Something Borrowed

Chapter 5

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.