Rodeo Baby Page 5

  The betrayal had come on so many levels. “Those two. That snake.” Aching with all he had to say, he nonetheless held back with Chelsea nearby. After all, Tiffany’s father was her grandfather.

  Sam leaned against the wall. “I’m free for the next month.” He knew he sounded bitter. Divorce and losing his livelihood, even if he had come out ahead with millions in the bank, had never been part of his life’s plan. He told his grandfather about the new venture starting in a month.

  “You sound excited.”

  “I am, Gramps. I don’t like to be idle.” In fact, without the formation of the new firm, Sam didn’t know what he would do with his life. He’d never, not once, felt so rudder­less.

  Even these months off since the company had been given over to Tiffany had been hell.

  He felt better when he had purpose and activity driving his days. As well, there were those thoughts ringing through him, every day, about success and revenge.

  Oh, yeah, he’d like to show Tiffany and her father how successful he could be without them. And he would. Be successful, that was.

  He had a talent for business. Not so with this cowboy stuff. What had he been thinking?

  “Always felt the same way myself,” Gramps said. “Didn’t want to be idle for a single second of the day.” They visited for an hour while Sam itched to get to the ranch, to find out how hard his job was going to be and whether he was truly up to the task.

  On the way out, he stopped at the nurse’s desk and asked about Gramps’s doctor. He wouldn’t be in until Monday. Sam would have to wait for answers.

  As soon as they left the building, Chelsea voiced what she’d obviously been thinking inside.

  “Dad, I’m worried.”

  “About Gramps? Me, too. He’s not himself.”

  They got into the SUV and drove away.

  “Dad...”

  Sam glanced away from the road for a second. Chelsea chewed on her bottom lip.

  “What is it, possum? Something worrying you? Spit it out.”

  “You’ve been strange lately. Is it because of the divorce?”

  “Strange how?”

  He sensed her shrugging beside him. “I don’t know. More hard. Tougher. You were an easygoing guy and so much fun. I loved that about you. But now you don’t seem to like people anymore. You don’t trust anyone.”

  “Yeah. True. That’s because of the divorce.” Sam hesitated to criticize Tiffany to her daughter. “I’m not comfortable talking to you about your mother behind her back, but her...”

  “Her affair, Dad. I know what she did. She shouldn’t have slept with that guy.”

  Sam hated that Chelsea knew about that kind of thing. “Her betrayal was profound,” he admitted. “It’s going to take a long time for me to trust like I used to.”

  The farther they drove away from Gramps and the closer they got to the ranch, the more Chelsea slumped in her seat. She crossed her arms and settled into the sulk she’d been in for the drive out.

  Gone were the smiles for Gramps and the old woman with her cute dog.

  “I don’t want to stay with people we don’t know. I wish Gramps wasn’t in an old-folks’ home so we could stay with him.”

  “You and me both, Chelsea.” He thought of the two-story house that sat on Gramps’s land. Tonight, they could have been sleeping in the very house his dad had grown up in if the townsfolk hadn’t talked Gramps out of his land.

  * * *

  ONCE THE LUNCH crowd finally left and she knew she had a couple of hours before launching dinner service, Violet packaged up a container of rice pudding for her friend Rachel and Rachel’s daughter, Tori. They both loved it. She added a jar of parsnip soup for Travis.

  At the last minute, she remembered the coconut-cream pie Rachel had bargained for.

  Why was the new man in town pretending to be a cowboy? Did he think people in Rodeo were so stupid they wouldn’t notice? Who was he? Why was he here?

  Since he’d left her diner, questions hadn’t stopped swirling through Vy’s brain.

  Rodeo had taken her in with open arms fourteen years ago as a grieving sixteen-year-old and she’d spent her years here giving back ever since.

  This close to resurrecting the fair and rodeo that would bring much-needed tourism dollars to the town, they couldn’t take a chance on anything going wrong.

