More Than a Cowboy

“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.

Chapter Two

“How could you?”

“Come on. Give Mom a break.”

Liberty sighed expansively and slumped down into the kitchen chair. For the past half hour, her sister, Cassidy, had been defending their mother while Liberty had paced back and forth in front of the sink, venting her outrage at being lied to and her anger at the turn of events. If she’d been told the truth from the beginning, none of this would have happened.

A lawsuit! And that was only a small portion of what Liberty was grappling with. The father she’d known for an entire five minutes had used her in his scheme to get the money owed him. Money!

Did he realize that, as employees of the arena, Liberty and Cassidy would be profoundly affected?

The scent of Mercer’s aftershave filled the air. Or maybe it was no more than a memory. One she’d be better off without. Refocusing her attention, she looked at her mother sitting across the table—and saw a stranger.

“What else haven’t you told us, Mom?” she asked.

“Nothing.” The response was uttered through tight lips. She’d been angry since being confronted.

“Yeah.” Liberty snorted derisively. “I guess the identity of my real father, his half ownership in our rodeo arena and the money you owe him are enough.”

“That’s not fair! I did what I thought was best to protect you.”

“From what? A reformed alcoholic who hadn’t touched a drop in twenty-two years? A man who, by all accounts, was a good father to his son?”

During most of their long, emotionally draining exchange, Sunny had sat at the table, enough sparks flashing in her eyes to ignite a brush fire.

“I don’t trust him,” she blurted out. “And with good reason.”

“Maybe once. Not for years. You had no right to screw with my life.”

“That’s enough.” Sunny slapped the table with her hand.

Liberty fumed. What did her mother have to be so mad about? Mercer’s return? She had to assume he’d approach her for the money one day. The amount was a staggering sum. Over one hundred thousand dollars. When Sunny informed them, Liberty had physically gulped. Their savings didn’t cover a fourth of that.

Cassidy, too, though she’d regained her composure quickly, making up for their mother’s silence with more verbal attacks on Mercer.

“She was thinking of us,” Cassidy said, her tone superior. “Like a good mother does.”

Younger by eleven years, Liberty had always been the baby of the family, doted on by her mother and ruled over by her big sister. Liberty might be twenty-four, but as far as Cassidy was concerned, their relationship hadn’t changed.

“Please.” Liberty leaned forward and waited for her mother to meet her gaze. A sudden surge of emotion tightened her voice. “I need to know. Why did you lie to me?”

The topic of Mercer and the money owed him had been temporarily set aside. Liberty instead pressed for the information most important to her.

“Trust me,” Cassidy quipped. “You don’t want Mercer Beckett for a father. He nearly killed us both.”

Killing might be a stretch. On his way home from picking up Cassidy at a friend’s house, an inebriated Mercer lost control of the pickup he was driving and slammed into the well house. Thankfully, no one was injured. The same couldn’t be said for the well house. But the wreck had terrified Cassidy and prompted Sunny to send Mercer packing a few weeks later.

Liberty might have sent him packing, too. Especially when he didn’t stop drinking immediately afterward. “He must regret what happened,” she said to Cassidy.

“If he does, he sure as heck never told me.”

Liberty’s sister always sided with their mother when it came to Mercer. With good cause, Liberty supposed. As far as Cassidy was concerned, Mercer’s past sins were unforgivable. Whereas Sunny hardly ever mentioned him, Cassidy seized every opportunity to speak ill. Daddy’s little girl hadn’t ever gotten over her hurt and resentment at his going from perfect father to raging alcoholic. Also fear. His drinking and actions while under the influence had scared her.

From what Liberty was able to determine, both her siblings had once adored their father. Ryder’s devotion, however, hadn’t ever wavered despite Mercer’s drinking problem. At fourteen, when he could legally choose which parent to reside with, he left Reckless and joined Mercer in Kingman, a town nearly a full day’s drive away.

Cassidy’s adoration of Mercer had soured. Liberty suspected their mother’s refusal to discuss him only hardened the shell surrounding her sister’s heart.

“Twenty-two years of sobriety is more than enough to prove he’s changed,” Liberty insisted. “I had the right to make my own decision regarding Mercer. Ryder did.”

Sunny jerked involuntarily at the mention of her estranged son. Then, to Liberty’s shock, her mother burst into tears.

Her fury instantly waned. It must have been heartbreaking for her mother to lose Ryder. And all her attempts to maintain contact with him had either been ignored or thrown back in her face. He resented their mother as much as Cassidy did their father—and Liberty was caught in the middle.

The stranger Liberty saw across the table disappeared, and her mother once more sat there.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you miss Ryder and wish things were different. But that doesn’t change the fact you should have told me about Mercer being my father.”

“I wanted to.” Sunny wiped her tears with a paper napkin from the holder on the table. “You have no idea how many times I tried.”

“What stopped you?”

“I lost my courage. I was so afraid you’d go looking for him.”

Like Ryder. The truth at last. Liberty supposed she understood her mother’s fear. Losing one child had been difficult enough.

“You think we would have had it so good if he’d been draining our bank account dry every month?” Cassidy interjected.

