Читать книгу More Than a Cowboy - Cathy McDavid, Cathy Mcdavid - Страница 8

Chapter One

He wasn’t here.

No surprise, really, thought Liberty Beckett. She’d arrived—a glance at the clock on the wall behind the long counter confirmed it—fifteen minutes early.

Relief battled with worry for control of her emotions. Was he still coming? Had he changed his mind? A deep breath failed to quell the tension that had been her constant companion this past week.

“You want a table or a booth, honey?”

Liberty blinked. A plump waitress had appeared from nowhere, cradling a stack of oversize plastic menus in the crook of her arm.

“Um, I’m not sure.” She took stock of the restaurant that was as familiar to her as the local market or corner gas station. She must have eaten here two, no, three hundred times. The lunch crowd had long departed, and the dinner crowd wasn’t due for another hour. A lone customer sat at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee.

Really? In this heat?

Liberty wiped her damp forehead. “I think I’ll wait until my...” Her what? Father? Technically, yes. “Until my, um, other party arrives.”

“Sure thing.” The waitress, someone Liberty knew by sight after all her years of patronage, gave her a funny look before bustling off.

Other party? Where had that come from?

Liberty silently chided herself and took a seat on the bench just inside the restaurant’s front door. Better to wait for Mercer here than at a table or a booth. No awkward pushing out of her seat, going for a hug when he only wanted to shake her hand.

Mercer. Her father. Not just the man who was father to Liberty’s half sister and brother. No, make that full sister and full brother. Her mother had lied. Since the day Liberty was born. Probably from the day she was conceived. For twenty-four years.

How could she?

Why did she?

Liberty had sacrificed a lot of sleep recently, tossing that question around and around in her head. At one time, she might have understood her mother’s motives for keeping such a huge secret. But her father—the word still sounded strange to her—had been sober for longer than Liberty could remember. At least, according to her brother’s infrequent communications. Several times a year their mother called Ryder, usually on birthdays or holidays. He never called them.

The rift that had developed between her parents before Liberty was born had only widened through the decades, becoming impossible to repair after Ryder left to live with their father. Could that really be twenty-two years ago? Liberty, a toddler at the time, didn’t remember Ryder ever living with them. It had always been just her, her sister, Cassidy, and their mother for so very long.

Three women running the Easy Money Rodeo Arena. Probably no one had thought they’d succeed in a predominantly man’s world. But they’d proved the skeptics wrong. How different Liberty’s life might have been if she’d known Mercer Beckett was her father and not some I-can’t-remember-his-name cowboy passing through, as her mother always claimed.

Why had she lied? Liberty kept coming back to the same question. Maybe Mercer could provide the answer, if she worked up the courage to ask him.

The door to the restaurant swung open, and Liberty swore her heart exploded inside her chest. She turned at the same instant a wave of adrenaline swept through her.

Not him! She hugged her middle and tried to collect her wildly scattered wits.

“Morning, Liberty. Is this seat taken?”

Looking up into the tanned, handsome face of Deacon McCrea, she murmured, “N-no,” and automatically scooted to her left, making room for him. “Go right ahead.”

He smiled as he sat, his brown eyes crinkling attractively at the corners. “I promise not to crowd you.”

Only he did. His large frame consumed over half the available space on the bench. Their elbows inadvertently brushed.

“Sorry,” he said.

“No worries.” Liberty shifted her purse to her other side.

There was only one bench in the Flat Iron Restaurant. She didn’t dare suggest Deacon wait outside. He’d melt. A hundred degrees in the shade was typical for summers in Reckless, Arizona. Today’s temperatures exceeded that.

Besides, she and Deacon were friends. In a manner of speaking. Acquaintances for sure. He boarded his two horses at the Easy Money and, since his recent return, regularly entered the arena’s team penning competitions.

She’d seen him around a lot, at the arena and in town, and that was okay with her. More than once, she’d intentionally put herself in his path, hoping he’d get the hint and ask her out. So far, no luck. But she wasn’t giving up. She sensed her interest in him was reciprocated, even if he hadn’t acted on it. Yet.

Any other day, their unexpected encounter would be a perfect opportunity for her to flirt and hint at hooking up. Except Liberty was much too anxious about meeting Mercer to relax, much less ply her feminine wiles.

Biting her lower lip, she studied the clock on the wall again. Ten minutes to go.

