What was the matter with him? "I was just trying to make conversation!"
"Were you?"
"Well, yes. What did you think?"
"I think it's been years since we've had a conversation," he said quietly, and turned onto the highway.
Autumn wished she hadn't accepted his offer of a ride. "We talk all the time."
"Trading insults isn't talk."
"If it bothered you, you should have said something."
"And given you more ammunition? Nah."
If this was conversation, Autumn didn't like it. Clay wasn't smiling and he wasn't laughing. He wasn't saying much of anything.
The atmosphere was cold inside the pickup's cab. And quiet except for the hum of the engine. Autumn thought about turning on the radio, but something held her back.
"Mom's thinking about painting the kitchen." That wasn't much of a conversational topic, either, but it was better than the awful silence.
"Keeping it yellow, or changing colors?"
"She's talking about painting everything, including the cabinets, white. She says white looks stylish." Like Clay would care about such a thing.
And apparently he didn't because he said nothing more.
Autumn tried again. "Mom says your heifers have started calving already."
"The last couple of springs have been so hot we moved the breeding up a cycle. We'll beat out the northern beef and get a better price for our yearlings. Should more than make up for the increased winter feed costs."
Autumn had heard all the arguments about the timing of calving. Clay would know this, but it was a safe subject and more interesting to him than the color of Autumn's kitchen.
But...was ranching all that interested him? Wasn't there anything else they could talk about? There was more than half an hour left of the drive into San Antonio.
"We didn't have to cull this year," he said.
Meaning all the cows he bred would calve. "That's great." Raising cattle was always a precarious business at best. Cows that ate feed and didn't produce calves cost money. Too many, and the ranch would lose money.
Again, this was a fact Autumn had grown up with. Nothing earth-shattering.
"Do you ever think about doing something besides ranching?" she asked impulsively.
He shouldn't have given her a ride. Forty-five minutes each way alone with Autumn was going to drive him nuts.
She'd curled her hair. He liked it when she curled her hair, but then it looked pretty when it was straight or pulled back in a ponytail or hanging from beneath her hat. She didn't curl her hair often, which meant she was probably expecting to see Morgan Dooley tonight.
All the ranchers in the area knew of Morgan, if they didn't know him personally, and he handled a fair number of investment portfolios for them, assuming they had cash to invest.
Morgan wasn't the sort of man he'd expect to sign up with the Yellow Rose, but Clay hadn't considered himself that sort, either. By all accounts, Morgan was a decent guy, for somebody who'd left the ranching business.
He was a city man who probably drove a fancy car and had plenty of money that didn't have to be spent on equipment repair, supplies or replacement stock. If that was the type of man Autumn wanted, then Clay couldn't compete.
He didn't want to compete. And how could he anyway? His life was on the ranch. Autumn either wanted that kind of life for herself, or she didn't. And now she'd asked him if he'd ever considered doing something else. The short answer was "No."
The long answer was "I love the life. I like being close to nature. I like the quiet, I like working with the animals and I like being my own boss."
"So you never felt trapped because your family expected you to stay on the ranch?"
What kind of question was that? "I felt lucky. I believe that caring for the land, the livestock, the hands, and providing beef to help feed people is, well, it's like a sacred trust. It's my responsibility to preserve the integrity of the land for as long as it's on loan to me, and to turn it over to the next generation better than when I got it." He glanced over to see her reaction. "I'd always thought you felt the same way."
A sacred trust. That's what he considered her. Something that was part of the life he accepted without question. She was no more than...than one of his livestock.
That also explained his mood. He was angry with her for not falling in with the grand scheme like a good little sacred trust should. Now he had to go to all the trouble of finding someone else to bring into the sacred trust.
She'd thought he'd felt the same way she did— and by his question, he was telling her he'd thought she'd agreed with him. What a mess.
Autumn drew a deep breath. "I do like ranching, but I can't stand the thought that my whole life has been planned for me. I might want to do something else."
"Like law?"
She'd originally chosen it just to get away from home, but she found she missed it. "Yes," she said, and felt something click into place. "Yes," she said again.
"So you're definitely going back to school this summer."
''I hate to leave Mom, but I would eventually anyway."
Of course, if she married Clay, she wouldn't go very far, but neither of them mentioned that.
They talked more easily after that, and when they arrived at the Hilton, Autumn had actually coaxed a smile from Clay.
The meeting was more like a festive celebration as each group reported their total program sales and donations.
"Autumn!" One of her Hogs and Kisses group members waved to her excitedly. "I got the Branigan's Bakery chain to make a donation. Look at their ad. 'When you make pigs-in-a-blanket, use Branigan's Bread.' Isn't that cute?"
"Our new total is even cuter." Autumn's heart started beating faster. "We might have a chance at winning."
She was still staring at the paper and trying to remember if Clay had told her how much the advertising-layout donation was worth to his group, when Jackie Dutton approached her.
"Hi, Autumn...could I speak to you a minute?"
Autumn excused herself and followed Jackie over to the edge of the room near the coffeepots.
"Now you know how I hate gossip," Jackie began.
Autumn managed to nod seriously. Gossip was Jackie's middle name.
