The Cowboy Meets His Match (6 page)

Traci could be heard plainly throughout the parking lot.

“It would be ungracious for me to not show up since I've already accepted Betty's invitation.”

Traci stepped closer and whispered something in his ear.

Taking a step backward, he smiled. “I look forward to it.”

Traci glanced at Erin, gave her a cat-who-ate-the-canary smile and sauntered to her car. Sawyer walked to his own vehicle, parked not far from Erin's. Betty and Tate sat in the car. “What took you so long?”

He looked over his shoulder at Traci. “I tried to dodge a bullet but ran into a tree.”

Erin knew exactly what he meant. She snorted. “I'll see you at the house.”

As he followed her out of the parking lot, she laughed softly.

“That girl doesn't know when to quit,” Betty mumbled.

“I know, Auntie, but you got to him first.”

Betty nodded. “You can count on me.”

“No truer words were ever spoken, Auntie.”

Chapter Four

“H
e's still following you, Daughter.”

Erin jerked her gaze away from the rearview mirror to her aunt. Erin simply shrugged and didn't defend herself.

“Are you upset that I invited him to lunch?” A satisfied smile curled Auntie's mouth.

Betty had never met a stranger without always feeling it her duty to feed them. “No, just surprised, since he won the contract over me, remember?”

“You're beyond that and already challenging him. Bob's wife told me about what happened yesterday. Little did he expect you to voice your opinions so quickly, but you have. Has he objected? Been unkind? Overbearing?”

Looking in the rearview mirror, Erin saw Tate roll his eyes.

“No, he hasn't. But—” She needed to quit while she was ahead.

Betty waited. “But what?”

“He read my proposal for updating the rodeo.” All yesterday Erin thought about Sawyer, trying to sort out her conflicting emotions toward him. After another long ride on Wind Dancer, Erin knew her heart was involved.

Betty turned to her, her eyes wide and her mouth pursed into an O. “And?”

“He likes some of my ideas and wants to incorporate them, particularly my ideas for the midway.”

Her aunt nodded. “A reasonable man. Good.”

“But we've discovered a problem.”

Betty frowned. “Oh?”

“The final figures for the last year are missing. We asked Lisa about them, but she couldn't find them. She had copies in several different places but couldn't find any of them.”

The ranch house appeared, cutting off their conversation. The low-slung house and barn sat back off the road. When her great-grandfather had built the house and out structures, he'd used adobe, just as the natives of the area did. It had caused a stir among some of his friends but, during the hot summers, their home became the place where everyone met.

The driveway sat between the house and the barn with a covered breezeway connecting the kitchen door to the barn's side door. Beyond that, several corrals had been set up for Erin to practice her barrel racing. Her truck and horse trailer sat on the far side of the drive.

Erin parked next to the kitchen door.

Sawyer pulled in beside her and hurried out of his truck. He opened Betty's door and helped her out.

“Thank you.” Betty glowed like a schoolgirl.

Tate clambered out of the backseat and slammed his door. He ignored everyone, walking inside. Sawyer's gaze roamed over the house, barn and corrals.

“Tate and Erin's great-grandfather built this place,” Betty explained.

“Auntie, Sawyer's not interested in ancient history.”

“No, I love to hear family histories,” Sawyer replied.

Really?
That was hard to believe. He'd be the first man she'd run into with that attitude. “Well, we better get inside. With the mood Tate is in, who knows what he's doing. When I suggested driving to see Dad this morning, Tate didn't want to go.” It only had been three days since she'd returned to Tucumcari, but she was willing to make another trip to Albuquerque if her brother wanted to visit the hospital.

“You're right.” Betty hurried into the kitchen.

Sawyer stopped on the step up to the back door and scanned the yard. “Your family's got a nice setup here.”

Erin picked up the tinge of sadness, or maybe it was longing in his voice. “Thanks. I miss this place when I'm away. There's a unique beauty in the starkness that calls to your soul.” She shrugged. “I'll admit, it doesn't call to everyone, but for me, it—” She broke off and glanced up at him, expecting to see disdain, but instead she found understanding.

“I can see that.” He opened his mouth to say more but shook his head and walked into the house, leaving her unsettled because she knew he understood her.

That had never happened before.

* * *

Betty spread a feast before him of a roast, beans, bread and local greens.

