She’d had two hours to think on the way home. After a lot of stress and anxiety, the way this was going to work out was pretty obvious to her. God had orchestrated it. After all, what were the odds of her meeting Boone—it was nice to finally have a name for her cowboy—at that C store? Or at the church last night? Of all the places in Sweet Water they both could have gone to have a private talk with the Lord, it was crazy that they’d both ended up there.
The dancing at the wedding had probably been orchestrated by the Good Lord, too. What had come after had almost messed up everything, but God could still work it for good.
So, obviously, Boone would be pulling in shortly. He would bid for her and—by some miracle—win and declare his undying love. They’d get married and live happily ever after.
She had never been a fairy-tale-coming-true kind of person, but the way things were working out, she could almost become a believer.
Ha. Yep. She had it figured out.
Walking up the drive, she was kind of surprised that Boone hadn’t caught up to her by now. She smiled. Yeah, Boone was the kind of guy who would drive five miles an hour under the speed limit. Well, he’d better not be late.
There were people milling around everywhere as the auctioneer droned on in the background. She recognized the cowboy who had been leading the line dance at Preacher’s wedding leaning against the barn, his hat pulled down low, one boot on the ground, one knee bent with the boot resting against the side of the barn. She couldn’t exactly tell with the shadow of his hat brim, but she thought she felt his eyes tracking her as she moved up the walk, greeting a few women who were standing in a circle.
She garnered a few odd looks, a few that looked like pity, and a few more that seemed to wonder if she was really going to go through with this. Those looks made her thankful that she’d not been here all evening.
Gee Gee, Preacher’s daughter, came running up to her, trailed by Spencer and Vinton.
“Hey, Mom!” Spencer called. “Can we have races down the driveway? Vinton and Gee Gee got permission if it’s okay with you.”
It wasn’t that long ago that she might have told Spencer no, that someone might hit him. But now, she shrugged. “Sure. Watch for cars.” North Dakota had relaxed her, and she thought maybe that made her a better parent.
The kids ran off, and she looked back down the drive. No one was arriving. She moseyed over to the back of the crowd and leaned against a big tractor tire, wondering where they were in the auction.
“Hey, Roxie,” someone whispered.
Roxie turned. A blond head poked out from behind the tractor tire on the other side. Lark, Preacher’s sister.
Her mouth dropped.
Boone had introduced himself as Boone Stryker.
Stryker was Preacher’s last name.
“Do you have a brother named Boone?” Roxie asked before Lark could say anything, which was a pretty big accomplishment considering that Lark was pretty and vivacious and seldom quiet.
“Sure do. Why?” Lark said cheerfully, if quietly, as she slipped around the end of the tractor.
Roxie’d been too shocked about the positive pregnancy test for the name to register at the C store.
“Just wondered.”
Boone Stryker. She put a hand over her stomach. Would she have done what she did if she’d known it was Preacher’s brother?
No. No way.
She didn’t know another family in North Dakota who were more conservative. There had never been a hint of anything resembling rebellion or gossip related to their family. They were highly respected and regarded everywhere.
The father had died when the kids were small, and all the boys had worked to support Mrs. Stryker. The family didn’t have a lot of money, although Clay owned the harvesting business...that’s why she’d thought Boone was part of the crew.
There was no way he could afford to bid on her.
“I need to buy a tractor.” Lark had reached her side, a notebook and a pen in her hand. “My brothers are all being jerks. As soon as they find out I want to buy it for Jeb’s birthday, they act like I’m a deranged imbecile and tell me, in one way or another, that their best advice is to not buy one.” Lark stuck her pointed chin out. “They’re moving down this row of tractors next, just as soon as they’re done selling those wagons and feeders. And I’m buying one.” She nodded her head and stamped her foot. Then her shoulders drooped. “But I don’t know which one.” She tilted her head at Roxie. “Will you help me?”
