The REDNECK DEBUTANTE® Series
Romance that’s a little bit city,
a little bit country.
* * *
Redneck Debutante
Cowgirl Down
Cowgirl Down
The REDNECK DEBUTANTE® series
Published in the U.S. by:
OakTara Publishers
www.oaktara.com
Cover design by Yvonne Parks at www.pearcreative.ca
Cover images © thinkstockphotos.ca: jump women in wheat field/George Mayer, 152119503
Author photo © 2013 Terri Zollinger, www.terrizphotography.com
Copyright © 2013 by Jenny Hammerle. All rights reserved.
Redneck Debutante is a registered trademark of Jenny Hammerle.
Cover and interior design © 2013, OakTara Publishers. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in professional reviews.
ISBN-13: 978-1-60290-265-7 ▪ ISBN-10: 1-60290-265-8
eISBN-13: 978-1-60290-452-1 ▪ eISBN-10: 1-60290-452-9
Cowgirl Down is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All other characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination. The perspective, opinions, and worldview represented by this book are those of the author and are not intended to be a reflection or endorsement of the publisher’s views.
Printed in the U.S.A.
* * *
For Momma and Daddy,
whose continuous support through the years
convinced me anything is possible
with the love of your family.
Prologue
WHEN RACHAEL HARTE GOT TO THE LARGE ARENA BEHIND THE BAXTERS’ BARN, she stopped cold, standing in the shadow of a line of trees, hidden from view.
Travis Baxter was there on his horse, and with him rode a beautiful girl who was probably about eighteen or nineteen, her long blond hair shining in the sunlight that peeked through the dark clouds. She was riding around the barrels, rain and all, at a pace Rachael only dreamed of achieving. When the girl rounded the final barrel and crossed the finish line, Travis cheered her on, holding a stopwatch. He rode over to where she sat on her horse and showed her the time.
Their horses stood side by side, and in that moment she leaned in and kissed Travis on the cheek.
That kiss told Rachael all she needed to know. It wasn’t the casual kiss of strangers or even of old friends. It was something much more. The kiss, though only on the cheek, spoke of a closeness Rachael could only guess meant something much deeper. A closer, more intimate relationship.
Rachael’s knees buckled. She fell to the muddy, rain-soaked ground, where she sat, feeling numb to everything but the cool raindrops drizzling down her face.
Who is this girl?
Have I lost Travis too when I just realized I love him?
Rachael suddenly felt wet, cold, and alone. She stood, turned, and stumbled toward home.
1
A few days later
THE CAR WAS ALREADY LOADED. Rachael Harte, her mom, and younger brother, Michael, were leaving Manatee County, to visit her father in West Palm, Florida, for Michael’s birthday. Even her Aunt Margaret, with whom they were living for a while, had decided to come along for the week. Rachael was thankful her ex-boyfriend, Colten, was gone for the summer and she wouldn’t have to relive any of the nightmares of their recent break-up.
Rachael was a little nervous leaving her heifer, Taffy, for four days and nights in the care of anyone other than her Aunt Margaret. Their neighbor, JJ, had volunteered to feed both Taffy and ole’ lonesome George, the big bull, while Rachael and her family were gone. Rachael spent half an hour the afternoon before walking JJ through both Taffy’s and ole lonesome George’s care routines.
Everyone waved good-bye to JJ as they drove away. Rachael was very excited about seeing her father. It would be nice to catch up with him. She hadn’t told anyone—not even her father—about the near kiss with Travis Baxter, her handsome neighbor and friend, at the bonfire months before. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know. She was ashamed and felt guilty about it, even though technically nothing had happened. At the time she had been dating Colten, and the kiss would have constituted cheating. Not now, though.
Over the past few weeks she couldn’t tell if Maysie, her good friend, knew about the near kiss or not. Maysie and Travis, being twins, usually shared everything, but somehow this was different. Rachael figured it was better left unsaid.
So day after day Rachael had avoided Travis, and he had avoided her. Even the night at her Debutante Ball had done nothing to right the difficulties between them. He had come to her rescue yet again, and Rachael had hoped that this time it had meant something more than friendship. They had shared a wonderful evening filled with dancing, music, and friendship, but nothing had come of it.
After seeing Travis with the beautiful girl in the round pen, Rachael was relieved she’d never said anything to Travis about her true feelings for him. She would have looked like an idiot.
Boy, would that have been embarrassing. I go hiking all the way over there, to make things right, and he’s dating someone else yet again.
Maybe he had no interest in Rachael beyond friendship. She couldn’t be sure, but the other day in the pouring rain when he apparently had company was not the time to ask. She would have to wait a little longer to talk to Travis. She certainly hoped it wouldn’t be that much longer. Travis had told her once before that he was “quite the catch,” and he had been right. The only problem was that other girls seemed to think so too.