  What could that project possibly have to do with the new stranger in town, Vy?

  She had no idea.

  She phoned Rachel. “Is he there yet?”

  “Not yet, Vy.”

  “Why not, I wonder? Why didn’t he go straight to the ranch? If he isn’t there, where is he?”

  “Why are you so worried about him?”

  Vy bit her bottom lip. “Maybe I’m seeing shadows where there aren’t any, but what if he tries to screw up the fair and rodeo somehow?”

  “Vy, that’s a huge leap. Why would this guy have anything to do with our fair?”

  “He has money. I’m sure of it. Maybe he wants to steal our ideas and put on his own show.”

  “That’s crazy talk. You’re overreacting. What’s gotten into you? You usually have more common sense than this.”

  “I just... God, Rachel, I don’t know.” She sighed, battered by intuition not based in fact and clueless about her worry. She tried to shrug it off. Strangers came through all the time, for Pete’s sake. “I’m coming over for a visit, anyway. I’ve got food.”

  Rachel laughed. “Yum. Good. I’m exhausted. Beth was up nursing every two hours last night. Must be a growth spurt.”

  “Plenty of tasty calories on the way to replace what that little cutie is using up.”

  Vy loaded the food into her car and drove out of town.

  She slowed down when she realized the SUV she followed on the small rural highway possibly belonged to the stranger. Okay, so she hadn’t been above watching him leave the diner to check out his vehicle. Good thing. She didn’t want to walk in at the same time.

  She pulled onto the shoulder to sit and allow Sam and his daughter to get inside the house.

  Travis Read had bought the Victorian on the two-lane highway when he’d moved to town back in October or November.

  In the past, he’d been determined to remain single and not be tied down. But he’d quickly fallen for Rodeo’s own effervescent, lovely Rachel—even though she’d already had a three-year-old and had been more than seven months pregnant with her second.

  In the end, he’d taken on a ready-made family, a house and a new ranch.

  Vy glanced across the road toward the ratty trailer from which he’d rescued Rachel. Dark and lonesome against the cloudy sky, it stood like a festering wound.

  Trailers left Vy feeling antsy and slightly nauseated. She hated them. Hated what they represented to her.

  Despite her envy, she was damned glad Rachel and her children had a real home now.

  Vy didn’t need a husband and children. Men were a complication she avoided outside the odd booty call with one of the town’s more reliable, discreet single guys.

  What else could she possibly need from a man?

  She loved her independence. Enough said.

  * * *

  SAM STEPPED OUT of the car in front of the big old Victorian and wondered why the owner of the diner ever thought to call this a ranch.

  All along the highway, he’d passed low-slung ranch houses better suited to the prairie. But he could probably take the house and plunk it down into an old Boston neighbor­hood. He fully expected to find a parlor inside outfitted with velvet sofas and crocheted doilies.

  After knocking on the oak door, he waited, his stomach dancing with nerves. How did he possibly think he could handle this?

  He could handle it. Look how well he’d done with
the Harper acquisition. He’d made millions on that. Or how he’d managed to fight off the hostile takeover by Steig Industries.

  He could do just about anything. As long as they didn’t have him shoveling manure, he should be fine.

  Well, duh. Of course, cowboys shovel manure. Chelsea’s imagined sarcasm sounded in his head.

  She sat in the car, elbow deep in a self-indulgent pout.

  The door opened before Sam raised his hand to knock again.

  A tall, fair-haired man stood in the dim hallway, denim shirt and pants outlining a work-hardened body. A chiseled jaw and enough fine lines at the corners of his blue eyes to add character prevented a slide into movie-star territory.

  “I’m Travis Read.” He stuck out his hand. “You must be Sam. Rachel told me you were coming. Expected you sooner.”

  “I drove around a bit. I’ve never been in Montana before. It’s beautiful.” Not a complete lie. He and Chelsea had seen a bit of the country on their way to the nursing home and here.