"There's a rumor going around that..." She laughed uncomfortably. "And my mother spoke to your mother...well, Autumn, I've known you and Clay forever, so I wouldn't want to be accused of... Autumn, you're not helping!"
"What are you talking about?"
Jackie hesitated, then spoke very fast. "Did you and Clay break up?" She held her breath.
Autumn's first impulse was to deny that there had ever been anything to break up, but what did it matter now? "Yes," she said firmly. "It's over. Completely. Forever."
Jackie looked stunned.
"You weren't at the barbecue, were you?" Autumn guessed.
Jackie shook her head, her gaze searching the room, probably for Clay. "So he's...free and clear?"
Autumn followed her gaze and saw three women talking to Clay. She couldn't ever remember seeing women cluster around Clay. She squinted. He looked the same as usual. His usual wasn't bad, but she'd never tell him that.
"Well?" Jackie asked, and fluffed her hair.
"Yeah, he's free, but you'd better hur..."
Jackie was already making a beeline for Clay.
Autumn went back to her group and sat at the table, more than a little miffed that men hadn't made a beeline for her. She tossed her head. Good thing she still had one more name from the Yellow Rose.
Jackie insinuated herself into the growing number of women surrounding Clay. He said something and she laughed, throwing back her head and touching him on the arm.
Clay didn't appear to mind.
Jaw tight, Autumn forced herself to quit looking, or people would think she was brooding over him.
Getting out her calculator, she went over the donations and advertising requests turned in by her
group and busied herself verifying names and addresses and checking other paperwork. In the meantime, her committee members deserted her as soon as the fajita buffet opened.
"May I buy you a drink?" a male voice asked.
Well, it was about time! Smiling, Autumn looked up, words of acceptance on her lips.
Morgan Dooley stood there.
"Oh...hi," she managed, thinking guiltily of the Yellow Rose evaluation form she'd filled out but hadn't sent in yet. "A diet cola would be great."
What was he doing here? Autumn wondered, watching as he went to the cash bar. She glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention to her. People were either in line for food or eating at the tables. Jackie Dutton had superglued herself to Clay and his committee.
If she fluff's her hair once more, I'm going to yank it out by its dark roots.
Autumn blinked. Where had that come from? And why?
If Jackie wanted Clay, then fine. Wonderful. She'd dance at their wedding.
Morgan returned with two drinks and sat at the table.
"I didn't realize you were on one of the committees," Autumn said.
"I'm not—officially anyway." He grinned and sipped his drink.
Then why are you here"? Autumn wanted to ask but was afraid she knew the answer. He was here to see her.
She slanted a glance toward Clay, who was still surrounded by his harem.
Later, Autumn told herself that if Clay had been alone, she never would have encouraged Morgan. But he was there, he was attractive, and he was paying attention to her. He charmed the Hogs and Kisses committee women and, well, Autumn was weak. After all, he hadn't actually lied about her barbecue sauce—he'd just tried to spare her feelings.
The first guilty pangs of conscience had already set in when the totals of the top five committees were announced.
Fred Chapman took the microphone. "In fifth place, Roll out the Barrow!"
There was applause and excited whispers. The Roll out the Barrow total was less than Autumn's group, so she knew she'd place fourth or better.
"...Swine and Roses!" Then, "...When Pigs Fly! And in second place, Hogs and Kisses!"
Autumn's group screamed. They hadn't overtaken Clay, but they'd done pretty darn good for their first time.
"And the winner, with a total of—"
"Just a minute!" Morgan stood. "I've enjoyed the company of these ladies so much, I'm going to make a donation right here and now. They're winners with me, and I'd like to make them winners in fact."
Autumn's mouth fell open.
"Morgan, we appreciate your generosity, but it's going to have to be..." Fred consulted his notes. "More than $2,672.34 to make a lick of difference."
"Hang on." Morgan reached for his checkbook. Walking toward the podium, he scribbled out a check, ripped it off and handed it to Fred.
"Shoot, Morgan. You sure know how to put your money where your mouth is." He held up the check. ' 'Ladies and gentlemen, I have here a check for five thousand dollars!"
The Hogs and Kisses committee, with the exception of Autumn, screamed and jumped up from their chairs.
Fred shouted into the microphone, "Wait a minute... Clay, do you and High on the Hog want to pass the hat and come up with, what, about twenty-five hundred dollars?"
"Uh, we got twenty-five cents," one of them shouted.
"In that case, second place goes to High on the Hog, and our winner is Hogs and Kisses!"
During the thunderous applause that followed the announcement, Autumn looked at Clay.
He grinned and shook his head, then turned away.
He didn't think she'd asked Morgan to do that, did he?
Autumn tried to make her way over to Clay but was waylaid by her ebullient committee who'd collected their brass pig trophy. Then they had to pose for pictures and accept the congratulations of everyone at the meeting.
All through it, Autumn had a feeling of unease. She hadn't wanted to win that way. And she hadn't liked the expression in Morgan's pale blue eyes when he'd caught her gaze.
At last, people began clearing out. Morgan draped an arm across her shoulders. "You ready to go?"
"Yes." She tried to catch Clay's eye and shrug off Morgan's arm at the same time.
