Redneck Romeo (Rough Riders)

by Lorelei James

  Charlie shook his head. “Not Vi either. Ben told me in confidence. But I refused to promise him that I wouldn’t bring it up with you.” He paused. “Or with Casper. And I did talk to Casper about it.”

  Not what Dalton had expected. “When?”

  “Last week. I needed time to cool off too. Even now that he’s dead I don’t regret what I said to him.”

  “Can I ask what you said to him?”

  “Just that there’d been lots of times over the years he’d pissed me off. That he’d done shitty things, and selfish things, and stupid things. But all them paled in comparison to him abusing his son. I told him he was the worst kind of coward and I was ashamed of him, more so than I’d ever been in my life. That if I’d known what he’d done to you, I’da taken a strap to him myself. Then I’da turned him over to Carson and Cal who’d take their pound of his damn hide too. Our dad, for all his faults, never whipped us. He might’ve been a gruff man with a short fuse and had no time to bear fools, but he’d never done nothin’ like that to any of us. So what the fuck? Where had Casper picked up that abusive behavior?

  “Then I warned him he couldn’t blame his actions on booze, because it wasn’t the goddamned bottle that’d been hittin’ you. I said if he thought what he was doin’ to you wasn’t wrong, then he wouldn’t have hidden it from his wife and his sons and everyone else. I asked him how he intended to explain his actions toward a child—his child—when he stood in judgment before God. That he oughta hope God had a more forgiving heart than me because I’d never forgive him.”

  Charlie looked at him. “I also said he should’ve spent more time begging for forgiveness from you than sitting in church pretending to be the good Christian man decent folks would shun if they knew what he’d done. If they knew how black and cold his heart and soul really were they wouldn’t welcome him with open arms.”

  Holy. Shit.

  “I know there are some people who’d rip me to pieces for acting that way toward a man who couldn’t speak to defend himself, but I stand by my actions. I did it because it was time someone took him to task. So I’m hoping you ain’t upset that I was the one who done it.”

  “I’m…shocked. But I’d never judge you on doin’ what you felt you needed to, Uncle Charlie.”

  “Good. I understand you’d moved on from all that childhood bullshit, Dalton. I knew you’d avoided goin’ to the hospital to see him and maybe I’d chalked it up to you bein’ a selfish kid who needed to grow up. But I finally saw your avoidance for what it really is. Self-preservation. I admire the hell out of you for bein’ the bigger man. For walking away. For not letting him define you.”

  Good thing Dalton was holding onto the fence or he might’ve fallen down. “Thank you.”

  “I don’t deserve your thanks for doin’ what was right for a change. And even when it was the last time I spoke to my brother, I don’t have any regrets about what I said. I just thought you oughta know.”

  “Thanks.”

  Charlie clapped him on the back and walked away.

  The chill was getting to him. He’d almost reached the house when he saw his brothers, sisters in law and their boys walking down the steps. Carson stood on the porch steps, watching them go.

  When he saw Dalton, he motioned him over. “You okay? You’ve been out here a while.”

  “Yeah, well wasn’t like I was hiding out here so no one would see me cry.”

  “Don’t think anyone’s shedding a tear that he’s gone.” Carson scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “Sweet Jesus. And ain’t that a fine thing for me to say about my brother on the day we planted him in the ground.”

  Dalton kept his eyes on his uncle. “Him bein’ dead don’t change who he was when he was alive. And I’m more than ready to put this day behind me.” I’m more than ready to put him behind me.

  “Me too. Anything you need?”

  His gaze moved to the front door. “Is Rory still inside?”

  “I believe so. Want me to get her for you?”

  “Nah. But would you tell her I went home and I’ll see her tomorrow?”

  Carson frowned. “Son, you sure you don’t wanna come in and tell her yourself?”

  “I’m sure. Tell Aunt Caro, Aunt Kimi and Aunt Vi I said thanks for everything.”

  “You got it. Night, Dalton. Take care.”

