The Maverick Meets His Match (2 page)

If he was trying to intimidate her, it wouldn’t work.

“Here’s the thing, Mandy. I want the information from you. And I want you to go through it with me, number by number.” His tone was matter of fact, even if those tantalizing lips of his had flatlined.

“I need to understand the business if I’m going to lead it. And you’re the best one to show me.”

She could feel the blood pulsing at her temple, which meant she was on her way to an epic headache. Breathing deep, she cocked her head to get a better bead on his arrogance. “Here’s the thing, Ty. After today, I expect the family to own the required shares to vote you out of your role.” She prayed she was right. “And you won’t need to understand anything about the business.”

Leather creaked as Ty folded his long, lean, undoubtedly buff body into the padded chair while his dark eyes scrutinized her, as if her words puzzled him. She thought she’d been pretty darn straightforward.

Six tension-filled beats of her heart passed before he finally spoke.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see about that.”

At that moment JM’s nephew and Prescott’s livestock foreman, Harold Prescott, sauntered in, escorting her mother back from the ladies’ room. Weathered and graying, Harold was all cowboy, long and wiry with a conversational repertoire of a bronzed cowboy statue. Not that it mattered, since Harold dealt primarily with the animals and was as loyal as they came.

Mandy took a calming breath as greetings were exchanged and the two sat down, her mother next to her, and Harold on the other side of her mother. Taking pains not to spare Ty another glance, she looked past him to the doorway in search of her younger brother. Tuck was never one to worry about what time a clock chimed, so she was relieved to see him enter with Brian.

Except for the blond hair, Tucker Prescott was the spitting image of their late father, with his blue eyes and high-school-quarterback looks, though genes were all the two men shared. While her father had been deep into the business before his death ten years ago, Tuck preferred to ride in rodeos rather than stock them, adding to JM’s dismay. Tuck maintained he didn’t want to end up like their father, working too hard and never enjoying life. Instead, Mandy had taken up the mantle. Or tried to.

After giving both women a peck on the cheek and greeting Ty and Harold with a handshake, Tuck sank his long-limbed body into the chair next to Ty and across from his mother. Brian too went out of his way to shake everyone’s hand before settling into the head seat.

Mandy struggled with the unsettling prospect that Ty Martin might still be leading her family’s business after the reading of the will. Her leg jiggled seemingly of its own volition.

Had it come to this? Had JM held such little faith in her abilities?

It was hard to keep the doubts at bay when her mind replayed snippet after snippet of failures. And her grandfather’s corrections. Like the time she’d underbid a rodeo and her grandfather had docked her salary the five-thousand-dollar difference to make up for it. The time she’d brought too few rough stock to an event and her grandfather had to call in favors from other rodeo suppliers. The time she’d understaffed a rodeo and her grandfather had to hire temporary chute help from among the contestants. But she’d learned from those mistakes. She hadn’t repeated them.

What of your successes, Amanda Prescott?
Those should count too, she reminded herself. How about wooing the largest rodeo within the Montana circuit and raising two National Rodeo Finals broncs, one of which achieved ProRodeo Riders Association horse of the year? What about hiring away one of the top pick-up cowboys in the business, increasing attendance by promoting the matchups between cowboy and the particular livestock, and bringing every rodeo in on budget for the last two years?

She shifted in her seat. Maybe Ty had been left some small remembrance, and she was fretting for no reason. Anything was possible.

“Now that everyone is here, we can get started.” There was an uncharacteristic officiousness in Brian’s voice as he shuffled through sheets of paper. Distinguished, late fifties, impeccably groomed, Brian had been the family lawyer for the past ten years. He read off the standard opening paragraphs of the will, which stated this will superseded all other wills and that her grandfather had been of sound mind. Mandy half listened. The other half of her mind was working through the odds of her taking over Prescott Rodeo Company given Ty’s presence. So far she hadn’t been able to get above fifty-fifty.

“I’ve a copy of the will for all of you, so I’ll just provide a summary of the pertinent facts. First off, your grandfather made a number of bequests.”

