The Cowboy's Bride

“Sorry.” Joe carefully pulled a chair away from the table. He had obviously stepped over some unknown line. Just needs room, he thought. Some of the more skittish colts he worked with were like that. Didn’t like being rushed.

Miss Stevenson gave her head a shake, as if to rearrange her hair, folded her hands on the table in front of her and gave Joe a polite but cool smile. “You can sit down, Mr. Brewer. Dale will be here shortly.”

Joe nodded absently. He wondered why she had to be here. Maybe Miss Stevenson would be helping him on the finer details of the loan.

The door opened, and Dale stepped into the room, smiling apologetically. “Sorry about that. Just had to clear up a few things over the phone.” He shook Joe’s hand, then sat down. “Glad you could come in on such short notice. I take it you and Miss Stevenson have already met?” Dale looked at Joe, then at Miss Stevenson, his gaze lingering on her.

“Yes, we have,” Joe said wryly, noticing the way Dale couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off Rebecca Stevenson. Not that he blamed the guy. Joe had had the same problem in church on Sunday. But if she was out of his orbit then, her first impression of him put her in another galaxy by now.

“Okay.” Dale dragged his gaze away from Rebecca and pulled his chair close to the table. He smoothed his tie as he laid a file folder on the table.

“I hope you don’t mind if Miss Stevenson sits in on this meeting?” Another coy glance at Rebecca.

“She’s going to be taking over a few files for me, and I thought this would dovetail nicely into your other plans.”

Joe shrugged, feeling like a spectator. A quick glance at Rebecca’s face revealed the same composure she had shown in church, the same expression on her face. A real professional, thought Joe, looking at Dale. She didn’t seem to mind, or if she did, she didn’t show it. “Fine by me,” Joe said.

“We’re also waiting for your brother, Lane. He was supposed to be here, as well.”

Joe wondered what Lane had to do with his loan. But Dale was busy, paging through some papers, and didn’t see his questioning glance. Joe didn’t want to ask Miss Rebecca Stevenson.

Dale found the paper he seemed to be looking for and pulled it out. He smoothed it on the table and looked up, his expression suddenly serious. “What has happened here is that we were unable to secure financing for your newest venture, at least not in the amount you requested. A couple of factors have come into play. One is the lack of collateral and a dearth of up-front money. Secondly, we don’t have enough of a history of that type of business. It’s a risky one, from what we can see…”

Dale went on, and Joe felt a clutch of panic gripping his midsection. “Unable to secure financing,” were the only words that registered in his numb brain. He forced himself to stay in his chair, forced himself to keep the casual smile curving his lips, forced himself to keep listening as his entire world slowly drifted away from him.

Why, Lord? The words fairly shouted through his mind. Why this? Why now? It was the only thing I ever really wanted. For a frightening moment he saw himself at age sixty, slowly getting out of a truck, his stomach protruding over his belt, his back sore from sitting for hours behind the wheel, eating in some dingy truck stop café far from home. He closed his eyes as if to dispel the image and stifled a beat of anger that Dale had chosen to do this in front of a virtual stranger, and an absolutely gorgeous one, at that. It was humiliating. But Dale was still talking. Joe pulled his mind to what Dale was saying.

“But all of that is moot, considering that you and Lane have made other plans.”

Joe’s head snapped up at the mention of his brother’s name. “Other plans?” he asked, wondering what Dale was talking about. This was the second time he had made puzzling references to Lane.

“Yes.” Dale held Joe’s baffled gaze, frowning.

Someone knocked discreetly on the door, and Dale, glancing at his watch, got up. “That must be your brother now,” he said with a smile. He opened the door, and Lane walked in.

Joe’s eyes narrowed as Lane took a seat, ignoring his brother.

“So now that we’re here together, we can discuss your other plans, Joe.” Dale folded his hands on the file, his cheerful smile encompassing both Joe and Lane. “I’m glad you decided to go this route instead, Joe. I don’t need to tell you that your brother’s ranch has been floundering for awhile, and you offering to take over his loan would work out better for all of us in the long run.” Dale’s words finally registered, and Joe looked at him, forcing to keep his roiling emotions out of his voice.

“What did you say?”

“I’m talking about your offer to take over your brother’s ranch.” Dale frowned.

“What offer?” Joe leaned forward as if to catch what Dale was saying. He didn’t understand.

“I thought Lane talked to you about the trouble he was having with his place. I was under the understanding that you offered to take over the ranch, given the fact that you have a share in the place.” Dale raised his eyebrows in a question toward Lane, who shrugged.

“Since when did this come out?” Joe asked, his frustration with his brother reaching critical mass. What could he say without calling his brother a liar in front of witnesses, without making himself look like a fool in front of the calm and collected Miss Stevenson? What had Lane told them to save his own skin?

