Claire McEwen - His Last Rodeo

“Not really. But now that your brothers are taking on so much responsibility, we just didn’t need him anymore.”

A deep breath stemmed the fury that threatened to erupt at his father’s cold dismissal of a loyal man. Sometimes it seemed like his wife’s death had siphoned all the compassion out of Ken’s soul.

Tyler willed away the feeling that he was a kid about to get his ideas shot down by his dad one more time. “He’s got no money. He isn’t receiving much of his pension.”

Annoyance drew his dad’s thick gray eyebrows together. “I already told that daughter of his that Garth’s pension situation is out of my control. He borrowed against it and never repaid the money. If he has a complaint about that, he has to contact the folks who manage the pension fund.”

“You know full well that the pension fund isn’t going to help him out. And did it ever occur to you that the reason he never paid back that loan is maybe you didn’t pay him enough? When was the last time you gave your ranch hands a raise?”

“They make plenty,” his father snapped. “What, you want me to pay off their gambling debts, too? Their bar tabs? I have grown men working for me and I expect them to handle their own finances.”

“And I’m sure most of them do. But Garth worked for you almost his entire adult life. He put in twelve-plus hour days, whether the sun was blistering or the snow was piled deep. He was here on Thanksgiving and Christmas, making sure things ran smoothly while we were all inside enjoying our dinner. He took that loan out because he’s an honorable man who felt obligated to provide for his wife, even though she left him. Don’t you think we should help him out?”

His father’s face went pale with a rage Tyler hadn’t seen since the day he told his father he was hitting the road to rodeo full time. “I have fulfilled my obligations to Garth, and to all of my other employees.”

Tyler pulled out his last ace. It was just a guess, but it was worth a try. “What do you have against him? What did he do to you? Is this about how he taught me to ride a bull?”

His father flinched and Tyler knew his guess had some merit.

But no way would his father admit it. “I’ve done nothing wrong. Garth Hayes retired with all the money that was due him. I met my obligation to him.”

“You fired him for no good reason. The least you can do is give him a comfortable retirement. You can certainly afford it.”

His father shook his head, his entire face drawn into a defensive mask. “You’re a businessman now, son. And you’ve got to learn to keep emotions out of your work if you’re going to have any success.”

“If success means turning my back on the people who work for me, then I’ll take failure any day.” Tyler turned away from his father’s narrow worldview, shoulders aching from the tension. He started back through the barn, disappointment weighting his steps.

“Tyler,” his father called.

A flicker of hope rose in his heart, but sputtered as soon as Tyler saw the bitter line of his dad’s mouth.

“You’ll see that I’m right.” His father clenched his fists at his sides as tightly as he’d clenched the warmth out of his soul. “The best thing you can do for your employees is to run a tight ship. Expect a lot from them, give them what they’re due and nothing more. Everyone will benefit.”

“What I see is that you and I are different,” Tyler said. “And I don’t believe your view is one I want to live by.”

He headed for his truck, refusing to look back again. He couldn’t control his father’s choices, but he could make amends. He’d find a way to repay Garth the debt his family owed him. That he personally owed him. And if he made Kit feel a little better about things in the process, well, that would ease his mind, too.

CHAPTER FOUR

TYLER BLINKED AT the inventory list in front of him. The columns of numbers, units, price per unit, net cost, blurred into a gray blob that ached behind his eyes. He glanced around the small office with its battered desk and dusty window. Maybe he needed more light. He’d pick up a desk lamp at the hardware store later on today.

He stood, rubbing his temples. Who was he kidding? He’d been trying to get his mind around the paperwork all week. It was his third day as owner of the Dusty Saddle, and he’d made almost no progress with any of the files Chris had left behind.

It had always been like this for him. Textbooks, manuals, graphs...they all made him dizzy. Words and numbers were tricky things that never seemed to hold their meaning. It’s why he’d left school early. Why he’d left the army. Why he’d chosen rodeo. Bull riding might be dangerous, but it wasn’t nearly as scary as that moment when someone realized he could barely read.

Laughter rippled into the office and he gave in to the temptation, following the sound to its source. Kit. She was behind the bar, laughing at something one of their customers had said. It was a quiet Wednesday afternoon and the guys looked like backpackers, decompressing after a trip in the mountains. Their cargo shorts, hiking boots and back-turned caps were trail-dusted. Their eager eyes, fixed on Kit, were way too eager.

How could he blame them? He wanted to plunk himself next to them and stare, too. She was all creamy skin, thick black hair and dark eyes made up even darker, so a guy could lose himself trying to see behind her tough facade.

Or find himself. Because all that confidence surrounding Kit like heady perfume promised that maybe some of that amused poise would infuse you, lift you up and put your demons on the run.

Tyler joined her behind the bar and she fixed him with the baleful glance he was getting used to. It wasn’t a welcome, more like an amused tolerance of his presence. “You need anything?” she asked.

“Just wondering if you want me to fill in for a bit,” he offered.

She shrugged. “I don’t really need a break yet.” She shot a flirtatious smile to the backpackers. “Plus, we’re having fun here.”

He was jealous and lost in his own bar. His own business, which didn’t yet feel like his.

“Do you need a job?” Her smile reminded him of the coiled snake tattooed on her arm. “Because I’m sure I can think of something that needs doing.”

He jerked his gaze away from her smile. “I saw the order is due in tomorrow. I figured I’d go fill it. Is there a list of what we’ve kept in stock?”

“On the wall in the storeroom,” she said. “I’ll do the ordering if you like. I always did it for Chris.”

“If I want to learn the business, I figure I’d better do it myself.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. There are blank order forms on a clipboard on the shelf in there.”

“Okay.” Tyler felt her eyes on him as he pushed through the door behind the bar that led to the cramped storeroom. Enlarging this space was high on his list of improvements. He unlocked the door that led outside and propped it open, grateful for the infusion of pine-scented air. Picking up the clipboard from the shelf, he took a look at the order form. His eyes crossed.

More rows and columns. Liquor names listed down the left-hand side. The number of bottles they kept in stock listed next to that. All he had to do was fill in the column with the amounts to be ordered. It was simple. He could do this.

He started at the top. Vodka. They generally kept two dozen bottles around. He jumped up on a stool, grateful to do something active. He counted four bottles, but they’d use a couple in the next few days. He jotted twenty-four on the list. Made his way to triple sec...rye...rows and rows that started to slither like snakes on the page so he traced across with his finger to make sure he was writing on the correct line.