“Except Casper was. Long enough to take a couple of shots at me. Then I took a couple of shots at him. More than a couple.” He faced her.
Carolyn winced, seeing the fat lip and the beginnings of a shiner around his right eye. “I’m assuming Casper looks worse than you?”
“You’re goddamned right he does. I hope the asshole is pissing blood.” His feral grin sent a shudder through her.
She’d seen Carson fight, so she knew what kind of physical damage he was capable of inflicting. But the lingering anger rolling off him was new; usually he was much calmer after a fight. She laid her hand on his cheek. “Tell me what’s going on, McKay.”
He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch—another unusual reaction from him. “We ain’t even buried Dad yet and Casper is already talkin’ about selling the ranch. That was the first fuckin’ thing the asshole said to me after he told me about Dad bein’ gone. The first fuckin’ thing.”
She didn’t know what to say to that.
“Casper is a big talker. But this time he actually followed through. He contacted a lawyer about dividing up the ranch and the assets.”
“Can he force you, Cal and Charlie to sell?”
“He thinks he can. But the whole reason he’s doin’ it is because he knows we’ll do anything to stop that from happening. He thinks he can force us into borrowing against what we own to buy him out.” He picked up the shot and drained it. “We ain’t got that kind of cash. We’re land rich and cash poor. All of our profits go toward payin’ ourselves and payin’ off the yearly operating loan. With the way the Ag business is right now, family farms and ranches goin’ under, there’s no way any bank would risk it.”
“So what happens now?”
“If I had the money I’d buy him out and not give a shit if I ever see him again. But that ain’t an option. So we’re stuck with him.”
“Sweetheart. Why didn’t you talk to me about this?”
“Because I’ve been too pissed off. The kids don’t need to see me this way either.”
Her heart ached for him. Because of Casper’s machinations, Carson couldn’t even grieve his father. Rather than ask more questions, she sat next to him and sipped her soda.
Carson gestured to the bartender for another beer.
Carolyn was about to head outside to tell Cord to go home, when someone behind them said, “If it ain’t another drunken McKay.”
When Carolyn started to turn around, Carson put his hand on her forearm, stilling the movement.
“You drowning your sorrows because Daddy died?”
He ground out his cigarette.
“Bet that puts the future of the McKay Ranch in question.”
Carson slowly turned around on his barstool. “First of all, Timmons, fuck off. You don’t know nothin’. And I ain’t that drunk, so tread lightly.”
She couldn’t help but spin to see who was stupid enough to taunt Carson.
The guy was big. Easily six foot four, but skinny as a telephone pole. Over the years she’d become familiar with most of the families in the area, but she’d never seen this man.
“I’d like to tread all over your goddamned spine. I owe you payback,” he sneered.
“For what?”
Timmons shuffled closer. “Don’t play dumb. You know what for.”