Her Rodeo Man. Cathy McDavid

unbearable. Sunny lost Ryder for twenty-two years, and she still didn’t have him back.

      “Ready?” she asked.

      “Where to now?”

      “The outdoor stalls and back pastures,” she suggested.

      They went in the same direction as Liberty. Ryder, Tatum noticed, slowed his steps to keep pace with her shorter strides. He was tall. Her chin barely reached his shoulder. He must have grown six inches after he left. If he kissed her now, he’d have to dip his head considerably further.

      Stop it!

      The mental reprimand was useless. How could she not think of Ryder when he walked beside her, near enough to touch if she extended her hand a mere three inches to the right?

      What had they been talking about? Oh, yeah, lessons and boarding.

      “Liberty’s also in charge of the trail rides,” Tatum said. “There’s usually one every weekend when we don’t have a rodeo.”

      “Just one?”

      “We don’t have enough requests for more than that on weekends.”

      “Are they profitable?”

      “Actually, yes.”

      “What’s the margin?”

      “I’d say about the same as riding lessons.”

      “How do we advertise the rides? And don’t tell me on the website and posters in town.”

      “Okay, I won’t. But that’s what we do.”

      He muttered under his breath.

      “There are tourists in town,” she protested. “They see the posters.”

      “What about the marina at Roosevelt Lake? Do we have a poster in their window?”

      “No.”

      “We should.”

      Did he notice he was talking in the plural? “Is that more of your reciprocal advertising?”

      “You catch on fast.”

      “I’ll call them and ask if we can deliver a poster.”

      “I’ll do it. In fact, I’ll just take one over this afternoon. That way, I can bring back one of theirs.”

      “Good idea.” She supposed a face-to-face meeting was better than a phone call. Harder to say no.

      Twenty minutes later they were through with the tour. Approaching the office from the outside entrance rather than the barn, they climbed the three steps to the awning-covered porch. Cassidy still sat at Tatum’s desk. Sunny wasn’t there. Tatum could see her empty office through the open connecting door.

      Was she avoiding Ryder? Had Cassidy told her mother about her fight, or whatever it was, with Ryder?

      “You’re back.” Cassidy quickly closed the webpage she had open on the computer and stood.

      “Stay longer if you aren’t done,” Tatum offered.

      “It’s all right. I have to make a run into Globe for supplies.”

      “Didn’t Liberty do that yesterday?” Ryder asked.

      “She bought lumber. I’m getting vet supplies. Dewormer and penicillin. There’s been three cases of strangles reported this month in the Mesa area. We don’t want to be caught with a low supply if it should move to Reckless.”

      “That’s serious.”

      Tatum concurred. She’d seen a strangles epidemic before. The highly contagious infection attacked the lymph nodes between a horse’s jaw or in its throat and caused flu-like symptoms lasting weeks, if not months. Should the Becketts’ bucking stock or boarded horses succumb, their entire business would be in jeopardy.

      “It is serious,” Cassidy said. “So, if you’ll excuse me.”

      “We can order penicillin online, and for a lot cheaper, with a prescription.”

      “I’ve already thought of that.” Cassidy lifted her chin. “Doctor Spence is coming tomorrow.”

      Ryder softened his voice. “I wasn’t questioning your abilities.”

      “See you later.”

      “That went well,” he said after Cassidy left.

      Tatum ignored him and sat at her desk.

      “Did I say something wrong?”

      “Look.” She leveled her stare at him. “If you weren’t questioning her abilities, you were questioning something.”

      “You’re right.” He dropped down into the visitor chair. “I’m sorry to involve you in our squabble.”

      “Squabble?” That hardly described their longstanding clash.

      “This big reconciliation Liberty and Dad are hoping for may not happen.”

      “It definitely won’t happen if you don’t try and get along.”

      “We argued about Mom. And,” he admitted, “the way I’ve acted in recent years.”

      Big surprise. Not. “How about we institute a new rule? No discussion regarding family at work, unless it relates to work. I’ll tell Cassidy and Sunny. You tell Liberty and Mercer.” She felt as if she was refereeing a fight between her children.

      He considered for a moment, then relented with a shrug. “All right.”

      “That’s what I like to see. Progress.” She rolled her chair over to the lateral file cabinet by her desk, deciding they should start the office part of Ryder’s orientation with the current bucking stock contracts. She opened the drawer and removed a dozen manila folders. “I probably shouldn’t point this out...”

      “But you will.”

      “Your resentment toward your mother. It mirrors Cassidy’s toward your father.”

      “Are you saying we’ll never find a common ground?”

      “I’m saying there’s more common ground than you think.” She slapped the folders on to the desk, the impact making a loud noise. “Let’s start on these.”

      * * *

      RYDER STOPPED TO refuel his truck on the way into Reckless. Based on the number of things he’d accomplished, it had been a productive day. He’d spent the morning with Tatum, interfering with her work but also gaining an understanding of how the office ran, including an overview of the accounting system and record keeping. He and his father had had lunch at the Flat Iron Restaurant with one of the arena’s oldest clients.

      After that, Ryder had headed to the marina at Roosevelt Lake, posters and flyers on the seat beside him. The marina manager, a crusty old guy who could have played an extra in a Pirates of the Caribbean movie, was agreeable to Ryder’s suggestion that they help each other out.

      On impulse, he’d driven to the outskirts of Globe and the mining company offices. After being passed from one person to the next, he’d finally been granted a meeting with the personnel manager’s secretary. The middle-aged woman had listened patiently to his pitch—the Easy Money Rodeo Arena would be a great place for employee parties or retreats. She’d agreed to give the material Ryder left with her to her boss and thanked him for his time.

      Productive day. No question about it. But nothing a trained monkey couldn’t do. Ryder had been a senior marketing executive in charge of several multimillion-dollar accounts. And here he was, delivering posters and flyers and trolling for business. Something he could have done in high school.

      Running errands. Sleeping on the trundle bed in his dad’s spare room. Fighting with his sister. He might as well be in high school again.

      “Ryder