Deacon removed his cowboy hat and balanced it on his knee, drawing her attention. “Are you meeting someone, too?” she asked, disliking the slight tremor in her voice.

Damn Mercer for making her nervous. Damn her mother for the lies she’d told.

“A client.”

He had nice eyes. Dark and fathomless when he was concentrating, sparkling when he laughed. “Ah, business,” she said. “I usually see you on horseback and forget you’re an attorney.”

“Thank you for not calling me a shyster or a shark.”

She drew back to stare at him. “Do people really do that?”

“Not to my face, anyway.” He chuckled. “I’ve been called worse.”

Einstein. The cruel taunt suddenly came back to Liberty. She’d been in junior high, and Deacon in high school, but she remembered when he’d worked afternoons and weekends at her family’s rodeo arena. More than that, she remembered the terrible treatment he’d received at the hands of his peers, all because school hadn’t come easy for him.

Obviously, things had changed. Graduating law school and passing the bar required enormous intelligence and dedication.

“I saw a sign for your office on Sage Brush Drive.”

He nodded. “I just moved into the space a few weeks ago.”

“It’s a good area.”

Good area? What was she, the local real estate agent? Liberty suppressed a groan. Nerves again. The most banal of comments were issuing from her mouth. Deacon’s proximity wasn’t helping matters.

She briefly wondered what had happened to him in the eleven years he’d been away from Reckless, besides becoming an attorney. He’d departed under such bad circumstances, shortly after the horrible bull-goring accident. Some said he’d run away, an action that proved his guilt.

Liberty refused to believe for one second he’d allowed the bull to escape and injure that cowboy. Deacon had been the Becketts’ most responsible hand. Unfortunately, her mother hadn’t seen it that way and, along with others, pointed the finger of blame at him. No wonder he’d left.

The door to the restaurant whooshed open again, causing her to jerk in response. Deacon looked curiously at her but didn’t comment. Thank goodness.

A trio of boisterous young men entered on an explosion of laughter. Tourists. Judging from their sunburned faces, they’d spent the day at Roosevelt Lake thirty miles up the highway. Liberty pegged them as water-skiers rather than fishermen. Their slip-on canvas sneakers, wraparound sunglasses and swim trunks covered by baggy T-shirts gave them away.

Outdoor enthusiasts made up only a small portion of the visitors to Reckless, and they mostly happened to stop on their way to and from Phoenix. The rest were cowfolk. The Easy Money Rodeo Arena and its four annual PCA rodeos made Reckless a regular stop on the circuit for competitors from all over North America.

A colorful and lawless history only added to the appeal. The town’s first citizens were, in fact, a notorious gang of outlaws known for their “reckless” escapades. They hadn’t settled in the area as much as hidden out in the nearby hills.

Once, Mercer had been a large part of the Easy Money, running it with Liberty’s mother, and an active member of the community. Then, he’d started drinking.

Would he be welcomed back? Certainly not by her mother. Liberty had yet to say anything about the meeting to anyone, choosing instead to wait and see how it went.

She forced herself not to check the clock a third time and focused on Deacon. “Have you been getting a lot of new clients?” All right, the question wasn’t quite as banal as the others.

“Some. Reckless is still a small town.”

“True. But we have no attorneys. The closest ones are in Globe.” Almost an hour away. Liberty should know. She’d made more than one trip there to deliver various legal documents to the Becketts’ attorney.

“I’m hoping to corner the market.”

He had a dry sense of humor. That was new. Deacon had been painfully shy as a teenager, no doubt the result of being constantly picked on by his peers. She’d felt sorry for him. Not only did he have difficulty with school, his home life was a mess. The kind of mess people in a small town loved to gossip about.

As a result, he’d pulled at her teenage heartstrings. Now he pulled at her heart for an entirely different reason.

What did he think of the grown-up her? Oh, if only she weren’t in such a state about meeting Mercer, she’d find out.

“I’m sure you’ll do well.” An idea suddenly occurred to her. “Hey, maybe I could talk to my mom about hiring you. Our liability agreement is probably really outdated.”

His features instantly clouded. “I appreciate it, but I have to say no. Conflict of interest.”

“Because we already have an attorney?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t discuss it.” He appeared genuinely distressed.

Though there was no real reason, Liberty felt hurt. She’d been sure their attraction these past two months since his return was mutual.

