Not true, Sam. Not completely.
In all honesty, he’d wanted time with Chelsea to see whether they could get back to the fun, loving relationship they’d had before Tiffany had thrown a curveball at both of them.
Nowadays, the woman wanted time to spend with her new husband. Sam recognized Chelsea’s unhappiness with her mother. Chelsea didn’t like hanging out at Tiffany’s house so she lived with Sam. He liked it that way and wanted it to be permanent. He had lawyers working on that now.
Infidelity affected more than just the spouse. Chelsea had felt betrayed, too.
She had been acting out ever since. Her strict private school had offered an ultimatum: get her help or get her out of the school. For a child who’d performed well until this year, it was devastating.
The only consolation was that the timing had been right to take her on this road trip to see her grandfather. Sam had thought, hoped, prayed that they could connect again and return to the goofy fun they used to have, but all the long miles had done was separate them further.
Now this business of helping out Gramps had pushed them to new extremes of separation.
His frustration made his steak taste like sawdust. Sam couldn’t wait to get this over with, to return home and hire her a tutor for the summer. That, along with the assignments she handed in online, might save her year.
Chelsea watched him with mutiny threatening on her brow.
Please, his expression implored. Be quiet. Let me do this my way.
He’d give anything to bring her life back to normal, but normal was a flexible commodity these days.
“The town is reviving our old amusement park,” Rachel said. “It ran every summer, passed from one generation to the next, for nearly a hundred years before the current owner had to give it up.”
“Why did he give it up? Financial concerns?”
“I don’t think so. That was fifteen years ago. Carson was getting on. He’s almost ninety now. It’s a lot of work for one man. No one else seemed inclined to take on the job at the time.”
“So why didn’t he just sell it?”
“It has a lot of sentimental value for him. I’m not sure, but I think he always hoped his grandson from back east would come out and revive it. No chance of that, though.”
Odd tone in her voice. Displeasure. Implied criticism. They didn’t even know him and they disapproved. Did Sam want to question it and find out what the townspeople thought of him?
“Why no chance?” Chelsea asked, watching him to gauge his expression. Thanks, kid.
“It seems that Carson and his grandson are two completely different characters. The grandson would never deign to grace our small town. I think he’s a snob.”
“Careful,” Travis cautioned. “You’ve never met the man. For all we know, he could be just fine.”
Rachel relented. “I know. I’m kind of promoting clichés, aren’t I?”
“Sure are. Plenty of city people are fine.”
“I know, Travis. I just get so pi—” She glanced at Tori quietly using a fork to mash a puddle of butter into her hot potatoes. “I get angry. He broke Carson’s heart.”
Broke his heart!
“When I think that he could have come out here any time in the past fifteen years to help out his grandfather—ooh, I get so mad.”
Stunned, Sam sat back. He would have come out if he’d known it was more than just Gramps wanting to retire. He hadn’t known he was breaking his heart by not visiting. Why hadn’t Gramps told him he had expectations of Sam? But what expectations? That he would give up his life in Manhattan and his career?
He’d never promised Gramps that. He’d never even hinted at it.
Chelsea watched him with the worried frown she wore too often these days. He wished he understood what went on in her newly formed teenage brain.
“Forget the grandson,” Travis said. “Why didn’t Carson’s son ever visit?”
“That was before my time,” Rachel replied. “I don’t know the whole story but there was a scandal before he left town.”
What? What?
“What was it?” Travis asked.
Thank you!
“I know only the gossip and not much of it but it has to do with Candace Bolton.”
Who is she? Sam wanted to ask.
“Who is she?” Travis asked.
Good man.
“She’s a widow who lives on the other side of town. Nice lady, but keeps to herself. That’s all I know, Travis. Something happened between Carson II and Candace. He left town to study out east. He never came home again.”
“Too bad for Carson.”
“The first, you mean? Our Carson? Yeah. I think he missed his son a lot. Oh, well, water under the bridge.”
Getting off the topic of how horrible his father had been in not coming home and how terrible a grandson Sam had been by not visiting, Sam asked, “Why are you bringing the fair back now if it’s been closed for so many years?”
“My friends and I decided it was time. As in most small towns without industry to support the citizens, our young people are leaving to find jobs elsewhere.” She offered him more salad. He shook his head. “The park, all of that land and the amazing machines on it are going to ruin. We’re bringing it back to life and hoping to employ a lot of locals.”
Yeah, the land and the machines, all leased for only a dollar.
“It’s been tough, though,” Travis cut in. “Because there isn’t a lot of money in town to make it happen. Rachel and her friends are donating all of their labor. They won’t make a cent.”
Sam didn’t believe that for one minute. Once the fair and rodeo turned a profit this summer, they’d rake in all kinds of cash. And Gramps had no memory of what percentage of that profit he was entitled to receive. What a mess.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Rachel said, changing the subject.
Darn. He couldn’t bring it back around without seeming suspicious.
“It’s our family tradition to go to the diner for breakfast,” Rachel said. “Would you like to join us?”