“You weren't kidding, Betty,” Sawyer commented as they walked into the dining room. The room had French doors that opened out onto a patio, giving them a view of the horizon.

“My job is to feed others.” Her simple statement reinforced her actions of putting out a big meal. “Didn't your mother do that, too?”

The innocent question from Betty felt like a right fist to his jaw, making him step back. Sawyer looked around to see if Betty or Erin had noticed his reaction. With all their preparations, they hadn't, but Tate had.

Sawyer searched for an appropriate response. He couldn't very well say when his mother wasn't drunk or feeling sorry for herself she couldn't manage to heat up a can of soup. They didn't need to know his past. “Mom wasn't the cook you are.”

Betty stopped and her gaze caught him. He tried not to reveal anything, but her expression softened and she nodded at him.

After they prayed over the food, dishes were passed around. They discussed the morning sermon and how to live it.

Finally, Erin asked, “Did Uncle complain about you leaving?”

“No, he knows better. When his sister needed me to take care of her family, I went every time I was needed.” She leaned over the table. “Uncle didn't protest then. There's food in the freezer, which he could live on for months, and if he didn't want that, there are neighbors around us who would make sure he's fed.” Betty smiled. “The man won't go hungry.”

“I remember the first time our parents took us to Aunt Betty's,” Erin said, glancing at Sawyer. “Her kitchen is the biggest room in her house, and it's the busiest, with people coming and going.

“Tate wasn't interested in the crowd in the kitchen and found the big-screen TV in the sewing room.”

Sawyer smiled, enjoying the light banter among the family. Good memories.

“That's where she made Uncle put the TV,” Tate explained.

“If we had to have that fancy big-screen TV and not some normal one,” Betty replied, “then I was going to make Uncle put it in my sewing room so I could watch it, too, while I sewed.”

“Why Uncle let you put it there—” Tate shook his head.

“He got his TV, didn't he?”

Tate shrugged and tried to suppress his smile.

“And the other boys in the neighborhood came and sat in that sewing room. They knew no shame.”

“I'm surprised you let Peter and Sam Running Bear inside your house after they tried to push Tate and me down the mountain,” Erin added.

Betty's eyes narrowed. “I told those boys if they ever tried that stunt again, they would never be allowed in my house to watch the big-screen TV or have fried bread.”

Tate's features hardened. “You didn't need to fight my battles, Auntie. I can fight my own.” He stood and stomped out of the kitchen, leaving the other three people staring at one another. Betty shook her head.

Sawyer could identify with the teen's moodiness. He stood and helped clear the table. “I wish I could've eaten more, but I didn't want to waddle to my truck.”

“Don't worry.” Erin put the bowl of fried bread on the counter. She pulled out freezer bags and began to put the excess food into them. “We'll either share it with others in the community or freeze it. Auntie has a reputation for feeding anyone who shows up at her door.”

Sawyer stopped and studied Betty, wishing she could've been close when he and his brother needed someone like her. She returned his gaze with a penetrating one, then grabbed the bag of flat bread and shoved it at him. “For later.”

At some level, he knew the older woman sensed the pain of his past. He'd known hunger. “You're doing good work.”

Betty ducked her head. “There are too many people going without. My husband always had a job and we were blessed.
I
can do no less than share with others
.
”

“And change lives,” Sawyer murmured. “Thank you, ladies, for the meal. Now I need to go back and work.” He paused. “Are your dad's notebooks here?”

“Yes, they're in the library.”

“Think they might have the final numbers in them?”

“I don't know, but we should look.”

He followed her to the library. She pulled down last year's notebook and handed it to him. They settled on the love seat and looked over the figures.

“These don't look like the final numbers,” Sawyer commented.

Studying the final lines, Erin knew they weren't. “I agree. These look like working numbers.” She glanced up into his face, realizing how close they were. She swallowed and his gaze didn't leave her face. “I'll look around to see if Dad has an addendum with the final figures.” She closed the notebook and jumped up, feeling like a jack-in-the-box.

He slowly came to his feet, fighting a smile.

What was so funny, she wanted to ask, but she knew. Acting like a fifteen-year-old, which wasn't something she had done—until now.

“I'll have a listing of big contractors I need to call tomorrow. If you drop in, you can see who's shown interest in bidding.”

