Her Rodeo Man. Cathy Mcdavid
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didn’t live at the arena—he rented a small place in town—Ryder suspected he was a frequent visitor to the house. Apparently his mother really was softening toward him.
Her response drifted to them from down the hall. “Be right out.”
Ryder paused inside the door.
“Don’t just stand there.” His father beckoned him with a wave. “It’s not like you’re a stranger.”
Wrong. Ryder was a stranger. He’d lived many more years in Phoenix than Reckless—a mere seventy miles away, yet it might as well have been a million.
He advanced three whole feet before coming to another halt. That was all the distance required to walk from the present straight into the past, and the sensation knocked him off-kilter.
While he stood there, his father went to the fridge and helped himself to a chilled bottled water, further confirming Ryder’s suspicions that he was a regular visitor.
“You want one?” He held out a second bottle.
“Thanks.” Funny how Ryder’s throat had gone completely dry. He accepted the bottle, twisted off the cap and took a long swallow. The cold water restored his balance.
Footsteps warned him of his mother’s approach. He had but a few seconds to replace the bottle cap and prepare himself before she appeared.
“Ryder!” Cheeks flushed, she hurried toward him.
He tried to form his mouth into something resembling a smile. He must have succeeded, for she beamed.
“I’m so happy you came.”
“It’s good to see you, Mom.” He uttered the words automatically.
They hugged, his mother clinging to him while Ryder gave her shoulders a perfunctory squeeze. He’d accepted his father and Liberty’s invitation, it was his responsibility to deal with the consequences. Beside them, his father grunted with approval.
“Are you hungry?” His mother released him and brushed self-consciously at her hair, which was styled perfectly and in no need of tidying. “I made chili and corn bread.”
His favorite meal as a boy. All right, it was still one of his favorite meals. Maybe because it reminded him of the good times, before their lives had imploded.
“Great. Thanks.”
After an awkward moment of silence, she said, “I see you got a water.”
“I did.”
She skimmed her palms down the sides of her jeans. “We could sit in the living room. If you want. Until your sisters get here. Or outside. Though it’s hot.”
“Anywhere’s fine with me,” Ryder said. He’d be on edge and defensive regardless of his surroundings.
His father must have taken pity on his mother, for he said, “Let’s sit at the kitchen table. Like the old days.”
Ryder wasn’t sure about the old days, but he reached for a chair. The same one he’d sat in as a child.
Abruptly, he moved his hand to the next chair over. He refused to slip into former habits just because he was back in Reckless, even habits as seemingly harmless as which chair he occupied.
An awkward silence descended. For no reason really, Ryder attempted to fill it with small talk. “How have you been, Mom?”
“All right. Busy. We now have weekly team penning competitions and bull-riding jackpots, monthly roping clinics and have almost doubled the number of riding classes offered. The Wild West Days Rodeo is in a couple of weeks.”
As a kid, Ryder had loved Wild West Days. The week-long, town-wide event included a parade, an outdoor arts-and-crafts festival, food vendors, square dancing and mock gunfights. Cowfolk and tourists alike traveled halfway across the country to participate in both the rodeo at the Easy Money and the other activities.
Ryder’s mind went in the direction it always did. “Have you done any promotion?”
“The usual,” his mother answered.
“Which is?”
“Tatum updated the website a couple months ago. We’ve sent out notices, both email and postcards. There are posters and flyers in town.”
In Ryder’s opinion, posters and flyers in town were a complete waste of resources. There was no need to advertise locally. The goal was to bring outsiders to Reckless.
“Have you considered reciprocating with other rodeo arenas?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Ask them to advertise our rodeo in exchange for advertising theirs.”
“Why would our competition do us any favors?” his father asked. “Or us them?” The question wasn’t intended to criticize. He appeared genuinely interested.
“It’s not competition as long as the rodeos fall in different months.”
“Would they go along? The other arenas?”
“We can ask.”
His parents exchanged glances, then his father shrugged. “I say yes.”
“I think it’s a great idea.”
To Ryder’s ears, his mother’s enthusiasm rang false. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to endorse his ideas just because she was glad to have him home.
“Tatum can compile a list of potential rodeo arenas in the morning,” his father suggested.
His mother readily agreed. “I’ll ask her.”
“Or Ryder can. They’re already meeting.”
Yeah. Ryder couldn’t help wondering how that would go.
The back door abruptly swung open, and his sister Liberty burst into the kitchen, followed closely by a tall cowboy. Ryder guessed the man to be his future brother-in-law.
He’d barely stood when she threw herself at him. “Ryder!”
Unlike with his mother, the hug he gave his baby sister was filled with affection. “Hey, pip-squeak. How are you?”
She buried her face in the front of his shirt. “Better now.”
He leaned back to look at her. “You’re not crying, are you?”
“Absolutely not.” She sniffed and wiped at her nose.
Ryder pulled her close again, his heart aching. Not spending time with Liberty, not getting to watch her grow up, was one of his biggest regrets about leaving Reckless and his main reason for returning. That, and guilt. She’d suffered the most from their mother’s lies. If he could make up for that in some small way, he would.
“I’m really happy you came.”
Would she say that, love him less, if she knew the other reason for his return?
“After a week, you’ll probably be sick of me,” he said.
“Not going to happen.” Liberty turned to her fiancé. “This is Deacon.”
Ryder wasn’t the sentimental sort, but the tender way she spoke Deacon’s name affected him. He was glad she’d found happiness; she certainly deserved it.
What kind of mother lied to her child about the identity of her father? The same one who thought only of herself and not her children when she unceremoniously tossed their father out and refused to let him back into their lives.
“Nice to finally meet you.” Putting thoughts of his mother aside, Ryder shook Deacon’s hand. “I’ve heard good things about you.”
“Same here.”
In his line of work, Ryder often made snap judgments. Deacon’s handshake was firm and offered