  “See ya.”

  Dalton didn’t remember much from the drive home. He could barely keep his eyes open. Once inside his house he plugged in his nearly dead cell, stripped and crawled between the sheets.

  His mother showed up at his door two hours later.

  Dalton wished he would’ve stayed in bed. But then they’d be having a conversation in his bedroom instead of the living room since she’d just barged in.

  “By all means, Ma, come in.”

  “You left Carson and Carolyn’s without saying goodbye.”

  “I don’t think anyone noticed.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Is that why you’re here? To chew my ass about some post-funeral breach of etiquette? Don’t care.”

  His mother waltzed into his kitchen and opened cupboards until she found what she was looking for.

  Booze.

  She snagged two plastic cups and pointed to the couch. “Sit.

  “Why are you—”

  “Son, you had to be expecting this.”

  And don’t you want to know the truth?

  No. He’d already come to terms with this.

  Dalton sat in the recliner.

  His mother perched on the end of the couch closest to him.

  And he noticed her hand shook when she dumped scotch in the cups.

  Fuck. Why was she nervous?

  Yeah, you’ve really come to terms with this.

  He didn’t look at her when he picked up his cup. “Who told you?”

  “Tell. Don’t be mad at him.”

  “I’m not. We called him Tattle-Tell for a reason growing up.”

  She barked out a laugh. “I’d forgotten about that.”

  Dalton sipped his drink. “Was it hard for you today?”

  “Harder than I thought it’d be, if you want to know the truth.” She lifted her glass. “Some asshole at the senior center asked me if the only reason I was going to the funeral was to make sure my ex was really dead.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah, well, like my mother always said, consider the source. Which leads to why I’m here.”

  “Ma. Don’t. Okay? It doesn’t matter.”

  “I’ll have my say, Dalton, whether you like it or not. So could you look at me please?”

  He counted to ten before he raised his head and met her eyes. Kind eyes. Eyes spilling over with tears.

  “After everything I went through with that man over the years. Some of it pretty awful stuff…I didn’t think I could hate him any more than I did. I was wrong. After what he told you…”

  Don’t say it. Please don’t say it.

  “I almost didn’t come here tonight to tell you this. But I want all this shit done and buried now that your father is gone.”

  Dalton didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.

  “Casper McKay was your father, Dalton. Period. I never cheated on him when we were married. The time in question, when I left him? Unlike your father’s claim he didn’t know where I’d run off to and I’d shacked up with some guy, I stayed with my aunt and uncle—my elderly aunt and uncle. And you can imagine how miserable that must’ve been if I returned to my husband after a week.”

  “Why didn’t you want to tell me?”

  “Because I think you secretly hoped he wasn’t your father. And that hope…changed you.” She poured another splash of scotch in their cups. “I’m not excusing what he said to you. But not knowing if he was or wasn’t your father allowed you to cut ties with everything that’d always defined you, which you needed. Probably more than you knew. And I understand why you believed him without question. I suspect he’d been laying the groundwork for somethi
ng like that for years.”

  Dalton swirled the scotch in his cup. “Did he believe I wasn’t his kid? That’d explain the beatings and the ridicule he leveled on me.”

  “Oh, that bastard knew very well that I never screwed around on him. He never doubted you were his kid, but he made you doubt it and that’s where he got that sense of power. After all the shit you’d been through the week you called off the wedding, Casper knew he could say whatever the hell he wanted to you and you wouldn’t tell anyone, just like you’d kept quiet on the abuse.” She knocked back a slug of scotch. “I confronted him about that, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t know,” he said evenly. “When?”

  She stared into her cup. “A few months after I started seeing a counselor. She told me I needed to face him head on so I could deal with my guilt and place the blame where it belonged; on him. So I showed up at his church one Sunday morning. Hoo-boy was he shocked to see me. More flustered than I’d ever seen him. He did not want me hanging around chatting up his new churchy friends.”

  He couldn’t even smile.

