Roped and Tied [Wayback, Texas Series]

by Mallary Mitchell

  He tried to still her hands now roaming over his back, his shoulders, then lower again she hovered at the waistband of his jeans.

  "You are not playing fair, Eden."

  She kissed his chest, trailing up to his neck and down to his naval. He closed his eyes.

  Where's everybody?” He whispered.

  "Dad's with the wedding planner tonight. Matt was going to the Blue Bug with Dylan and we're all alone."

  "We really need to talk.” He gave one last half-hearted attempt.

  "Later. Let's talk later.” Eden pulled his lips back to hers.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Two

  Present Day

  "One more week. Can't this wait just one more week?” Eden Sawyer leaned forward in her seat. She waited as Bennie Dunlap read over the will once more. As if losing his grandmother, the woman who'd raised him, wasn't enough, now Dylan Farrell had lost his home. She'd agreed to come with Dylan when the lawyer had called as moral support. With the news he'd just received, he needed it.

  She acknowledged the toy her toddler son put into her hand and rubbed Jeb's little back before he ran to Gracie, Dylan's daughter. Bennie Dunlap continued to read through the mountain of papers and worsen her mood.

  His uncle was selling the house at auction. Dylan had been evicted. He sat with his ball cap clenched in his hands. Only the wringing of the hat gave any indication of the anger and frustration he felt. Dylan had been through so much, his mother's alcoholism, his brother's desertion, single parenthood ... Now he and his daughter, Grace, were homeless.

  Bennie laid the paper on his desk and Eden abandoned her attempt to remain sedate. She was her father's daughter and everyone knew Coy Sawyer was no diplomat.

  "I don't care what your piece of paper says, Bennie. How can you sit there and tell me Dylan is out of options? Herb is selling his house right out from under him!"

  "Herb is the legal owner. He let Hazel live there until she died. There is no such deal with Dylan."

  "Can't I just get a few more days?” Dylan spoke through hands cradling his face.

  Bennie took a deep breath. “Herb says he told you after the funeral to get your things out."

  Eden stood, managing to speak peacefully, pleadingly. “Hazel never would have wanted Dylan and Grace turned out of their home. Surely there is something that can be done, some loophole, some law."

  "Look, it's a bad situation. Herb resents the fact Billie Jo and her boys lived with Hazel all those years. In Herb's mind, he is in the right.” Bennie replied.

  Eden threw up her hands in frustration. “You might as well say the truth instead of sugar coating it. Herb wants to strike back at Billie through Dylan, doesn't he, and he waited all these years to do it?” Eden looked heavenward in frustration. “Are you Herb's real estate broker too?"

  Bennie had the decency to look hurt at the accusation. “I resent your remark, Eden. If you weren't an old friend I'd be offended. Herb let Hazel live in the house rent-free for over thirty years, but it's his. What am I supposed to do?” Bennie reshuffled the papers on his desk and pushed up his wire glasses. “Squatter's rights do not apply.” Then he cleared his throat. “Sorry Dylan."

  "I told you this was useless.” Dylan's elbows rested on his knees. “Come on let's go."

  "Herb is not a mean man.” Bennie stood. “And Dylan, you have to admit your mother really bled Hazel dry."

  "Yeah, but she didn't live there the last few years, I did,” Dylan argued. “I kept the place up. When Grandma Hazel had her stroke I took care of her and when I was out of town, Eden took care of her. Herb didn't ever offer to lend a hand. Every repair, every improvement is thanks to me. And now I have no home. I don't even have time to find a new home. This sucks."

  Eden walked over to her son who still sat in the floor playing with Gracie.

  "You make good money on the circuit,” Bennie argued. “Buy a house."

  "Yeah, I do make good money. But it doesn't help me out in the short term. There aren't exactly a bunch of houses on the market around here and to be honest I don't think they'd welcome me on Peachtree Lane."

  "Thank you, Bennie. You've been absolutely no help at all.” Eden bent to scoop up her son who was underneath the coffee table. Once she had him firmly in hand, she walked out of Bennie's office.

