“We can’t hold any more dances,” Honey said. “We’ll be in danger of bleeding our town’s residents dry, the very people we’re restarting the fair to help.”
“We have to be creative.”
“How, Nadine?” Vy asked. “If we can’t get more money from the town, where do we get it from?”
Nadine shook her head, bristling from Vy’s hard tone. “I wish I had an answer for you.”
Had they taken on more than they could do? God, Vy just didn’t know. They were smart women used to hard work, but this job was huge.
Honey glanced at her watch. “You’d better get back to work, Vy.”
Vy sighed. “Yeah. As always, Carson, you have my deepest gratitude for letting us use your land and rides for our event.”
Carson’s grin split his face into a network of wrinkles. “Pure pleasure for me, my dears. Thank you for visiting an old man and brightening his day with your lovely presence. You’re darlings, every one of you.”
Vy packed her container and spoon and kissed Carson’s cheek. The others kissed him, too, and they all left.
They trudged out to their vehicles, saying goodbye with no small amount of frustration.
Max had already driven away in her old pickup.
Vy sighed. At some point she would have to get Max back in line with the rest of them. If only she had a clue how to do that.
As she drove away, she thought about how things had developed. They were all gung ho to put on a great fair and to hire local friends and families.
Let’s put our friends and families to work to bring in much-needed salaries.
Rah, rah.
Let’s attract tourists to fill the town’s coffers.
Rah, rah.
Let’s put Rodeo, Montana, back on the map.
Rah, rah, rah.
Then reality had set in, along with nerves and panic.
Could they bring this off? Or would they all be bankrupt by the end of August?
She drove down the highway back to Rodeo. An empty vehicle parked on the side of the road caught her eye. It looked like that big SUV Sam Michaels drove.
Couldn’t be. What would he be doing way out here? Spying on her? Not likely. The man would have no reason to. He didn’t know her from Adam.
Must be someone from up the road cutting through the bush to get to Sandy River to fish.
Sam’s handsome image arose in her mind, but she squashed it ruthlessly.
* * *
“DAAAD, I CAN’T BREATHE. Let me up.”
Sam’s hand on the back of his daughter’s head held it down to her knees. His own head was out of sight on the gearshift. Awkward and uncomfortable, but necessary.
“Be quiet. Hold on a minute. I want to make sure they’re gone.”
He waited another few minutes to be certain and then peeked up through the windshield.
“All gone.” He released Chelsea so she could sit up.
“That was juvenile,” the juvenile said, “hiding in our car like we’re criminals.”
“Until I know what’s going on with these women, this is the way it has to be.” His tone brooked no opposition, but Chelsea, being Chelsea and a new teenager, disagreed with him, anyway.
“I hate it. I hate telling lies and being dishonest, Dad.”
He softened. “Believe it or not, so do I, but I’m going to protect Gramps in any way I can. Let’s go see him and find out whether those women are up to mischief.”
Minutes later, Sam entered his grandfather’s room dreading what he would find. If those women had upset him there would be hell to pay.
Instead, Gramps sat staring out the window with a smile on his face. Happy. Content.
“How did the meeting go?” Sam asked his grandfather.
“What meeting?” he countered, seeming to wonder seriously what Sam was talking about.
Sam stopped in his tracks. “With the bevy of beauties who left here five minutes ago.”
The older man looked as though he was searching empty memory banks. Then he brightened. “Oh, that meeting.” Gramps smiled. “They are beautiful girls, aren’t they?”
“Gramps...”
“Yes?”
Sam swallowed his frustration. “What did they want?”
By the frown on Gramps’s face, he had to search fraying memory banks again. “They wanted to talk about the fair. Some funny ideas, though.”
Unease skittered through Sam. “What ideas?”
Gramps thought for a moment before he spoke. “Um... Vy and Honey are smart businesswomen. They’ll make solid decisions where food and beverages go.”
Sam kept his opinion to himself about Violet.
“Nadine’s going to advertise. If she had a bigger budget, she’d get more ticket sales. I offered more money, but—”
“What?” Sam cut him off. “You offered money? It’s your property. It’s your equipment. They should be paying you.” Was Gramps going senile? Sam should have come here a couple of years ago to check up on him. Then he wouldn’t have fallen prey to those schemers. Sam cursed the upheaval in his own life that had everything falling apart. He’d not been free until now.
His grandfather took out his wallet and counted his money. “One hundred dollars. I wanted to give them twenty. Nadine wouldn’t take it.”
Twenty dollars? Sam had thought he’d meant he’d offered some of his life savings. Did Gramps really think that twenty dollars would make a dent in any advertising Nadine had planned?
Nadine hadn’t accepted it. A sign of honesty? Or disdain for so little?
Gramps counted the money again, then put it away. He stared at Sam.
“I’m safe now that you’re here.”
“How do you know? Have you been able to visit the site? Do you have any idea if they’re changing it so radically it won’t even look like your fair? What if they decide to do something outrageous that will damage your reputation?”