“Say yes, Dad.”
Sam looked at his daughter. Sad to say, he no longer trusted her. She seemed to have an ulterior purpose for everything she wanted these days. But then, he’d skulked around issuing untruths to people who seemed to be honest.
But he couldn’t trust anyone in this town, could he? Not until he knew them better.
Even so, how could a trip to town cause problems? Unable to think of a reason to say no, he nodded.
Travis cut in. “You and I’ll go out to the stable at dawn to take care of the animals.”
Travis skewered another steak for himself.
“After breakfast, you can take the morning off, but be back here by two. I’m expecting half of my new herd. I’ll need help getting them off the trucks and out into the field.”
“Sure thing.”
“I called my friend. He has only one horse to spare at the moment. He’s a bit rowdy, but you should be good with him for herding tomorrow.”
Okay. He could do that. He knew how to ride. He and his friends were part of an amateur polo league. He’d watched videos of cowboys directing cows. Cattle, Sam. They call them cattle out here, not cows.
First, a good night’s sleep. This deception business exhausted him.
* * *
IT TOOK A while to get the Read family going, especially since one of them was an infant who needed everything from wipes to diapers to...whatever else was in that big bag Rachel carried.
The diner was hopping. It seemed that everyone and his uncle came out for Saturday breakfast. Maybe hardworking ranchers and cowboys set aside this time to socialize.
He suspected cowboys did their raucous socializing on Friday and Saturday night
s at the bar at the end of the strip, Honey’s Place, but kept it civilized at the diner. Family time.
The Read family and Sam and Chelsea waited twenty minutes for a window booth for six to clear out.
Violet hustled like a whirling dervish with coffeepots and menus. She never lost her cool, though, she even joked and laughed with her customers despite the need for speed.
Sam watched her, fascinated and wary. The woman might have a curvy body, but sharp edges defined her personality. With him, at any rate.
She came to take their orders, giving him no more attention than anyone else at the table. In fact, he received less than the others, surprising after last night’s bump in the kitchen.
Maybe she hadn’t been as affected as him.
Or maybe she had. He’d thought so. Maybe she’d faked being immune to him this morning.
She didn’t even look at him. It bothered him. But why should it? She meant nothing to him.
“What’ll you folks have?”
After the Reads ordered, Chelsea asked if she could have a Western omelet without onions.
“Sure thing. Do you want green or red peppers?”
“Aren’t green peppers traditional in a Western?” Chelsea asked.
“So are onions,” Violet retorted. “Besides, we aren’t too traditional in this diner. Haven’t you noticed? We’re classic, but with a twist.”
“Red, then.” Chelsea smiled, a white slash surrounded by purple lipstick.
“Nice lipstick,” Violet said.
Sam shot her a look meant to imply, “Don’t encourage her.”
Chelsea caught it and scowled. Violet laughed.
Two against one again. Unfair.
“Last, but not least, Mr. Michaels, what can I get for you?”
He almost missed that he was Mr. Michaels. “I’ll have the Good and Hearty Cowboy Breakfast, Violet.” He refused to use the shortened Vy. Too small for a woman with a big personality; he didn’t like it. Besides, he liked Violet a lot. It was old-fashioned, even if the woman wasn’t, and pretty, like the woman definitely was.
Today she wore a green dress with small black polka dots, fitted over her bodice and embracing a fine set of hips. A white kerchief wrapped around her head reminded him of iconic images of Rosie the Riveter. A black apron completed the look.
“The Cowboy Breakfast is a good start to the day for the manliest of cowboys,” she responded and walked away, taking the menus with her.
Rachel looked anywhere but at him.
Travis cocked his head and frowned.
Sam wanted to throttle the woman.
Chelsea giggled, then looked worried. “You aren’t going to flirt with Vy today, are you, Dad?”
“What if I was?”
“Just don’t be cheesy about it, okay?”
“Cheesy? And here I wanted to compliment her on being full-bodied like a fine Italian wine.”
Rachel laughed, but Chelsea gasped. “That is so corny, Dad.”
She didn’t realize he was kidding. “It suits her.”
“She’s coming back.” Chelsea’s eyes flicked past him. “Don’t do it.”
“Hmm” was all he said. His daughter had been laughing at his expense too much lately. Time for a little payback.
Violet poured coffee all around.
Sam watched his daughter doctor hers with too much sugar and cream. Just as she took a sip, he said, “Sure wish it was late enough in the day for a glass of wine. A full-bodied wine.”
Chelsea choked on her coffee. Sam patted her back.
“Something go down the wrong way, honey? Maybe you’re not ready for coffee. It’s really a grown-up beverage.”
Rachel laughed softly.
Violet cast Sam a puzzled look before tending to the next table.
Chelsea covered her face with her napkin and coughed. When she got her breath back, she said, “I’m going to get you for that, Dad.”
“You and whose army?”
She rolled her eyes. “Old-fashioned, Dad. So outdated.” She sounded tough but the smallest of smiles hovered at the edges of her mouth.