All spring and summer since Roxie had moved to Sweet Water, she’d heard Mrs. Stryker say, “The quickest way to forget your own problems is to help someone else.” Well, this was definitely a Godsend to get her mind off her own problems.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I don’t know a thing about tractors, but I’m sure all the information we need is on the internet.” She swiped, and her phone powered on. “Now, what does he use the tractor for?”
Roxie worked with Lark for a good thirty minutes while the auction continued behind them. They finally narrowed it down to an older John Deere that Lark was pretty sure she could afford and a newer IH that she wasn’t sure she had enough cash for.
“That’s perfect!” Lark said. “Just in time, too. This is the last row.” She bit her lip, and her smiling face straightened, immediately making her seem much older. Roxie guessed that a lot of people underestimated Lark because of her perpetual cheerfulness. “Are you ready?” Concern wrinkled her brow.
“I don’t know how one gets ready for this. But I’ve been telling myself in ten years I’ll look back and laugh.”
Just like that, Lark’s face brightened again, and she giggled. “Great attitude!” She shoved the notebook under her arm. “I have someone who’s going to distract Jeb, but I need to go let him know which tractors he needs to have Jeb disappearing on.”
“Isn’t he here to buy a tractor?” If he needed one, that would make sense. Roxie scanned the crowd, looking for the man she’d seen only once or twice in town.
“No. The milk price has hit a record low every week this year, and he can barely afford to pay his bills.”
“Then why’s he here?” Roxie asked, finally finding him. A solidly set man with shoulders and torso that reminded her of a draft horse. He stood at the far edge of the crowd, slightly alone. Everyone around him was focused on the auction. Jeb stared at Lark. Although when Lark lifted her head, he shifted so fast Roxie almost thought she imagined it.
“Entertainment. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s not much going on in North Dakota. Why do you think your driveway and yard are packed full of cars? You think all these people are actually here to buy stuff?”
Yeah, she had thought that. “No. Of course not.”
“Well, neither is Jeb. He’s kinda shy. Reminds me of Matthew Cuthbert in Anne of Green Gables.” Lark gave a wistful glance in Jeb’s direction. “Once you get to know him, he’s actually really funny and sweet.”
“He’s a lot older than you.”
“Why does everyone always point that out?” Lark sounded perky and irritated at the same time. Probably the only time in Roxie’s life where she’d heard that combination. “He’s going to be thirty on his birthday next week. I’m eighteen.”
But because of her life and responsibilities, Lark was probably far more mature than the average American eighteen-year-old. Still.
“He looks like a nice guy, and you’re really sweet to buy him a tractor.” Roxie didn’t know what else to say.
“Thanks. I hope I win at least one of these.”
“I’m rooting for the green one. It’s prettier.” Roxie might have just helped her figure out which tractor would be the best fit on Jeb’s dairy farm, but she still didn’t know squat about tractors.
“I’d better run. I want to talk to my decoy and make sure they’re on it.” She took one step then stopped and turned. “Why did you ask about Boone?”
Lark caught her flat-footed. She couldn’t think up a tru
th she wanted to tell.
“I danced with him at Preacher’s wedding, but I didn’t realize he was your brother.”
“Oh?” Lark gave a short laugh. “Maybe he’ll bid tonight. I remember when Mom first started working here, Boone fell in love with it. He was only about thirteen, but he said he was going to own it someday if he had to kill, steal, or bribe the mailman.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah. Maybe that’s why I always remembered it. Because he didn’t make any sense.” Her laugh floated on the air, and a certain shy cattleman shot covert eyes her way. Lark didn’t notice as she hurried away.
The crowd shifted as the auctioneer moved to the tractor on the end.
Roxie had been sure of everything just a few moments ago, and now she was as uncertain as she’d ever been. Maybe it was hormones.
Lark had said that Boone had always wanted Sweet Water.
But he wasn’t even here. She’d been keeping an eye on the driveway. No one had come. The auction was almost over.
Could she allow herself to be auctioned now?
