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“Grandpa’s old dog. He slept with us in the bunkhouse. He’s got ’thritus, right, Grandpa?”
“Arthritis,” Dominick clarified, then fired off another question at his granddaughter. “How old are you?”
“Eight. I’m in second grade and my birthday’s March 25th.”
“You’re awfully small for an eight-year-old. Do you drink enough milk?”
“I don’t know. Do I, Dad?” Charlie asked.
“Plenty.” Then Travis added for his father’s benefit, “Charlie’s mother is a petite woman.”
“What’s petite?” Charlie asked.
“Little, like you,” Travis answered.
“Julie’s really pretty. Dad’s got lots of pictures of her.”
Lots equated to a half-dozen snapshots he’d taken of Julie when they’d first begun dating. He’d kept the photos for Charlie’s sake—and to remind himself that pretty blondes were a waste of time.
“Brush your teeth before you play with the dog,” Travis said. A few weeks ago, he’d caught Charlie licking a dab of paste from the tube instead of using her toothbrush. Now he checked the bristles to make sure they were wet. She’d yet to figure out how he knew when she hadn’t brushed her teeth.
“I’ll brush ’em later.”
“Now.” He and his daughter engaged in a staredown. After several seconds, Charlie stomped out of the room.
“Spirited young gal,” Dominick said.
“I’d like to speak with you in private about Charlie before we leave.”
“You’re leaving?”
Had Dominick forgotten his rude behavior the previous night when he’d slammed his office door in Travis’s face? “It’s obvious you don’t want us here.” No sense beating around the bush.
“I don’t like surprises.”
Travis caught a glimpse of fear in his father’s eyes. What did the old man have to be afraid of?
“I’d like you and Charlotte to spend Thanksgiving with the family.”
Travis wasn’t used to being around a big family. Samantha seemed nice enough, but Matt and Duke had kept their distance the previous night. He’d rather settle his business with Dominick and leave.
Before Travis found a way to turn down the invitation, Dominick asked, “Do you have other plans for the holiday?”
“No.”
“Then it’s settled. You and Charlotte will stay here.” Dominick set his coffee cup in the sink, then lifted his coat from a hook by the back door. “Tell Charlotte I’ll be in the barn, waiting for her.”
As Travis gathered the dirty dishes, he didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried that Dominick had insisted he and Charlie remain at the Lazy River awhile longer. He wanted to learn what had gone wrong between his parents, but feared his mother would be made out to be the villain.
Charlie raced into the kitchen, shoving her arms into her jacket sleeves. “Where’s Grandpa?”
“Waiting for you in the barn.”
His daughter dashed outside.
A knock sounded at the door just as Travis had finished loading the dishwasher. The schoolteacher stood on the porch. Her eyes widened when their gazes connected.
“I can’t believe I didn’t notice the resemblance before now.”
Travis had better get used to that reaction if he intended to stick around the area. “C’mon in.” She stepped into the kitchen and he closed the door against the cold. She was taller than he’d first guessed, standing only a few inches shorter than his own six-foot-two-inch height.
“Sara Sanders.” She held out her hand.
“Travis Cartwright.” He grasped her fingers, surprised when he felt calluses on her palm—not the hands of a typical schoolteacher. “My daughter’s name is Charlie.”
A hint of a smile toyed with Sara’s mouth. “Ah, yes, the little walrus.”
“I don’t know where she got the idea to stick straws up her nose.” Travis caught the clean scent that wafted in the air around Sara’s head. Soap. Not perfume. He looked out the kitchen window and spotted a white compact parked next to his truck. Sara drove an economical, no-frills vehicle.
“The resemblance is uncanny,” she said, staring at his face.
“Dominick is my father.”
“My family’s ranch borders the Lazy River and we’ve never heard of a fourth Cartwright sibling.”
“Dominick had no idea I existed.”
“Amazing.”
“Coffee?”
“No, thanks.” Sara’s attention shifted to the doorway.
“Dominick’s in the barn with Charlie.”
“Where are the rest of the Cartwrights?”
“Visiting the housekeeper.”
Up close, Sara was definitely a plain Jane. Tall. Serious. Tiny crow’s-feet fanned from the corner of her eyes, insisting she spent as many days in the sun as she did in the classroom. He guessed her age to be around his own. “Are you and Dominick friends?” He emphasized the word friend, suspecting women of all ages pursued Dominick…or rather his millions.
“Hardly. We’re not even friendly neighbors.” She motioned out the window. “Do you know how long he’ll be?”
Travis shrugged. “You’re welcome to go out and speak with him if you want.”
“I guess I’ll take that cup of coffee and wait.” She draped her coat over the back of the chair.
Considering that most of his days and nights were spent in the company of rabble-rousers, when Travis was with a woman the last thing he cared to do was talk. “Where do you teach?” He set two mugs on the table and joined Sara.
“Tulapoint Elementary. The school serves the ranching community in our area.” She sipped her coffee. “What do you do for a living?”
“I work on oil rigs.”
“I imagine Dominick appreciates having one son who loves oil as much as he does.”
The verdict was still out. Before Travis had a chance to pry information about his father out of Sara, the front door crashed open.
Charlie’s shoes slapped against the wood floor. “Dad! Grandpa says we can take Fred home with us if we want him.” She skidded to a halt in the kitchen doorway. “You’re the lady from that pink house my dad and I ate in.”
Dominick joined Charlie in the kitchen. When he noticed his neighbor, the smile on his face evaporated. “Sara.”
“Sara would like to speak with you.” Travis stood. “C’mon, Charlie, let’s check on—”
“Stay.”
Travis froze.
“Have you decided to sell to me?” Dominick asked Sara.
Sara’s broad shoulders stiffened. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”
“Charlie, go upstairs and brush your teeth,” Travis said.
“I already did.”
“Then brush them again.”
“Jeez,” Charlie muttered beneath her breath and stomped from the room.
Sara pulled a letter from the pocket of her coat and thrust it at Dominick. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“Self-explanatory, isn’t it?”
“You intend to sue us for damages?”
Sue? Travis gaped at his father.
“I didn’t say much when one or two of your cows got loose on my land, but the whole herd broke through your fence last week and grazed my property.”
“I’m sure the fifty head of cattle you keep for show didn’t miss the three acres of grass our cows consumed before Cole and Gabe herded them back to the Bar T.”
“That’s not the point.” Dominick rubbed his jaw. “You Sanders are in over your heads.”
“We’re not selling the Bar T.”
“Your brothers feel differently about the situation.”
“I’m keeping my promise to my father—I’m not handing over our ranch to a greedy old man who already owns half the state of Oklahoma.”
“Then you’d better hire yourself a good lawyer.”
Sara’s chin jutted.
“Travis, talk some sense into my neighbor.” Dominick left the room.
“Well?” Sara huffed.
Travis blinked. “Well, what?”
“How do you plan to persuade me to give in to your father?”
“I don’t.”
“Why not? I thought all you Cartwright’s stuck together?”
“This is your fight, not mine. I’m heading back to Houston in a few days.”
Was it Travis’s imagination or had the fire in Sara Sanders’ eyes banked at his pronouncement?
Chapter Three
“Is it true that some guy showed up at the Lazy River, claiming to be a Cartwright?” Sara’s eldest brother, Cole, asked when she entered the barn Thanksgiving morning.
Tulapoint wasn’t a town, rather a map dot boasting a population of 323 people. It took only one phone call to crank the engine on the rumor mill. Not even a national holiday quieted the gossipmongers.
“’Fraid so.” Sara had been shocked that the man she’d seen at Beulah’s two evenings ago had 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.