Nice. Sam liked teasing her.
After breakfast, they went their separate ways in their own vehicles, the Reads in their old pickup and he and Chelsea in his SUV.
They headed first to the mall on the highway. If Sam was going to work full-time for Travis doing dirty jobs, he needed to own more than one pair of jeans.
If yesterday were any indication, he’d be doing laundry daily. He should set up a payment plan for using electricity and water while living with the Reads.
He liked them.
In a clothing store, he picked up four more pairs of jeans, one for every day of the week. On the weekends, he could wear his chinos, as he’d done today.
“Should I get another pair of cowboy boots?” he asked Chelsea.
She shrugged. “You’re the fake cowboy. Not me.”
“Ha. Ha. Keep your voice down,” he whispered. “I might not be a real one, but I’m dead serious about saving Granmps from those women.”
She frowned. “I don’t know, Dad. The two women we’ve met so far are really nice.”
Nice wasn’t the first word that came to mind when he thought of Violet. “Yes, they seem okay, but Gramps is worried, so...here we are.”
“Gramps is old. Do you think maybe his mind could be going? Maybe his judgment is wrong.”
Sam frowned. “He was definitely different yesterday. I’m worried they might have taken advantage of his newfound bewilderment. I’m worried about his mind. He used to be a sharp businessman. It’s hard to understand how he could just agree to this without signing a contract and that he can’t remember how much of the profits he’ll be entitled to.”
He picked up a half-dozen denim shirts to take to the lone clerk at the cash register. “Those women will make a lot of tourist dollars from the rodeo and fair. That money should belong to the Carmichaels.”
Sam kept his voice low so no one would hear him. Probably unnecessary. The store was close to empty.
“What if they’re telling the truth, though, and it’s all going back into the town?”
“Shouldn’t Gramps still get a percentage?”
“Rachel and Vy seem honest to me, Dad.”
“Rachel, definitely. Violet, no. She’s got something up her sleeve. Trust me. I’ve met her type in business. She’s hiding something.”
“How do you know?”
“Intuition.”
After Sam paid for his purchases, they left the shop and passed the boot store.
“So? Should I get more boots?”
“Let’s go see Gramps again,” Chelsea said.
“I’m taking that as a no to another pair of boots.”
“Did you notice the boots Travis was wearing this morning?” she asked.
“No. What were they?”
“They looked a bit old, but all polished up. I think they’re, like, his good boots that he saves for, like, church and stuff. He also has an incredibly ancient pair beside the back door.”
“So I should get a pair for wearing into town?”
“Yeah, if you want to fit in. I mean, today you’re looking preppy, Dad. Blue button-down, beige slacks, conservative shoes. How many cowboys did you see in the restaurant dressed like that?”
None. Damn. “Okay, let’s go find me a pair of nice boots. I ruined my expensive ones yesterday and this morning.”
“And another thing, Dad. Do not iron your jeans like you did before you came here. Talk about being old-fashioned.”
Sam studied her with a frown. “I didn’t. I’ve never touched an iron in my life. Why do you think I did?”
“Hello? The sharp creases in them?”
“That wasn’t me. That was the dry cleaner.”
She stared. “You sent your jeans to the dry cleaner?”
“Susan did, along with a couple of my suits.”
“She’s a good housekeeper and usually on the ball. So why didn’t she just throw them in the washer and dryer?”
“I told her they were stiff because they were new. She said she’d take care of them. That’s all I know.”
They stepped into a Western shoe store.
“Ooh, look at these, Dad. Snakeskin.”
“Maybe if I sang in a rock band,” he scoffed. “Here. These look good. Dark blue with gray leather insets.”
“I like those.”
After purchasing them, on their way out of the mall, Chelsea stopped in front of a nail salon. “Wait. I want to go in here.”
“You want to get your nails done? I need to help unload Travis’s herd at two. If we want to visit Gramps first—”
“I won’t be long. I want to buy nail polish for Tori. I think she’d like sparkles, don’t you?”
Like a slow-moving sunrise, a smile spread across Sam’s face. “You used to.”
Chelsea echoed his smile. “Remember how much Mom hated it?”
“She thought it was crass.”
“Yeah, she did, but you fought to let me have it.”
“Girls just want to have fun, Chelsea.”
“Remember how much I used to like that song?”
“You played it over and over and over again.”
She giggled and it sounded heavenly.
“Look! Hot-pink with silver sparkles. Tori will love this. I’ll need some more nail polish remover, too.”
Sam slipped her a twenty out of his pocket.
By the time they left the mall and got onto the road to drive to the old-folks’ home, a mild drizzle had started.
Sam turned into the driveway and immediately pulled a U-turn back out of the parking lot.
“Why are you turning around?” Chelsea asked. “I want to see Gramps.”
“Didn’t you see who was there?”
“Where?”
“Heading into the building. Violet and Rachel with some other women. What do you want to bet that’s the organizing committee? They might be going in to see your grandfather.”
Rodeo Baby Page 7