After the Sunset Read online

  The trailer for participants was clearly marked, and when we reached the front of the line, I gave the man sitting at the table the name of the ranch.

  “Red Diamond,” I said.

  There were three people there, two women and the one man, and his head snapped up to look at me.

  “We were told that the Red Diamond was not participating this year.”

  “Then you were misinformed, sir,” I told him.

  “Well, I’m so pleased.” He smiled and fished through a stack of manila envelopes in front of him. “Oh, I see it here now. You spoke to Katie.”

  “Yessir.”

  “Are you….” He squinted at the printout he had pulled from the envelope. “Steven Joss?”

  “It’s Stefan, but yes.”

  “Wonderful.” He smiled up at me and seemed genuinely pleased. “We were worried that the Red Diamond was going to give us a miss this year just like the two years prior.”

  “And we’re sorry about that,” Everett chimed in. “And I assure you, sir, that we will never miss another.”

  The man extended his hand to me. “I’m Hud Lawrence, and may I say that this is just about the best piece of news I’ve had all week,” he told me as we shook. He grasped Everett’s hand after mine and then Dusty’s. “Lots of folks come out just to see you all. This rodeo is mostly a small community one ’cept for you folks, and it’s a treat to see your stock. I’ve got to give Gil Landry a call and tell him that you all showed up. I know he was lookin’ forward to competing if you were fixin’ to be here.”

  I nodded, accepted the registration packet from Hud, wrote the man a check for seven hundred dollars, a hundred per event, and stepped back so Everett could give him the names of who was participating and in what. Dusty chatted with the two women at the table, had them laughing with him in minutes, so charming with his big blue eyes and dimples, and was getting the gossip as Hud typed information into his laptop. Once everything was signed—release of liability forms, insurance forms—our numbers given to us, and directions to our trailer, stable and corral to work our horses, we thanked him and the two women and headed back to the others.

  “Who is Gil whoever?” I asked Everett.

  “He’s a rancher here,” he answered, irritable suddenly. “He and Rand have a kind of—I dunno, strange sort of rivalry goin’ on. I don’t really get it. They’re friends, but they ain’t. I’m not sure how to describe it.”

  “He hates Rand,” Dusty told me. “That’s how you describe it.”

  “But not all the time. He only hates Rand sometimes.”

  “Well, I’m sure he’s gonna be disappointed that Rand’s not here.”

  “Most likely,” Everett agreed, but the look on his face was odd.

  Everett Hartline was a strange man. He was absolutely dangerous and unpredictable, and his temper was horrible. He was also extremely loyal and very protective of his home, which was Rand’s ranch. I liked it best when he wasn’t armed. When he and Chris took their rifles at night to check on the borders of the ranch, I got nervous.

  “Something you’re not telling me?”

  He shook his shaggy head, the light brown hair, streaked gold from the sun, falling into his dark blue eyes. No one would ever say that Everett was handsome, but once you saw his face, you never forgot it. He reminded me of the pictures of the cowboys from the Old West—rugged, hard, and tanned from living their lives outdoors. There was no trace of gentleness in the man, no softness, just mean edges that I never wanted to be on the wrong side of. He scared me just a little.

  “So do you guys all know what events you’re gonna do?” I asked him.

  He smiled barely. “It’s nice to hear you ask. Rand don’t ever ask.”

  “’Cause he knows what all your strengths are,” I sighed deeply, passing him the packet with all the numbers in it. “I’m just along for the ride.”

  “You’re more than that,” he said as we reached the others.

  As they all started deciding who was going to do what, I yelled over that I was going to bed. No one heard me, but it didn’t matter.

  There were two trailers, and they each slept four so there was more than enough room. Once I was changed and under the covers, taking the bunk at the back, I took pity on the dog looking up at me like she was dying.

  “Get in the bed,” I told her.

  She was up and tucked down on the other side of me, head on my hip with a happy whimper, seconds later. I didn’t hear the others come in.