“Lane approached us yesterday, which, incidentally, was when I got final confirmation on the status of your loan application. He said you were willing to take over the loans.”

“Lane was delusional,” Joe said flatly, glaring at his brother, who continued to stare straight ahead. “I read the letter you sent him and I saw the financial statement. You can forget it.”

Dale looked surprised. “What did you say?”

“If what you said was that you want me to saddle myself with Lane’s debt, then what I said was forget it.” Joe held Dale’s puzzled gaze, ignoring Miss Stevenson and Lane, who was almost squirming in the seat beside him.

“I don’t understand,” Dale said, turning to Lane. “I understood that you and Joe had spoken. That he had offered to buy out the ranch.”

“When I talked to you the other day, I told you I couldn’t pay you the money I owe you, Joe.” Lane still avoided Joe’s eyes. “You said you needed a place to work with your horses. I thought you meant that you were willing to take it over.”

Joe shook his head, trying to recall what he had said that day, wondering how Lane had fabricated this out of the conversation. Trust Lane to put him in this position, he thought angrily. Joe didn’t know what Lane hoped to gain from this, except his freedom at Joe’s expense.

Dale leaned forward as if sensing that Joe was weakening. “You won’t be taking on all of the debt. The bank is willing to renegotiate the terms.”

“Maybe you can explain to me how you won’t give me money to start up my own arena yet you’d be willing to help me take over a debt that would be almost twice the size.” Joe pressed his lips together in an effort to stem the tide of angry words inside him. He took a deep breath and covered up by flashing Dale a cocky smile.

“It wouldn’t be twice the size, Mr. Brewer.” The vision across the table from him made herself known. Her voice was well modulated and quiet, a counterpoint to the anger that Joe held in check.

“Miss Stevenson is right,” Dale interjected with a secretive smile at Rebecca. He looked at Joe. “We would be willing to renegotiate the indebtedness.”

Joe glanced at Rebecca Stevenson’s beautiful perfection and Dale’s impeccable suit, both a stark comparison to his faded jeans and scuffed cowboy boots. Suddenly he felt as if he was in junior high school. The ill-dressed, awkward boy being treated with a certain condescending disdain by the rich kids who never had to wonder if their only good pair of blue jeans would hold up, who always had transportation and never had to suffer the ignominy of hitchhiking.

“My name is Joe.” It was all he could say. He tilted his head and winked at her. He knew this was not how you treated a banker, but being impudent kept him from being angry. “When you call me Mr. Brewer I feel like my dad.”

“I’m sorry. Joe.” She refolded her hands, avoiding his gaze. “I’ve been looking over both your file and your brother’s, and I think what Dale is suggesting is not out of the realm of possibility. It would work well for both the bank and yourself. Lane has told us that from a legal standpoint you are entitled to a portion of the ranch. If we foreclose, then try and sell, your portion would be considerably reduced. Therefore, because of your entitlement, your indebtedness would not be as great as your brother’s.”

Joe looked at her stupidly, then, realizing what she was saying, shook his head. “Sounds like a pretty good deal for the bank. They would end up with the dumb Brewer, the one who pays back his loans, and he would end up working himself to the bone for you guys.” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. To have his loan turned down after all his hopes and dreams was almost a mortal blow, and he was having a hard time being reasonable about it.

“You misunderstand me.” She looked at him again, her voice controlled, her blue eyes holding the same expression as when they first sat down. “What the bank hopes to do,” she explained, “is save themselves the trouble of acquiring real property and then having to dispose of it. There are too many costs associated with that—”

“And it’s lousy PR.” Joe bristled at her tone, still holding her gaze. He tilted another grin at her, but she wasn’t bowled over by his charm.

“There’s that, as well,” she continued, finally looking away, “but the reality is that the bank is unable to finance a risky venture such as your training facility. The risk to the bank would have been reduced were your brother in a position to satisfy the terms of your father’s will. However, we are more than willing to establish a line of credit for you to purchase an established business. You have experience with the operation, and you have some ready cash.”

“It always puzzles me that a person needs money in order to borrow money,” Joe said, unable to keep the curt note out of his voice.

Rebecca paused. “The nature of the beast, I guess,” she replied quietly.

Joe felt churlish. He had snapped and acted like a teenager, but Miss Stevenson had never changed her calm, professional tone.

Of course it wasn’t her life that had suddenly been rearranged. It wasn’t her dreams that had suddenly died.

Joe had spent half his life watching his father pay off endless interest on overdue accounts and struggle with snowballing loan payments.

And now this cool, contained woman was suggesting he put himself in debt for the rest of his working life on a place he had already slaved on as a youth without payment. It puzzled him how someone with such a serene face could be such a prophet of gloom.

“It sounds like a good deal for you, Joe.” Lane finally spoke, then glanced sidelong at Joe. Joe stared back, fighting the urge to throttle his brother.