Everything Violet had ever wanted was spelled out in the paperwork scattered across her desk, but she couldn’t concentrate. Possibly because she’d done nothing but paperwork for the past two weeks. As of yesterday, the McCloud deal was final, with twenty percent down and the remainder due after Dirt Eater sold. They already had commitments from half of Buck’s rodeos for next year, and another quarter were strong possibilities.
Violet should be downright giddy. She was, most of the time. Underneath the smile, though, there was still a low throb of pain, like a bad tooth. She frowned, annoyed with herself. She’d decided against regrets. Waste of time and some damn good memories. Besides, moping was selfish considering everything Joe had done for them. Dirt Eater was going to the Finals and Cole…well, that remained to be seen. He was still Cole, anal and stiff-necked, but his relief at having a name to put to his struggles was obvious. So, no. She would not regret bringing Joe Cassidy into their lives, even if she had to suffer for it.
She propped her chin on her hand and stared at the copy of the Pro Rodeo Sports News on her desk, open to the current rodeo entry information. Upper right-hand corner, in bold black, the listing read Redmond, Oregon. The first performance was tonight. The last on Sunday. And down at the bottom, under personnel, the bullfighters were listed. Wyatt Darrington and Joe Cassidy.
For the first time since his plane left Dallas, she knew exactly where Joe was. Fifteen hundred and thirty-four miles from where she sat, according to the internet map site. Might as well be the moon. The words began to dance before her eyes. She blinked, then reached underneath the paper for her vibrating phone.
“How’s the wheeling and dealing going?” Melanie asked.
Violet tipped back in her chair. “I’m trying to estimate an advertising budget. What’s up?”
“We-ell…I called because I learned something today.”
Her tone made Violet sit up, as if she might need both feet solidly on the floor.
Melanie spit it out in a rush. “Joe and Wyatt are working the rodeo in Amarillo next fall.”
The announcement was another jab to a heart that felt like a dartboard. The rodeo wasn’t until next September, almost a year away, but still…
“Wyatt called me,” Melanie added.
Violet almost dropped her phone. “Wyatt Darrington?”
“The one and only, and wow. You were right. The man is scary. How did he find out who I am and where I work? That’s borderline creepy.”
“What did he say, Mel?”
“He wanted to talk about their contracts. I tried to tell him I don’t handle those things, I’m just the facility coordinator, but he said he wasn’t allowed to get in touch directly and he knew he could count on me to pass along a message, which was when I finally got a clue that we weren’t talking about contracts.”
“What message?” Violet demanded, the pounding of her pulse shifting to a different gear. “From Joe?”
“Not exactly. Let me look at my notes.”
“You wrote it down?”
“I wanted to be sure I got it right. Plus Wyatt said, ‘You should write this down.’” There was a rustle of paper, then Melanie quoted, “‘Joe wants to back out. He says someone told him they didn’t want to see him around there again.’”
“I did not say—” Violet protested.
But she had. She cringed, remembering that evening over at the other place, when he’d asked to see her again and she’d been too scared to say yes.
“Okay, I did say that, but it was before I…I mean, we…” She trailed off.
“And yet you say nothing to your best friend.” Melanie clucked her tongue in disapproval. “I’ll be needing details, Miz Violet, but not right now. So, you blew him off. Twice. At any point did you actually look him in the eye and say, ‘I take it back’?”
“Well, no, but I showed him…”
Melanie chuckled. “Honey, as soon as you showed him the girls, he went deaf and dumb. Didn’t the two of you talk afterward?”
“I meant to, but he bolted.”
“And you didn’t try to stop him?”
Violet huffed out a breath. “Remember when we were in the fifth grade, and tried to corner that calico barn cat of yours because it was so pretty?”
“I still have a scar on my arm.”
“Joe had that exact same look in his eyes.”
“Oh.” Melanie paused a beat. “Well now, that would make a girl take a step back.”
“You see? I thought he just needed space. A little time to adjust.” Violet tilted her chair back to glare at a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling. “I can’t believe he’s dumb enough to think I’d jump him if I wasn’t serious.”
Melanie snorted. “Did I mention he’s a man—and a cowboy? That’s clueless squared. Wyatt said, and I quote again, ‘Joe is going through some major personal and professional changes that have affected him deeply. He won’t go back to Texas unless he’s convinced he’s welcome.’”
“Idiot,” Violet muttered. She’d practically thrown the man over her shoulder and hauled him into her motel room, and he wasn’t sure she wanted to see him again? Then she blew out a guilty sigh. He had asked to see her again. Offered her exactly what she’d told her sister she wanted—an occasional no-strings fling—and she’d tossed it back in his face. Twice. So who exactly was the idiot?