  Chapter 5

  BREAKFAST was amazing, all the good home cooking, and when Everett and I were on our way to watch the grand entry, where all the contestants entered the arena for the rodeo, a man stepped in front of us. He was immediately joined by three others. It was slightly intimidating, but the fact that he looked so familiar somehow kept it from being frightening. He had the same thick jet-black hair that all the Holloway men had, though his was dusted gray at his temple.

  “You look like a Holloway,” I told him.

  “You know I am.”

  “Are you Rayland Holloway?”

  He squinted at me. “Yessir. And you’re Stefan Joss, my son tells me.”

  “Yeah. Where is old Glenn? I’d love to talk to him.”

  He grunted and the men behind him moved in closer. Everett bumped me with his shoulder when he stepped in beside me.

  “What brings you to the rodeo, Mr. Joss?”

  “It’s the five-year mark for the grazing lands, sir,” I answered him.

  His eyes narrowed.

  “And as I own half of the Red Diamond, I had to be here to make sure we didn’t lose our grazing rights.”

  It was fun because he looked like I’d hit him.

  “So even though Rand’s out at the Sarasota with your son Zach,” Everett drawled out, laying it on thick, “the Red Diamond is here in the official capacity to compete and therefore, retain the grazing rights in King.”

  Rayland stood there, absolutely white-faced, mouth open like a fish, somehow looking slightly smaller than he had two minutes ago.

  “’Cause as you know, there are no stipulations that anyone has to win or even place; just participation is required from all the ranches that graze their cattle on the land.”

  The hatred in his eyes was hard to face, but I had seen worse in my life, so it was par for the course.

  I had to physically restrain Everett when the man took a step back and spat at my feet.

  “Watch your back,” he warned before he turned on his heel, shoved his way through his own men, and stalked away.

  “Well,” I said the second we were alone, “that went well.”

  “That man just threatened you,” Everett barked at me, indignant and angry.

  “Yeah, and it was crazy, over the top, very Walking Tall wasn’t it?” I chuckled. “I mean come on, ‘watch your back’? Who says that? It’s like a badly edited B-movie.”

  He was looking at me like I was nuts.

  “What?”

  “I don’t get you at all.”

  I shrugged, turning to walk toward the arena. “I wanna talk to him.”

  “Talk to who?” Everett said as he caught up to me.

  “Mr. Holloway.”

  “You wanna talk to the man who just spit on you?”

  “At me, not on me,” I corrected. “And yeah.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. There’s gotta be a way to fix all this.”

  “All what?”

  “All this bad blood,” I told him. “It’s such a shame to have a family ripped apart.”

  “But as far as I can tell, it’s been like this since Rand’s father died, and that man back there wanted the ranch, and my boss said no.”

  I nodded because there was no way it was as easy as he was making it out to be.

  “You’re thinking that there’s more to it.”

  “Yes.” I smiled at him. “And that was very perceptive of you.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Sometim
es it’s just jealousy, Stef,” he said before tugging on my arm. “C’mon, I gotta get to the arena, and you need a seat.”

  He left me at the corral, bolting toward Chris, who was yelling at him to hurry the hell up, and I joined the crowd, blending in with everyone else in my jeans, boots, and hat. Reaching the main area, I climbed up through the crowd on the bleachers up toward the top until I found some space. The view was good, and I was surprised at the number of people who were there.

  “So you own the Red Diamond?”

  I turned and there was a man looking up at me from under the brim of his black Stetson. “I own half of the Red Diamond,” I corrected him.

  He nodded. “We heard you were here last night.”

  So this guy had to be Gil Landry that Hud Lawrence had told me he was going to call. But to be sure, I asked. “And you are?”

  “Gil Landry,” he said, leaning forward, offering me his hand.

