Branded Read Online Free Page B

slaughtered.”
    Deacon turned and lifted one dark eyebrow. “Is that last bit going on Everett’s tombstone?”
    â€œWatch yourself,” Sam nearly growled. “Goddammit, Deacon. What happened is in the past. Times change. People move on. Everyone’s forgotten—”
    â€œNo.” The humor in Deacon’s tone turned to ice. “Not everyone.”
    Sam’s lips thinned. “Well, they should.” He let out a heavy breath. “Cass ain’t coming back. Everett’s gone now, too. I say we all start up fresh and clean.”
    Deacon didn’t answer. What burned inside him, what had burned inside of him for ten long years, wasn’t something Sam could ever understand or respect. And truly, it didn’t matter. “Service in an hour?” he said.
    Sam nodded, his expression grim. “In town. You driving this rig in, or do you want one of the mares saddled for you?” He grinned halfheartedly. “Maybe you’ve forgotten how to ride, living in the city.”
    â€œLike I said, Sam, I haven’t forgotten anything.” Deacon’s gaze returned to the house as his hand palmed the gearshift. “I’ll see you at the church.”
    He didn’t wait for a reply. Just thrust the truck into gear and took off.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Mac stood over Everett’s casket in the stiflingly hot church on Main and Fifth wearing the charcoal-gray linen dress and black heels she’d bought on the Internet the night her mentor and friend had passed away. Droplets of sweat snaked down her shoulders to her back, making her shift uncomfortably. Behind her, pretty much all two hundred and twenty inhabitants of the small ranching community were assembled, fans at the ready, expressionsappropriately grim as they paid their respects to the man who was both their friend and the one who had given many of them a livelihood.
    Mac put her hand on the closed casket and released the air she was holding in her lungs—the air she’d seemed to have been holding for three days now. God knew, Everett wasn’t a saint, but he’d been so good to her. Hired her on when she barely knew shit about cattle. Promoted her when she learned. And gave her the home and family she’d always coveted when her father passed on.
    She eased her hand from the wood. Despite the heat, her palm felt ice-cold and prickly, like she’d lost circulation, and she fisted it at her side as she turned around. Seated in the first pew, Blue and his mom, Elena, who’d been the Triple C’s housekeeper for more than ten years, gave Mac a gentle, encouraging smile. She was about to head for the spot between them when her attention was diverted by a tall, good-looking man who had just entered the church. He was glancing around, no doubt searching for his kin in the crowd. Standing somewhere between the casket and the congregation, Mac just stared at him, her heart squeezing painfully in her chest. He’d changed in the ten years since he’d been gone. He’d grown taller certainly, and his body was thick with muscle, but his white blond hair was now cut close to the skull, and he had tattoos peeking out from boththe collar and the cuffs of his white shirt. He barely resembled the ragtag cowboy he’d once been. But one thing about Cole Cavanaugh hadn’t changed. Those black eyes. Those deep, soulful, penetrating black eyes were still a perfect match to his twin sister’s, and just looking at them made Mac’s breath catch in her throat and her eyes well with tears.
    She’d felt it over the years, the aching loss of her best friend, but it had always seemed removed from her heart somehow. Maybe because the Cavanaugh brothers were no longer around—especially
this
Cavanaugh brother. But now, seeing Cass’s eyes in his, Mac felt the pain afresh. She tore her gaze from Cole and made a beeline to her seat in between Blue