Samantha’s Cowboy

by Marin Thomas

  “Why can’t you watch him?” No way was Wade missing the meeting with his uncle.

  “A fabulous opportunity came along. Remember my friend Sherri?”

  No.

  “Her husband’s cousin married the daughter of Senator Lewis. Anyway, Sherri invited me to attend a luncheon for the senator’s wife and everybody that’s anybody in Tulsa will be there. I simply can’t miss it.”

  Wade allowed his gaze to wander to Samantha and Luke. His son acted more at ease with Samantha than he did with his own mother. If he told Carmen no, she’d simply hire a sitter and go to the luncheon anyway. “Fine. I’ll keep Luke with me and see that he gets to school Tuesday morning.”

  “Thanks for being such a dear. Give Luke my love. Bye.”

  That was him all right—a dear. Wade wondered how long he’d be able to protect his son from figuring out he wasn’t his mother’s top priority. He headed toward the duo, hoping to convince Samantha to allow Luke to spend the day with her tomorrow.

  Chapter Twelve

  “C’mon, Luke. We’re heading out to buy feed for the horses.” Sam signaled to the construction foreman that she was leaving. The crew had arrived earlier in the morning to finish installing the doors on the horse stalls inside the new steel barn.

  Sam ruffled Luke’s hair as they headed toward her truck. She’d suffered a mini heart attack yesterday when Wade had asked if his son could spend today with her while he worked at Dawson Investments. Sam’s ears had rung and she’d barely heard Wade’s explanation about his wife having a prior commitment and Monday being a summer-school holiday. Backed into a corner, Sam had agreed.

  How could she have said no without giving a reason why? Sam refused to mention her cognitive shortfalls—not when her and Wade’s relationship had moved from professional to friends to friends with bedroom privileges. Besides, she was all about facing her fears now. She could be responsible for a child.

  “Hop in the backseat and buckle up, kiddo.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To Barney’s.” The old man never took advantage of Sam’s forgetfulness and she rewarded his loyalty by purchasing goods at his store, even though his prices were much higher than the bigger chains.

  “Who’s Barney?” Luke asked.

  Did all high-IQ kids ask so many questions? “Barney runs a business that sells feed and supplies to ranches and farms in this area. His grandfather opened the store years ago.”

  “Why are you buying feed when you don’t have any horses?”

  “Remember the nice lady you met at the SPCA yesterday? She needs me to take Blue so she can use his stall for another horse they’re rescuing.”

  “Blue’s coming today?”

  “Yep.”

  “Cool.”

  Sam answered Luke’s questions until she pulled into the parking lot of the feed store. When they entered the building a gruff “Who’s there?” greeted them.

  Luke edged closer to Sam. “He sounds grumpy.”

  “Grumpier ’n a one-eyed cat.” Barney stepped into the open, face twisted in a grimace.

  “Barney, shame on you.” Sam patted Luke’s shoulder. “This is Mr. Barney, Luke. Barney, this is Wade Dawson’s son. He’s my sidekick for the day.”

  “Don’t look like no sidekick I ever seen.”

  Eyes narrowed, Sam studied the boy’s button-down short-sleeved shirt and khaki shorts—a bit wrinkled and dirty after having been worn two days in a row. “You’re right, Barney. Luke needs cowboy duds if he’s going to work with horses.”

  Eyes bright with excitement, Luke asked, “I get to dress like a real cowboy?”

  “I reckon that’s what she’s tellin’ ya, kid.” Barney motioned for the boy to follow him. “C’mon. I’ll show ya the cowboy gear.”

  When they stopped at a table piled high with jeans, Sam removed the list of items she’d written. “I’ll be needing these supplies.”

  “Sure thing.” Barney shuffled into the storeroom.

  Sam eyeballed Luke’s frame, then dug through the children’s jeans, found a pair his size and held them up to his waist. “Those should work.” Next, she moved to the dusty circular rack of children’s western-style shirts. She selected a long-sleeved blue cotton shirt with miniature brown horses galloping across the front. “Now for a pair of boots.”