  "I really don't have time for this.” Dylan told her and rubbed the back of his neck in a very Jericho-like gesture.

  She could have done without the reminder of his brother. Jericho hadn't even had the decency to make it to his grandmother's funeral.

  "I have to be out in a week. I have an event this weekend and next. I don't even have time to look for a place. And I'm not moving in with my mother and Newton.” He rolled his eyes at the mention of his stepfather's name. “I couldn't even get a decent mobile home or a modular set up in time."

  "I have room.” Eden offered with nonchalance, with her son in her arms.

  "Thanks, but I don't know.” Dylan grimaced. “You know that'd go over like a ton of bricks. Especially since Little Bit has certain Farrell characteristics.” He raised his brows and tweaked Jeb's nose.

  "It's not for good. Now that Matt has moved, it's just me and Jeb. The place has way too much room for two people. You don't have to stay forever. You could live in the basement apartment. It has a separate entrance, kitchen, and bathroom. That will give you time to build or buy."

  She looked up at him. “Hey, we could get Matt and the guys to go over today and you'd be out of there in, what, eight seconds?” She laughed at her joke, then, at Dylan's look of total despair, shrugged and turned to her son. “Well, Jeb, let's see if we can make to the post office before they close and then we'll go get a burger if you like."

  "Blue Bonnet?” Jeb peered though his long bangs. She was glad he looked like her family for the most part. He had his father's eyes, though, and as Dylan aptly put it, other Farrell characteristics, all thanks to Jericho whom she'd last seen on a stormy night nearly four years back.

  "Yep. A Blue Bonnet burger.” She understood why Dylan didn't want to move in with her. There was enough talk about him around the Yellow Rose already. His mother had been a drunk. There was really no nice way to say it. She had been the town's official Blue Bug barfly. She'd spent more time in the Saloon than she had with her kids.

  Dylan had fought an uphill battle most of his life. Moving in with her—an unmarried mother—would be another major incline.

  She looked back to where he waited on the sidewalk with his ball cap in hand. “I'll consider it,” he called after her. “You know Grace is really loud."

  "I am not!” Grace yelled as she slammed the door on Dylan's pick-up truck

  Eden had to snicker as she began to secure Jeb in his car seat.

  "Mama, mama?” Jeb patted her shoulder until she looked at him. “I want a cheeseburger and fries."

  One of the loan officers from the First National Bank stopped as he passed. “My goodness your boy is growing. Pretty soon he's going to be driving you around."

  "Hey Clint.” She replied and moved so the older man could see Jeb.

  "You must be proud of the little fella. You know Leanne is due any day now. I am looking forward to being a grandpa."

  "I know you'll be a good one.” She assured.

  "I saw Matt riding down at the arena the other day. He held on like he was welded to the bull. And Dylan, shoot, he finished, what, fifth in the calf roping? That boy sure can ride a horse."

  "Fourth. He was fourth.” Eden was thrilled with her brother's and Dylan's success this season. Matt had a lucky draw, but Dylan could ride and rope a calf like nobody's business.

  Clint nodded. “Good job, good job. Did you see Jericho Farrell's runnin’ first in the calf-roping standings?"

  "Personally, I don't think he's half as good as Dylan.” She gave a huff.

  "Now Eden, that sounds like sour grapes,” he said. “You're just mad because he finished better than Dylan."

&nb
sp; "It's not he beat him, it's how he beat him.” Dylan had gone straight from his grandmother's funeral to the competition. Jericho had skipped the funeral.

  "He won't always win. And when he has an off day Dylan will be there ready and waiting. See you later."

  "Bye Clint.” She waved and smiled, but the pasted smile faded behind the closed door.

  She was sick and tired of hearing about the wonderful Jericho Farrell. As far as she was concerned the only good thing the man had ever done was provide the genetic material for her son. She looked up in her rearview mirror at Jeb. He was “driving” his car seat and beeping the little horn on his steering wheel.

  One day he would ask about his father. Thank goodness it would be a while, because she didn't know what she would tell him. As for Jericho, she hoped he got bucked off his horse into a pile of manure on his next ride.