Wait! That must be it. He didn’t want to take on the Becketts as clients because then he couldn’t ask her out.

She said nothing more. Just sat and smiled to herself, her fingers twisting the jade ring on her right hand. She had a whole new reason to be nervous.

The sudden sound of the front door opening had her jumping up from her seat. It was him. Mercer! She recognized him from the pictures she’d researched on the internet.

Their glances connected, and her knees turned to butter.

“Liberty?” Removing his cowboy hat, Mercer combed his fingers through his too long gray hair.

Beside her, Deacon also stood. If not for his hand on her elbow, she might have wobbled ungracefully. Fortunately, he just as quickly released her...and went nowhere.

Oh, this was awkward. For several lengthy seconds, they all three stared at one another.

“You’re so pretty.” Mercer’s gaze took her in from head to toe as if she were a newly minted marvel. “Just like your mother.”

Liberty swallowed, surprised to find a lump the size of a golf ball lodged in her throat. She did look like Sunny Beckett and nothing at all like her brother and sister, which was probably why she’d never directly questioned the lies her mother told.

But behind Sunny’s back? That was an altogether different thing. The frequent tales she’d heard from the townsfolk about Mercer and her mother, with their many conflicting versions, was why Liberty had begun to dig into her parentage.

Her father hadn’t been hard to find. She’d started searching a few months ago after a conversation with Ricky, her team penning partner. The subject of Mercer came up—it often did even after all these years. Ricky had told her about Mercer being at the Wild West Days Rodeo twenty-five years ago. He’d been adamant and claimed to have a photo somewhere. Liberty’s mother always swore Mercer had left before the rodeo. Liberty couldn’t forget the conversation and began poking around. Those who could remember confirmed Ricky’s story.

It had required all of Liberty’s courage to contact Mercer. He’d been nice and readily taken her call. Turned out, he’d had his own suspicions about being her father. The DNA test was simple enough to conduct. Once the results were in, they’d made their plans.

And now he stood before her, his arms open. She went into them with only the slightest hesitation.

He smelled like aftershave. Liberty inhaled deeply, committing the scent to memory.

Mercer hugged her warmly. “There, there, girl.”

Only when he’d murmured the endearment did she notice she was crying. Wiping at her cheeks, she straightened and reluctantly withdrew. So that was what it felt like to be held in a father’s embrace.

“Do you want to sit?” she asked, her voice quavering.

“Sure thing.” A grin spread across his whiskered face.

For an instant, Liberty saw her brother, Ryder. Or, what Ryder would look like if he ever grinned. She couldn’t recall seeing him happy. Maybe learning they shared the same father would change that. Maybe he’d come home, too.

Scanning the restaurant, she spotted the waitress heading toward the counter and motioned that she and Mercer would be taking a nearby booth.

“Come on.” She led the way...only to pull up short after three steps and peer over her shoulder.

Deacon was following them. She’d forgotten all about him.

“Is there, um, something you want?”

He addressed Mercer rather than her. “Would you like me to wait here?”

“No.” Mercer clasped Deacon’s shoulder. “Join us.”

“W-why?” Liberty stared at the two of them in confusion.

“Deacon is my attorney,” Mercer said.

“Your attorney?”

“I’ll explain.” He took over, directing them to a table rather than a booth.

Liberty followed him, her confusion mounting. Why did Mercer need legal counsel? And why bring his counsel to their meeting?

“What’s going on? Tell me,” she insisted the moment they were seated, Mercer to her left and Deacon across from her. Was that intentional? In the wide-open restaurant, she felt cornered.

“Liberty,” Mercer began slowly, “I’m so glad you contacted me. Learning you’re my daughter, well, it’s just about the best news I’ve ever had.” He paused, appearing to choose his words carefully. “The thing is, your mother and I have a complicated history. And a long-standing business arrangement.”

“Business arrangement?”

“I own half of the Easy Money. Not only that, your mother owes me a considerable amount of money. I’m here to meet you and to get to know you. But I’m also here to collect what is rightfully mine. Deacon has agreed to represent me. While I don’t want to bring a lawsuit against your mother...”

Liberty had trouble understanding the rest of what Mercer said. It was hard to hear him above the roar of her world crashing down around her.

* * *

DEACON WATCHED LIBERTY’S BACK as she all but bolted from the restaurant, his gut twisting into a tight knot. The meeting went exactly as he’d expected it would: not well.