An arm slipped around her, and Roxie barely kept from jumping.
“How are you doing?” Nell, her sister-in-law, asked.
Her hand was on her stomach. She dropped it. If and when people found out about her condition, she wanted to tell them, not have them guess it because she couldn’t keep her hand from wanting to protect the child inside of her.
“I’m as good as can be expected.” Nervousness and cold feet were natural. She’d already decided she’d married for love once and it had bit her in the teeth. Today, she was stepping out, doing things a little differently, hoping for a different result. Very reasonable.
Nell looked both ways and lowered her voice. “I looked at the books when Mrs. Auker went to the job johnny.” She raised her brows. “Eight men are registered to bid on the ranch.”
Oh, no. If someone had to be registered in order to bid, Boone had better hurry and show up.
She glanced around. Abner still leaned against the barn, his eyes shielded, arms still folded. He could have been a statue. Roxie figured if Boone had managed to slip by her without her seeing him, he’d probably end up with his friend at some point.
Abner was alone.
Then her eye caught on something familiar off to his right, and she looked again. She couldn’t contain her gasp.
“What is it?” Nell asked immediately, concern covering her face.
“Bryan’s here.” Her ex. He had a friend with him, and she recognized him immediately, too. Cheston Stoner. When her husband had cheated on her, Cheston had been the wingman. He’d divorced his wife about the same time Bryan divorced her.
“Is that him in the skinny jeans and new-looking...are those hiking boots?”
He wore a shirt that was artfully unbuttoned and hair that was casually mussed and gelled into place. Cheston looked very similar, except his shirt was pink instead of white.
“Yes.”
“Figured. They look like East Coast people.”
Roxie tried to take some deep breaths, in and out. “When you looked at the books, I don’t suppose you remember if there was a ‘Cheston’ listed?”
“Actually, Cheston was the first name. I didn’t recognize most of the rest of them. There wasn’t anyone that I knew.” She shrugged. “I thought at least a local or two would try, but I think they saw the big money from out east and the oil money from down south and they knew they couldn’t compete.” She bit her lip, like she wasn’t sure if she should have even said anything. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. My uncle wrote the will.”
“But it’s because of me that you said you’d do this.” Nell twisted her hands and turned away.
That was true. Her brother, Ryder, had been going to inherit the ranch and money when he got married at a fairy tale ball. He’d wanted to choose Nell and thought he had. But he’d been mistaken. He wasn’t able to change his choice without losing the ranch and money and knowing when he did, the next stipulation of the will kicked in and Roxie had to go on the auction block. Roxie had told him she’d do it, which left him free to choose Nell and lose the ranch and money.
“I told my brother this the night of the ball, I think. I’ve tried marriage for love, and it didn’t work out. It’s almost a relief to have the choice taken from me.” If she didn’t care about the man she had to marry, it wouldn’t hurt when he cheated on her.
She tried to give Nell a gentle smile. It felt more like a grimace. If Nell only knew the things she was hiding. “Of course I’m nervous. I was nervous on my last wedding day, too. It’s perfectly normal to be nervous.”
Nell nodded, still biting her lip. “Do you want me to sneak another peek at the books?”
Did she ever. But she might be better off not knowing. She’d probably be better off making a snap decision. Once the winning bidder was announced, and it was confirmed he had the cash to back up his bid, she had thirty minutes where she could choose to forfeit the ranch and the billion dollars and not marry the winner.
Then, all of this would be in vain, and she’d be homeless with two children to raise.
They moved out of the way as the auctioneer sold each tractor in the line. Roxie was happy to see that Lark had the winning bid on the IH tractor. She hoped Jeb was successfully diverted and everything worked out for Lark.
The time seemed to fly by. Nell and Ryder gave her a hug and left with Spencer and Vinton. She didn’t know how things were going to turn out, but she didn’t want Spencer to be hurt in any way if she could help it.
Finally, the auctioneer’s helper, a native North Dakotan named Flynn, found her at the edge of the crowd.