  “Over there.” Luke raced across the store where boxes of boots lined the wall. “They’re all too big.”

  “Junior boots are at the end.” After perusing sizes, she chose a pair of black Ropers. “Take a seat on the stool.”

  Luke tugged off his sneakers. Sam helped him with the boots—too big. The next—too small. The third…“Good enough.”

  “Can I wear all this stuff right now?”

  “Sure. There’s a dressing room over there.” She pointed to the wooden door a few feet away. Five minutes later the boy wore a huge grin.

  “You look like a cowpoke, Luke,” Sam said.

  He stomped his boot. “You think Blue will know I’m not a real cowboy?”

  “Not if you’re wearing a hat.” She held out her hand and Luke slipped his fingers through hers.

  The hat selection consisted of straw hats—best for hot summer months. “What color do you prefer?”

  Luke tried on black, red and brown. “Black,” he said.

  “Black it is.” She tilted the hat a bit forward on his head. “Perfect.” Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a red bandanna. Any cowpoke worth his salt carried a bandanna—whether to clean his six-shooter with, write a farewell letter to his lover on, or shine his boots with.

  “Tommy done loaded the feed into the back of yer truck,” Barney announced, when he emerged from the store room.

  “Who’s Tommy?” Luke asked.

  “Tommy’s my dumb-headed nephew who ain’t got the brains of a jellyfish.”

  “Jellyfish don’t have brains,” Luke said. “And they’re not really a fish. They don’t have a head, heart, eyes, ears or even bones.”

  “Ya some walkin’, talkin’ encyclopedia, kid?” Barney grumbled.

  “Luke’s a smart young man,” Sam boasted, tearing off the price tags from Luke’s new clothes and setting them on the counter. “Put it all on my tab and—”

  “Yer personal money manager will pay the bill.” Barney patted his pocket. “Got his card here somewhere.”

  “Thanks, Barney.” Sam and Luke left. Not until she parked the truck at the ranch did she breathe a huge sigh of relief that nothing had happened to Luke during their outing. So far, so good.

  Before she and Luke had finished unloading the supplies from the truck bed the SPCA trailer arrived with Blue and a second horse.

  “Nancy didn’t mention anything about taking Whisper today.” Sam accepted the mare’s reins from Ken, a stable hand at the SPCA.

  “Nancy said they rescued a second horse from a ranch north of Tulsa and hoped you’d agree to keep the mare.” Ken returned to the trailer and unloaded Blue. “Nancy said to tell you that Red’s getting dropped off next week.”

  Sam unlatched the paddock gate and she and Ken walked the horse inside.

  “Why do you call her Whisper?” Luke asked Ken.

  “The mare had a throat infection when she arrived at the SPCA and she neighed so softly you could hardly hear. Now that she’s recovered, she makes more noise than a barn full of donkeys.”

  Sam rubbed the mare’s nose, patted Blue’s neck, then left the paddock and locked the gate latch behind her.

  Luke strutted over to the fence and stood on the lower rung. The kid hadn’t stopped preening since the workmen in the barn made a big deal over the boy’s new duds.

  Sam signed the paperwork, then thanked Ken before he drove off.

  “Can I pet Whisper?” Luke asked.

  “I’m not sure—” His disappointed face tugged at Sam’s heart. He’d been such a trooper all day—not a word of complaint, even agreeing to eat a granola bar for lunch because she hadn’t had time to cook any
thing. “Be right back.” Lead rope in hand, she entered the corral and approached Whisper. “It’s okay, girl. I won’t hurt you.” The mare lowered her head and snuffled. Sam rubbed her neck before clipping the rope to the halter. She rewarded Whisper’s cooperation with a sugar cube from her pocket. “Let’s make another friend, shall we?” She led the mare to Luke, who’d climbed to the top rung of the corral.

  “Hold your palm out flat and let her sniff.”

  Luke followed Sam’s instructions, giggling when Whisper’s nose tickled his skin. “Now gently pat the side of her neck.” Sam placed Luke’s hand on the mare’s hide.

