Brent
Brent pulled his felt hat from his head and wiped a forearm over his brow with a grimace. Even in the autumn, it was hot. The sun was hotter out here in the middle of nowhere. How was a man supposed to get by without some shade and a cool drink? Without a pretty woman standing behind him, rubbing his shoulders and cooing sweet encouragements in his ear? They'd been out here for three hours and his legs and rear end were beginning to ache.
Father would be so ashamed, he thought with a self-satisfied smile, setting his hat back on his head and kneeing his horse to draw even with Josh's.
"Where the hell are we going, Josh?"
His brother glanced over. His eyes were shaded by the brim of his hat, but Brent could swear he saw amusement flicker in them.
"You saddle-sore, princess?
And what if he was? There were better ways to travel than horseback, these days. There were trains and stagecoaches and river-barges. What reason did he, a man of some wealth and considerable worldliness, have with horses? Still, some latent shame staid his argument and he huffed a snort of denial.
"I just don't like to have my time wasted, brother. Whatever we're going to see, can't you just tell me about it? This entire tour has been a waste of time and we both know it."
Josh reined his horse in and Brent followed suit, holding himself straight against his brother's scrutiny. Josh studied him for a long moment, one hand draped casually over the saddle horn, the other braced against his thigh. He looked utterly relaxed, but Brent could feel tension and knew they were about to continue their unspoken conversation from the dinner table.
"You heard pa as well as I did," Josh said, finally. He straightened and looked out over the rolling hills as if he could see the future there. "Winter's right around the corner. You need to know this place as well as the men if you're going to take a leadership--"
"Leadership role, right," Brent snapped, growing agitated. "What does that even mean? We both know I got no skills at ranching, and no interest in it."
"You're the owner's son, Brent. It doesn't matter if you're interested, you need to understand it. This place is your birthright."
"The hell it is. I'd sooner die than be tied to this place, and you know it."
Brent realized his mistake too late. His brother's eyes narrowed, his head cocked slightly, and they sank into a tense, suspicious silence. The only sound was the creaking leather of the saddles and the horses' huffing as they munched on grass.
"What are your intentions, Brent?"
Brent's throat went dry, his palms clammy, and his gaze swung away from his brother's. Lying to his father had beeen difficult. Lying to Josh?
"What are you talking abo--"
"You know what I'm talking about, Brent. Did you even marry that poor woman, or was that another bluff?"
Despite the accuracy of Josh's accusations, Brent felt a pang of hurt that battled back the shame and made him straighten in indignation.
"What exactly are you implying?"
"I'm implying that you got a habit of a running from things, brother, and you're downright phobic of being tied down. All that considering, you're awful calm about being a husband and a father."
His gaze was piercing and Brent couldn't help but look away. He dismounted clumsily, biting back a groan as his feet hit the ground and sent shards of pain up his cramping legs. Leading his horse by the reins, he made for a small copse of trees.
With long-neglected skill, he hobbled his horse and sat heavily against a narrow tree, pulling the hat off his head and setting it on his upturned knee. A few seconds later, Josh sank to the ground beside him, leaning back on his hands.
For a long, peaceful moment they sat together and stared out at the prairie. Brent knew the truth was out, and although he had dreaded it, he felt strangely calm. He had spent his whole life finding ways to push the boundaries, getting into trouble and venturing past the limits into dangerous and unknown territory. In all his adventures, Josh had been one step behind him, waiting for things to go south.
When Brent was ten, he had tied a rope to a tree by the river and swung out over the surface, letting go just in time to catch a few seconds of weightless flight before plunging with a splash into the frigid water. Over and over on that hot summer day, he'd swung, splashed, swam, and climbed out of the river while Josh reclined on the grassy bank, watching the clouds. He still didn't rememer letting go of the rope too soon. All he remembered was waking up on the bank with an aching head, retching water while Josh, suddenly sopping wet, pounded his back.
When Brent was twelve, he had decided he wanted to meet the indians and stole off in the middle of the night. He had rode into the darkness for hours before realizing that his compass was broken and he had no idea where he was. He could still recall how the night had simultaneously expanded and contracted around him. Sounds had become louder and closer, and the sky had stretched out in every direction, imposing in its vastness. He'd slid off his horse and begun to cry, the sound of his tears so loud they drowned out the sound of approaching hoofbeats.
"You're gonna get us both beat," Josh had griped, sliding off his horse. "What the hell are you sneaking out for?"
"I wanted to meet the indians," Brent had responded, wiping his eyes.
"You find 'em?"
"Compass is broke."
"Well, good thing the stars are out, huh?"
Josh had showed him how to find north, and they rode back home. The horses were back in the stable and both boys, racoon-eyed and weary, had been at the breakfast table with their father none the wiser.
When Brent was fifteen, he had snuck into his father's study and sampled from the bottle of whiskey in the top drawer. It was only meant to be a sip. An undetectable sip. But Brent had found that he liked the way it burned going down, and liked even better the way it warmed his stomach and quieted his thoughts. He had finished half the bottle before the door creaked open and Josh poked his head in.