  “I asked him out for coffee. I think he would’ve agreed to anything to get me out of his little religious sanctuary. In the restaurant I let fly with everything I had. My disgust for him, for everything he’d done to you. And do you wanna know what that sonuvabitch said to me?” Her haunted eyes met her son’s. “If I’d been a better mother I would’ve known. He knew exactly what’d cut me the deepest and he did it without blinking.”

  “I hope you punched him.”

  His mom reached out and squeezed his knee. “No, but I did lose my temper. He laughed and claimed you hadn’t told anyone about it until you were an adult because then you could exaggerate the past events to make people feel sorry for you and hate him.” She squeezed his knee again. “That’s when I realized he was afraid people would believe you. Imagine his shock when I told him since he’d spoken so highly of his minister, I intended to ask for his help in learning to find forgiveness.”

  Now that made Dalton smile. “You didn’t.”

  “I did. He lost his mind and the restaurant manager had to intervene. I left. I let Casper stew on that for a few weeks. Petty thing to do, but it gave me a sense of satisfaction and I was able to overcome a few blocks I had with the situation. I did show up at his church a couple times a year, just to be ornery, just to watch him squirm.”

  “God, Ma. I love you.”

  She smiled. “Good to hear. So you might think after Tell told me this last bullshit manipulative lie your father spewed I would’ve confronted him. But this time I didn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that’s what the man wanted and I wouldn’t give him the pleasure. You didn’t give it to him either. Isn’t it pathetic he’s been waiting over three years for the fallout to begin? He died disappointed and alone and maybe it makes me a horrible human being to say this, but I can’t think of any man who deserves it more.”

  Dalton watched her chin tremble and he picked up her hand. “But?”

  “But as much as I hate him and what he’s done, if not for him…I wouldn’t have my sons. My wonderful sons. You boys are the light in my life and living proof that genes don’t matter. You’re all fine examples of good men, and that’s a miracle to me because you didn’t have that example growing up. You became who you are in spite of your genes and I couldn’t be prouder.” She sniffled. “And today, I couldn’t be sadder that your father died without really knowing any of you. Really sad because that was his choice.”

  They stayed like that for a while. Not speaking, just holding hands, lost in their own thoughts.

  Finally Dalton said, “Were you with Brandt and Tell tonight?”

  “For a little while.”

  “How are they?”

  “Surrounded by their wives and kids.”

  “They’re lucky.” He shook his head and drained his booze, shoving the glass aside. “Not lucky. They worked to have the lives they’ve got. I’m happy for them.”

  “There’s room for you in all their lives. In mine too. We missed you, but we’re all very glad you’re back home.” She stood. Wobbled. Laughed and sat back down. “I think I’ve had a little too much.”

  “Probably. You oughten be drivin’. Where are you staying tonight?”

  His mom looked confused. “Hadn’t really thought about it.”

  “So crash here. I’d like the company.”

  Tears swam in her eyes. “I’d like that too.”

  Dalton picked up the bottle of booze. “But we’re putting a lid on the truth serum.”

  She stretched out on the couch.

  “Ma. I don’t expect you to sleep on the couch. You can have my bed.”

  “I’m fine here. I prefer it actually. That way when I can’t sleep I’ll have more room to pace.”

  He probably wouldn’t sleep much either.

  After he’d brought her a pillow and a blanket, she asked, “Did the truth set you free?”

  “No. But it hasn’t weighed me down, either.”

  “I can live with that.”

  He could too.

  Jingle barked like crazy and jumped off the bed, growling as she raced to the front door.

  Rory sat up and squinted at the clock. Midnight. Sometimes turkey or deer would trip Jingle offline, but the barks were a sharp warning, which meant a person, not an animal was outside the house.

  Just as Rory reached for her handgun in the nightstand drawer, Jingle’s barks turned into happy yips and she knew her late night caller was Dalton.

