sexually abusing Dalton. Evidently Luke grabbed a shovel and was ready to beat Casper to death. Then he heard Dalton go ballistic and tell Casper he wasn’t taking any more beatings—seven years was enough. Then Dalton punched him or something, I really don’t know the specifics. I just know that after Dalton took off, Casper was shocked to see Luke. And really shocked when Luke told him if he ever laid a hand on Dalton again, he’d kill him.