  * * * *

  Of all the places in Wayback that could have changed and should have changed, the Dixie Pig was number one, but it hadn't. Jericho had placed a dozen roses on his grandmother's grave and then driven up the street and parked in the lot of the grocery store.

  He should have been at the funeral four weeks ago, but his brother, Dylan, didn't have his direct number and had called the office. Stephanie had gotten the message and being the wonderful ex-wife she was, had sat on it until it was too late. He hadn't found out until he'd spoken to Dylan after the last competition.

  He had missed his grandmother's funeral.

  The lot still showed signs of doughnuts. The tracks were left by tires of cars and trucks driven in tight circles and were an ever-present reminder that there weren't too many forms of entertainment in this town.

  In his day, Dylan, had been the ‘doughnut champion'. Why his brother had driven that beaten-up, rusty, black Firebird in a circle twenty-two times, Jericho never knew, but for a long time, Dylan held the doughnut record.

  Jericho rolled down the window before he cut the engine of his pickup. “Wonder what Steph would say if she could see me now?"

  Thoughts of his ex-wife with her designer clothes and the Dixie Pig really didn't mix, but somehow he couldn't help sitting there a moment and wandering down memory lane.

  Steph was more than eight years his senior and had proposed to him the day he'd walked into her life. He'd known at the time there would be advantages to marrying Stephanie. She was a publicist after all, and he'd known she wouldn't be a demanding wife. There wouldn't be a great investment of emotion. After Eden, that was a plus.

  Eden had been livid when he'd told her about his job. She'd even accused him of sleeping with her as a tactic to get ahead at the ranch. But the final fatal blow was at her father's wedding. She'd ignored him completely. Her attention had been lavished on Tucker Reid. Tucker had been flirting with Eden all summer and had asked her out on more than one occasion. The guy was rich, successful and, as much as Jericho had hated to admit it, exactly the kind of person she should have been dating.

  The memory of the bull rider with his arm wrapped around Eden's slender waist was etched in his brain. And when Tucker had bent down, kissed her, and whispered something to her in a lover-like fashion, part of Jericho had died. He'd walked out and never looked back.

  He was now polished and well-spoken—miles from the scruffy ranch hand he'd once been. He had a confidence he'd never had before, but for all his spit and shine he was as lifeless as Pygmalion's statue and had felt that way for a long time.

  He was a jerk. He had deserted these people and never looked back. He sat dejectedly behind the wheel. It had been over three and a half years since he'd seen his family. Maybe it was a good thing he hadn't gotten the message. Where do you start after three and a half years?

  He looked across the street and tried to find the old barn he knew was under all the weeds. He could barely pick out the lighter and darker tones of graying wood anymore. All he could see clearly now was the russet of the rusty roof among the consuming, green, leafy kudzu vines.

  He was like the barn, nearly consumed. Was there any of Jericho Farrell left? He didn't know anymore. His grandmother's death had been a wake up call. He needed to make peace with his family. Now all he had to do was make contact.

  Dylan was still working for Sawyer Farms.

  Then there was Eden. Jericho closed his eyes. How he wanted to see Eden. He wanted to apologize.

  Forget it. To mix metaphors, there was way too much water under his burned bridges. He cranked the truck and rode on toward the interstate.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Three

  Eden bit her upper lip as Dylan Farrell gave the ride his career. While he had conceded defeat on the house issue and he and Grace were now situated in the basement apartment of her house, he was a winner today.

  Dylan obviously had bottled all his aggression and saved it for the calves. He was riding and roping like a mad man. Matt was in the fourteenth position at the moment, didn't have much of a chance, if any at all, of even finishing in the top ten unless the next few riders didn't make it out of the pen. Dylan however, was the leader in his event and had been for a while.

  The Yellow Rose Corral was a rodeo fan's dream. Eden loved the roar the crowds. She listened to the commentators then stopped and picked up the radio that allowed her to listen in on the conversations between Dylan and her father. Dylan had to win this. He was due.

  He was in the lead and there were only two riders left. The competition was all it had promised to be: gut-wrenching, nail-biting action until the very end. Dylan was going to win.

