“Happen?” Raney put down her pen and sat back. With the shift of weight, the worn leather gave a soft exhalation that carried a faint scent of the cigars Daddy would smoke at his desk when Mama wasn’t home. “Like what?”
“Like you trying to fire him again.”
“Who told you about that?”
“Glenn. He heard it from Alejandro. I know you were opposed to—”
“No, I didn’t try to fire him again,” Raney cut in. Hadn’t even thought about it.
“Then why is he so intent on leaving? He’s only been here a few days.”
Probably embarrassed to face her after that emotional scene on the porch. Raney was embarrassed, too, but she wasn’t going to hide because of it. “Maybe one of his prison buddies is in town.”
“It’s the Sabbath,” her mother scolded. “At least try to be charitable.”
Raney flipped to another page in the ledger. She had no idea which one. “What’d you tell him?”
“That we’ll set it up. He seemed quite eager to get going.”
Eager, my ass. One little kiss and he cuts and runs as if he expected to feel the barrel of a shotgun jammed into his back. Like that would ever happen. A Whitcomb and an ex-con? Mama would have a conniption.
Besides, it wasn’t that great of a kiss. Pleasant, maybe, but no heart-stopper. Certainly not something a girl would put in her diary. Which Raney wouldn’t have even if she’d ever owned a diary, which she hadn’t, not with three sisters nosing around and an overprotective mother lurking at her shoulder. Still, it was disappointing. She had actually started to like the guy despite all the baggage that came with him.
Her mother cruised the room, then stopped by the desk. “What do you think?”
“About what?”
“Haven’t you been listening? About sending him to Press.”
“Send him, if that’s what you want.” Raney picked up her pen. “I’ll have Alejandro work Rosco.”
“Still . . .” Her mother dragged out the word, a sure sign she had more to say.
Raney didn’t bite.
That didn’t stop Mama. “It does seem odd that he would be so anxious to leave. Especially after the way he kept looking at you at dinner.”
And there it was. The bait had been flung. In silence, Raney watched it drop with a thud, then smiled up at her mother. “I wouldn’t go down that trail if I were you. I suspect he’s gay. Probably something he picked up in prison.”
“Gay? Really?” Mama thought about it and shook her head. “I think you’re wrong about that. He would be staring at Alejandro, rather than you, I’d think.”
“Whatever. You calling Amala, or should I?”
“You do it. I’m going to bed.”
Raney made the call. Press wasn’t there. His stable hand told her he was over in Arkansas, visiting with his married daughter and wouldn’t be back for a week. Raney asked him to have Press call when he got back and left her cell number. Then she went to bed, too. First thing tomorrow she’d give Dalton Cardwell the bad news that he wouldn’t be able to avoid her for at least a week.
* * *
Another restless night and she was wide awake Monday morning in time to see dawn lay a bright orange line along the eastern horizon. Not wanting to show up early and have Dalton Cardwell think she was anxious to see him, she took her time showering and getting dressed. But when she was finished, she realized she’d overdone it, and Cardwell might think she’d fixed up just for him.
She checked the mirror and shook out her hair. She did look hot, even if she said so herself. Certainly better than how he usually saw her, except for last night at dinner. And after. When he kissed her. Unwilling to let all this hotness go to waste, she picked up her cell phone and called Bertie.
“Breakfast or lunch?” she asked when Bertie answered.
“Brunch. Mellie’s Diner.”
“Ten.” Raney hung up, dabbed on a spot of perfume, and headed to the barn.
Dalton Cardwell was gone, left the previous night, Glenn told her.
“He left?” Raney was caught off guard by the strength of her reaction. First, disappointment. She was actually beginning to enjoy their little confrontations. Then on the heels of that realization, came irritation. At him, for being such a coward. And at herself, for getting so upset about it.
“Left for where?” she asked Glenn. “Why?”
“His folks called last night. Needed his help, he said.”
Irritation faded. “Nothing bad, I hope.”
Glenn shook his head. “Their rental truck came through sooner than they expected. Said his folks need him to load it and drive it to their new place in Plainview. Didn’t say when he’d be back.” The foreman scratched his bristly chin. “Probably not long, the way those rental places charge. Maybe Wednesday. Want me to have Alejandro work Rosco? Or do you want to do it?”
“I have to go to town.” She told him Alejandro should work the colt for no more than half an hour, then take Rosco out to check on the cattle in the east pasture. “Do the colt good to get out of the pen for a while.”
Forty minutes later, Raney pulled up to the diner. Bertie was already there, sitting in a booth by the window, scrolling through her phone.
Roberta Barton had been Raney’s best friend ever since their first 4-H meeting in the second grade. Through the years they’d done barrel racing together, flag parades, team roping, and spent the better part of their teenage years hanging around local horse shows and rodeos, dreaming of the day they’d be in the big arena.
Those dreams came to an abrupt end for Bertie in her senior year when her horse stumbled and threw her headfirst into the arena wall. She recovered okay, although she never regained her fearless enthusiasm for riding. Her love of horses remained the same, though, so while Raney stepped into Daddy’s role at the ranch, Bertie went off to Texas A&M to earn a veterinary degree. After graduating, she left Rough Creek to work at a big clinic
