Eighty percent? Were the people at Yellow Rose nuts? This man should get extra percentage points for just existing.
He turned, and the afternoon sun caught the gleam of a gold rodeo champion belt buckle.
So much for him being too handsome to be a cowboy.
He waved an arm. "Well, c'mon over here."
As Autumn approached, Garth winked broadly at the young males in the group, which caused a lot of elbowing and grinning that she pretended to ignore.
Hands on hips, he looked her up and down. "Howdy, pretty lady."
Autumn felt herself blush when she might have frozen a lesser mortal with a look. "Howdy yourself."
"Hey, ever'body, this here's Autumn," he announced in his west Texas twang. "We're going to be settin' up the swine auction area if anybody needs me. Until I get back, y'all keep your noses clean, y'hear?"
After issuing a couple more instructions, Garth draped a heavy arm across Autumn's shoulders and walked her to the Coliseum. Under other circumstances, Autumn would have objected to his over-familiarity, but expansive, larger-than-life gestures seemed to be Garth's style, and it couldn't hurt to walk into the meeting accessorized by a handsome cowboy.
The main area of the Coliseum was a hive of activity as pens and walkways were assembled, and trucks unloaded dirt, straw and feed. Autumn and Garth walked near the outer edge and headed for the meeting rooms.
Garth inhaled. "Ain't nothing like the pure smell of fresh, prime livestock and hope." He grinned.
Autumn grinned back, thinking that she'd taken it all for granted lately. "You've been around a lot of livestock shows and rodeos, haven't you?"
"Yep. I was a rodeo cowboy, competing full-time for a couple of years, then I cut back to weekends, but I wasn't winning enough anymore to pay for the travel and entry fees." Then Garth told her a couple of rodeo stories.
Autumn guessed that he was the kind of man who had a thousand stories and had told them at least that many times.
"I barrel raced when I was a teenager," she told him.
"You any good at it?"
"Sure was."
Laughing, he gripped her shoulders. "I like a gal who knows her own worth." And he started in on another story.
She was laughing when they walked through the meeting-room door, but she heard the immediate lull in the conversation as female antennae were raised.
Autumn kept her gaze fixed on Garth—difficult since he was scanning the room as he talked. Autumn didn't want to scan the room. She wanted to pretend that the presence or absence of one Clayton Barnett and one Morgan Dooley was of no concern to her.
"Looks like you folks definitely need my help," Garth said. "This reminds me of the time I entered a two-bit rodeo down Brownsville way."
Autumn risked a glance toward the auction area.
The red carpet had already been laid beneath the padded folding chairs where the serious buyers would be seated. The rest of the people would sit on the bleachers already assembled at the back. Technicians were installing the three television monitors that would be above the auctioneer's platform. Right now, that platform was no more than large planks of wood propped against the wall.
Fred Chapman was conferring with the committee in charge of organizing the volunteers and didn't look like he was ready to call the meeting to order any time soon.
Autumn sighed. She should probably introduce Garth to some people. Reluctantly, she stopped laughing at Garth's latest story—it hadn't been all that funny anyway—and looked around the room.
Almost immediately, her gaze collided with Jackie Dutton's, who took the eye contact as an invitation to approach Autumn.
"Why, Autumn honey, how nice of you to bring us some extra help." Jackie wrinkled her nose at Garth. "And such strong arms, too."
"Garth, this is Jackie Dutton from the Junior Swine Auction Committee. Jackie, this is Garth Rivers, my date."
Jackie didn't even blink—at least not at Autumn. "You're not from around here, are you, sugar?"
"Nope. I'm foreman of a little spread up by Throckmorton."
Jackie's approach had opened the floodgates. Autumn's committee found it necessary to greet her and be introduced to Garth. Friends of her mother wanted to chat. Women Autumn had never met introduced themselves.
Through it all, Garth kept his arm around Autumn's shoulders. It was beginning to feel heavy.
Surrounded by women, Garth was obviously in his element. He treated each of them with the same casual charm and quick grin as he did Autumn.
