"I know quite a bit about both of your mothers, actually, Sammy."
Brandon saw the same light of recognition in his brother's face that must have crossed his own just moments ago.
"You know a lot about being a coward, don't you…Father?"
Another draw on the cigar. "So, you've figured it out. I wonder if your brother will." He gave a soft chuckle. "If he does, he won't come, Sam. Believe me, he won't. If he doesn't—" he shrugged in the darkness, "who knows?"
"He will come, Father. Don't you doubt it."
Gabriel gave a shudder, as if a chill ran through him at Sam's words. He shook it off quickly. "Then we'll end it, here; tonight. You're right, Sammy. I can't trust you anymore. And I can't run forever. When you were younger, you were afraid. Fear kept you in your place. You were…weaker…than Brandon ever was." He gave short laugh, placing his booted foot on Sam's stomach.
"Look at you, Sammy," he said, pityingly. "You'll never be any good to anyone, not really." He pressed down, his weight shifting heavily to Sam. Sam groaned and tried to roll, but he couldn't. "Beg, Sam. That's what you're good for – begging."
"Screw you," Sam ground out harshly.
"He won't come. Not in time."
Brandon stepped out of the trees, his gun pointed at the back of Isaac's head. "I'm here, you son of a bitch. Get your damned foot off of my brother."
His father seemed, despite his claims to the contrary, to be expecting him, Brandon thought. He stiffened at Brandon's words, but didn't immediately turn. A flash of lightning flickered through the thick canopy of trees, and Brandon quickly moved so that he could see Isaac's face. He pulled back the hammer of his pistol, the cocking sound loud, even above the howling of the wind through the tree branches.
"I said, take your foot off of him."
Slowly, Isaac withdrew his foot, and stood beside his younger boy, looking into Brandon's face.
"So. We meet again."
"Yeah. After what? Twenty-two, twenty-three long years?" Brandon's lips curved faintly, as he remembered the hopes he'd harbored so long, watching them crumbling to dust before his eyes. This man was a monster. Could he escape carrying a part of that with him? He was his son— Isaac took a step forward, and Brandon shook his head. "Stay where you are."
"As you wish…son."
"You forgot that fact for twenty-odd years, Isaac…Robert…whoever you are. Forget it from here on out."
The gambler's mouth twisted caustically. "What now? You gonna shoot your old man, gun hawk?"
No. Brandon knew he would never pull the trigger – not unless he was forced to. But he didn't put the gun away, either.
"You probably don't remember much about me, or your mother."
"No."
"It's odd how things happen, Brandon. I've run from you for years. Lived in fear of my own son."
"You must have done something terrible to be so afraid." Brandon's voice was flat. The emotions were slowly draining from him, leaving only the necessity of doing whatever it took to end this madness and get back to Allie in one piece.
"What do you think it was – son?" A natural spark of curiosity edged his voice.
"Murder, maybe."
It seemed to take him a moment to process Brandon's meaning. "You think – you think I murdered your mother?"
"Did you?" Brandon's gut twisted. What would he do if the answer was 'yes'? Would that be the thing which would make him pull the trigger?
Sam also waited in frozen silence to hear Isaac's response.
"You think I'd tell you, even if I did?" The gambler nodded at Brandon's gun. "I don't like those odds."
"They're all you've got to work with…Father," Brandon said coldly. Emotion seemed to be coming back to him now, at the worst possible moment. If Isaac hadn't had something to do with his wife's death, he would have denied the accusation outright. He hadn't done that. He'd used a gambler's gambit – playing for more time, trying to increase his odds.
"You…don't remember anything?"
Brandon gave a caustic smile. "I remember plenty, old man. Living on the streets, begging for handouts, being rounded up and taken to that godforsaken orphans' home—"
At this, Sam became very still.
"Put that gun away, and maybe I'll tell you what happened."
"No! Brandon, don't! He's got my derr—"
Isaac kicked Sam's ribs quickly as Sam ineffectually tried to roll away from him. Brandon started forward, but in the next moment, the derringer was in Isaac's hand, pointed at Sam.
"Now, son, lose that weapon or your brother here, will be joining both your mothers in the happy hunting ground in the sky." He chuckled at his own words.
"Where are the others?" Brandon asked, making no move to drop the gun. Isaac would feel confident enough to crow, Brandon hoped.
"The others?"
"Obviously, you made two of us. We're here. Hard to believe you kept your pants buttoned the rest of the time. I'm figuring there are…more."
Isaac gave a snort of laughter. "Two that I know of – another boy and a girl – hardly worth mentioning."
"Where are they?"
A slow smile crossed Isaac's face. "Why do you want to know?"