But on the other hand, what had changed? She’d always known Joe wanted more than one night. And she knew more than ever that part of him wasn’t enough. “What difference does this make, if he’s still chained to Dick Browning?”
“This is why we take notes,” Melanie said, with exaggerated patience. “You weren’t paying attention, Violet. I repeat—Joe is going through some major personal and professional changes.”
Oh. God. Did that mean—hope flared, a small but stubborn flame that had never quite died. “If he left Dick, why hasn’t he come back? At least called? He must realize it changes everything.”
“As I believe I mentioned earlier—man, cowboy, clueless?”
Violet drew a deep, resolute breath. “Then I guess it’s up to me to educate him.”
“Atta girl,” Melanie said. “And Violet? Good luck.”
“Thanks.” She might need every bit she could get.
As soon as she hung up, she pulled Joe’s number out of her contact list and hit Send, before she lost her nerve. She tensed as the phone clicked, but instead of Joe’s voice, a recording declared, “The number you dialed has been changed, disconnected, or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this message in error…”
Violet frowned, grabbed the Sports News, and fumbled through the pages to the classifieds at the back, where Joe was listed with the other contract personnel. The number was the same. She keyed it in from scratch, just to be sure, and hit Send again.
“The number you have dialed has been changed—”
She jabbed the Off button and flung the phone down on her desk.
“Is something wrong?”
Violet jumped, startled by the deep rumble of her father’s voice. “Uh, no. Nothing important.”
Just life or death for that little ray of hope. Then she took a good look at his face, flushed with something between anger and confusion.
“Is something wrong with you?” she asked.
He settled into the chair in front of Violet’s desk, making the springs squeal in protest. “I just got a really strange phone call.”
Join the club.
“It was Dick Browning. Called right outta the blue, goin’ on about how I stole his bullfighter when Joe was only supposed to be taking a break.” His face darkened as he spoke, a visible measure of his rising temper. “Made it sound like he gave Joe leave to come down here.”
“As if! After what he said in Puyallup?”
“I know, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. He kept rantin’ and ravin’, sayin’ Wyatt told him Joe quit because he had a better offer in Texas.” He squinted at her with a touch of impatience. “Did you hire him again without telling me?”
“No! I wouldn’t…I haven’t talked to Joe since he left.”
“Why would Wyatt say so, then?”
Because Wyatt had some kind of nerve, and he was covering all of his bases. And then the full impact of what he’d said hit Violet square between the eyes. “Joe really quit?”
“Obviously, or Dick wouldn’t be on such a tear.”
And that meant there really was nothing holding Joe in Oregon any more. Not Dick Browning. Not the High Lonesome Ranch. Violet rested her elbows on the desk and pressed her throbbing forehead into her palms. “Why can’t he just pick up the damn phone?”
“Maybe he doesn’t know how.”
“To dial a phone?”
Her father scowled, shifting in his chair. “To talk about feelings and such. It ain’t that easy dealin’ with women. Even you.”
She rolled her eyes. “What’s so hard? He dials the phone and says, ‘Hey, Violet, sorry I jumped you and ran, can I make it up to you?”
“See?” Her dad stabbed a thick finger at her. “This is why fathers and daughters shouldn’t discuss this crap. Now I feel like it’s my God-given duty to kick his ass, even though your mother insists I’m supposed to respect your independence. Why can’t y’all just leave me out of it?”
“I’m sorry. But honestly, I don’t understand why he hasn’t…” But she did. She’d rejected Joe not once, but twice, and despite all that had passed between them since, she hadn’t verbally taken it back. Another man might have assumed, but vulnerable, skittish Joe—her Joe—needed the words even more than she did. She hissed out a curse and let her chin drop to her chest. “I never even tried to stop him.”
“I don’t think you could have. But you might’ve made it so he could see his way back.” His voice gentled. “From what I hear and what I saw, he hasn’t had much practice at belonging, and he sure as hell didn’t learn anything good from that son of a bitch Browning.”
Or the man who was supposed to be his father.
Her father gave his chin a thoughtful rub. “Might be he needs someone to put up a fight for him.”
Violet flopped back in her chair with an irate huff. “I’d be happy to try, but his number is out of service. I suppose I could get it from Wyatt, though.”
His brow furrowed, considering, then cleared. “No. This kind of thing is better done face-to-face.”
“But he’s in Oregon…”
“Yup.” He tapped the rodeo listings with one finger. “And you know right where to find him. Better get crackin’ if you intend to get to Redmond by Sunday.”
She watched in stunned disbelief as he stood and ambled out of the office. As he opened the door, a thought struck her. “What did you say to Dick Browning?”
He planted one big hand on the knob and smiled at her. “I told him Wyatt was right. There ain’t nothin’ better in the whole wide world than what Joe found down here in Texas.”