They laughed at his stories. Autumn laughed, too, although she'd heard some of them just minutes before.
She was about ready to give everybody a back-off look when Fred Chapman's voice came rumbling over the PA system. "People, if you'll find a place to park yourselves, we'll get this show on the road." The sound system shrieked and the technicians adjusted the levels.
The group reluctantly dispersed, but not too far. Autumn and Garth sat on the aisle, surrounded on three sides by Garth's new admirers. They used to be part of Clay's harem. Wherever he was, he must be feeling irritated over their defection.
As people took their seats, Autumn looked around, seeking him out. But she didn't see him or Morgan. Instead of feeling relieved, she felt deflated.
"All right, listen up, people," Fred began. "Those
of you who've done this before, try to hook up with
a rookie and walk them through it. Committee chair
men—c'mon down!"
As a half-dozen men and women lined up in front of the group, there was a movement by the door. Within seconds, every male head in the room had swiveled to the right.
Women's eyes narrowed.
Garth's eyes lit up. "Oooh, doggie. Sally's here. Now the party can start."
Framed in the doorway was a blonde wearing turquoise leather and a shiny red-lipped smile. Around the crown of her matching cowboy hat glittered the tiara entitled to be worn by all past and present rodeo queens.
And on her arm was a grinning Clay.
Jealousy stabbed Autumn's heart before she had time to shield it. She only hoped no one else could tell. She sensed that more than a few pairs of eyes were checking for her reaction.
As she watched, the rodeo queen processed—there was no other word to describe it—to the front row: Along the way, she smiled and waved as if she was on a parade float.
Fred Chapman whipped off his hat. "Clayton, just who have you brought us?"
Clay actually took the microphone from Fred. "I'm pleased to introduce you to Miss Sally McIntyre, 1994 Queen of the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo and third runner-up for 1995 National Rodeo Queen."
Where had he dug her up? Autumn wondered as people applauded.
"Sally's here to cheer us on..."
"Who is he kidding?" the woman behind Autumn grumbled.
"...and help any way she can."
Sally took the microphone. "Hi, y'all!"
She waved as the men chorused, "Hi, Sally," back at her.
"I don't believe this," another woman said.
Wrapping her manicured hands around the microphone, Sally smiled her professional rodeo-queen smile. "I do want to help, so just put me to work!"
"And break one of those nails? I don't think so," Jackie muttered.
Garth stood and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Hey, Sal!" He waved.
"Garth!" she squealed, and dropped the microphone as she ran up the aisle to hug Garth. He gave her a huge bear hug and lifted her off her feet.
This was not working out the way Autumn had planned. There were no gorgeous rodeo queens in her smug fantasy. There was a dumbfounded Clay in her fantasy. There was a sexy cowboy in her fantasy. There were jealous women in her fantasy. There was a date to the Champion Buyers' Ball in her fantasy.
There was no humiliation in her fantasy.
Autumn sneaked a look at Clay. He'd pushed his hat back on his head and was watching his rodeo-queen date hug Autumn's
rodeo-champion date. Only he didn't know Garth was Autumn's date yet, did he? She slumped behind the woman in front of her.
"Thank you for coming, Ms. McIntyre." Fred was once again in charge of the microphone.
Sally went prancing up to the front and Garth sat back down, a scarlet lipstick smudge on his cheek.
Though she was inclined to leave it there, Autumn supposed she ought to tell him. Digging in her purse for a tissue, she brought it out only to discover that she was too late. Jackie was kneeling on the chair in front of them, leaning over the back and wiping the smear off Garth's cheek.
At least three other women in the vicinity held tissues in their hands.
"Thank you kindly, ma'am," Garth said with a devilish smile.
Jackie blinked and gripped the back of the chair.
' 'Fred is announcing the work crews now," Autumn said pointedly.
Nodding, Jackie turned around.
Though Autumn would ordinarily work on the decorations, she decided she'd better stick close to Garth. If she didn't, some other woman certainly would. Since Garth had decided he wanted to lend a hand at assembling the show platform and auctioneer's podium, that's what Autumn volunteered to do, as well.