“Just two more tractors, then it’s your turn,” he said in a wizened old voice. It suited his thin gray hair and slightly tilted posture, the kind that bespoke a man who’d done manual labor all his life and lived with a perpetual backache. “Let’s get over here and get you up on the platform so folks can have a good look at ya.”
Like a cow at auction. She hadn’t been here the entire night, but she’d been standing in the crowd for over an hour. She’d also been home every single time someone had come to look the ranch over. Not one of the men had tried to talk to her.
Now she was supposed to stand up so everyone could have a “good look” at her. Like her looks should even matter.
No. She wasn’t even going to go there. She’d agreed to follow the stipulations of her uncle’s will. She didn’t have a whole lot of liking in her heart for her uncle, but he might have had reasons of his own. She’d finally been learning that when she sucked up her tendency to want to control everything and just let things work out, often they worked out better than she could have orchestrated herself.
She needed to relax and let it happen tonight. She had final veto power. It had to be enough.
Roxie was standing on the platform when the auctioneer hollered “sold” on the last tractor. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and her feet were set.
She hadn’t eaten anything, so even though her stomach felt as rotten as hog slop crawling with maggots, she was pretty confident she wouldn’t be throwing up. She hoped.
The crowd followed the auctioneer to the platform. It wasn’t hard to notice that not a single person walked to their car and started out the driveway. Not one.
She supposed no one there, including her, had ever witnessed a person being sold at auction. It would probably never happen in their lifetime again. The local community center sold people for dates. She thought they’d even sold them for a day. But never for the lifetime commitment of marriage.
Of course, Bryan’s idea of commitment had been slightly different than hers.
She put a calm look on her face and threw a net over the butterflies in her stomach. When the people here told the story to their grandkids, they were not going to say that she looked upset, scared, or weak.
She threw her shoulders back and lifted her chin. She’d survived the high
society of New York City; she could survive this.
“And, ladies and gentlemen, we have the main attraction for this evening.” The auctioneer spoke into the makeshift speaker system. Roxie heard his words twice. Once on the stage beside her, and once, after about a second delay, on the speakers that were scattered throughout the now trampled down yard.
“If all the men who have registered with the clerk and shown their bank references would please come forward.”
Roxie’s mouth was completely dry. She didn’t even try to gather enough spit to swallow as seven—no, eight—men walked toward the front of the stage.
She kept her nose in the air and looked down at them. Cheston was among them. Smirking. There were three men with gray or thinning hair and varying degrees of potbellies. One of them had twinkling eyes. Another one looked kind in a grandfatherly way. The third limped a little and had a downturned mouth. Maybe he was just too nervous to smile.
She assumed they were the ranchers with money and any of those three would be just fine. They’d run the ranch, and she was fairly certain they’d give her free rein over the house and grounds. A marriage in name only, and she was fine with that.
Boone’s image wanted to pop into her head, but she wouldn’t let it. He knew where she was and what she was doing, and he’d said he wanted to bid at the auction. So he could be here if he wanted.
There were four slightly younger men. They would still be at least a decade, if not two, older than her. She figured those were the oil money guys.
Then Cheston. He was the only one her age.
And he was a multibillionaire. For him, it just depended on how bad he wanted her or the ranch or revenge or whatever it was. She wasn’t under the illusion that he’d been carrying a torch for her all these years.
If he won, she was forfeiting. She didn’t know what would happen at that point, to her or her children, but she wasn’t going to marry Cheston. He was Bryan’s evil twin.
The auctioneer started the bidding at three million dollars, and one of the old men bid right away.
Roxie looked out over the heads of the crowd, letting the auctioneer’s singsong voice lull her into as much of a daze as a person could be in when they were standing on the auction block. So she noticed when the tractor trailer came over the hill and down the driveway toward the house and the auction. It was going a little faster than was safe, and there was absolutely no place for it to turn around.
Cowboys Don't Buy Their Bride at Auction Page 6