  The man was even bigger than Rand. My cowboy was leaner, his muscles sleeker. Gil was bulkier, everything fitting tight from the shirt stretched across his wide chest and bulging biceps, to the denim encasing lean hips and long, thick legs. When my eyes met his, he smiled, which warmed the dark brown eyes and softened his face. Handsome man, not breathtaking like Rand Holloway, but few men were.

  I took the offered hand, squeezed tight, and then let go. “Stefan Joss. Good to meet you.”

  “We were expecting Rand.”

  “He’s helping his cousin with an emergency.”

  “I see.” He nodded, indicating the woman seated beside him. “This is my sister Carly.”

  I leaned forward and took the hand she offered me. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “And you.” She nodded, tipping her head. “Though I have to tell you that I wish Rand had come with you. Seeing that man is one of the highlights of the rodeo for me.”

  I bet it was. “Well, I suspect he’ll be here next year.”

  She tried to force a smile, but I realized how really sad she looked. “It’s doubtful. Between his ranch and his new wife, we—”

  “Wife?”

  “Yes,” she snapped irritably.

  “Rand Holloway is—”

  “I’m sorry.” She softened her tone. “You own half the ranch, so I’m sure you must have met her. Stephanie, isn’t it?”

  I shook my head. “Rand Holloway is not married.”

  “How is it you own half the ranch, Stefan?”

  “Because like I said, Rand Holloway is not married, and it’s not Stephanie, it’s Stefan,” I said, rising, getting ready to find another place to sit.

  “Wait.” Gil stopped me, and my eyes were back on his brown ones.

  I stood my ground.

  He cleared his throat. “We’re sorry, Mr.—Stefan. We had no idea that Rand Holloway was….” He turned and looked at his sister. “Did we?”

  Her mouth was open, her eyes were huge, and she could not seem to stop staring at my face.

  “So.” Gil coughed, looking back up at me. “Have a seat here, and let me explain this all to you. We heard you moved here from Chicago. You probably don’t have a lot of experience with this kind of thing, do you?”

  I studied him, then his sister, and then went back to him. “I’m not up to bullshit today.”

  “You speak your mind.”

  “I have to deal with Rand’s cousin Glenn at some point today, and his father, Rayland, just threatened me, so if you want to mess with me, so not in the mood, you know?”

  He nodded. “Rayland Holloway is a dick.”

  “And Glenn’s a pig,” Carly seconded, finally finding her voice.

  I sat down.

  The rodeo was bigger than I thought it would be, but I had it on good authority, from Gil, that compared to some it was tiny. We had missed everyone riding in and circling while we were talking. All the competitors were already in a row at the center of the arena, and I saw Rand’s men waving to the crowd.

  “It’s good that you came, Stefan,” Carly assured me, reaching over her brother to pat my knee. “We get a much bigger crowd when the Red is here, and that helps the community so much. Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  I sat there with her and her brother and got an education on rodeo events during the course of the morning and afternoon. Watching the calf roping, or tie-down roping, was interesting, and Rand’s stoic ranch hand Chris was the fastest and moved like a machine. The crowd certainly appreciated his technique and economy of movement, and when his time came in as the best, I was thrilled for him.

  The team roping was next, or what Carly called heading and heeling.

  “See, Stef, your man Chase just roped the steer’s horns. He’s the header, and now Everett, he’s the heeler, he’s going to lasso the back legs, and together they’re going to put it in the dirt.”

  “Seems mean,” I told her.

  I got a few looks from some people around us, and Carly just shook her head.

  “What?”

  “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  I smiled at her.

  The lunch break pulled everyone from the bleachers to the different concession stands, and when I tried to leave them, Gil reached for me, put a hand on my shoulder, manhandling me like Rand always did, and steered me toward the food area. The three of us stood in line to get Indian fry bread with cheese and beans, and afterward decided to walk around.

  Not only was it a rodeo, but a fair as well, with all the cotton candy and rides and the booths where you could win those huge stuffed animals that were only cool when you were walking on the midway. At home it was just crap that cluttered up your house.