He’d told Mercer when they met at his office yesterday that springing his true intentions on Liberty right from the get-go wasn’t the best move. Mercer had been adamant. He and Liberty had both been denied the truth for years. He refused to start out his relationship with her by following in her mother’s footsteps.

Deacon understood. He also felt sorry for Liberty. She must be reeling. He’d go after her if he could and...do what? Tell her he wished things were different? That he’d been taken by her from the moment they met again his third day back and wanted to ask her out, only he hadn’t found the courage? Too late now. Mercer was his client and dating his daughter was out of the question.

Instead, he suggested, “Should you check on her?”

Mercer considered before answering. “Might be better to give her some time. If she’s as much her mother’s daughter as I suspect, she’s not ready to listen.”

Deacon decided to let Mercer be the judge. Through the large window, he watched Liberty’s SUV leave the parking lot and considered stopping by the Easy Money later.

Their waitress sidled up to the table and distributed menus. “Will the young lady be returning?”

“I don’t think so.” Mercer’s tone was noncommittal.

“Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“You still have that fresh-squeezed lemonade?”

“Got a fresh pitcher in the cooler.”

“I’ll take a large glass.” Mercer beamed at the woman. For someone who had just devastated his long-lost daughter with upsetting news, he didn’t look particularly distressed.

Or was he? People often put on a show to hide their true feelings. Deacon knew that better than most. He was putting on a show right now.

“And for you?” the waitress prompted.

“Iced tea.” After the past few minutes, Deacon could really use something stronger.

He’d always liked Liberty, though she’d been barely more than a kid when he worked at the arena. He himself had been a skinny, awkward high school senior. She was kind to him when others weren’t. More than that, she’d defended him after the accident involving the bulls. Her mother and older sister, Cassidy, on the other hand, had only accusations for him. False ones.

Mercer waited until their waitress had left to resume their conversation. “She’ll go straight to Sunny, naturally.”

“You sound like you’re counting on it.”

He chuckled, more to himself than out loud.

Deacon didn’t bother perusing the menu. He’d lost his appetite. Instead, he powered up his tablet. “It might have been better for us to approach your ex-wife first.”

“I don’t think it’ll make a difference. Sunny knew I’d return eventually.”

The sum she owed Mercer was indeed considerable. Six figures. Most people wouldn’t have waited all those years to collect. Deacon considered his client’s motives. Would Mercer have returned to Reckless if Liberty hadn’t contacted him out of the blue, suggesting he might be her biological father?

Somehow, Deacon didn’t think so. Mercer definitely had an agenda. Deacon couldn’t fault the man. He himself had a private agenda and Mercer retaining him as his attorney fit perfectly into his plans.

It was why, as much as he liked Liberty and was attracted to her, he chose to take on Mercer as a client over any potential relationship with her. He hoped he didn’t regret his decision.

“Have you had a chance yet to draw up the demand letter?” Mercer inquired after their beverages arrived and the waitress took his dinner order.

Deacon scrolled through a document on his tablet. “I’m still reviewing the terms of your property settlement with Sunny. The language is a little ambiguous in some places.”

“It was written a long time ago.”

“Did you ever attempt to collect your share of the arena revenues?”

“Nah.” He dismissed Deacon’s question with a frown. “Didn’t need it. I’ve done just fine for myself.”

Deacon guessed the older man was probably comfortable. Experienced bucking stock foremen earned decent wages, and Mercer Beckett was considered to be one of the best. It stood to reason. Decades earlier, he’d been one of the best bull riders in the country.

Why then the sudden interest in seeking his share of the revenues? It wasn’t greed or financial need. And how did Liberty figure into it? Deacon’s natural curiosity was piqued.

“I’ll have a draft of the demand letter done first thing in the morning.”

“Good.” Mercer nodded approvingly. “I’d like for us to visit the Easy Money as soon as possible with the letter in hand. What time can I come by your office in the morning?”

“Nine. Be prepared, Mrs. Beckett’s attorney will most likely request changes.”

“Such as?”

“An extension. It’s what I’d recommend if I were her counsel.”

“I won’t give it to her.”

“You might rethink that,” Deacon said. “She doesn’t have that kind of money. I’ve already checked into her finances.”