A cloud crossed his grandfather’s face.
“What?” Sam asked. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why did you suddenly look unhappy?”
Gramps pushed a lock of white hair back from his forehead. “I’m worried about the direction Maxine wants to take the rodeo.” He sounded fretful.
“How does she want to change the rodeo?”
After her great-grandfather explained, Chelsea laughed. “I like it! Camels racing instead of men beating bulls with spurs and cattle prods? I love it.”
“You would,” Sam said. “You’ve always liked weird, quirky things. The question is will that bring in money? The answer, I can pretty well guarantee, will be a resounding no.”
“Life isn’t always about making money.”
“True, Chelsea, but this is. The women are saying they need this money to save their town. Ergo, they need a real rodeo, not a weak facsimile one.”
“Your dad has a point,” Gramps said. “We need a serious rodeo. I have the same concerns. Camel races could be a fun thing on the side, but as a main attraction, it won’t bring in attendees.” He rubbed his chin. “Setting that issue aside, everything else is going well.”
“But you don’t know that. You can’t get out there.”
“I could if someone would take me.” He stared at Sam.
“I’m not supposed to even know you, let alone take you out to the fairgrounds.”
“It would blow your cover.” Gramps humphed. “Guess you’ll have to be my eyes and ears. But,” he concluded, “don’t be obvious in your spying on those girls. Just tell me how the place looks.”
“It looks awesome.” Chelsea leaned forward and threw her arm across his shoulders.
The older man’s eyes lit up and he turned to Chelsea.
“You’ve seen it?”
“Yeah, remember we told you we stopped on our way here yesterday?”
Gramps’s face crumpled. He didn’t respond. Sam worried.
“You should see the carousel.” Chelsea tried to gloss over the moment. “It looks amazing.”
“The women said Rachel did a great job refinishing it and fixing the engine.”
“Rachel did that?” Sam stared at his grandfather. Motherly, nurturing Rachel didn’t look tough enough to do all of that work.
“Yep. Scraped off layers of old peeling paint, sanded and repainted.”
“I knew I liked her.” Chelsea grinned.
“She fixed the engine, too?” Sam asked.
“Yep. A woman of many talents.”
“Wow,” Chelsea said. “I’m going to ask her to show me some of that stuff.”
“You should, missy. She sets a good example for young women. You can do anything if you put your mind to it.”
Gramps stood and heaved himself onto his bed. He lay back but adjusted the bed so he could sit up. “Every one of those women is a good role model. Each one has overcome obstacles in her life.”
“Dad likes Vy,” Chelsea blurted.
Sam cursed under his breath.
Gramps laughed. “Do you, now? Can’t say that I blame you.”
“I find her attractive but I don’t like her. She’s bossy.”
“She’s a strong woman,” Chelsea argued. “As Gramps says, I should have strong role models.”
Under his breath, Sam said, “Anyone but her.” He needed more respect from his daughter, not less.
Sam had nothing more to say to Gramps about the fair. Obviously, his mind wasn’t strong enough to deal with those women on his own.
“Do you want to play cards?” Sam asked.
His grandfather brightened. “Sure, what did you have in mind? Three-card stud?”
Sam shot him a critical look. “There’s a young teenager in the room. We’re not playing poker.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not teaching her to gamble.”
“We’ll use pennies, for God’s sake. It won’t corrupt her.”
“No. We’ll play twenty-one, but no betting.”
Gramps shrugged. “Okay.”
Sam pulled a new deck out of his pocket.
They played on the dining tray, Gramps sitting up in bed, Chelsea perched cross-legged beside him and Sam sitting on the walker.
Before Sam knew it, an hour had passed. It had been like this when Gramps had visited at Christmas when Sam was younger.
While they played, Gramps regaled them with jokes, real groaners, and stories about his youth and the way the fair used to be.
Sam had never minded not seeing his friends over the holidays because his grandfather had been so entertaining. Now it looked like Chelsea was as sucked in by him as Sam had always been.
They left reluctantly, but Sam had to get back for the delivery of the cattle on Travis’s ranch.
His stomach churned. Sure, he knew how to ride a horse, but he’d never done it in these kinds of circumstances...
Chapter Six
Useless.
Sam Michaels was absolutely useless as a cowboy.
Cattle teemed around him. He should be directing the herd, but it felt more like the herd was directing him.
The horse he rode refused to take orders from him. He could ride, damn it! He’d grown up riding every weekend, but Travis had put him on a stubborn, headstrong horse.
Where this horse and cattle were concerned, he’d earned not a speck of respect.
“What’s wrong with this horse?” he shouted to Travis.
“Stubborn.”
Yeah, Sam already knew that.
Travis ended up steering most of the cattle out of the yard and out to his fields. Sam could only follow and hector a few strays back to join the rest.
Dust swirled around him and dried out his throat.
The worst part? The other half of the herd would arrive on Monday and he would have to suffer this humiliation all over again.
