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“Why can’t I get the Lone Star of Texas?” Jesse groused, leaning against the side of the open barn door.
Clay kept focused on milking ol’ Bessie. She never let Jesse touch her without kicking up a fuss. Bessie probably never forgave Jesse for tipping her over that one time. Or twice. Not more than that though—Bessie kicks up too much of a fuss to let anyone get close enough to get one over on her any more than that. Jesse and Bessie had had their fair share of scrappin’ from all that nonsense, and they’d both only grown even more onery about letting anyone close to them in the wake of all that.
Clay sighed and ran a hand along Bessie’s side soothingly. He could feel her start to tense up just from seeing Jesse. “Ain’t nobody’s getting the Lone Star o’ Texas from Daddy at this rate, Jesse.”
Jesse clenched her fist and gritted her teeth. “No, you will! You know it’s all for you! Daddy always talks ‘bout passing it down to you, from Daddy to son one day, when you prove you’re man enough for it! And only YOU! Yap all you want about how you have to prove yourself, but he’s giving you a chance to prove yourself, if you ever grow a pair and man up! Like I ain’t already more man than the both of you together!”
“He figures I’ll earn it first ’cause I’m the oldest. That’s all there is to that. Still don’t think he’s got half a mind to give it to anybody anytime soon, though.”
“That’s not all, and you know it! It’s ‘cause you’re the favorite! ‘Cause they like you better! ‘Cause everyone likes you better! Everyone’s champing at the bit to give you everything in the world on a silver platter ‘cause you’re Clay Bailey, the best thing ever since sliced bread! ‘Cause you’re oh-so-perfect and special and golden! You get the better blanket! The sturdier gloves! You get to go on the hunting trips and fishing trips I don’t get invited to! You get the best presents! The album’s full of your photos! Momma always knows exactly what you like but she ain’t never given me anything personal like that! How much of my gear is a hand-me-down from the brand-new stuff they bought you?!”
Another weary sigh. “How many times are we gonna do this song and dance? Jesse, you know I love you. You’re my best friend in the world. But I told you already. All that is just ‘cause I’m the oldest.” Clay gently pet Bessie’s fur again as he stood up with the full bucket of milk.
Jesse hurled a stone his way—either to tip the bucket and spill the milk everywhere, or to clock Clay, or to hit ol’ Bessie if Clay dared to dodge out of the way and leave her in the line of fire.
Whichever one her angle was, none of those came to pass.
Clay just lifted up a free hand, and the stone stopped midair. Clay flicked his hand, and the stone was slowly floated back into Jesse’s palm, landing against her glove with a gentle thud.
“…Even the earth itself listens to you. God, you’re just so perfect. You’re gonna get the Lone Star of Texas placed into your pretty little palm just like that.” Jesse turned around and hurled the rock away, aiming at nothing in particular. The tinny sound of it banging against something signaled that Clay would have more repair work to do today. “And all I’m gonna get is a whole lotta nothing!”
Jesse ran off, and Clay hung back, giving Bessie more gentle scratches around her neck and behind her ears. Her ears relaxed, and she let out a low contented moo.
“Ain’t like I’m ever gonna earn Daddy’s respect anyway. Nobody’s getting that dadgum star,” he muttered.