My Christmas Cowboy. Shelley Galloway
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usual. “Trent, I can take you around if you want. Give you a tour.”
“I don’t need that.”
“I don’t mind.” He grinned. “Shoot, I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than traipse through here in the snow.”
The man’s manner grated on him. For a moment, Trent was tempted to put the guy in his place. Tell him that he wasn’t as green as the guy obviously thought.
But the instinct that allowed him to gauge a bull’s disposition in a heartbeat kicked in and told him to play the dumb cowboy card for a while longer.
“Don’t you worry about me none, Pete,” he replied, in an almost exaggerated, good-ol’-boy drawl. “Like I said, I was just taking a little ride. I’m going to head on home and rest my arm for a while, anyhow.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“I’m good. I’ll lock up now and be on my way.”
For a moment, Pete looked as if he was stuck in a mud hole with no way to turn. Then he nodded and followed Trent out.
When Trent was locking the padlock, he glanced Pete’s way. “How many people have these keys, Pete?”
“What?”
Trent held up the keys and jiggled them a little.
“I’m not rightly sure,” Pete said, finally pulling the straw from his teeth. “Probably your brothers and father do.”
“I mean besides family … any idea?”
“I couldn’t say exactly.”
“Maybe we should check into that, hmm? You know, just to be on the safe side and all.”
“Oh, sure. Sure.”
As the flakes started falling again, Trent gazed at the sky and grimaced. “Don’t think we’re going to see a lick of sunshine anytime soon. Wouldn’t you say?”
“What? Ah, no.”
“Well, you keep warm now. I’ll see you later, Pete.”
The hand visibly relaxed. “Sure, Trent. See ya.”
As Trent opened his door, he called out. “Hey, Pete? Come to think of it … what brought you out this way?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I read the schedule this morning, and I could have sworn I saw that you boys were going to be inoculating cows near the north barn. What brought you out this way all alone?”
After a deer in the headlight moment, Pete turned cocky. “I’m just trying to do my job, Trent. We all know you ain’t used to things around here. I’m just doing my best to make sure you don’t get hurt.”
“That’s real kind of you.” Jackass.
Pete winked as he climbed in the cab. “It was no problem. No problem at all.”
Now, that’s where that man was mistaken, Trent decided. There was something very wrong going on.
And before everyone came home again, he was going to get to the bottom of it.
He might be a rodeo star, but he was also a Riddell.
And no matter what everyone else thought, that name still meant something to him. It meant security and land and a heritage.
It meant oil and horses and brothers.
It meant his dad. It meant little Ginny, and the promises each one of them had made to their mother on her deathbed.
In short, the name Riddell still meant a lot.
Maybe, right at that moment, it meant more to him than ever before.
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