They made their way to the planks of wood and rolls of green AstroTurf propped against the wall.
Garth propped his fists at his waist. "Now who's going to take charge of this operation?"
"I am," a voice said behind them.
Autumn winced.
Garth turned around and extended his hand. "You're the fella Sally's with. Garth Rivers is the name."
"Clay Barnett."
Autumn slowly turned.
Garth propped his arm across her shoulders and urged her next to him. "And this pretty lady is Autumn."
Clay's dark eyes met hers. "Autumn and I are old friends."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Meanwhile back at the ranch...
FACSIMILE
To: Eleanor Barnett
Chief Financial Officer
Golden B Ranch/ Incorporated From: Debra A. Reese, Owner
Reese Ranch
This is to inform you that Reese Ranch will be offered for sale in the open market in thirty days. As per the original terms of sale, Golden B Ranch is hereby notified prior to said offering. Bids must match current market value.
Very truly yours, Debra A. Reese
FAX
To: Deb From: Nellie
Oh, Debra, I shouldn’t have said what I did about Autumn. I'm so sorry. She's a lovely girl and I know she didn't improperly encourage Morgan. For heaven's sake, there's no need to sell up.
Fondly, Nel
Clay allowed his gaze to dip to the arm Garth had draped around Autumn, then met his eyes. Treat her right or you'll deal with me. He made sure Mr. Suave got the message.
Mr. Suave didn't take kindly to messages like that one. His grin widened and he gripped Autumn harder.
Clay looked at her. She had a smile fixed on her face. Who knew how much manhandling she'd put up with to get at him? But that was her call. Eventually, she'd get tired of it when he didn't react. He just had to remember not to.
"I've got the assembly plans here," Clay said, and held up the stapled packet of papers to show the group. "First off, we need to make sure all the parts got taken out of storage, then sort them." He approached the wood and fittings. "Everything is labeled. Let's start checking off the alphabet. Top of the list is floor plank A."
"We've got A through F sitting against the wall here." Garth leaned against the wall, as well, arms crossed over his chest. "How about I start fitting them in the brackets?"
"Hang on." Show-off. "What we're working with is three separate structures—the show pen, the auction-officials' platform and the auctioneer's podium. It's easy to mix the parts between them."
"Hey." Garth held both hands palms outward. "You're in charge."
Clay couldn't help looking at Autumn to see what she thought of this yo-yo, but she was sorting through the metal brackets and fittings. "Next set is G through L. Gotta be careful when you assemble those since they're an inch narrower than the first batch."
"That wasn't too bright," Garth said.
Clay hadn't thought so, either, but felt compelled to defend the unnamed group that had first used the boards. "They're on the upper platform. It was added a couple of years after the show corral."
"Whatever," Garth said.
Clay didn't like his smile. Or his attitude. Or him in general.
Carrying a tray of plastic cups, Sally made her way over to their group just then. "Hey, Clay. Y'all need anything to drink?" She'd appointed herself a hostess of sorts. Clay supposed that was the best thing for her to be doing.
He'd been taken aback when he'd met her, but Sally had cheerfully told him that her beauty intimidated men, so she didn't get asked out much. She liked to have escorts when she attended rodeo events because the men were more comfortable when they knew another man was seeing to her needs.
This was not the role Clay had envisioned for himself, but it was too late to find another date and he had no intention of showing up alone this afternoon.
It was a good thing, too. Where had Autumn dug up that Garth guy? Central casting? Clay also had doubts about the champion's buckle he wore. Probably picked it up in a pawnshop.
And he didn't like the way Garth hovered over Autumn. As Clay watched, Autumn bent over to check a two-by-four. Garth unabashedly studied the rear view and grinned appreciatively.
That was another thing. Clay didn't trust a man who was always smiling.
He took the soft drink from Sally and checked off the two-by-four Autumn had identified. Stopping to drink, he watched the interplay between Sally and Garth. Now those two obviously had a history. He glanced toward Autumn to see if she'd noticed.
