LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Why are you frowning?”

      Was he? He hadn’t realized that.

      “Don’t you like her hair?”

      He shrugged. “It used to be long.”

      “And you liked it that way?”

      He looked into Jessie’s teasing eyes. “Could we change the subject?”

      She picked up another toy as if he hadn’t spoken. “Cadde said she was the owner of The Beer Joint. When he said ‘beer joint,’ I had this vision of an older woman with yellowish bleached blond hair, tight-fitting clothes, a cigarette dangling from her lip and someone who had lived a rougher-than-rough lifestyle. Lucky wasn’t like that at all. It’s all about how we perceive people and most of the time it’s wrong.”

      He stared down at his locked hands. “Kids in school looked down on her because her dad ran The Beer Joint.”

      “Did you?”

      “What?”

      “Did you look down on Lucky because of her circumstances?”

      Did he?

      “No,” he answered his own question. “We were close since about the seventh grade. I didn’t care what her father did for a living.”

      “That’s a long time to know someone.”

      “Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together. He remembered the first time she’d smiled at him and his heart had almost pounded out of his chest. He remembered the first time he’d kissed her. He remembered…

      The back door opened and childish squeals of delight echoed from the hallway. Cadde walked in with Jacob in his arms, Mirry at his feet, barking, as if to alert everyone that Cadde was home.

      Jessie placed her hand on the coffee table and tried to stand, but at seven months pregnant she was having difficulty.

      Cadde kissed his son’s cheek. “Go play with Uncle Kid. Daddy has to help Mommy.”

      Jacob shook his head vigorously and clung to Cadde. Reaching down, Cadde lifted Jessie with one arm while still holding Jacob. Nestling into his side, Jessie kissed him, her eyes sparkling.

      “I think this baby is going to weigh ten pounds,” she said, rubbing her stomach. She stroked Jacob’s head. “You get a little territorial when Daddy comes home.”

      Jacob made a whimpering sound and Jessie laughed. “I’m going to check on supper. Kid, you’re welcome to stay.”

      “I didn’t know you cooked.”

      Her eyes darkened and he knew that was the wrong thing to say. Trying to rectify the blunder he quickly added, “Thanks, Jessie, but I’m eating at Aunt Etta’s.”

      “Rosa does not do all the cooking at our house,” she told him. Rosa and Felix Delgado had raised Jessie since she was seven. They now lived next door in a house that Cadde had built for them. They were Jessie’s protectors. Her family. When Roscoe’s niece had been kidnapped and murdered, he made sure that no one could get to his daughter. Roscoe was more than paranoid about her safety. But that was all behind them and he knew how important it was for Jessie to have a life. A family. He should have kept his mouth shut.

      “I’m sorry, Jessie. I’ve had a rough day.”

      She walked over and kissed his cheek. “You’re forgiven.”

      After Jessie left, Cadde sat on the sofa with Jacob resting against him, his legs locked around Cadde’s waist.

      “Stop aggravating my wife.”

      “I seem to be pissing off everyone today—without even trying.”

      Cadde rubbed his son’s back, kissing his fat cheek.

      As Kid watched his brother with his son, he felt a blow to his chest. This was what he wanted; a child rushing to the door in excitement to greet him, a woman who had eyes only for him. He wanted his own family.

      “From the look on your face I’d say that you managed to piss off Lucky.”

      It took a moment for him to focus. He shifted in his chair. “She’d rather tar and feather me and then set fire to me before leasing to Shilah.”

      “I’ll talk to her.”

      “No. I just need to regroup.”

      He could feel Cadde’s eyes on him. “Maybe you need to start with an apology.”

      “It’s been twenty years. What do I have to apologize for?” He stood in an angry movement. “We didn’t even know what love was.”

      “Do you now?”

      “Hell, no.”

      “The Kid I know would have sweet-talked his way through this, but somehow Lucky is a stumbling block for you. Why?”

      “I don’t know. All these memories seem to crowd in on me.”

      “Guilt, maybe?”

      Kid ignored that. “I just can’t figure out why she’s running her dad’s place.”

      “Why does it matter?”

      “I’m going down to Chance’s to talk to him.” He was going to kiss Jacob but saw he was asleep.

      “Kid,” Cadde called as his brother walked away.

      He glanced back.

      “Let me or Chance handle this. We need the lease signed.”

      “I said I’d do it and I will.”

      In less than a minute Kid was in his truck and headed down the road to Chance’s. He had stayed in High Cotton longer than any of the brothers. He probably knew more about Lucky than anyone, and Kid planned to be prepared the next time he saw her. Today she’d knocked him for a loop. That wasn’t going to happen again.

      Cadde had built a big two-story house to the right of their parents’ old house. To the left was Chance and Shay’s house, a sprawling one story with a barn and a corral. Because of Jessie’s animals Cadde also had a barn and pens. The Hardin boys had come home in a big way.

      Pulling over to the side of the road, he gazed at the old home place for a moment. The decaying white frame house sat on Kid’s part of the land. Some day soon they’d have to do something about the house. For years they’d been putting it off. They might be grown men but they were afraid to open the door and face the demons of their youth. Or maybe it was the memories they didn’t want to face. Memories that were perfect in their minds, but maybe in reality they weren’t.

      Whatever it was, Kid decided he had enough demons to face. One in particular was Lucinda Littlefield.

      Kid saw Chance and Darcy at the roping pen so he drove there. Darcy was throwing a rope at a dummy calf while Chance leaned on the fence watching her and giving instructions. Tiny, Darcy’s Chihuahua, sat at Chance’s feet.

      “Twirl it,” Chance shouted to his daughter. “Use your wrist.”

      Eleven-year-old Darcy flung the rope toward the dummy and it missed by an inch. “Shoot.” She stomped her foot.

      “Try again,” Chance said.

      Kid joined his younger brother at the pipe fence. “Are we having a rodeo or something?”

      “Nah. Just showing Darcy a little extra attention. Everyone makes a fuss over the baby and I don’t want her to feel left out.”

      Darcy was adopted, but no one would ever guess that by the way Chance doted on her.

      “Hey, Uncle Kid.” Darcy waved. “Watch me.”

      “Hey, hotshot.” He waved back. Hotshot was Chance’s nickname for her. Now everyone called her that.

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