Mercer and Sunny’s divorce agreement was atypical, to say the least. In exchange for paying no child support, Mercer let Sunny keep all the revenue from the Easy Money Rodeo Arena, an amount far exceeding any child support he would have been required to pay. Even after his son, Ryder, came to live with him two years after the divorce, and later when their daughter Cassidy turned eighteen and Mercer was entitled to the money, he didn’t take a single cent.

Some might say his were the actions of a decent guy. Except now Mercer was coming after Sunny for all the back and possibly future payments. It was a puzzling contradiction.

“I want her to feel like she has no choice.”

Deacon decided to be blunt. “Can I ask why?”

The older man winked. “So she’ll take the partnership agreement we’re going to offer her instead.”

“Partnership agreement?”

This was the first Mercer had mentioned any such thing. Deacon should have seen it coming.

“I’m going to be a part of my daughters’ lives. Sunny won’t allow it unless she has no choice. The arena and the money she owes me are my way in.” His eyes softened, crinkling at the corners. “She’s stubborn. And willful.”

Deacon was hardly a romantic, so his sudden revelation came as a bit of a shock. “You still love her.”

“Never stopped.”

“You want her back.”

“Always have. But there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell until now.”

“Mercer, I’m not sure a forced partnership and using Liberty is the right course of action for winning over your ex-wife. If she’s as stubborn and willful as you say—”

“She’ll come around. Sooner or later. Until then, co-managing the arena will give me a reason to see her every day and get to know my daughters.”

“Good luck with that.” From what Deacon knew of Sunny Beckett, Mercer had his work cut out for him.

Mercer’s meal arrived. While he ate and Deacon finished a refill of his iced tea, they discussed the terms of the partnership agreement.

“We need to see copies of the arena’s financial statements before finalizing any agreement,” Deacon said. “The last five years at least.”

“Sunny will have them. She’s a whiz when it comes to the books and money. It’s one of the reasons we were able to build the arena up from practically nothing.”

Deacon maintained a neutral expression. Mercer’s drinking almost drove the arena into the ground. Sunny was clearly one sharp businesswoman. She’d built up the arena from practically nothing—twice.

“First order of business,” Mercer eagerly announced, “is to increase the bucking stock operation. Sunny has let most of it go since the accident.”

Mercer knew about the accident with the bull and that the blame had been pinned on Deacon. He’d told Deacon in their meeting yesterday that he didn’t care about a youthful mistake. Plenty of more experienced bucking stock handlers made worse mistakes than that.

When Deacon insisted on his innocence, Mercer’s response had been simply, “All the better.”

“You can’t purchase new bucking stock without her consent,” Deacon said.

“What if I use my own money?”

“She’ll still have to consent. That’s how most partnership agreements are worded.”

“Change the wording.”

Deacon typed another note into his tablet. “Her attorney will fight it.”

“Don’t know until we try.”

Before, Deacon would have seen Mercer’s confidence as cocky and arrogant. Now, he knew the reason behind it. The man was in love and, evidently, eternally optimistic.

He sure did have a funny way of demonstrating that love.

Not that Deacon was suave and sophisticated when it came to ladies. His acute reading disability hadn’t just held him back in school. Even when he’d learned to compensate, old habits were hard to break.

Take Liberty, for example. He’d had multiple opportunities to pursue her but hadn’t acted on them. Like Mercer said, she was pretty, with her short blond hair that didn’t look anything like a cowgirl’s. Neither did all those rings she wore, which he hadn’t noticed before today.

The boots and jeans were another story. He couldn’t take his eyes off her incredibly long legs when she was riding. It had cost him more than one disqualification when they were team penning together.

“Can you call Sunny and tell her to expect us tomorrow? After lunch sometime.” Mercer sopped up the last bit of chicken gravy with a chunk of dinner roll.

“No problem.”

“And ask her to make sure Cassidy and Liberty are there, too. This concerns all three of them.”

Deacon exhaled. He should have known Liberty would be there.

Despite his interest in her and the thoughts he couldn’t get out of his head no matter what, he hadn’t hesitated when Mercer approached him seeking representation. Having access to the arena’s records was exactly what Deacon needed to aid his own cause. For that, he would sacrifice a great deal.

Someone other than Deacon had left the bull’s gate unlatched that terrible day, and he intended to find out who. Then, armed with proof positive, he’d see to it Sunny Beckett and everyone else in Reckless knew the truth. Deacon would live in shame no more.