Brian proceeded to rattle off the cowhands who had been with Prescott Rodeo Company from the early days and the generous sums attached to each of their names. He ended with Mrs. Jenkins, JM’s housekeeper, who had come to work for him after Mandy’s grandmother had passed a few years ago.

It wasn’t clear where Mrs. Jenkins would end up now. It would depend on who would get her grandfather’s ranch house, Mandy supposed. Her bet was on Tucker.

“The real meat and potatoes of J. M. Prescott’s will has to do with Prescott Rodeo Company, and everyone at the table today is concerned by virtue of the contents of that document,” Brian explained.

As if synchronized, all of them turned their attention to Ty, including Mandy. Ty’s smile was closed lipped, his dark eyes never flinching under the scrutiny.

Beneath the table, she felt her mother’s cool, soft hand close over hers. A squeeze followed. It was her mother’s way of telling her to stay calm. Mandy squeezed back. Her mother didn’t remove her hand.

“As a privately held company, your grandfather had more flexibility to do as he saw fit than if it was a publicly held company. And JM took advantage of that fact, as you will soon learn.” Brian raised his gaze from the sheaf of papers he held. “I feel obligated to tell you all that I do not countenance everything he did in this document, but I don’t think any of you can question whether he was in his right mind a month ago when he drew up this new will. I’ll also caution that I am a fairly good lawyer, so I don’t expect there will be grounds to break his will.”

Sheila squeezed Mandy’s hand harder. This was going to be worse than she ever imagined. She couldn’t bear to look at Ty. If the man had duped her grandfather, she might not be able to do anything about it.

“Mandy, you and Ty Martin have been named as trustees of the scholarship fund named in your father’s honor for a worthy student from the local community college who wishes to go on for a four-year degree. I believe, Ty, you were the first recipient of that scholarship.”

Ty nodded.

Maybe that was why Ty was here. Nothing to do with PRC directly. Of course, that would make sense. Mandy began to relax. She was worrying about nothing. She might have to see Ty more than usual, but that wouldn’t be as horrible as him running her company.

She met Ty the summer following her father’s death, her life having been upended by that catastrophic event. In what would become a tradition, her grandfather offered the recipient of the scholarship a summer job helping out. She remembered stumbling upon Ty in the barn, his shirt off, as he cleaned the stalls. It had been hot, and the flies were biting as her seventeen-year-old self had sauntered in to fetch a bridle out of the tack room. She’d wanted to take a dip and planned to ride out to the creek that ran through the western side of the ranch.

She’d been stopped in her tracks by flexing muscle and slick flesh. With dark, cropped hair, angular features, and a lean, lanky body, it had been crush at first sight. And he’d barely noticed her as he cleaned out the barn stalls. As she’d scooted into the tack room to catch her breath, she’d vowed to make him notice her—and soon. Little did she realize what a mistake she was making.

“In addition, Sheila, JM left the Prescott ranch land and ranch herds in your trust for Mandy and Tucker, who hold equal shares of the ranch enterprise, which, as you know, is a separate entity from Prescott Rodeo Company. He made provisions for Prescott Rodeo Company to continue to lease from the trust the portion of land it uses for its enterprise at reasonable fees. The will grants half of those rent monies to you as income for as long as you live and the ranch stays in Prescott hands. There are provisions, should the company change hands, for you to continue to receive a stipend from the proceeds of that sale equivalent to the projected rental stream, as if the company continued to lease the land from the trust.”

“JM was always generous,” Sheila said as she dabbed a hankie to her glistening eyes.

During his lifetime, JM had provided for her mother, given she was his only child’s widow and the mother of his grandchildren, but now her mother would have her own income, making her an independent and well-to-do woman. As to the company changing hands, that would never happen as long as Mandy had breath left in her.

Brian laid aside the sheet of paper he’d been reading and turned his attention to the next page.

“Harold, you are bequeathed shares equal to nine percent of Prescott Rodeo Company and, at a minimum, your current salary for the rest of your life, whether you work or not, to be paid out of company funds.”

“I know. JM told me. And of course I’ll be working as long as the young’uns need me to.” He spared a smile with a nod in Sheila’s direction as if the two had already spoken about it.

