Read Road to Glory Online

Authors: Tessa Berkley

Tags: #contemporary, #Western, #Scarred Hero/Heroine

Road to Glory (10 page)

Softly she hummed an old song about a love gone wrong, while her strong fingers molded a tablespoonful of the cornmeal mixture into pale yellow medallions. Then, one by one, she slipped them into the hot oil. The cornbread sizzled in protest. Overhead, she heard the sound of the shower running as Glory went about cleaning up for supper. Alma picked up her fork and turned over the ovals in the grease, scooping up what was ready and setting them on a nearby plate.

Yep, she’d been a bit surprised when Glory had shown up at the ranch with a cowboy in tow. Even raised an eyebrow when Mr. Davis mentioned that Big John Parker from the rodeo suggested he give him a chance to buy cattle. “What is a man who’s nearly been killed by a bull doin’ buying them critters, I don’t know,” she said with a shake of her head. “Sometimes I wonder if men got all the brains they’re supposed to have.” Above her, the water cut off. Alma placed a few more ovals of meal in the pan, rinsed her hands, and reached into the cabinet above the counter for a glass. Glory would come down and have something to drink before she set the table.

They’d had the same set schedule since she was a little girl and off to kindergarten for the first time. Back then, she’d come home and shrug out of her book bag and into her jeans before trotting out to the barn after her daddy. Alma gave a shake of her head. “You should be down here now, Captain,” she whispered to the wind. “I’ve got a feeling your little girl’s gonna need you this time.” She scooped a few more hushpuppies up from the hot oil and listened to Glory’s slow footsteps descend the stairway. She was still putting the last batch in when Glory’s boots scuffed across the kitchen floor.

“Supper almost ready?”

“Near about.” Alma gave a brisk nod. “I got some hushpuppies if you want to try one.”

Glory pulled a paper towel down from the roll and reached over, taking one of the hushpuppies and dropping it onto the paper. “Looks good.”

“Shoot.” Alma dismissed her words. “’Course they’re good.”

Glory grabbed the small piece of cornbread with the corners of the paper towel and broke it in half. Steam circled up from the bread as she lifted a portion and blew before dropping it between her lips.

While Glory chewed, Alma waited. She hoped that, for once, Glory might be a bit more forthcoming with information. Instead, she turned her attention to the cabinet beside the stove and took down the dishes. Alma frowned as china clattered and Glory moved about, setting the table. Undaunted, Alma pressed on. “Now, you want to tell me what your problem is?”

The movement behind her stopped. “There’s no problem,” Glory answered without a hint of emotion.

Alma turned off the stove and pushed the hot pan to the side to cool before she turned herself so she could see Glory’s face. Their glances met in an epic showdown. “You know you can’t hide it from me.” Alma sighed, staring at Glory as if trying to see through to her soul.

Neither of them was able to look away. The torture continued for a few more moments, until Glory blinked.

The housekeeper’s unwavering glance disappeared, and she turned away, satisfied with what she found. “Might as well tell. Did he say he wasn’t buying the bull?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that.” Glory mumbled and looked down at the table. “The fact is, we haven’t even talked about the bull.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I’m tired, Alma, that’s all.” With that, Glory turned away.

Alma watched the sag of her shoulders. Something was awful wrong, but Glory wasn’t in a mood to tell her.
Well, I’ll just have to wait this one out.
She took two steps to the left and opened the drawer for the silverware. “Here, might as well put out the silverware too.”

Glory took the knives and forks from Alma’s outstretched hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

****

There was a bit of truth in her statement, Glory thought as she placed the silverware beside each plate. She was tired. Perhaps a good night’s sleep would even out the hurt from Travis’ words. She slid the knife and fork into place beside the extra plate and swallowed the lump in her throat. How, she wondered, would she manage to get through dinner with him sitting there? With his penetrating stare looking at her and watching every move she made. Knowing that the kiss had been a mistake. Glory smoothed the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip. No man had ever tasted as good as Travis Hargrove. Even now, she could recall the hint of coffee mixed with his aftershave. She’d never be able to eat.

With a shake of her head, she crossed to the cabinet, took down three glasses, and placed them on the table. Her chore done, she looked back to see Alma stirring the pan filled with chopped pork picnic and barbecue sauce. “I’m going to get some work done on the computer,” she said.

