Page 2 of Brands

Seems to have worked.

The corner of his mouth rises, but he drops his arm to cover his crotch. “I hate the idea of it, but I prefer ‘family jewelless’.” He chuckles and reaches for his water, then lets out a long sigh.

“That’s what I need your help with. I might have to start liquidating some of the herd. With all the bullshit the doc wants me to do, I can’t keep them up. I came to ask if you’d be willing.” He side-eyes me before focusing on his water. “I have some shit to do first, and some tests to hear back on, so it won’t be right away. Probably this winter.”

That’s usually my slower time. Fall is busy with fairs and rodeos, plus everyone wanting to sell off their summer livestock. And I gotta check the brands on every damn transaction on this end of Montana.

“Yea, I’ll do everything I can.” I’ve known Clay for ten years, and we’ve become good friends for the last three.

I don’t have many. Him, Dix, Mason, Ford, and Wade. A small circle, but I’d kill or die for any one of them.

“Just do me a favor, will ya?” Clay grunts as he shifts in his chair.

He looks uncomfortable, making the reality of his situation hit me.

“Anything.”

“Don’t tell anyone.” He slides forward enough only the back pockets of his Wranglers cling to the cushion. “Onlyyou and my doc knows. I don’t need any of those damn vultures at Hendricks finding out.”

Just me?

An image of a tall blond with blue eyes like Clay’s dances through my mind.

I met his daughter for the first time just this past summer, and she was with Dixon and Char at their wedding.

“What about Libby? Did you tell her?” I hardly know her, but she seems capable as hell.

And charismatic. Every head turns when she walks into a room.

I’d have asked her to my suite in Vegas, before I realized who she was.

Fuck, I feel guilty now for ever entertaining the thought.

Clay shakes his head. “No. She’d want to do something crazy like try and save the farm. If Marge was still alive, maybe there’d be a chance. But I saw how fast the cancer took her, I don’t want to risk not having everything in order. My kids deserve to have a better life than milking cows.”

That’s about when I met Clay, shortly after his wife died.

I feel for Libby having lost her mom, and now her dad fighting the same disease.

Damn it all. It ain’t fair.

“You have my word.” I clap him on the back, partly to hide the pain I know is twisting my own features. “You let me know what you need and when.”

“Thanks, Blue. I won’t know more right away. The biopsies and all that shit don’t come back until around Thanksgiving.” He turns and squints one bright eye. “Ever had a needle shoved into your ballsack?”

That makes me wince to think about. “Nope. Don’t wanna, either.”

His arm waves in a broad arc. “There isn’t a soul on this planet that wants that shit,” he chuckles. “Ain’t like I use ‘em anymore, but damn, I still like the little guys.”

The humor fades. “I just don’t want to leave my kids alone, ya know? I gotta do this for the best chance.” He picks up his glass and takes a long swallow. “I wanna walk my little girl down the aisle some day. And see Devon grow out of his teenage asshole stage and become the good man I know he can be.”

I remember Libby standing at the table in Mason’s house, yelling that she should have shot the man who was hurting her friend instead of just running him off with her gun.

She’s a wild one. I can’t imagine what kind of guy she’d end up with.

They’d be handling dynamite. But in a damn hot body.

I’d hate to be on her bad side.

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