  “Come on in.” Travis peered beyond Sam and asked, “Is that your daughter in the car? Doesn’t she want to come inside?”

  “She’s...she’s not completely happy we’re here.” He left it at that.

  A tiny girl, only three or so, popped up beside Travis. “You gots a little girl? I go get her.”

  “She’s not little,” Sam began, but the girl shot off the veranda and tried to open the car door.

  Sam reached her and opened the passenger door. Maybe this cute child would succeed where Sam hadn’t. Her dimples could charm even a hardened criminal.

  “Hi,” she said to Chelsea, leaning into the car. “My name’s Victoria. Mommy calls me Tori. What’s your name?” Without waiting for a reply, she forged on. “I gots pink cowboy boots. Look! Do you gots cowboy boots? Why don’t you come out? We can play.”

  Chelsea glanced at Sam helplessly and he understood why. As much as Chelsea adored animals, she loved children even more. Hard to hold on to a good pout when a charming little girl asked you to come out to play.

  He waited with a smile on his lips. Any second now, Chelsea had to give in to the girl’s charm.

  “Is your seat belt stuck?” Tori asked. “You can’t get it off? I hep you!”

  Tori climbed up onto Chelsea to reach the seat belt connection. Chelsea said, “Oof,” and laughed.

  “It’s okay, Tori, I can do it. I’ll get out now.”

  Tori climbed back out with Chelsea’s supporting hand on her back so she wouldn’t fall. Chelsea unsnapped her seat belt and left the car.

  Tori grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the house.

  “Does anyone ever say no to that child?” Sam asked.

  Travis grinned. “No one I’ve met yet.”

  Sam followed him, Chelsea and Tori into the house.

  He’d been wrong about the interior. Completely. No sedate, old-fashioned Victorian, sage-green living room walls contrasted the solid oak floor and the dark wood trim nicely. A huge fireplace dominated one side of the room.

  On the walls, several large landscapes startled with their colors and subject matter, at once roughhewn and refined, powerful and elegant. Painted by the same hand as the ones in the diner?

  Travis caught him studying them. “Local artist. Zachary Brandt.”

  “Local scenery?”

  Travis nodded.

  “Beautiful.”

  “Sit, please. I’ll get Rachel. Let’s get to know each other before you start work.”

  Work. Sam swallowed. What exactly would it entail here?

  Rachel, an attractive woman with a warm smile and a baby in her arms, joined them, and after introductions and glasses of fresh lemonade were produced, they all sat.

  Sam struggled with how to break the ice, but Tori took care of that. She lounged against Travis’s leg with her little feet crossed at the ankle and rested one elbow on Travis’s knee and her chin on her hand.

  She directed all of her attention toward Chelsea.

  “You gots nail polish. You like black. I like your hair. Is it soft?”

  Chelsea nodded.

  “Can I feel it?”

  Chelsea nodded again.

  Tori approached and touched it. “Oh, it’s so soft. Pretty.”

  Now she leaned on Chelsea’s knee.

  “Travis is gonna buy me a pony. Do you gots a pony?”

  Chelsea nodded.

  Tori’s eyes widened. “Mommy! Travis! Chels gots a pony!”

  Sam smiled at the girl’s attempt to pronounce his daughter’s name.

  Tori leaned close to Chelsea. “What’s his name?”

  Chelsea’s cheeks turned suspiciously pink. Sam knew why. He waited and watched, the corner of his mouth kicking up into a smug smile. She’d been making fun of him for close to two thousand miles. Nice to have the tables turned.

  “Zayn,” Chelsea mumbled.

  Tori wrinkled her tiny nose. “That’s a funny name. Why did you named him that?”

  Chelsea mumbled again but no one heard her reply.

  “Speak up, Chelsea,” Sam urged. “Tell them why you chose Zayn.”

  “Daaad.”

  “Inquiring minds want to know.”

  Despite her mutinous expression, she admitted, “After Zayn Malik, who used to be in One Direction. Okay?”