“Just be ready when I call.”

Dismissed from the kitchen, she directed her boots to cut a path toward her father’s office. Glory had left some bills that needed to be paid on the desk before her trip to the rodeo. Now seemed as good a time as any to get it done. Walking into the warm pine-paneled office, she pushed the door open and crossed to the desk. She sat, picked up the letter opener, and slid the blade beneath the flap of the first envelope. She kept a steady pace as she worked, allowing the tension to slowly ebb from her body. This room, her father’s room, always gave her a sense of renewed security, as if her father were still here.

Her pen scrolled across the checkbook, and before long the bills had been paid, addressed, and stamped. She tapped the edges against the blotter and placed them on the edge of the desk beside a photograph, ready for tomorrow’s post. Her eyes caught on the photograph. A soft smile tugged at her lips. She reached out and pulled the framed picture of her father to her.

She stared at the image of the man holding the halter of a big old bull named Sam’s Peak. He’d started it all. He and Alma’s husband had gone to buy some heifers and instead brought back that cream-colored bull. “You were so proud of that bull, Dad,” she whispered. “Now, three generations later, we have a chance to get that stock option from the rodeo. I’m going to make you proud. I promise.” She could almost feel his hands upon her shoulders, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “I know you will, Glory, baby. I know.”

Setting the photo back in its place, she swiveled in the chair and glanced at the bookcase behind her. She tilted forward and the springs on the chair creaked as she lifted a brown notebook from the closest shelf. Travis would need at least six bulls if he and Mickey were seriously going to school Palmer’s young guns. Many of those kids had snuck into a field a time or two to steal an eight-second do-over from an unsuspecting cow, fortified by several longnecks. But really riding a bull, one loaded with testosterone—that was a whole different story. They would need a variety of skills, and some beginner bulls, bulls that fought and others that were just not motivated.

Most of the youngsters around here began early. They grew up riding goats and sheep in local rodeos. But this would be an event that would cut the culls from the herd, and the boys known as shave tails would earn their spurs to move up to the big time. She ran her finger down the list of available animals. By the time a knock shook her from her reverie, Glory had managed to list ten good prospects she’d bring to Travis and Mickey for final approval.

“Glory,” Alma’s voice echoed in the hallway. “You need to collect Mr. Hargrove for dinner.”

“Right away.” She closed the book and slipped it into place, then folded the list, stuck it in her back pocket, and left the office.

Crossing through the kitchen, she glanced over to Alma, who was busy putting the extras on the table.

“Don’t be long, “Alma remarked as she went by.

“I won’t.”

Outside, the sun was slipping below the peaks of the distant mountains. Shadows of blue and gold spread across the valley below, bathing her barns in a warm glow. Glory’s feet brushed through the grass as she walked in silence. She could see the mansion’s porch was bare. She wasn’t looking forward to this at all. It had been awkward enough when Mickey walked in on them, and Travis’ words had only served to rub salt into her wound. She needed to think of a safe topic to talk about.

“Are you settled in?”
The words made her grimace.
“Did you and Mickey enjoy your afternoon?”
Equally as bad. She sighed. Blowing out a deep breath, she felt the air rise and lift the errant strands of hair from her forehead. She stopped and swept away the ends from her eyes, pushing them back to her ears. “Just be pleasant,” she pleaded with herself. Stepping onto the porch, she stared at the doorway and drew her palms down the side of her jeans in hopes of dispelling the moisture accumulated there.

It had to be done.
She glanced over at the farmhouse and figured she could bet next month’s feed bill that Alma had her nose pressed to the kitchen window, watching. Even from a distance she could feel her prod the middle of her back. “Might as well get it over with,” she grumbled to herself and raised her hand to knock.

Her heart skipped a beat as her hand collided with flesh instead of wood. Glory jerked her head around and stared at Travis, who seemed as surprised as she. She tried to draw her arm back, but he held it tight.

“If this is for that remark earlier…”

“I-I…” She gulped at the tingle that ran up her arm. “Alma sent me to tell you supper is ready.”

“Oh,” he replied. “I guess it is that time.”

Glory dampened her lips. Still he didn’t let go. She stared up into his eyes and felt the pull of his unspoken words as if he wanted to tell her how sorry he was for the quarrel in the barn.