For the first time, Sunny defended Mercer. “It wasn’t like that. He couldn’t have drained us dry. There were clauses in our property settlement agreement. The monthly profits had to be at a certain level or the full amount he was owed went back into the operating account to insure sufficient cash flow.”

“In other words—” Liberty sent her sister a pointed look “—he cared about the arena and us and made sure we wouldn’t hit rock bottom again.”

Cassidy huffed and leaned against the counter, her arms crossed. “Before you go awarding him a big shiny halo, just remember he wants the money now.”

“He’ll take payments.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He won’t have a choice.”

“Girls!”

At their mother’s sharp outburst, both Liberty and Cassidy shut their mouths.

“Why didn’t you put the money aside?” Liberty asked a moment later when she and her sister were both calmer. “Just in case he came to collect.”

“I did at first.” Sunny was also calmer. “A couple hundred dollars a week. But Cassidy was competing on the rodeo circuit in those days. She needed money for a horse and training and a new saddle. With her gone so much, I was shorthanded and had to hire part-time help.”

Barrel racing was the same as any other rodeo event. Decent winnings could be had at the championship level. Getting there, however, required money, and Sunny had footed the bill.

Did Cassidy ever repay their mother? Liberty considered asking but held her tongue. In Cassidy’s current mood, she wouldn’t appreciate the underlying accusation.

“Then there was the accident and poor Ernie Tuckerman.” Sunny wrung her hands together. “I had a ten-thousand-dollar deductible to cover, and afterward, our insurance premiums skyrocketed. It was six years since Cassidy’s high school graduation. I figured if Mercer hadn’t demanded his share of the revenue by then, he wasn’t ever going to.”

A peculiar arrangement, Liberty thought, not for the first time since hearing about it. Mercer hadn’t paid any child support for Cassidy. Instead, he’d let their mother keep all the arena profits until Cassidy graduated high school. At that point, her mother was supposed to start paying him his share. Only she hadn’t. And he didn’t ask for it.

Sunny had obviously said nothing about his half ownership of the arena to Cassidy, either. Liberty had seen the shock and disbelief on her sister’s face when she’d blurted the news. Yet, Cassidy had blamed Mercer rather than their mother.

“You and Mercer must have talked over the years,” Liberty said. “Did he ever mention the money?”

Sunny shook her head. “The few times we did talk, the subject of money didn’t come up. That’s the truth,” she reiterated.

There was a wistfulness in her mother’s expression that Liberty had seen before. When she was young, she’d caught her mother studying a framed photograph, that same expression on her face. Later, Liberty had snuck into her mother’s room and removed the photo from its hiding place in the back of the drawer. A younger version of her parents stared back at her, except Liberty hadn’t known Mercer was her father.

When she’d asked about Mercer, her mother changed the subject. Eventually, Liberty stopped asking—but not wondering.

“Did he ever talk about me?” Her tongue tripped over the last word.

“To ask if you were his?”

Liberty nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Mercer must have realized she’d been born nine months, give or take, after he and her mother split.

“He did.”

“You lied to him, too!”

“He was drinking then. Heavily. I didn’t want to give him any reason to stick around.”

Emotions rose up in Liberty, threatening to choke her. She fought for control. “He must have been so hurt. Thinking you slept with another man within days after he left.”

Sunny remained mute, her features dark.

“He hurt us!” Cassidy insisted. Tears had welled in the corners of her eyes.

Liberty shot to her feet, the need to distance herself for a moment overpowering her. Sunny had lied to Mercer and driven him away rather than let him know he’d fathered a third child with her.

“Tell me this, Mom.” She hesitated on her way to the door. The barn, with its familiar scent of horses and dark, cool corners, beckoned. It had been her sanctuary since she was a little girl, the place she went to when she wanted to be alone. “If you despised Mercer so much, why did you sleep with him right up to the day you threw him out?”

If she meant to wound her mother, she succeeded. Sunny’s control collapsed, and her features crumpled.

Liberty wasn’t quite to the door when the arena phone rang. Extensions had been placed in the kitchen and Sunny’s bedroom in case of emergencies. With no one manning the office, they’d been answering the phone in the house.

Being the closest, Liberty grabbed the receiver, put it to her ear and automatically said, “Easy Money Rodeo Arena, Liberty Beckett speaking.”

“Hello, Liberty. It’s Deacon McCrea.”

She went still, and despite her resolve to the contrary, her insides fluttered as they often did when she spoke to him. Dammit. After the meeting with Mercer, he was off-limits. Apparently, her heart hadn’t gotten the memo yet.

“Hello,” he said. “Did I lose you?”

“N-no.” She turned toward her mother and sister. They’d been as unnerved as her to learn Deacon McCrea was representing Mercer. The irony wasn’t lost on Liberty. They’d blamed him for the bull-goring accident regardless of any evidence. “What do you want, Deacon?”

The alarm on their faces matched the panic Liberty felt.

“Is your mother available?” he asked.

She held the phone away and pressed the mute button. “He wants to talk to you.”

Sunny shook her head vehemently.