“What time?”

“Let's try nine.”

“I'll be there.”

He nodded and left the room, leaving Erin clutching the notebook and feeling lost.

* * *

As Sawyer walked to his truck, he caught a glimpse of Tate disappearing into the barn.

“Tate, got a moment?” Sawyer called and waited for the teen. When Tate reappeared, the cautious expression on his face warned Sawyer to proceed carefully. “I hope I didn't barge in and ruin your Sunday lunch.”

“Nah.”

“I didn't mean for your sister to bring up those old stories.”

“She's only a girl, and girls like to embarrass people.”

Tread carefully
, he warned himself. “You know what I think? Your sister remembers that time with laughter and joy. Both your aunt and sister are strong women.”

Tate cocked his head. “They want to tell me what to do all the time. They think they're always right.”

“True, but girls do that. It seems to me Betty was only defending her nephew. Maybe she went about it the wrong way, but sometimes we do wrong in trying to do right. I think they're acting out of love.” He smiled. “I'd give them a break.”

Tate shrugged. “If you say so.”

“I guess when you've been raised by a mom who was afraid of making a decision, who needed someone to make up her mind for her, it's refreshing to meet a woman who can make a decision for herself.”

Tate stared at him.

Sawyer wanted to snatch the words back. Tate didn't need his lecture. Sawyer nodded and slipped into his truck. As he drove away, Sawyer saw Tate standing in the driveway, staring at him.

Well, Tate wasn't the only one who was surprised. At lunch, sitting by Erin and across from Betty, Sawyer had found himself admiring them. From the conversation, he knew Betty felt a need to feed the hungry. He admired a heart so open that she'd feed anyone who walked through her door. Betty reminded him of the church people who'd housed and fed Caleb and him in Plainview.

Caleb and he had escaped an abusive home situation. After his father died, his mother turned into a helpless woman who went from boyfriend to boyfriend. The situation went from bad to worse until Caleb was finally declared an emancipated minor and moved out, taking Sawyer with him. The brothers moved to a little town in the Texas Panhandle, where the congregation adopted them.

Tate may have complained that the women in his life were suffocating him, but the teen didn't know how good he had it.

* * *

Monday morning Sawyer and Erin went over the bids that needed to be let.

The door to the boardroom opened and Mel stood there, looking like an angry bear.

“What's going on here?” He glared at Erin.

She opened her mouth to respond, but Sawyer replied, “We're working on plans for the rodeo. Would you like to join us in our session?”

Mel's jaw flexed. “No. That's why you were hired, but what is she doing here?”

“Didn't you read the email that Sawyer sent out last night?” Erin asked. “He invited any of the board members to the meeting this morning to get their input.”

“Erin was the only one to show up this morning. I needed someone familiar with the area and people. She's helped with the logistics.”

Mel didn't reply but turned to leave.

“Mel,” Sawyer called out, “I wanted to see the final figures for the last year, to help improve the bidding, but I haven't found those records. Didn't Lisa contact you?”

Mel's back stiffened. “There are books here with the budgets in them.”

“But the final ones are nowhere to be found,” Sawyer replied. “The backup ones on the flash drives are missing, too, so I wondered if you have another copy somewhere.”

“I do. At home, but Erin's father should have copies of them, too, for the last few years since he was on the board.”

“We looked for those figures yesterday,” Erin informed him, “but only found working numbers. After I went through the notebook a second time, I found a note Dad scribbled inside that you'd provide the final numbers after the rodeo.”

Mel's jaw flexed. “I'll bring the notebook by tomorrow before I drive to Las Vegas to meet with some of the board members out of Harding County. Is there anything else you need?”

“Las Vegas?” Sawyer asked, puzzled.

“Our Vegas, in San Miguel County,” Erin supplied. “Our city is older than the Vegas in Nevada and dates back to 1835.”

“Maybe the board should've gone with the person who knew this area,” Mel grumbled. He eyed Erin.

Sawyer straightened his shoulders. Mel's words hit Sawyer wrong. Giving one's word meant the world to him. His mother's word changed with the wind or her feelings, and nothing that she promised or said could be counted on. “Feel free to revisit the decision to hire me, Mel. Let me know later today of your verdict. But realize you'll need a cause for the dismissal.”