Page 49 of Then You Happened
“I’ve dabbled in breeding here and there. Lots of time as a ranch hand. Some as a stable manager.” I offer a tight smile. “But mostly acquisitions.”
I neglect to tell her I’m also part heir to one of the largest cattle ranches in the States. Sure, breeding cattle is different than horses, but that might draw attention to me I don’t want.
“Where you from?”
“Here. There. A bit of everywhere.”
“True cowboy, then.” She laughs.
“Through and through.”
I turn my attention to a group singing happy birthday in the far corner. I know she’s waiting to see if I’ll buy her a drink. I know because I’ve watched her work the room over the past two weeks, only recently setting her sights on me.
Snippets of conversation float my way when the singing and clapping are over.
“The Donaldson’s struck oil. Now, how about that? Who knows what’s beneath that land of ours.”
“Did you see Gaylord sold that heifer for a grand? A grand? It was worth a whole shit-ton more than that. He must be hurting.”
“Jesus, this server is slow. Can’t a man drown his sorry ass in a beer without begging?”
None of them hold my interest any more than Violet does.
“If you’re planning on staying, then you’ll get used to all of us.” Her laugh is seductive and throaty and would do things to most men . . . but I’m not most men.
“I’m sure I will.” Disinterest definitely doesn’t deter her.
“Don’t worry, Sugar. If you’re like everyone else who’s worked up there, you’ll be down here nightly so you can manage to stay there as long as possible. Hell, why be alone with her when you could be down here getting warm with us?”
“Who said I was looking to get warm?”
Violet pushes my beer toward me and taps the neck of her empty bottle against it. Her eyes never move from mine. “Every man likes warmth.”
“You ever meet Knox?” Might as well ask.
“Him or her.”
“Both.”
“Him. Fletcher could charm the panties off every woman and have every man inviting him over to their table for a drink.” Her smile tells me she has memories I probably don’t want to hear about. In addition to everything else he did, it wouldn’t surprise me if he cheated on Tate too.
“He was a charmer then?”
She nods, and my opinion of her, of this town, diminishes a bit more. Where they see charmer, I see snake-oil salesman. “Never really interacted with her. She ran the finances while he worked the horses. From what I heard, she never paid accounts. She never cared how it affected the families who owned the businesses. Typical snob who comes from money—always worrying about herself and not the little people like us.”
“Hmmm.” It’s all I say as I lift a finger to the bartender, silently asking him to bring us fresh drinks. It’s the least I can do.
“The husband even got in a fight with Jed at the feed store over it before he died. Huge shouting match out in the street. The owner was asking for payment because he was getting hit with fees or something. I don’t remember the words, but Fletcher said he was going to make her pay it and offered a certain percentage of interest for the trouble.”
I trace the image on the beer bottle and try to figure why, in a town like this, men would take to another man like Fletcher, who seemingly allowed his wife to lead him around by the balls.
That doesn’t sit well with me.
Either that, or Tate has duped me.
“And you know us women, we don’t take too kindly to other women who treat good men like cattle—brand them, cut their balls off, and treat them like a piece of meat. You know, like it seemed Tate did to poor Fletcher,” she explains, her voice never changing from its seductive drone.
My laugh is loud on purpose just so everyone looks my way. “Seems to me like you’ve got an active imagination.”