*
After arriving in West Palm and greeting their father, Rachael and Michael began unpacking their suitcases upstairs. They were only here for a couple of days, but living out of a suitcase was depressing and served as a reminder of their transitory situation between two homes as they awaited their father’s trial for what he didn’t do.
The doorbell chimed downstairs.
“I wonder who that is.” Michael popped his head into her room. “Are you expecting company?”
“Nope. I’ll run down and answer it.”
Rachael skipped downstairs and answered the door. Two gentlemen in business suits stood there. “May I help you?”
“Yes. We are here to speak with your father. Is he available?”
Rachael went to the kitchen where her father sat sipping coffee in the breakfast nook. “Hey, Dad. Two men are here to see you.”
“Okay, honey. I’m coming.”
Her mother and aunt appeared from the dining room and went to the foyer with him.
Rachael’s dad approached the gentlemen. “May I help you?”
“Yes, Mr. Harte, we are investigators with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We had some additional questions we needed to ask you if you would please come with us.”
“Yes, of course,” Rachael’s dad said. “Allow me to grab my wallet and phone.”
Their aunt gestured toward Rachael and Michael. “Kids, come with me into the kitchen.”
Rachael’s mom and dad went to the kitchen as well. Rachael heard her father mutter, “Please call my attorney.”
“Of course,” her mother agreed.
Then her father turned to Rachael and Michael. “I’ll be home a little later. I want to see this house decorated in grand style for Michael’s birthday.”
“Of course, Dad,” Rachael responded bleakly and went over to hug her father. Michael did the
same.
Her father walked to the foyer where the investigators were waiting and left with them.
Her mother quickly phoned the attorney and advised him of what had happened. “He said he’d take care of it immediately,” she told the kids.
But Rachael could tell her mom wasn’t convinced. “Mom, what could this all be about? I thought Dad was already charged and is awaiting trial?”
“He is, dear. I’m not sure what this is about. And I don’t know what to do.” She took a seat in the breakfast nook, her expression revealing her worry.
“I‘ll make some tea.” Aunt Margaret went to the stove and put on the tea kettle. “Rachael, Michael, please continue the decorating. Your father wants to come home to a decorated house. I think that’s the least we can do.”
Michael and Rachael continued decorating the foyer, followed by the family room, the living room, and the staircase. By the time they finished, five hours had passed, and there still hadn’t been any word from their father or his attorney. Rachael’s fingers throbbed from tying the numerous blue and red balloons drifting throughout every room downstairs. Streamers hung from the chandeliers and wound their way down the banisters as well. Birthday celebrations had always been big in the Harte household, but today what should have been a happy day was quickly turning somber. Rachael was really beginning to get nervous.
What’s keeping him?
Michael went upstairs to play video games, while Rachael went into the kitchen to wait with her mother and aunt.
By midnight there still was no word about her father. Rachael felt sick.
“Why don’t you go to bed, honey?” her mother suggested. “As soon as we hear something about your father, I promise I’ll come and tell you, even if it’s in the middle of the night.”
Rachael hugged her mother and aunt and went up to her room, where she cried herself to sleep.
*
At six in the morning her mother came in to give her the news. “Rachael, honey, wake up.” She perched on the edge of her bed.
Rachael sat up and rubbed her eyes. “What’s happened to Dad?”
“I have some bad news. Your father’s attorney called and advised me your father was taken in for some additional questioning. He was then arrested and taken into custody and charged with one count of conspiracy. He’ll be held until we are able to post bail.”
“How much is his bail?” Rachael didn’t know what to think or how to react. She felt like crying…or screaming. Mostly she felt confused.
“Your father’s bail is 15 percent of the total bond amount.”
“How much is that?” Rachael asked, scared to hear the answer.
“Just over 50,000 dollars. His total bond is set at 350,000 dollars.”
“Fifty thousand dollars! Where can we get that kind of money? All of our assets are frozen. We don’t have anything we can sell.”
“You’re right. Even a bail bondsman would require us to have an asset valued at that amount, and since all of our assets are frozen, there is nothing we can do. Your aunt has graciously offered us the 20,000 dollars she has in savings, but we would still need another 30,000.”
“This is awful. So what do we do? We can’t just leave Dad sitting in prison. There has to be some way to raise the money.”
“Even if I sold my wedding bands, it wouldn’t be enough money,” her mother explained.
Rachael was furious. There had to be something she could do. A minute later, she stared at her mother. “I have an idea.”
“What dear?”
“Do you remember the beautiful antique coffee service that belonged to Grandma Harte?”
“Yes. I know the one. The one she left you when she passed away?”
Rachael nodded. “I think it may be worth something.”
“It is valuable, but I’m not sure how valuable it is. It certainly isn’t worth 30,000 dollars.”
“Don’t sound so sure. I checked on the Internet awhile ago and saw the same set go for $38,000 in an auction last year. At the time I had no intention of selling it, but I would now if it meant getting Dad out of prison.”
“Honey, that’s a very mature thing for you to offer to do, but your father would never want you to sell your tea and coffee service.”