  Tori, sensing Chelsea’s embarrassment, patted her knee. “It’s okay. It’s a nice name. Is he cute?”

  “He’s so cute,” Chelsea breathed. “He’s got the darkest eyes. Like melted chocolate. You can just sink into them and get lost.”

  Sam grinned. “She means the pony, Chelsea.”

  His daughter’s cheeks darkened further.

  Chelsea ignored him and told Tori, “He’s a super cute pony. The prettiest one of all of my friends’.”

  “Where is he?”

  “In New—”

  “He’s stabled with a friend,” Sam cut in, sending Chelsea a warning plea. Don’t blow my cover, to use Gramps’s term. “It’s only until we decide where we’re going to live in Montana. My horse is at home, too. Do you have a spare one I can use?”

  If Sam had let Chelsea finish saying New York, would Travis wonder how Sam could possibly be a real cowboy having just come from the east? So many layers of dishonesty...

  He might have held his cards close to his chest in business, but he’d never been a liar.

  Chelsea crossed her arms and pouted again.

  Rachel and Travis exchanged glances but, thank God, didn’t ask for clarification.

  “I can get one tonight from a rancher up the road,” Trav­is said. “He’s got a couple of spares.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  A knock at the door startled the little one and she ran to answer it. “I get it.”

  “Victoria.” The warning note in Travis’s voice had the girl pulling up short. “What did I tell you about answering the door?”

  “Don’t answer the door by mysef.”

  “That’s correct.”

  Tori nodded. “Okay, Travis, you can come, too.”

  Sam smiled. Cute kid.

  They returned from the front hallway a moment later with Violet from the diner, different without her apron and hair kerchief. Her hair fell in a straight, black satin wave down her back.

  God, she was attractive.

  She glanced around the room with her stunning violet eyes, settled on him briefly, then moved on.

  “I brought you treats.” To Tori, Rachel and Travis, she handed containers from her restaurant.

  “Hey, parsnip soup,” Travis said, enthusiastically. “Thanks, Vy.”

  Parsnip soup? Seriously? The guy was happy about parsnips?

  Sam’s dist
aste must have shown on his face because Travis laughed and said, “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. It tastes better than it sounds.”

  Sam hoped so because it sounded awful.

  He watched Violet and Rachel retreat to the kitchen, wishing he could find a reason to follow them. Sure, they were friends and probably just catching up on things, but what if one of them mentioned the fair?

  When Violet actually mentioned his grandfather, his ears perked up.

  “Carson said he wants to hear about our latest updates on the fair.” Violet’s voice faded as she entered the kitchen. “Told him...visit tomorrow...want to come?”

  The rest was lost to him. He cast about for an excuse, anything, that would get him near the kitchen to eavesdrop. Of course, there wasn’t a reason that would make sense.

  How could he get close enough to the women to find out their intentions?

  Before he came up with answers, Travis interrupted his thoughts.

  “You mind joining me in the dining room?”

  Sam followed him, where they sat at a long table. Trav­is started off with, “I don’t mean to be rude, but you got any ID on you?”

  Sam hesitated to show his New York driver’s license so instead he pulled his passport out of his shirt pocket. “I always carry this with me when I cross state lines.”

  Travis checked it out and nodded. He asked a series of questions designed to find out whether he could trust bringing a strange man into his home.

  Sam respected that Travis wanted to protect his family. He would do anything to protect Chelsea, so he answered as best he could without giving too much away.

  He explained that he’d recently gotten divorced and that—white lie—he hadn’t felt comfortable continuing to work with his father-in-law.

  Travis nodded as though that made perfect sense.

  He asked for a reference so Sam gave him John Raven’s name and cell number. John knew his purpose here, so he would say all of the right things about Sam being a hard worker and trustworthy.

  Sam also suspected Travis might not even make the call, and this was merely a formality to see whether Sam would produce references.