Rodeo Baby

* * *

ONCE THE LUNCH crowd finally left and she knew she had a couple of hours before launching dinner service, Violet packaged up a container of rice pudding for her friend Rachel and Rachel’s daughter, Tori. They both loved it. She added a jar of parsnip soup for Travis.

At the last minute, she remembered the coconut-cream pie Rachel had bargained for.

Why was the new man in town pretending to be a cowboy? Did he think people in Rodeo were so stupid they wouldn’t notice? Who was he? Why was he here?

Since he’d left her diner, questions hadn’t stopped swirling through Vy’s brain.

Rodeo had taken her in with open arms fourteen years ago as a grieving sixteen-year-old and she’d spent her years here giving back ever since.

This close to resurrecting the fair and rodeo that would bring much-needed tourism dollars to the town, they couldn’t take a chance on anything going wrong.

What could that project possibly have to do with the new stranger in town, Vy?

She had no idea.

She phoned Rachel. “Is he there yet?”

“Not yet, Vy.”

“Why not, I wonder? Why didn’t he go straight to the ranch? If he isn’t there, where is he?”

“Why are you so worried about him?”

Vy bit her bottom lip. “Maybe I’m seeing shadows where there aren’t any, but what if he tries to screw up the fair and rodeo somehow?”

“Vy, that’s a huge leap. Why would this guy have anything to do with our fair?”

“He has money. I’m sure of it. Maybe he wants to steal our ideas and put on his own show.”

“That’s crazy talk. You’re overreacting. What’s gotten into you? You usually have more common sense than this.”

“I just... God, Rachel, I don’t know.” She sighed, battered by intuition not based in fact and clueless about her worry. She tried to shrug it off. Strangers came through all the time, for Pete’s sake. “I’m coming over for a visit, anyway. I’ve got food.”

Rachel laughed. “Yum. Good. I’m exhausted. Beth was up nursing every two hours last night. Must be a growth spurt.”

“Plenty of tasty calories on the way to replace what that little cutie is using up.”

Vy loaded the food into her car and drove out of town.

She slowed down when she realized the SUV she followed on the small rural highway possibly belonged to the stranger. Okay, so she hadn’t been above watching him leave the diner to check out his vehicle. Good thing. She didn’t want to walk in at the same time.

She pulled onto the shoulder to sit and allow Sam and his daughter to get inside the house.

Travis Read had bought the Victorian on the two-lane highway when he’d moved to town back in October or November.

In the past, he’d been determined to remain single and not be tied down. But he’d quickly fallen for Rodeo’s own effervescent, lovely Rachel—even though she’d already had a three-year-old and had been more than seven months pregnant with her second.

In the end, he’d taken on a ready-made family, a house and a new ranch.

Vy glanced across the road toward the ratty trailer from which he’d rescued Rachel. Dark and lonesome against the cloudy sky, it stood like a festering wound.

Trailers left Vy feeling antsy and slightly nauseated. She hated them. Hated what they represented to her.

Despite her envy, she was damned glad Rachel and her children had a real home now.

Vy didn’t need a husband and children. Men were a complication she avoided outside the odd booty call with one of the town’s more reliable, discreet single guys.

What else could she possibly need from a man?

She loved her independence. Enough said.

* * *

SAM STEPPED OUT of the car in front of the big old Victorian and wondered why the owner of the diner ever thought to call this a ranch.

All along the highway, he’d passed low-slung ranch houses better suited to the prairie. But he could probably take the house and plunk it down into an old Boston neighbor­hood. He fully expected to find a parlor inside outfitted with velvet sofas and crocheted doilies.

After knocking on the oak door, he waited, his stomach dancing with nerves. How did he possibly think he could handle this?

He could handle it. Look how well he’d done with the Harper acquisition. He’d made millions on that. Or how he’d managed to fight off the hostile takeover by Steig Industries.

He could do just about anything. As long as they didn’t have him shoveling manure, he should be fine.

Well, duh. Of course, cowboys shovel manure. Chelsea’s imagined sarcasm sounded in his head.

She sat in the car, elbow deep in a self-indulgent pout.

The door opened before Sam raised his hand to knock again.

A tall, fair-haired man stood in the dim hallway, denim shirt and pants outlining a work-hardened body. A chiseled jaw and enough fine lines at the corners of his blue eyes to add character prevented a slide into movie-star territory.

“I’m Travis Read.” He stuck out his hand. “You must be Sam. Rachel told me you were coming. Expected you sooner.”

“I drove around a bit. I’ve never been in Montana before. It’s beautiful.” Not a complete lie. He and Chelsea had seen a bit of the country on their way to the nursing home and here.

“Come on in.” Travis peered beyond Sam and asked, “Is that your daughter in the car? Doesn’t she want to come inside?”

“She’s...she’s not completely happy we’re here.” He left it at that.

A tiny girl, only three or so, popped up beside Travis. “You gots a little girl? I go get her.”

“She’s not little,” Sam began, but the girl shot off the veranda and tried to open the car door.

Sam reached her and opened the passenger door. Maybe this cute child would succeed where Sam hadn’t. Her dimples could charm even a hardened criminal.

“Hi,” she said to Chelsea, leaning into the car. “My name’s Victoria. Mommy calls me Tori. What’s your name?” Without waiting for a reply, she forged on. “I gots pink cowboy boots. Look! Do you gots cowboy boots? Why don’t you come out? We can play.”