“Let me lock up.” This time, Travis let her hand go as he turned to pick up his keys.

She pulled it back, a spiral of reluctance swirling in the pit of her belly. “There really isn’t any need to lock up.”

He gave her a questioning glance over his right shoulder.

She lifted her shoulders. “I mean, you’ll be back soon, and most of the ranch hands have gone into town or slipped home. I doubt anyone will disturb your, um, things.”

“Right.”

Glory bit her lip and stepped to the side as he closed the door. Her heart gave a nervous shudder as he looked over at her. He seemed unsure what to do with his hands and stuck them awkwardly into his pockets. “You’re not taking your cane?”

Travis shook his head. “Naw, just a short walk. I need to try a bit on my own. Shall we?”

She went quickly down the steps and waited. Half of her wanted to hold out a hand in case he needed to steady himself. Instead, she stood and waited as he made his way down holding onto the rail.

“There, not so bad.” He grinned.

“Better get a move on, then. Alma doesn’t take kindly to folks who keep her waiting.”

They walked quietly in the growing dusk of twilight. Glory sank her hands deep into her pockets and kept her head down, focused on the ground. At the back stoop, she paused and heard him stop behind her.

“Glory.”

She turned, not knowing what to expect. Seeing his head down, she waited while he looked up. The mirror of pain in his eyes twisted her heart.

“We sort of got off on the wrong foot today.”

After a moment’s pause, she answered. “Yes, yes, we did.”

“I don’t think I can say I’m sorry enough for the mess I made of a simple apology.”

Her heart skipped a beat; she didn’t want to hear again how she wasn’t good enough. Plastering a look of indifference on her face, Glory gave him an icy smile. “Mr. Hargrove, your job here is to purchase stock for the rodeo, so I don’t think our paths have to cross any more than necessary. When you are ready to see the reports on my bulls, I’ll have them ready for you. Otherwise, I suggest any contact go through my foreman, Mr. Davis. That way nothing like this will ever happen again. Is that understood?”

Travis blinked. The hard stare returned to his eyes. “Quite, Miss Beebe.”

Chapter Eight

Glory hurried into the kitchen and stomped over to the sink. Her mind focused on the arrogance of one certain bull rider hot on her heels. With a shake of her head, she reached out and turned on the faucet. “Is it me? Or are all men such jerks,” she grumbled low to herself and thrust her hands beneath the warm spray.

“You say something, Glory?” Alma asked, walking past.

“Nope.” But in her heart she wanted to say yes.
Yes, he made a mockery of what he thought was an apology.
Yes, Travis made her feel like a fool.
Her anger yet to subside, she pushed the plunger down on the liquid soap container and rubbed furiously, creating a mound of suds.

“Got a horse goin’ into labor?”

The jolt of Mickey’s voice made her gasp. Her hands stilled. She hazarded a glance over her shoulder toward the table. Both her foreman and her housekeeper stood by their chairs, half turned, watching. Alma’s face held a bemused expression while Mickey’s bordered on confusion. How was she going to explain this? Glory’s mind raced, but the sound of footsteps at the doorway gave her precious little time. The hairs on her arms rose and, without looking, she knew who had entered.

“Evening,” Travis said.

“No. No horse in labor,” she said. “Something on my hands.”

“Come in, Mr. Hargrove.” Alma’s cheery voice made her cringe.

“Just Jim Dandy,” Glory muttered and cut the water off, then tore off a paper towel to dry her hands.

“I hear you know Mr. Davis,” Alma continued. “I can’t wait to hear the story of how you two got together.”

Glory listened, pretending to study something under her fingernails. She was all too aware of Travis moving across the room. His presence in her kitchen seemed to take up all the oxygen; breathing was difficult.

“You’ve only got three places set,” he said, pausing. “I can come back tomorrow.”

She almost gave a sigh of relief until Alma piped up.

“You will not. There’s plenty of room. Glory’s just used to setting the table for three. Bring another place setting for Mr. Hargrove, Glory, and he can sit right here across from me.”

She glanced up and caught Travis staring back at her with one brow raised in question.

Other books

Gray by Pete Wentz, James Montgomery
Black Metal: The Orc Wars by Argo, Sean-Michael
Forgiveness by Mark Sakamoto
Ghost Town by Phoebe Rivers


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024