Could he possibly have come up with a dumber idea for infiltrating the town? His impulse had been misguided from the start. He wasn’t a stupid guy, but he’d thought his jobs would be things like mending fences, not moving a couple hundred cattle to a far-off pasture.
On the other hand, becoming a cowboy had been a last-ditch idea. He hadn’t planned to use it unless he got desperate but Chelsea had screwed that up.
Back at the house, he and Travis sat on the back-porch steps and gulped down a couple of cold beers that Rachel had handed them. Sam wiped his face and the back of his neck with a damp cotton handkerchief she had also brought out.
Even at the end of March, this kind of hard work got a man sweating. The day’s earlier drizzling rain had dried up. Light streamed across the land in nearly horizontal rays as the sun made its way toward the horizon.
Beside him, Travis cleared his throat.
In his easy, quiet way, he asked, “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Sam didn’t pretend to misunderstand the question. He’d worked hard to fake it this afternoon, but had failed spectacularly.
In response to Travis’s question, he said, “I wish I could. I really do. I guess you figured out I’m not a cowboy.”
Travis didn’t grace that ridiculous observation with an answer. He went straight to “What are you, really?”
“Until the end of last year, a successful businessman in New York. I got divorced and my wife and her father bought me out of our company as part of the settlement.”
“So that part of your story is true. That’s tough. You lost your livelihood.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me, Travis. I came out of it with a lot of money. My ex didn’t screw me over financially. She just didn’t want to work with me anymore.”
“If you don’t need the money, if you’re not desperate enough to do this for spare cash—” he gestured toward the backyard, where the ground had been churned up by hundreds of hooves “—then why are you doing it?”
“Again, I wish I could tell you, but—” Sam scrubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. He liked this man and he liked his family.
It killed Sam that he betrayed Travis’s open generosity with lies.
After a long swig of beer, he said, “I’m not a dishonest man, but I’m here under unusual circumstances. Would it be enough to assure that I would never hurt you or your family?”
Doubt arced through him. Would he hurt the family? If he ever learned that Rachel had ripped off his grandfather, Sam would prosecute to the full extent of the law.
Then again, if she were being dishonest with Gramps, she would deserve whatever happened to her, wouldn’t she?
“I only got to this town before Christmas,” Travis said, “but already this family, Rachel and her two girls, are the most precious people on earth to me.”
He turned and stared a hole through Sam. “They are my family now. I would do anything to protect them. Give me one good reason why I should let a lying stranger stay in my home.”
Tension radiated from Travis.
Sam was a good man, damn it, but how could he convince Travis of that when he’d arrived here under false pretenses? “I could give you a whole list of references who would vouch for my character if that would help. I can’t do much more than that, though. It’s complicated.”
He bit down on frustration of his own making. He hated this subterfuge with a kind, generous couple.
Were they honest?
Until he could figure out for certain what the women were up to, he couldn’t expose his purpose here.
His instinct told him Rachel was as honest as the day was long
, as Gramps used to say, but Gramps himself questioned the women and their motives. And he’d known them for years!
“Travis, I won’t charge a cent for the work I do here on the ranch, as imperfect as it is. I wouldn’t dream of taking your money. I’ll work for free.”
Deceiving this man who’d given him a job felt like a terrible betrayal of Travis’s decency. Decency had been a rare commodity in the men Sam dealt with on Wall Street.
“Would you like me to leave the house?” Sam asked. “I can go to a hotel.”
Travis opened his mouth, but a squeal interrupted him, followed by the slamming of the back door.
They started and shot up.
Tori ran toward them and launched herself into Travis’s arms. He caught her with one arm, not spilling a drop of his beer.
Impressive.
“Look! Travis, look!” she squeaked.
Travis’s expression softened. No doubt about it. His love ran deep.
Travis blinked hard and hugged Tori until she complained, “You haves to stop holding me so tight, Travis. I gots to show you something.”
“Sure,” he said, easing up on the hug. “What do I have to see?”
Tori held out her hands. Hot-pink nail polish sparkled on her tiny fingernails. “Look what Chels did. It sparkles!”
“Those are beautiful nails.” Travis held one small hand and admired the color. “You like Chelsea, don’t you?”
“I love Chels. She’s my bestest friend ever!” She wriggled to be put down. “I have to go. Chels is going to show me how to draw a pony.”
When the door slammed behind her after she ran back into the house, it echoed across the empty yard.
“Well,” Travis said. “I guess that settles it. Tori would be devastated if I asked Chelsea to leave now. You’ll be staying. But...” Travis held up one finger.
Sam held his breath.
“I’m taking you at your word that you’re trustworthy, but if you hurt my family in any way, I’ll break every bone in your body.”
Travis stalked into the house, leaving Sam in the slowly encroaching darkness to contemplate the irony that he was protecting his own family but could never share that with his host.
Sam hoped like hell that Rachel was innocent. He didn’t want to face Travis if Sam had to have Rachel arrested or charged.
Rodeo Baby Page 9