"How about we go somewhere for a drink and celebrate this?" He tapped the pig trophy she was carrying.
Autumn was glad she had an excuse to decline. "Thanks, but I rode here with Clay tonight."
"I'll take you home."
She laughed. "I live about forty-five minutes from here. It's too far out of your way."
"It would be my pleasure." He fingered one of her curls. "It would also be my pleasure if you decided you didn't want to make that long drive tonight."
Autumn stepped back. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, I live about five minutes from here, hot lips."
"Hot lips?
Morgan grinned. "That's what they've been calling you since Saturday."
"I assume you realize that they're only referring to my barbecue sauce." Autumn put as much ice into her voice as she could. "Thank you very much for your donation, but it's time for me to find Clay." She turned away.
"Hey!" Morgan grabbed her arm. "I just laid out five grand for you."
“I was not for sale." Autumn jerked her arm away.
"I know that." Morgan had lowered his voice to a soothing croon such as one might use on a skittish horse. He'd obviously remembered his ranching background.
But Autumn wasn't falling for it. Morgan had thought to buy her affection. She was revolted.
"I only meant that I wanted to spend some time with you. Come on."
"I don't think so."
He laughed. "This is the way you thank your donors?"
"Your donation entitles you to two tickets to the Swine Auction breakfast—more if you want them— and a full-page ad in our program."
He rocked back on his heels. "You gotta be kidding."
"No," she said firmly, and looked around for Clay. She spotted him by the podium. When were those female vultures going to leave him alone?
"Weeell, okay, if you insist. But at least let me drive you home."
"I-"
"Autumn, you about ready to leave?" Clay stood at her side.
Morgan tried to slide his arm around her. He winked at Clay. "I've just about convinced her to let me take her home."
"Morgan—"
"She came with me," Clay said. "And I'm taking her home."
Morgan cleared his throat and discreetly winked toward the group clustered around the podium. "I'm trying to do you a favor here, Barnett."
Clay might want to go out with someone. Autumn hadn't considered that. She looked at him, trying to read his face. He gazed steadily at her, looking calm, solid and dependable. In other words, the same as always.
Until he turned his gaze to Morgan. "If you want to do me a favor, you could go talk to Jackie Dutton. She was making noises about needing a ride."
Morgan chuckled and scratched the back of his head. "Clay, I think you've misunderstood the situation."
"I understand." Clay's smile was friendly. His eyes were not.
Okay, time-out. They were posturing like a couple of roosters.
"Morgan, really, I do appreciate your donation and the offer of the ride." Autumn gave him a smile to counteract Clay's coolness. "But I'll just let Clay take me home tonight."
Morgan reached out, trying to lace her fingers through his. "Autumn, honey—"
"She's my responsibility and she's coming home with me," Clay stated as Autumn pulled her hand away.
Responsibility? Oh, great.
Clay had made his statement without inflection, but his posture and bearing changed, indicating that he was not prepared to back off. He might have been facing down a horse thief.
She lightly touched his arm. "Let's go, Clay. This pig must be solid brass and it's getting heavy."
Morgan tilted his jaw. "I'd like to talk to Autumn without you
r bullying her into going home with you."
"You seem to be confused about exactly what your five thousand dollars entitles you to."
"Clay!"
"Ahhh, I get it." Morgan's smile had a patronizing twist to it. "You resent the fact that I can write a check for five grand and you can't."
Oh, no. "Don't be silly, Morgan. Clay, I'm going to the truck." Autumn started for the door but sensed that no one was following her. She slowed her steps, then finally stopped and turned around.
Clay and Morgan were practically touching noses. Morgan's face was ruddy beneath his tan. The few people who'd lingered after the meeting watched avidly.
Pitchers of iced tea were on the serving tables, and Autumn seriously considered dousing them both.
"Clay," she called from the doorway, then left, hoping he'd have enough sense to follow her.
She reached his truck first, then had to wait beside it because the door was locked and she didn't have the key.
No one else emerged from the hotel.
She hoped Morgan and Clay weren't fighting. Visions of Jackie Dutton tending Clay's wounds came to mind, though it was probably Morgan who'd be wounded.
At last, Clay's tall silhouette emerged, and Autumn exhaled in relief when she couldn't see any obvious signs that he'd been fighting.
Without a word, he unlocked her door, jerked it open, then walked around to the driver's side before she got in. His jaw was tight, and he was obviously angry, so Autumn thought she'd let him cool down before she broached this "responsibility" he felt for her.
She settled the winner's pig in her lap and draped the folds of her denim skirt around it, trying to hide the pig's gleam.
They'd reached the outskirts of San Antonio and the road had narrowed before Clay finally said anything.
"I'm getting tired of rescuing you from these messes you always get yourself into."
He was angry with her! Autumn's mouth literally opened and closed several times as she considered which part of that ridiculous statement she was going to tear apart first. "Messes! I don't get into messes."
He drew a breath and gripped the steering wheel. "I don't know what you said to Dooley—"
"I didn't say anything!"
"That made him think you'd be—how shall I put this?—grateful for his gesture, but he seemed to feel that he had a claim on you."
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