  “Hi, Whisper. Miss Sam’s gonna take real good care of you. I promise.”

  Whisper backed up, a signal she’d had enough affection. Sam released the lead rope. “Good girl.” The mare trotted off to the feed bin. “C’mon, Luke. We’ve got work to do in the barn.”

  Once inside the new structure Sam gave the boy several chores to keep him busy while she prepared a stall for Whisper. She whistled as she went to work, her confidence growing by the minute. She had no doubt her sanctuary ranch would flourish and she’d prove to herself and others that Samantha Cartwright was capable of managing her own life.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  “YOU LIED TO ME,” WADE SAID as he waltzed into his uncle’s office.

  “Shut the door. I don’t want anyone overhearing this conversation.”

  Wade obliged, then sat in the chair facing the mahogany desk, which looked like a prop used in a play—standard pencil holder, yellow legal pad, telephone, Rolodex and computer monitor. Nothing personal such as family photos, soda cans or sticky notes cluttered the surface.

  “Samantha Cartwright’s trust fund has been invested in a real estate deal that—” his uncle rubbed his brow “—to put it bluntly failed.”

  Wade attempted to voice a protest, but his uncle sliced a hand through the air, cutting him off. “Unforeseen circumstances led to several investors backing out at the eleventh hour. We hadn’t anticipated any opposition and unfortunately we’d already invested Samantha’s entire savings in the project.”

  “Since when does Dawson Investments deal in real estate?” And why hadn’t Wade been informed of the company’s new venture? Samantha’s account was his to manage, not his uncle’s.

  “You know very well that we don’t invest our clients’ money in real estate. But an extraordinary opportunity arose that I couldn’t pass up.”

  “What you’ve done is unethical. And illegal.”

  “Don’t act so righteous, Wade. If things would have worked out the way they should have the entire company, including your client, would have reaped the rewards.”

  “But it failed and Dawson Investments’ reputation has been compromised.” Wade slammed his fist on his uncle’s desk, startling the old man. “How do you plan to recoup Samantha’s losses?”

  “There is no plan. Her money was used to purchase the island.”

  “What island?”

  “In the United Arab Emirates. You may have heard of the famous Palm Islands—eighth wonder of the world?”

  “Go on.”

  “Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum is determined to keep Dubai’s reputation as one of the best tourist destinations, so he proposed the idea of creating several man-made islands that would support luxury hotels, residential villas and shoreline apartments off the coast of the emirate of Dubai.” His uncle left his chair to stare out the office’s floor-to-ceiling windows. “One of the sheikh’s plans is to build three hundred islands in the shape of the world map. Our firm joined with other investors and purchased one of the few remaining islands for sale.”

  “What went wrong?” Wade forced himself to concentrate, determined to control his emotions so he didn’t miss crucial information that might be used to help recover Samantha’s money.

  “Our partners got nervous when the U.S. economy faltered and they walked away from the deal.”

  “They didn’t lose a dime, did they?” Wade said.

  His uncle returned to his desk. “I’ve got my top executives searching for new investors, but no one’s taking risks right now.”

  Wade didn’t miss the emphasis on the word top. If working shady deals was a prerequisite to acquiring an executive position at his uncle’s firm, then Wade had a lot of mulling over to do once the dust settled from this mess. “Did you use any other clients’ funds to invest in this project?”

  “No.”

  “Why Samantha Cartwright’s money?” There were other clients’ portfolios that rivaled hers.

  “Because I never expected she’d demand her money on her thirty-second birthday.”

  “Why not?”

  “For obvious reasons. Dominick’s hovered over her since the accident and—”

  “What accident are you referring to?” Everyone but Wade knew about the accident.

  “You were in college at the time when Samantha was kicked in the head by a horse. I believe it happened shortly after we’d visited the ranch the summer she turned sixteen. She almost died.” He shrugged as if the near-death experience had been nothing. “She was left with memory problems and difficulty concentrating. College was out of the question for her, so Dominick gave her a job in his company to make her feel useful.”

