Branded Read Online Free

breeze. “Well, well, look what the
Forbes
list dragged in.”
    Deacon turned and gave the grizzled old cowboy and barn manager a once-over. Same blackStetson, same deep, wide grin, and skin the color and texture of leather. “Good to see you, Sam.”
    The shit-eating grin curved upward even further, making the man’s brown eyes flash. “Didn’t know if you’d be showing up for the funeral, Deac.”
    A whisper of something dangerously close to grief moved through Deacon, but he shoved it away. “Come on, now. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
    â€œHope we’re talking about paying respects here.”
    â€œNo one expects respect out of me, Sam. You know that.”
    The old man’s bright eyes dimmed and he clucked his tongue. “Don’t like that kinda talk, boy. Don’t like it at all.”
    Deacon laughed, but the sound was hollow as hell. “How you doing, Sam? Gettin’ on all right?”
    The question seemed to pull the aging cowboy out of his momentary irritation and into a subject he appreciated discussing. “Everything on this old body aches like a sonofabitch.”
    â€œMaybe it’s time to pack it in and move to the coast, sit on the beach and watch the waves?” Deacon said, then waited a moment, knowing what was coming next.
    â€œBeach and waves?” Sam’s disgruntled snort echoed inside the truck. “Shoot.” He unfoldedhimself from the window. “Don’t be talking nonsense to me, boy. I’ll die in the saddle and you know it.”
    Deacon nodded, his smile genuine. “Yup. I know it.”
    â€œJust like your daddy,” he added.
    That whisper of grief was back, and this time it threatened to settle inside of him. “That where he died? His butt in the saddle?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œHow romantic.”
    Tired brown eyes flared with heat. “Don’t be a shit, Deac.”
    â€œToo late for that, Sam,” he tossed back.
    â€œYou and Everett had your issues, but he’s gone now. Show some respect for the dead or I swear I’ll tan your hide. I don’t care how old you are.”
    Deacon released a weighty breath. Wasn’t the time or the place to tell one of his father’s oldest friends that he hadn’t had respect for Everett when he was alive, and he sure as hell wasn’t having it for him now, no matter what was whispering through him or what tricks his gut was playing. His attention drifted back to the barn down the way and to the couple who were tying up their horses.
    â€œYou ignoring me now, boy?” Sam piped in.
    â€œNo. Just observin’ things.”
    He could practically feel Sam’s gaze shift toward the barn.
    â€œThings?” the old man drawled. “Or Mac?”
    Mac
. The name ran across his skin like a feather. “Mac?” he asked, deadpan. “You don’t mean Mackenzie Byrd?”
    â€œâ€™Course I do.”
    Deacon made like he was squinting. “You sure?”
    Sam paused, confused. “What you mean?”
    â€œYou sure that’s a girl in them jeans and tank top?”
    â€œWhat the Sam Hill you talking about?” Sam cried. “’Course that’s a girl!”
    Deacon shook his head, fighting a grin. It had always been so damn easy to mess with Sam. “Can’t tell from here.”
    â€œShit, boy,” the old man spluttered. “I’m fixin’ to give you a smack upside the head. I can tell that’s a girl, and I got cataracts. In fact, I’m pretty sure I could tell that was Mac from space. She’s got a figure a man don’t forget or look past, if you know what I mean.”
    He did. He glanced back at Sam and felt the pull of familiarity and home course through him once again. It was a strangely comfortable feeling. One he’d have to watch and keep in check in the days ahead. “You’re talking like a dirty old