  Dylan was still in first after the next to last rider's time was posted and Eden was about to walk to the back when the crowd began to roar. She watched in disappointment as Jericho Farrell raced out and roped the calf. In one fluid motion he dismounted and wrestled the animal to the ground. He moved like lightning as he wrapped the pigging string around three of the animal's legs, then raised his hands in the air to signal he was finished. He mounted his horse and she held her breath, willing the calf to break its bonds, but five seconds passed and Jericho took the lead from his brother, Dylan. She was disgusted but the crowd went wild at the close finish.

  Of course the announcer had to add it was the first time in Yellow Rose history that brothers had finished in the number one and two spots.

  Stealing Dylan's victory didn't diminish Jericho's elation. Eden had seen more than enough of the spectacle when Jericho Farrell's reported ex-wife gave him a victory kiss. Sickening.

  Eden stewed in the stands until the crowd had cleared and then made her way to the back knowing she'd find Dylan. She walked up and gave him a sisterly hug.

  "Second isn't so bad."

  "I know.” He smiled. A backwards ball cap had replaced the cowboy hat. “It's still a lot of money."

  It wasn't right. The best finish of his career had been diminished, she could tell. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “You were incredible today. No one should have beaten you."

  Dylan's eyes darted past her and over her head, it was a meaningful gesture, but she kept on talking.

  "Your idiot brother insists on doing childish things which are clearly dangerous...” She paused as Dylan gestured with the eyes again.

  "I don't think so.” The voice came from behind.

  The hairs on her neck stood on end as Eden turned around. It couldn't be. No way. He wouldn't have the gall to speak to her. She turned to the voice.

  Her stomach did a double flip and settled somewhere in her throat.

  "No hugs for me?” Jericho stood there with his mouth pulled to one side, his arms outstretched and open. His eyes were ice-cold—the forced warmth of his voice never reached them.

  She couldn't speak but did manage an evil glare.

  "That was some great riding Dylan.” Jericho extended a hand to his brother. Dylan looked down at his hand then grabbed him in a bear hug. Eden rolled her eyes.

  "You're actually talking to him?” She challenged Dylan. “He just cheat
ed you out of victory."

  "All's fair in love and riding.” Dylan grinned.

  "Are you still going to Lancer's party?” Jericho handed Dylan a soft drink.

  "Wild horses couldn't keep me away.” Dylan grinned from ear to ear.

  He wasn't upset.

  "Hey, you three!” Eden looked over to the voice in time to have her photo snapped with the Farrell brothers. A man with a press badge walked their way.

  "What a shot.” The photographer's eyes fell to Eden. He pointed a finger from Jericho to Dylan. “You two I know. Congratulations to both of you. Now who is this little lady?"

  "Eden Sawyer.” She answered, her voice finally having returned.

  "Sawyer as in Coy Sawyer?"

  "Yes.” She nodded.

  "Well, what did you think about the finish?” The man waited for her answer.

  The reported just had to ask. Be nice. This will be in the paper. The little angel on her shoulder was screaming as she opened her mouth.

  "She would be equally happy to see either of us win.” Jericho spoke for her.

  He had no right to answer her question.

  Eden bristled. “Dylan clearly should have won this one. But he is concerned with the safety of the animals."

  'I think what she's saying is, she supports her father's man.” Dylan put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed a bit. He didn't say another word but he got his message across loud and clear. Shut up, Eden.

  "Thanks for the photo."

  "I am not only focused on winning,” Jericho turned to confront her after the man had left.

  She should have known Jericho wouldn't let the jibe slip.

  "Yes you are! One day you're going to push too hard and they are going to be hosing what's left of you off the arena floor.” She turned and hugged Dylan again. “You deserved the win.” She swallowed hard and walked out the door.

  * * * *

  "What crawled up her backside?” Jericho followed her with his eyes.

  "You. She hates you. She has ever since you left.” Dylan observed.

  Hearing the words stung, even though it was no surprise. He didn't hate her. He ... What? Liked her? Loved her? Wanted her? He needed to explore those emotions. Somehow he didn't think letting her know she still set him on fire would be appropriate at this juncture.