More Than a Cowboy

Sunny silently skimmed the documents. After a moment, she tapped the papers into a neat rectangle and cleared her throat.

“Can you excuse us for a few minutes? I’d like to talk to Mercer alone.”

“M-Mom,” Cassidy sputtered. She appeared on the verge of a meltdown.

Liberty, on the other hand, couldn’t exit the office fast enough. Deacon had to flatten himself against the file cabinet in order to let her pass. As she did, he noticed her earrings. Gold dangling things that made no sense for a working cowgirl.

Great. Yet another thing to like about her. Liberty flouted conventionality.

“Mercer?” Clearing his throat, he asked, “Would you like me to stay?”

“No need.” His client exuded pleasure. This turn of events must be fitting nicely into his plans.

Deacon waited for Cassidy to precede him out of the office. When a last-ditch silent plea didn’t sway her mother, she stormed off. Mercer closed the office door behind Deacon.

The reception area was empty. He debated sitting and waiting. His gut told him the meeting between the two exes was going to take a while. He decided to check on his horses and then maybe walk the arena grounds. Mercer would call Deacon’s cell phone if he needed something.

There were easily fifty head of horses in the main barn. Many of them nickered and stretched their necks over their stall door to investigate. It wasn’t mealtime but handouts were always a possibility.

Deacon stopped at the stalls housing his horses. Huck, a young bay gelding with, in Deacon’s opinion, potential to be the best cutting horse on the property, greeted him with a lusty snort.

“Hey, boy.” Deacon patted the horse’s long, smooth neck. In the stall beside him, Confetti pawed the ground, demanding her equal share of attention. “Just wait. You’re next.”

The spotted Appaloosa mare was his first choice for team penning. She had a natural instinct when it came to calves and could turn on a dime.

“Deacon!”

At the sound of his name, he pivoted.

Liberty stood not ten feet away. “Can we talk?”

“Sure.” He lowered his hand. “Not about the agreement. That’s confidential—”

“Why are you doing this?”

She didn’t appear inclined for a stroll, so he remained standing there, the horse nudging his arm in a bid for more attention. “I’m an attorney. Your father came to me seeking representation, and I don’t exactly have an abundance of clients.”

Because of her mother’s treatment of him after the accident. The unspoken words hung in the air.

“Are you out for revenge?” she demanded.

“I wouldn’t stoop that low.”

“Then why?”

“This isn’t personal, Liberty.” Only it was.

“You can’t deny your resentment toward my family is going to affect your dealings with my father.”

“I promise you it won’t.” If anything, his attraction to her was more likely to impair his judgment. “Like it or not, this is ultimately between your parents. Neither of us will have much to do with the outcome.”

“What do you think will happen?”

He’d put his money on Mercer. What he said, however, was, “I can’t speculate. But I will tell you this. I don’t believe for one minute your father wants to ruin the arena or your mother’s finances.”

“And you’re really not out to get my family?”

“No.”

That seemed to satisfy her, and she walked away.

Watching her go, Deacon suffered another, more wrenching pang of guilt.

Revenge didn’t motivate him. It was redemption and exoneration. Deacon would prove his innocence in the accident one way or the other, and he wasn’t opposed to using his position as Mercer’s attorney to accomplish it.

He only hoped Liberty and her family didn’t get hurt in the process.

Chapter Three

Liberty pretended not to notice Deacon’s approach. Even if she wasn’t currently teaching a riding class of four-, five-and six-year-olds, she wouldn’t have acknowledged him. Not after the meeting yesterday.

“That’s right, Andrea,” she called out. “Put your weight in your heels and keep your back straight. Pay attention, Benjy. Look ahead and stop making faces at your neighbor.”

She suppressed a groan. Her nephew Benjamin was the self-appointed class clown.

Nephew! Did Mercer know he had a grandson? He must, right? In all the turmoil of the past two days, Liberty hadn’t once stopped to consider her sister’s young son. Okay, she had. But that was before Mercer threatened her mother with a lawsuit.

She’d naively assumed grandfather and grandson would be introduced over time and with plenty of preparation. Or not. The decision was Cassidy’s to make. Liberty had only wanted to meet her father. She hadn’t anticipated all hell breaking loose. And so fast.

Deacon knew about Benjamin, had seen him around the arena. He’d probably discussed Benjamin with Mercer. Could that be why he was approaching the arena, his attention fixated on...what?

Liberty’s gaze shot to her nephew. Too late now. She couldn’t very well send the boy away. That would only bring attention to him. No choice except to continue with the lesson and act normal.

“Morning, Liberty.”

Swell. He was addressing her. She should have moved to the center of the arena where she’d be out of earshot instead of standing along the fence.

She turned her head a mere fraction of an inch. “Deacon.”

He was early to the family meeting. Really early. Like, thirty minutes. He was evidently Mr. Prompt when it came to appointments. She’d gotten that much from the restaurant when they both arrived ahead of schedule. But a whole thirty minutes? And did he have to stand near the bleachers where the students’ moms and one dad were all seated?

“Nice day,” he said nonchalantly, petting one of the ranch dogs that had crawled out from under the bleachers.

“It’s hot,” she retorted, and returned to her class. “Dee Dee, even reins. That’s it.” Breathe, Liberty reminded herself. Relax. “All right now, I want everyone to trot in a circle. Then, on my cue, reverse and go in the other direction. Remember, no kicking your horse. Just a steady pressure with the insides of your calves.”

Horse was a loose description. Two of the students rode ponies and another a small mule. All the mounts were dead broke and reliable as rain during the summer monsoon season—which, judging by the clouds accumulating in the northeast sky, might start any minute.

Liberty liked teaching the younger children much better than the older ones. They were sponges, eager to learn and soak up all the knowledge she could impart. As they grew and gained confidence, they sometimes gave Liberty a hard time. Not that she let them get away with it. Rule number one during any lesson, child or adult: the instructor was in charge.