  He’d left Carson and Carolyn’s house without a word to her. As helpless as she’d felt, as much as she’d ached to comfort him, she had no idea how to go about it, so she’d left him alone. The last thing Rory wanted was to intrude on his grief.

  She hadn’t heard from him yesterday at all.

  She remained in bed, listening to his deep voice as he talked to Jingle. The cupboard door squeaked. The man was such a sucker, spoiling the dog with treats. In the small entryway she heard the thump thump of Dalton’s boots hitting the floor. The faucet turning on and off. The gnawing sound of Jingle attacking her rawhide chew.

  Footsteps moved closer, stopping at the edge of the bed. The rustle of clothes being removed. The mattress dipped and that warm, hard male body spooned in behind her, pulling her close.

  He sighed.

  “You know, you’re ruining Jingle’s killer instincts. She was ready to tear your leg off to protect me.”

  “Which is why I rewarded her with a treat for bein’ your badass protector when I’m not around.” He kissed the back of her head. “Sorry if I woke you. I just…”

  “Dalton. It’s okay.”

  After a long while, he said, “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “I thought I wanted to be alone.”

  “Also understandable. I imagine it’s been rough.”

  That’s when he pulled away from her. He rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed.

  Rory saw him hunched over, his head in his hands. Was Dalton…crying? She pushed to her knees and moved in behind him, pressing her face into the back of his neck and wrapping her arms around him.

  But he wasn’t crying.

  “I don’t know how to do this, Rory.”

  “Do what?”

  “Grieve him,” he said softly.

  Her chest tightened. Her throat constricted.

  “I don’t know if I can. That makes me a cold goddamn bastard. Even after all the shit he did I never wished for him to die. But now that he’s dead and buried, I still don’t feel anything. No relief, no remorse, not even a tiny kernel of happiness that I’ll never have to deal with him again. Makes me sound fucking heartless. But at least if I was gloating or angry that nothin’ ever got resolved between us I’d feel something.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Hurting for this man on more levels than she could possibly fathom.

  “The worst part is
I never held out hope there’d be reconciliation. I wouldn’t have believed him if he’d tried to make amends with me. How fucking sad is that?” He shoved his hand through his hair. “That movie mindset is fucking with my head in a bad way. Where there’s some kind of deathbed apology, confession, whatever, where all the past issues are resolved, where forgiveness is offered and accepted, where everyone has a good cry and the person who wronged you your whole life drifts off, finally at peace. Real life ain’t so tidy. People die and shit doesn’t get resolved. And the person who doesn’t deserve the peace is the person who’s dead. The living are the ones who need it.”

  Rory tilted her head and wiped her tears on the sleeve of her nightgown. Dalton didn’t need her tears. He needed her strength.

  He shivered. Then he tried to shake her off. “Sorry. You don’t need me showing up at midnight and laying all this bullshit on you.”

  “Stop apologizing.” She tried to tug him back into bed but he wouldn’t budge. She tugged harder. “Come here.”

  “Rory—”

  “Get under the covers with me. You’re freezing.”

  “I should go.”

  “No. You should stay with me. I’ve missed you.” She squeezed him hard. “Please.”

  After a few beats, he said, “Okay.”

  Rather than snuggling into him like she usually did, she propped herself up on the pillows and brought his head against her chest.

  When Dalton curled into her completely, she briefly squeezed her eyes shut to stem the tears.

  She sifted her fingers through his hair. Petting him. Soothing him. Trying to comfort him.

  Dalton pressed a soft kiss on the top of her breast. “Thank you.” Finally his big body relaxed. His breathing turned slow and steady.

  Rory couldn’t get to sleep. She’d been tossing and turning before he’d showed up. Wondering how she’d tell him she’d be gone all this week.

  What kind of woman left her lover alone to deal with his grief just a few days after he’d buried his father?

  She’d debated on postponing the in-person interviews she’d scheduled, but she’d opted to keep the appointments. She’d waited for nine months for these opportunities so no way could she afford to pass them up.