Brandon laughed. “Yeah, we’ve got this.”
It was a damn good thing that Brandon loved every member of the families. There wasn’t a jerk among them. When you think about it, that alone is a miracle.
They entered the building and then accessed the door to the weapons facility. He and Trace each availed themselves of a gun from the handgun lockers. Brandon had left his Corps-issued Sig Saur at home in his gun safe. So he grabbed a Glock 22, a weapon he was familiar with. Trace armed himself with the exact same type and calibre of handgun. Then they headed to the ammo locker and loaded up. When they were ready, with ear protection hanging around their necks, they headed to the alleys.
There were five alleys available on any given day for anyone in the family to show up and practice the use of their firearm. Each alley could accommodate two shooters, as two targets hung at the far end of each. On this day, Brandon noted, only the middle alley was available.
He had to credit them for their tactics.
“You were right, Robbie. Here come the puppies, right on schedule.” Marc Jessop, standing with his oldest brother at the second alley, sounded surprised.
“My son is a creature of habit,” Robert said. “One would think that, having a few tours over in Afghanistan under his belt, he’d have rid himself of that flaw.”
Son. Not stepson. Brandon knew that he would never be called, let alone considered, a stepson. No, not here with family. Never here, with family.
“Hey, Dad, Uncle Marc. Y’all were expecting us? Maybe you and the rest of the elders here are looking for some pointers?” Brandon smiled. “Shooting straight and actually hitting the target isn’t what I teach the other tadpoles over at the base, but hey, I’m here to help if you need me.”
“You’re something, junior,” Adam Kendall said. “We’re just not quite sure what, yet.”
“We should consider that, cousin,” Gord Jessop said to Adam. “He might be confused about that himself.” Then he looked over at Grant Jessop. “In the meantime, one little thing I’ve wondered, Grant. Did y’all even have the talk with little Trace, here, yet?”
“Well, we meant to,” Grant said.
“We just never quite got around to it.” Andrew Jessop slammed a fresh clip into his gun.
From the lack of scent, Brandon knew no one had fired a weapon in the room as yet.
“If he’d grown up on a ranch, that talk wouldn’t have been necessary,” Jesse Benedict said.
“That’s true enough, cousin.” Chase Benedict also inserted a new clip then made quite a show of looking over his weapon. “And when he worked on our ranch, we kept him too busy for sightseeing.”
“Gossiping, just like what I’ve heard goes on at ladies’ coffee clutches.” Trace shook his head. Then he turned to look at Brandon. “I’m telling you right now, brother, if one of ’em asks me if the pants they’re wearing makes their ass look fat, I’m fucking out of here.”
“There’s a way we can stop the gossip, you know, brother.” Brandon’s casual tone clashed with his body language.
He looked over at Trace, who nodded. “Do it.”
“Ready!” Brandon called. And he gave everyone just enough time to get their ear protection in place.
Brandon fired his five shots quickly, each bullet hitting center mass of the target.
He stepped back and let Trace take his stance. Brandon watched as Trace duplicated his performance.
Instead of staying in their alleys, the others present had gathered around and watched as they’d fired and as Trace brought the targets forward.
Both silhouettes boasted fist-sized holes dead-center of the target area.
“The two of you’re about even in skill,” Adam said.
“I’ve been practicing since I came home,” Trace said.
For the next hour, the ribbing ceased, and the serious shooting practice began. It didn’t surprise Brandon one bit that every man there was a good shot. He knew that, for those who’d been born in Lusty, coming to the range was a habit formed early. Man or woman, everyone took security and competency with weapons seriously.
At the end of the hour, they wound it down, cleaned it up, and finally headed into the kitchen for something to drink, and the inevitable cookies to go along with that.
“Now that the weapons are all safely cleaned and stored,” Brandon said, “please feel free to proceed with the interrogation-slash-lecture part of the program.”
“We have no intention of interrogating or lecturing you,” Robert said.
“Really?” Brandon hoped they understood the source of his doubt.
“Really. We were going to,” Adam said. “And then Jesse told us that Grandma Kate played matchmaker and set y’all up.” Adam grinned.
“She doesn’t set folks up,” Brandon said.
“She just introduces them and then leaves it up to them, what they do with that favor,” Trace said.
“I used to believe in the tooth fairy, too,” Grant said.
Brandon chuckled. He looked over at Trace. “They’re funny, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, they’re kind of cute.” Then his brother looked at Adam.
“Since you’re here, I’ll ask—on behalf of us both—if you would happen to have any information on that slimy piece of crap our Rachel had the good sense to divorce?”
“Ah, Buck Cosgrove.”
The man’s name on Adam’s lips sounded like something Brandon wouldn’t want to step in. He sat patiently, waiting and hoping the others didn’t understand how violent the emotions seething within him actually were.
“We can tell you that his name has been entered into the family’s alert system,” Gord Jessop said. “My understanding is that Jake’s had an eye on him for a while, because Kate had taken Rachel under her wing more than a couple years ago.”
“And that was not long,” Grant said, “after Chloe met her, in fact. You may or may not know our woman offers one-of-a-kind jewelry at the Spa. It’s all made by Texan artisans, of which Rachel was among the first to sign on. Chloe