She stiffened in determination. “He won’t know…for a while anyway. And I don’t think we have any other choice. Leaving him sitting in prison isn’t a good choice, either.”
“No, you’re right. It isn’t.”
“Okay, then it’s settled. Now how do we go about selling it?”
“Well, there are online auctions, but I believe an auction would take some time, and time is one thing we don’t have a lot of right now.”
“What about a store? Like an antique store.”
Her mother nodded. “That’s a good idea. You know who has a lot of antiques and would probably have a few ideas for us? My friend Lonnie. Let’s go downstairs and give her a call.”
They headed downstairs to the kitchen where her aunt already had the coffee brewing. Rachael grabbed the largest mug she could find. This was a five cups of coffee kind of morning.
When Rachael’s mom explained the idea to her sister, Aunt Margaret seemed both delighted and relieved. “That’s a fantastic idea.”
Lonnie was happy to offer an opinion about local area antique dealers and auctions. But she said she’d have to see the tea and coffee service in order to make the best recommendation. She agreed to come over in an hour.
Meanwhile Rachael gathered the set from her mother’s china cabinet. It was in remarkable condition and included a tea pot, coffee pot, hot water pot, kettle on stand with burner, waste bowl, creamer, covered sugar bowl, and two-handled oval tray. Aside from the fact her grandmother had told her it was very valuable, Rachael knew nothing else about the set.
When Lonnie arrived, she went straight to the formal dining room. Carefully she picked up the creamer and studied it. She then set it back down and examined the tea pot. Afterwards she turned to Rachael and asked, “Are you sure you want to sell this, dear?”
“Yes. We don’t have any choice.”
“Then I think you should know it’s a Tiffany Sterling St. Dunstan Tea and Coffee Service, probably produced between 1907 and 1947, because the pieces are stamped with the letter M. I would guess between 1907 and 1910, but I can’t be sure. An antique dealer would be able to give you specifics.”
“What do you think it’s worth?” Rachael’s mom asked.
“About $35,000 or maybe more.” Lonnie grinned. “I’d buy it myself, but my husband would freak if I spent any more money on antiques right now.”
“Oh. We wouldn’t want you to,” Rachael’s mom said. “But can you recommend a dealer to take it to?”
“Yes. There’s one here in West Palm Beach.” Lonnie gave directions on how to get to the antique dealer’s store.
Rachael picked up the pieces and examined them one last time. She was sad to part with something that had been special to her grandmother, but she knew her grandmother wouldn’t want her only son sitting in a prison until his trial date sometime in the fall. Three months in prison was a long time.
*
Once they were at the antique dealer’s, he appraised the set. Indeed, it was worth about $38,000, very close to what Lonnie had thought it would be. Rachael happily agreed to the amount he offered her and walked to the car with the check in her purse.
*
When they reached the gates to their house, Rachael’s mother stopped the car and pushed the button on the remote to open the gates. The local news media had arrived, evidently hoping to catch some footage of the family. Her mother, face steeled forward, slowly drove past the news crews.
“This is hideous, Mom,” Rachael huffed. “I wish we could bring Dad in another way when he comes home.”
Her mother sighed. “Unfortunately we can’t, honey.”
Rachael agreed to stay home and “babysit” Michael while her mother and aunt went to the bank to de
posit Rachael’s check and get a cashier’s check to post her father’s bail.
It was several hours later when they finally arrived home with her father. He looked terrible—haggard and exhausted. He said he hadn’t slept well in the jail cell and was glad to be home. Heading upstairs, he took a shower and fell asleep. He slept soundly until the next morning, Sunday, when everyone was supposed to head home.
*
Rachael wasn’t surprised when her mother decided she should stay with her father in West Palm. In the meanwhile, Maysie had called. She wanted to hear about Rachael’s visit. Rachael let the call go straight to voicemail. She wasn’t ready to talk about her time in West Palm with anyone. After her father had spent two days and a night in jail, she decided she’d never complain about anything again. Nothing could be as bad as that.
Not even her break-up with the lying Colten and the way he had stood her up at her own Debutante Ball.
*
As soon as Rachael was back at her Aunt Margaret’s in rural Manatee County, she high-tailed it to the barn to check on Taffy. She had been worried about leaving her in JJ’s care. It’s not that she thought that the kind-hearted JJ wouldn’t take good care of Taffy, she just felt better when it was a family member charged with Taffy’s care. Taffy, though only a heifer, had become more like a family member. Rachael liked to talk to her and ole’ lonesome George, the bull, about everything.
As Rachael approached the barn, she heard a male voice talking to Taffy. When she stepped inside the building, she realized it was Travis. She couldn’t help herself. She paused to listen to his private conversation.
“I can’t figure out what the problem is. It’s like we like each other, but the timing is off. I don’t know if it will ever be the right time.”
Who is he talking about? The beautiful girl…or me?
Cowgirl Down (Redneck Debutante) Page 1