  “You know, that hat looks strange on you,” Gil commented as we stopped so Carly could buy some gifts for her nieces.

  “I get that a lot,” I chuckled, remembering Everett dissing the same hat in the truck with me.

  “I bet.” He nodded, reaching out to touch the brim. “You don’t really fit in here, do you?”

  “I fit at the Red,” I told him because somehow, I got the strange feeling that he was trying, in a sort of backhanded way, to make a point. “I fit with Rand.”

  “Do you?”

  His tone was icy, and I noticed that he was barely breathing. I looked past him at Carly and found her gazing at me as well. The second my eyes met hers, she smiled big and turned away.

  “I would say that you want to fit with him, and so you think you do, but you don’t.”

  My eyes returned to his.

  “You’re wrong.”

  “How can I be? I just spent the day talkin’ to you, and you don’t know shit about being a cowboy or life on a ranch. You don’t know anything about what Rand really needs.”

  “And you do?”

  “I do.”

  “And what is that?”

  “The man needs the same thing I do, someone who can stand at his side, not someone he has to take care of.”

  I turned to go, but he grabbed my arm hard, wrenching me back around as he leaned in close to me, finger in my face. “You might have turned Rand’s head with this—whatever the fuck this is, but when he comes to his senses, he’ll want a woman who can love him and love his ranch and give him sons.”

  Sometimes I missed what was right in front of me. “Carly.”

  “That’s right,” he snarled quietly at me, digging his fingers into my bicep. He would leave bruises. “I’ve been pushin’ him for forever to date her so he can see how good his life can be. It nearly broke her heart when we heard he had remarried. I didn’t think I’d ever see her back to smiling, but then today when you showed up… hell. She’s pleased as punch.”

  And I knew why she was happy. “She thinks it won’t last.”

  “She knows, just like I do, that this is nothing. He will toss you out of his home in no time and finally look at what’s been waitin’ patiently for him this whole time. Carly will make Rand the best wife ever. If you were smart, you’d clear out before he throws you out
.”

  “Get your hand off me.”

  It happened so fast. He let go of my arm, shoved me back, and hit me. I didn’t realize until his fist was connecting with my jaw that he was that angry. Normally, I could defend myself better. I had been in enough fights in my life, but it was so unexpected. I didn’t even have time to react before I was on the ground.

  “What the fuck?”

  I looked up, and Glenn Holloway was there beside me.

  “Stay out of this, Glenn.”

  “Nice sucker punch,” he said, offering me a hand without looking at me, keeping an eye on Gil. “Back the fuck off.”

  “Or what?”

  “You really wanna do this?” Glenn asked him as he pulled me to my feet. “Or do you just wanna walk away?”

  The two men stood there like rams ready to lock horns, and then Gil turned and left without a backward glance. All the Holloway men had crappy tempers apparently.

  “Thanks,” I said, touching my face, making sure my right eye was still in my head. “Shit, that hurts.”

  “Well, I expect so,” he said matter-of-factly, picking my hat up from where it had fallen in the dirt. He didn’t give it back to me, just held it. “Come on.” He grabbed my arm.

  I rolled my shoulder so he had to let me go. “Just—I’m done with being manhandled for one day, all right?”

  “Sure,” he agreed, pointing down the row of concession stands. “Walk that way.”

  I didn’t realize that the White Ash had a food booth where they made steak plates. I was directed behind the counter, and since he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, he had to manhandle me. He shoved me down into a chair and then walked away. I watched the flurry of activity going on around me. There was an enormous grill, and the man there was brushing steaks with sauce, checking the charcoal as well as the flame, and frying mushrooms over the open flame on the opposite side. Another man was slicing the cooked steaks into bite-sized pieces and dropping them into huge metal bowls. The next man in the production line was frying onions, sweet potato wedges, and russet potato wedges. At the final station, salad was being tossed and coleslaw mixed.