“Of course we need you, Harold,” Mandy piped up. People were the fabric of the company and, regardless of who was running it, Mandy would let nothing destroy that fabric.

“Tucker, you inherit a twenty percent stake in the rodeo business. JM wants me to note that it could have been more if you’d been willing to help run the company.”

“So he told me,” Tucker said with good-natured resignation. “I’m okay with the way things are.”

Brian raised his gaze and stared at Mandy a moment too long for good news. Her heart sputtered in her chest like an engine choke that couldn’t take hold. JM, it seemed, had spoken to everyone but her about the contents of the new will.

“I guess I should mention that before JM made this will, he also completed a transaction with Mr. Martin here. Ty currently owns twenty percent of Prescott Rodeo Company, bought and paid for under terms advantageous to Prescott, I might add.”

Mandy couldn’t stifle the gasp that left her lips, even as her mother’s hand tightened its hold. It was just as she’d suspected. Ty had wormed his way into her family’s business for reasons that eluded her. Tension pressed in on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, look in his direction. But she could see his hands, half-fisted, on the table. Large hands. Masculine hands barely weathered by the outdoors but no doubt used to doing dirty work.

“I imagine you all must be wondering what has happened to the other fifty-one percent.” Brian stated the obvious. “Mandy, you will receive twenty percent of the company outright, bringing you equal to Tucker and Ty. But because Mandy is willing to take over the business one day…”

Mandy clenched her teeth and braced for bad news. Brian had used a future tense in talking about her taking over.

“The remaining thirty-one percent will also go to Mandy, from which she will receive the dividend stream…”

Mandy let out a breath of air in relief. She would have controlling interest. And the authority to hire—and fire.

“And Ty Martin will hold the voting rights to those shares.”

And just like that, her empty stomach turned over. She swung her gaze to Ty, whose face was grimmer than she expected for someone who had just been handed the keys to the company. If looks could kill, she meant hers to strike him dead.

“What do you mean, the voting rights are held by Ty?” her mother asked.

“Just what I said, Sheila. JM had this block of stocks issued as a separate class, so Mandy will get the dividend stream, but the voting rights fall to Ty for a period of time.”

Ty leaned forward, his Stetson dipping lower on his brow, shadowing his eyes. Definitely an outlaw. “Mandy, it’s only for a limited time.”

“What do you mean, a limited time? How long?” she snapped as she grappled with the emotions whipping through her. Anger at Ty, frustration with Brian, and betrayal by her grandfather, the man she loved and admired and had tried so hard to please.

Brian looked at the assembly. “May I have a moment with Ty and Mandy alone? The major portions of the will have been read. What I have to say really just concerns them. You can get copies of the will from my secretary.”

Harold and Tuck stood up in unison. Apparently neither wanted to be in the room when the bullets started flying. Mandy held on to her mother’s hand even as Sheila rose.

“I’ll be right outside, dear,” her mother whispered. “Hear what Brian has to say.” Mandy felt the warmth of a quick peck on her cheek as Sheila drew her hand away.

Mandy waited for the door to close, her leg jiggling beneath the table. At the click of the latch, she let loose.

“You low-life lizard.” She grounded out the words through a jaw held so tight it ached. “You clawed your way into my grandfather’s good graces so you could steal the company from his family. And in his ailing health, he handed you voting rights to fifty-one percent of the company.”

Her worst fear had come true.

Ty leaned back in his seat, drilling her with his hard, stoic gaze. If he thought he could shut her down with a stare, he was about to find out how mistaken he could be. She’d have her say. By God she would have her say.

“JM made those terms so I can make decisions unimpeded over the next year. And I only bought into the business because he needed capital to acquire more bulls in hopes of getting a supply contract with the American Federation of Bull Riders—an opportunity that could help future prospects of the firm.”

Mandy was well aware of her grandfather’s plan regarding the AFBR, since
she
had suggested it as a way to improve their bottom line. But she had no inkling he had sold shares in the company to raise capital to buy those five young bulls in their corral—and to Ty Martin, of all people.