walked the grounds. “Hey there, out doing your rounds?”
The old man smiled. “That’s what you pay me for.”
Carter nodded. “Got time to take a break?”
The old man looked at his watch. “I was just about to.”
Carter parked by the front of the inn and climbed out. He walked with Fargo to the shaded gazebo steps and they sat down. Rocky sniffed all around first, his nose down as he moved along the perimeter, picking up Macy’s scent. When he finally looked up, it was with recrimination.
Carter ignored him and stretched his legs out, his boot heels scraping the cracked stone steps that surrounded the gazebo. “How’s it going?”
Fargo looked out across the field. “Fine. No sign of trouble. Everything’s been kinda peaceful-too peaceful actually, without Macy stirring up trouble.”
Carter swiveled his head and caught the man’s knowing gaze. “Yeah.”
“Haven’t seen you here for a while,” Fargo said. “Not since Macy left.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“I bet you have. Busy ignoring the truth. Maybe even afraid of dealing with it.”
Carter should take offense. The man worked for him, and though his tone wasn’t disrespectful, his words certainly were. “What do you think I’m afraid of?” He gave Fargo a pass due to his age. Carter was curious to hear what he was getting at.
Fargo took his hat off and ran his hand through his shock of graying hair. “I was
“What happened with her?”
Fargo’s self-deprecating laughter touched the very ends of Carter’s soul. “I lost her. Oh…it was a long time ago, but in some ways it was yesterday. I’ve been lonely for her all my life. I’d hate to see that happen to you.”
“Me? That won’t happen to me. I’m never going to let it.”
“You’re too busy, Carter,” he said with a shake of his head. “Ignoring what’s right in front of you. Too busy denying what you’re feeling in here.” He thumped a finger into Carter’s chest right over his heart. “And letting what’s going on in here,” he said, pointing to Carter’s head, “make the wrong choices for you.”
Carter drew a deep breath.
“Don’t let pride stand in your way, son. If you care about Macy-”
“How do I know she feels anything for me?” Carter asked. “And how can I believe her? She’s an actress. As soon as she got the ring back, she left the ranch.”
“Did she get what she really wanted? If you think she was after that diamond ring, you’re thinking with your ass.”
Carter’s eyes snapped to his.
“Pardon me. I’m an old man, and I tell it like it is. That girl was devastated when she left the ranch. I heard it in her voice. I saw it on her face. Maybe the only acting she was doing was when she pretended it didn’t kill her to leave Wild River. I know one thing, it’d be a shame to let your fears and suspicions hold you back from finding out the truth.”
Carter drew a sharp breath. The old man was confusing him, and when he got that way he became cautious. Carter didn’t need someone telling him how he should feel and what he should do. He’d done all right for himself so far, with only a misstep or two in his life. But who could blame him? He’d had a rotten upbringing and was proud of what he’d accomplished under the guidance of his uncle.
Carter changed the subject abruptly and spoke with Fargo for only a few minutes more before taking his leave. He couldn’t let Fargo persuade him into making another blunder. He wasn’t about to go after Macy, hat in hand, only to have her turn a cold shoulder to him and laugh in his face. Though a large part of him said she wouldn’t do that, Carter couldn’t be sure, and he wasn’t good at taking foolish chances.
The next day, he wandered around the ranch with no real sense of purpose. His work was all caught up and his desperate restlessness couldn’t be ebbed. He’d taken off on his favorite mare and rode roughshod over the terrain, pushing his horse hard and coming back exhausted and spent. The day after that, he paid his cousin a visit to shoot the breeze and drink hard liquor until he couldn’t see straight. Brady had driven him home that night.
That next afternoon, Carter sought Bill Fargo out to finish the conversation they’d begun the other day. But Fargo didn’t answer his phone or respond to the text message Carter had sent him. Henry hadn’t seen him today, and neither had Mara.
Carter strode into his bedroom, frustrated. He had to shower and change for a business dinner in Dallas he’d rather not attend. As he slipped his shirt off, he noticed a plush velvet ring box sitting on his dresser. His heart leaped in his chest. It looked like the same box he’d given Macy. There was a note attached.
Carter opened the box first. To his amazement, the legendary Tarlington diamond caught the light and reflected back at him with a twinkle. There was no mistaking the iconic ring with the T-shaped configuration. Its brilliance was matched only by its uniqueness. Mystified, Carter set the ring down and lifted the note.
The words sank in as the questions flew. Carter’s wary nature had him looking at an attached bill of sale that appeared absolutely authentic from Waverly’s. And inside the ring, he squinted to read the loving inscription from Clyde Tarlington
Carter was shaken to the core. His suspicions had vanished. He didn’t need any more proof that this diamond ring was the genuine article. He had the actual Tarlington diamond in his possession, and there was only one person on earth who deserved to wear this ring. There was only one person on earth who deserved everything he had to give.
Carter closed his eyes briefly, acknowledging the potent emotion sweeping through him. He’d denied it, stomped on it and disregarded it for too long. Now, it swelled in his heart and made him feel giddy inside. He didn’t have a clue who the heck Bill Fargo really was, but he knew one thing-he owed him a giant Texas-size thank- you.
Macy stared at the cowboy who stood on the grassy hill, his black felt Stetson shading his eyes and his manly physique accented by tight Wrangler jeans and a red Western shirt. When the director called “Action,” Macy took her cue and rode on horseback over to him.
The cowboy was a pretty boy who was cocksure of himself, strutting around the Hollywood set, getting into character by spitting tobacco and dusting up his shiny new leather boots. The irony of Macy landing this role in the Rugged Cologne commercial was almost laughable, but she needed the work and it paid well.
The cowboy spoke his lines, his Southern drawl too drawn out to sound authentic. In a grand sweep, he lifted her off the horse and stumbled backward attempting to carry her weight. Desperately, he clutched at the material of her calico dress while trying to keep his balance and ruined the take.
It seemed the Rugged cowboy needed some more time in the gym.
Macy couldn’t help making comparisons. Ronny Craft was trying, but he needed a few more years of maturity and a complete personality adjustment to pull off being the real cowboy deal. He’d been hitting on her all day, asking her out on a date, and hadn’t quite gotten the hint no matter how many times she’d told him no.