She had, but was pretending not to. Clay caught her eye and gestured toward the rolls of AstroTurf. For a moment, he didn't think she'd respond, but she tossed her head in that way she had when she was preparing to do battle over something and stepped over the two-by-fours.
"Did you need me to count these rolls?" she asked, her voice cool. "I see five. There. All done." She turned.
"Autumn."
She blinked. "Yes, Clayton?"
He hated the tone in her voice. "Where did you find that joker—hanging around the stage door?" He'd meant to be unemotional. He'd meant to appear disinterested. He'd meant to let her know that he knew what she was doing and was amused by it.
He'd failed.
"Garth is my third match from the Yellow Rose." She smiled across the room. "I'm probably going to; take him to the Champion Buyers' Ball on Saturday night."
Clay had forgotten all about their original reason for signing up at the Yellow Rose, mainly because his reason was so Autumn would come to her senses. He followed her gaze toward Garth and Sally. Garth's belt buckle flashed in the overhead lights.
"I like him a lot," Autumn continued. "He's funny, outgoing and-—"
"Isn't someone you can count on to be there when you need him," Clay finished for her.
Autumn glared at him. "You don't even know Garth!"
"I've met a hundred guys just like him. He's in town for the rodeo and he's out for whatever he can get while he's here. When the rodeo is over, he'll be gone. Two days later, he won't even remember your name. I thought you were smarter than that, Autumn." Of course, that was the wrong thing to say, and Clay knew it.
"He's good enough to be a Yellow Rose client!"
"Yeah, he probably smiled his way in with some cheap talk. I'm not saying he won't show his matches a good time, but he's not looking for anything more than that."
Autumn crossed her arms. "Since that's exactly what I want, too, then we'll get along just fine."
"That's not what you want. You want—"
"Don't tell me what I want! I am sick to death of people telling me what I want!"
"You can't convince me you want him" Clay couldn't contain
his disgust.
She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "Oh, and you're ready to make a lifelong commitment with Miss Congeniality over there?"
Clay looked at the pretty blonde. There were worse things that could happen. "Sally's all right."
"Excuse me, but someone needs to tell her that the parade is over and it's time to get off the float."
"She's just being friendly." He eyed Autumn. "You could pick up a few pointers from her."
Autumn rolled her eyes. "She's wearing a tiara Clay."
"So? Your date is wearing a belt buckle big enough to serve a Thanksgiving turkey on."
"Jealous?"
"Heck no. Just pointing out that it's a sorry man who measures his worth by the size of his prize buckle."
"At least he has one."
"I didn't know you measured a man by his belt buckle, either."
"If that's what I want to do, then it's not your concern, Clayton. For your information, there's a lot more to Garth than the size of his buckle."
Clay looked at the black-clad cowboy. "And that would be...?"
Autumn tilted her chin. "I do not have to explain or defend my choice of company to you. I like Garth. I like the way he treats me."
"He treats you like a human prop. Can't the man stand on his own?"
"Speaking of props, it's a sorry man who needs a woman like that to feel important."
"What do you mean 'like that'?"
"Oh, come on, Clay."
"Sally's pretty, sure, but she's just an ordinary gal. She can't help it if women are jealous of her."
"I am not jealous."
"I never said you were, but it wouldn't hurt for you to be nicer to her."
Autumn blinked twice at him, then she smiled a wide smile that, curiously, reminded him of Sally's. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or not.
"Sure. I'll be nice to Sally. And in turn, you can be friendly to Garth."
He'd rather put on wet boots, but Clay nodded. "Sure 'nuff."
"The rest rooms on this side of the Coliseum are tricky to get to because of all the construction going on. I'll show you a shortcut to the others," Autumn offered when she and Sally were ready for a break.
"Why, thank you—Autumn, is it?"
Autumn gritted her teeth. "Yes."
Retrieving her purse, Sally flashed her smile at the group assembling the show corral. "Autumn and I will be right back. Y'all try not to miss us too much." She wiggled her fingers.
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