Roughneck Cowboy. Marin Thomas
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been a Cartwright—according to rumors, a son Dominick had never known existed. “Wilma phoned earlier and said Samantha brought her a pumpkin pie.” The retired Sunday-school instructor battled lupus and, since she’d never married or had children, the local women checked in on her.
“What else did Samantha tell Wilma about the guy?”
“Travis broke the news that their mother recently died of cancer.” No matter the strain between the Sanderses and the Cartwrights, Sara felt sorry for Samantha and Matt. She suspected they’d held out hope that one day they might be reunited with their mother.
Cole grabbed a curry comb from the grooming belt around his hips and brushed Son of Sunshine’s coat. Her brother had purchased the infamous American quarter horse from Matt Cartwright for a measly five-hundred bucks. Their neighbor hadn’t said how he’d come to own the sterile stud and Cole hadn’t asked. SOS possessed a keen intelligence and plenty of “cow” attitude and heart. Pair those qualities with the animal’s ability to perform pinpoint stops, starts and turns, and Cole believed he’d landed the deal of the century.
“I doubt Dominick was too torn up over Charlotte’s death,” her brother said.
“According to Wilma, Travis and his daughter have been living in Houston with Charlotte all these years.”
“Is Travis married?”
“I don’t know.” Sara hadn’t noticed a wedding band, but that didn’t mean anything. Regardless of his marital status, she doubted a man as good looking as Travis suffered from a lack of female attention. Not that she cared about his love life. Sara was so over men, it wasn’t even funny.
Like most women her age, she wanted to marry and start a family of her own, but the one man she’d set her heart on had taught her a painful lesson—handsome men weren’t interested in country girls unless they had an ulterior motive. Her father had hired Josh as an extra hand during branding season and it didn’t take the cowboy long to cozy up to Sara and propose to her.
Once she’d fallen under Josh’s spell, he’d run off in the middle of the night with the Bar T’s prized bull, Sweetwater Blackie, in tow. The authorities had never been able to track down the bull and suspected Josh had sold the animal on the black market to a rancher somewhere in Mexico. Not only had Josh broken Sara’s heart, he’d stolen a fifteen-thousand-dollar bull and had made a fool out of her in front of family and friends.
After tucking the comb into the grooming belt, Cole led SOS outside and turned him loose in the paddock. Sara followed, planting her boot on the bottom rail. She stared into the distance for as far as the eye could see. Winter had turned the once lush green valley a dull, golden brown. Off in the distance, gently rolling hills were dotted with leafless oak and cypress trees. Sara loved this land. Come spring the area would transform into a verdant paradise as Black Angus grazed the green valleys, creating a picturesque setting.
I’m running out of options, Daddy. Help me find a way to save the ranch.
“Did Travis know about Dominick all these years?”
“No. Samantha told Wilma that Travis discovered his mother’s diary after Charlotte died and that’s when he learned Dominick was his father.”
“And Dominick didn’t know Charlotte was pregnant with Travis when she left him?”
“Obviously not or Dominick would have demanded custody of Travis, too, don’t you think?” Dominick’s wealth and standing in Oklahoma’s oil industry allowed him to do anything he wanted—like harass his neighbors and threaten his competitors until they were forced to lowball their leasing bids for the Bar T. No matter, she refused to negotiate a business deal with Dominick.
Sara wished she could skim Charlotte’s journal. During the final days of her father’s battle with pulmonary fibrosis, he’d drifted in and out of consciousness. Right before the end, he’d called out for Charlotte. For as far back as Sara could remember, neither of her parents had ever spoken the woman’s name or discussed her whereabouts.
“What does Travis do for a living?” Cole asked.
“He’s a roughneck.”
“The oil baron finally got his wish—a son in the oil business.”
Whether Travis lived and breathed black crude as Dominick did was anybody’s guess. Both men worked in the petroleum industry, but Travis’s shocked expression when Dominick had threatened her hinted that he might not possess his father’s cutthroat business acumen.
Two years ago, her father had been forced to take out a second mortgage on the Bar T after the cattle ranch had suffered financial losses from drought and disease. Afraid they’d lose the ranch, Cole had coaxed their father into commissioning a geological survey of the property. If the soil tests were positive for oil, then their father would lease the drilling rights and use the income to pay off the bank, invest in a new bull for the herd and make needed repairs to the property.
As soon as their father received the good news that there was oil beneath the Bar T, he sought leasing bids, but the oil companies lowballed their bids. Then Dominick had asked to buy the Bar T and Sara’s father had been certain that Dominick had manipulated his competitors. Furious, her father had sworn he’d die before Dominick Cartwright ever got his hands on the Bar T. Three months later, her father’s health took a turn for the worse and the ranch went further in debt as the medical bills piled up.
Unless Dominick dropped the bogus lawsuit and stopped influencing the other oil companies, there was no way Sara could prevent the bank from taking the ranch. She needed a miracle. Christmas was right around the corner—maybe Santa would stuff her stocking with a hundred thousand dollars. Ho. Ho. Ho.
“Turkey almost done?” Cole nudged her side, interrupting Sara’s musings.
“In about an hour.”
Sara lived in an old Victorian near the elementary school in town. After her mother had passed away, she’d made the trek out to the Bar T each Thanksgiving and Christmas to prepare a holiday meal for her father and brothers. When her father had died this past April, she’d decided to continue the tradition until she or one of her brothers married.
Right now the odds of any of them tying the knot were slim-to-none. Gabe was a notorious one-nightstand cowboy and the ranch kept Cole too busy to date, which left Sara. After being burned by love once, she was done with cowboys and ranchers—in this neck of the woods that meant slim pickings for husbands.
“Where’s Gabe?”
“Sleeping.” Cole snorted. “He stumbled in at three this morning.”
Gabe went through women faster than a seasoned cowboy ate cold beans.
“Need help in the barn?” Sara had chosen a teaching career, but she’d grown up punching cows alongside her brothers. With her height and sturdy build, there weren’t many ranch chores she couldn’t handle.
“Leave the mucking to Gabe. A little fresh air and manure ought to cure his hangover.” Cole walked off and Sara returned to the house.
Memories of Sara’s father kept her company while she put the finishing touches on the meal. She’d been daddy’s little girl—or rather, tomboy. Much to her mother’s dismay, Sara had been her father’s constant shadow around the ranch. In his final months of life when he’d been hooked up to an oxygen tank, struggling to breathe, he’d made Sara swear not to allow Cole or Gabe to talk her into selling out to Dominick. Easier said than done.
Sara removed the turkey from the oven and delivered it to the dining-room table, then clanged the supper bell on the back porch. A few minutes later, Cole walked through the door and Gabe stumbled from his bedroom—hair matted to his head and wearing the previous night’s clothes.
“Smells good.” Gabe yawned.
“You need a shower.” Sara placed a bowl of mashed potatoes next to the meat platter.
Ignoring her comment, Gabe took