"Thought I saw a light in here. The hell are you doing?"
"Imbibin'" Brent had slurred, grinning.
"Goddammit," was the only response he got. Josh had dragged him back to their room and poured him into bed. He'd woken the next morning, thickheaded and nauseous and pissing his pants with terror at the whooping his father was sure to deliver when he found the missing liquor.
The whooping never came. When he tried to bring it up with Josh, his brother had hissed at him to leave it alone. They never spoke of it again.
When Brent was twenty, he had slept with a beautiful woman named Deb. They met in town, and he'd flirted with her for a month before he took her on a "picnic" at a spot by the river. He claimed her three times right there by the water, and the very next day he saw her in town with a man on her arm.
"Deb," he'd said, approaching her. Her eyes widened just as the man's narrowed.
"Mr. Tucker!" Deb had exclaimed, fear staining her cheerful tone. "I'd like you to meet my husband, Robert. Robert, this is Brent Tucker."
Brent already knew the man, but had shaken his hand anyway, hiding a wince when powerful fingers tightened to a bruising grip around his.
Brent had ridden hard for home, and found Josh in the paddock, straining to stay atop some half-broke horse. He'd climbed onto the fence and sat there, slumped, waiting for the attention and concern.
"I slept with a married woman," he'd blurted, when his brother finally walked over. He didn't expect the laugh.
"It's not funny," he said indignantly. "It's Robert Mulligan she's married to. Must have just arrived from back east. She wasn't even wearing her wedding ring."
Josh had climbed up next to him on the fence, still chuckling.
"Josh, will you stop laughing?" he'd growled, reaching out to shove half-heartedly at his brother. "Mulligan is a mean son of a bitch. That whore just went and got me killed."
The laughing stopped.
"Don't talk like that, Brent," came the stern reproach.
"I know. He'll only beat me, but--"
"You tellin' me you had no part in this? You had no idea she might be married?"
Of course he had known. No woman came out to these parts alone. It wasn't that she was married that came as such a shock. It was to whom she was married.
The next day, Josh had woken him up before dawn and handed him a wad of cash and a packed bag.
"I got two horses saddled up outside," he'd said as Brent groggily dressed himself.
"Where we goin'?"
"You're going to use that money and buy a train ticket. Get away from here until this thing with Mulligan blows over."
"Josh this is hundreds of dollars. Where did you get--"
"Knowing Mulligan, it won't blow over quick. You might need to stay away for a while."
Josh had ridden with him to the train station, pistol at his hip, rifle lashed to his horse's saddle, and stayed until Brent boarded. It was two years before Brent saw fit to come back for a visit. The world, he had discovered, was a magnificent place. What reason did he have to return to a place he had already seen?
Which brought him back to the subject at hand. All his life, Josh had stood by him. Josh was the one who had set him free. This would be no different.
"I bought her a ring," he said, glancing quickly at Josh to gauge his reaction. His brother had dropped onto his back and was staring at the clouds as they drifted overhead. When he said nothing, Brent felt a need to fill the silence.
"I didn't marry her, but I do intend to do right by her. I brought her here, and I'll stay until she has the baby. I'll make sure she's comfortable, and has what she needs.... what the baby needs. She's okay with it. I explained everything. She understands. There's no need for Pa to know. It's not as if he was faithful to Ma. He'll understand when I leave for a few days at a time, and he won't notice when those days become weeks. He'll be dead by the time the weeks become months become years. She'll be happy. He'll be happy. The baby will have a safe place to grow up."
He trailed off into silence, plucking absently at the grass beside him. Just when he was about to start talking again, if only to fill the silence, Josh sat up.
"He means to leave you the ranch," he said, draping one arm over an upturned knee.
Brent had expected advise, criticism, and anger. This, he did not expect.
"What?"
"For a while, I think he'd come to terms with you not bein' around. Started talking about changing the will. Didn't make him real happy, but he's a drunkard, not an idiot. When he found out about the woman, all that left his mind. He thinks you're home to stay and he means for you to take over the ranch."
"That's ridiculous, we both know I've got no interest in it. You're older, anyway. It doesn't make any sense."
"Come on, Brent. That don't matter. You know how the old man feels about me. He's got his heart set on it. Even if you wander off again, he'll see you've got a wife and child here and think you're comin' back."
Brent imagined that to most other men, this would be cause for celebration. A large parcel of land and a successful business, all his for the taking. Instead, it felt like a prison sentence.
"I don't want it, Josh," he said woefully. "I don't want her, either. Or the kid."
"That's too goddamn bad, cuz you got 'em."
The words were harsher than Brent expected, with something bitter laced between them that Brent couldn't place.
"What are we going to do?" he asked, dropping his head back against the tree.
Josh's knees popped as he stood, and a hand appeared in Brent's vision. He grasped it, and let his brother pull him to his feet.
"You'll treat her like a man treats a wife as long as you're here, and you'll stay until the kid is born," Josh said, all traces of harshness gone from his voice. This was the brother Brent had been looking for. The friendly one. The one who knew how to find his way back home without a compass. The one who set him free. "We'll figure it out from there."