Her Rodeo Man

“Good idea.” She supposed a face-to-face meeting was better than a phone call. Harder to say no.

Twenty minutes later they were through with the tour. Approaching the office from the outside entrance rather than the barn, they climbed the three steps to the awning-covered porch. Cassidy still sat at Tatum’s desk. Sunny wasn’t there. Tatum could see her empty office through the open connecting door.

Was she avoiding Ryder? Had Cassidy told her mother about her fight, or whatever it was, with Ryder?

“You’re back.” Cassidy quickly closed the webpage she had open on the computer and stood.

“Stay longer if you aren’t done,” Tatum offered.

“It’s all right. I have to make a run into Globe for supplies.”

“Didn’t Liberty do that yesterday?” Ryder asked.

“She bought lumber. I’m getting vet supplies. Dewormer and penicillin. There’s been three cases of strangles reported this month in the Mesa area. We don’t want to be caught with a low supply if it should move to Reckless.”

“That’s serious.”

Tatum concurred. She’d seen a strangles epidemic before. The highly contagious infection attacked the lymph nodes between a horse’s jaw or in its throat and caused flu-like symptoms lasting weeks, if not months. Should the Becketts’ bucking stock or boarded horses succumb, their entire business would be in jeopardy.

“It is serious,” Cassidy said. “So, if you’ll excuse me.”

“We can order penicillin online, and for a lot cheaper, with a prescription.”

“I’ve already thought of that.” Cassidy lifted her chin. “Doctor Spence is coming tomorrow.”

Ryder softened his voice. “I wasn’t questioning your abilities.”

“See you later.”

“That went well,” he said after Cassidy left.

Tatum ignored him and sat at her desk.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Look.” She leveled her stare at him. “If you weren’t questioning her abilities, you were questioning something.”

“You’re right.” He dropped down into the visitor chair. “I’m sorry to involve you in our squabble.”

“Squabble?” That hardly described their longstanding clash.

“This big reconciliation Liberty and Dad are hoping for may not happen.”

“It definitely won’t happen if you don’t try and get along.”

“We argued about Mom. And,” he admitted, “the way I’ve acted in recent years.”

Big surprise. Not. “How about we institute a new rule? No discussion regarding family at work, unless it relates to work. I’ll tell Cassidy and Sunny. You tell Liberty and Mercer.” She felt as if she was refereeing a fight between her children.

He considered for a moment, then relented with a shrug. “All right.”

“That’s what I like to see. Progress.” She rolled her chair over to the lateral file cabinet by her desk, deciding they should start the office part of Ryder’s orientation with the current bucking stock contracts. She opened the drawer and removed a dozen manila folders. “I probably shouldn’t point this out...”

“But you will.”

“Your resentment toward your mother. It mirrors Cassidy’s toward your father.”

“Are you saying we’ll never find a common ground?”

“I’m saying there’s more common ground than you think.” She slapped the folders on to the desk, the impact making a loud noise. “Let’s start on these.”

* * *

RYDER STOPPED TO refuel his truck on the way into Reckless. Based on the number of things he’d accomplished, it had been a productive day. He’d spent the morning with Tatum, interfering with her work but also gaining an understanding of how the office ran, including an overview of the accounting system and record keeping. He and his father had had lunch at the Flat Iron Restaurant with one of the arena’s oldest clients.

After that, Ryder had headed to the marina at Roosevelt Lake, posters and flyers on the seat beside him. The marina manager, a crusty old guy who could have played an extra in a Pirates of the Caribbean movie, was agreeable to Ryder’s suggestion that they help each other out.

On impulse, he’d driven to the outskirts of Globe and the mining company offices. After being passed from one person to the next, he’d finally been granted a meeting with the personnel manager’s secretary. The middle-aged woman had listened patiently to his pitch—the Easy Money Rodeo Arena would be a great place for employee parties or retreats. She’d agreed to give the material Ryder left with her to her boss and thanked him for his time.

Productive day. No question about it. But nothing a trained monkey couldn’t do. Ryder had been a senior marketing executive in charge of several multimillion-dollar accounts. And here he was, delivering posters and flyers and trolling for business. Something he could have done in high school.

Running errands. Sleeping on the trundle bed in his dad’s spare room. Fighting with his sister. He might as well be in high school again.

“Ryder Beckett,” someone shouted. “Buddy, is that you?”

He glanced up to see a hefty young man approaching, a friendly grin splitting his full face.

“It is you. Son of a gun!”

“Guilty as charged.” Ryder hoped the man’s name would come to him without having to ask. “How are you...?” At the last second, his brain kicked in. “Tank.”

“Dandy as a pig with slop.” They shook hands. “I heard you were back and working for the family.”

He’d said for the family, not with the family. To Ryder, there was a large distinction. Did everyone in town think like Tank, that Ryder had been given a job as opposed to being made a part of the business?

Then again, did he care? He was leaving soon.

Once more, Ryder questioned his motives for returning. He could have chosen somewhere else to lay low. Eventually found temporary employment. But he’d allowed loyalty to his father and Liberty’s heartfelt pleas to sway him.

“What happened to that fancy job you had in Phoenix?” Tank asked. “Your mom was always telling everyone what a big shot you were and how much money you made. This must be a step down.”

Damned if Tank could hit below the belt.

“Dad asked for my help, and here I am. Family comes first.”

“Sure. Course.” Tank may or may not have believed Ryder, but he didn’t dispute him. “Got me a family of my own now. A wife and little boy.”

“Congratulations.”