Liberty returned to the call. “I’m sorry. She’s not in at the moment.”

“Could you give her a message for me?”

“What is it?”

Liberty hadn’t intended to sound so curt with Deacon. Nothing about this situation with her family was his fault. But he’d positioned himself squarely in Mercer’s camp and had to know that squashed any potential relationship with her. She did, and grieved just a little for what was lost.

“Your father and I would like to meet with you, your mother and sister tomorrow. Is one o’clock convenient?”

“For what?”

“To discuss terms. Can Sunny or someone else call me back and confirm? Here’s my number.”

Discuss terms? An ambiguous phrase that held the power to tear their lives apart.

With shaking fingers, Liberty reached for the pad and pen kept by the phone and jotted down the number he recited.

“I’m not sure we’re available,” she said. “It’s summer. I teach riding classes both mornings and afternoons, and my mother—”

“The sooner the better.”

His abrupt businesslike manner caused her to bristle. To think she’d wasted all those hours daydreaming about him, now and in the past.

“Fine. I’ll give her the message.” Hanging up, she faced her family. “Mercer has requested a meeting. It doesn’t sound like he’ll take no for an answer.”

* * *

DEACON PULLED INTO the Easy Money Rodeo Arena grounds and was instantly transported eleven years into the past. That hadn’t happened for weeks. Lately, he’d begun to hope the past was dead, that he might actually belong here again and have a chance with Liberty. Turned out he’d been wrong. On all three counts. He wasn’t sure which disappointed him the most.

Relocating to Reckless had been a six-month impulse. He’d returned briefly to handle some old business for his parents. They’d moved to Globe years ago. Several people had recognized Deacon and stopped him on the streets, mentioning the accident. When he left, he vowed never to set eyes on the place again. Except he couldn’t get those encounters and the town out of his mind.

He was innocent. He would clear his name. He would not run away again.

Mercer must be going through a similar trip down memory lane for he’d grown suddenly quiet after having talked Deacon’s ear off during the entire drive from town.

Maneuvering his pickup into an empty space outside the arena office, Deacon parked and shut off the engine. He reached for the door handle. “You ready?”

Mercer didn’t move.

Deacon waited while the cab quickly heated to an uncomfortable temperature.

“Anytime,” he prodded.

“Yeah, sorry.” Mercer’s smile was weak at best. “Got lost in thought there for a second.”

Outside the truck, Deacon paused and surveyed his surroundings, much as he had that first day back. On the surface, little had changed.

The office was housed in the main barn and could be entered from either the outside or inside of the barn. The arena was to the west and directly across from the main barn. Aluminum bleachers flanked the two long sides of the arena. On the south end were bucking chutes, large ones for the bulls and horses, smaller ones for the calves. Narrow runways connected the chutes to the livestock-holding pens. Above the chutes, and with a bird’s-eye view, was the announcer’s stand.

A lengthy row of shaded stalls had been built behind the main barn, along with more livestock pens and three connected pastures. About half of the box stalls in the main barn and most of the outdoor stalls were available for lease to the public. Deacon himself rented two stalls for his horses.

He’d long ago given up rodeoing. A couple years ago, at the urging of a buddy, he’d started team penning and discovered he not only had a knack for it, he quite enjoyed it. The horses were a gift to himself when he passed the bar exam.

Liberty also had a love of team penning. It was something they’d shared these past couple of months, often practicing and competing together. He was going to miss that.

Deacon and Mercer strode in the direction of the office. An old wooden picnic table sat to the right of the door, the innumerable scars and gouges indistinguishable from the initials and names carved into it. Three folding lawn chairs were clustered near the picnic table. All empty.

At the office door, Deacon paused and knocked. Most people simply entered. He’d decided to give the three Beckett women a quick heads-up. Turned out they weren’t there. Instead, the tiny waiting area was deserted, and a woman Deacon didn’t immediately recognize occupied the desk.

“Hi.” Her smile was guarded. “I’ll let Sunny know you’re here.” She reached for the desk phone and pressed a series of buttons on the dial pad. “Sunny Beckett to the office. Sunny Beckett to the office.” Half a beat behind, the receptionist’s voice blared from speakers inside the barn and at the arena. “She shouldn’t be long,” the woman said after hanging up.

“Thank you kindly.” Mercer took a seat in one of the two well-worn visitor chairs.

Deacon joined him. He understood this was a game. Sunny didn’t want to appear as if she was waiting for them. That would show weakness. Forcing them to wait for her, on her home turf at that, showed strength.

He perused the pictures on the walls. Some were of familiar scenes and faces, others evidently taken after his time here as a wrangler. The ones of the bulls had been removed.

“I remember you,” Mercer said. “You’re Cassidy’s friend.”

Deacon swiveled in his chair. Mercer was staring at the woman, the beginnings of a grin on his face.

“Yes,” she answered hesitantly.

He snapped his fingers as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Tatum Hanks.”

“It’s Tatum Mayweather now.” Her smile lost some of its wariness. “How are you, Mr. Beckett?”

“Just dandy. And call me Mercer. I take it you work here.”