  Wade’s mind grappled with the new information. Images flew through his head…All the notes Samantha wrote to herself. Her willingness to allow him to take over her finances without much of a fight. Her not remembering the tree-climbing incident when he’d visited the Lazy River.

  “Dominick pays her a generous salary and she lives at home. Hell, there was never a need for her to withdraw any money from her trust fund.”

  “Well, you were wrong. She needs her money to turn a ranch she purchased into a horse sanctuary.”

  His uncle’s eyes widened. “The girl’s got grit, I’ll give her that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Rumor has it that Samantha’s terrified of horses and hasn’t ridden one since the accident.”

  Samantha had proved otherwise when they’d visited the horses at the SPCA yesterday. “She’s overcome those fears.” Wade admired her for it.

  “Aren’t you the least interested in knowing where Samantha’s obtaining the money to bankroll her new ranch?” When his uncle remained silent, Wade poked himself in the chest. “Me. I cashed in my 401(k) and used my savings to cover the expenses incurred thus far.”

  “If you receive the promotion you’re in line for you’ll recoup your money in bonuses.”

  “That’s not the point,” Wade argued. “What about next month’s client financial statements? How do you plan to hide Samantha’s losses?” Wade cringed when he imagined Dominick’s reaction.

  “We’ll have to be creative for a while.”

  Wade was appalled his uncle would even consider mailing out falsified documents.

  “This sanctuary ranch won’t last,” his uncle said. “Samantha’s difficulty in focusing will cause her to lose interest quickly.”

  Lose interest? Wade’s chest tightened when he envisioned how devastated she’d be if the ranch didn’t succeed. He hated to see her dreams crushed because of his uncle’s greed. Wade intended to make sure that didn’t happen, starting with telling Samantha the truth. “I can’t in good conscience keep this information from her.” He’d waited far too long as it was and hoped—no, prayed—Samantha wouldn’t send him packing—not after he’d gone and fallen in love with her.

  His uncle chuckled. “Sounds as if you have a crush on the woman.”

  “My feelings for Samantha have nothing to do with telling her the truth. She’s a client first and foremost and deserves a hell of a lot more honesty from her financial adviser than he’s shown so far.”

  “Steer clear of her, Wade. Samantha’s more trouble than she’s worth. She’s damaged goods. Even her fiancé could see that and he broke off their engagement.”

  The word engagement clanged inside Wade
’s head. Why hadn’t Samantha mentioned she’d once been engaged? He felt foolish for having discussed his own failed marriage while she’d kept her past relationship a secret.

  “Evidently the man left his child in Samantha’s care and something happened to the kid.”

  His uncle’s words didn’t scare Wade. He knew deep down that Luke would be safe with Sam. He trusted her to take good care of his son. “My feelings for Samantha are none of your damned business. What matters is that Dominick Cartwright trusted Dawson Investments to safeguard his daughter’s financial security and we—you—let him down.”

  “When I took you in years ago, Wade, I knew you were smart. You demonstrated that early on after you caught up in school and figured out how to deal with your dyslexia. But I see I’ve been remiss in teaching you something important about the business world.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Loyalty. There are times you don’t question the motives or decisions of your superiors. You simply trust that they have the company’s best interests at heart.”

  “Our loyalties should lie with our customers whose money allows us to prosper. Without them there would be no Dawson Investments.”

  “That’s your mother in you talking, Wade. She was a pushover when it came to helping others. She believed she could change the world one lost soul at a time.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your father, of course.”

  “You’ve known all along who my father is?” If so, why hadn’t his uncle come forward with the information when Wade had been a teenager and had asked about his birth father?

  “Zeke was a handyman for the wealthy. If he had a last name he didn’t share it with anyone. He painted our garage one summer and suckered your mother into sleeping with him.”

  “What does my father have to do with loyalty?”

  “Zeke showed no allegiance toward your mother, leaving her to raise you alone until she died. Then that chore landed in my lap.”

  Chore? Nothing like being blunt.

  “I had hoped you’d come to appreciate the opportunities and privileges you’ve received from the Dawson name.”