Gambling On A Dream. Sara Walter Ellwood
Colton.”
“How about Justin Vaughn? He’s always been a known dealer. Maybe he knows something.” He sipped his coffee.
She smiled, and he almost choked as he swallowed the hot, bitter brew. “Haven’t thought of him. We should talk to him. They’re about the same age. Vaughn’s working over at his uncle’s farm and garden market.”
He set his mug on the table and glanced at his watch. “I can’t today.”
“Hot date?”
Grinning, he stood. “No. I’m buying the Estrada Ranch.”
Her dark eyes widened. “Really? I heard Luis and Stella were thinking of moving to New Mexico, but I didn’t know it was a done deal. I figured it would go to either Jose or Mary,” she said, referring to the Estradas’ son and daughter. “How long has their place been up for sale? I haven’t seen a sign in their yard.”
He shrugged and reached for his hat where it sat on the edge of the table. “Luis and Stella told Mom and Dad they planned to sell the place a couple of weeks ago while playing Bingo at the firehouse. When they told me, I called the Estradas and made an offer. It never officially made it on the market. I’ve been looking for a small ranch.”
“We’ll be neighbors when you settle in there.” She cocked her head to the side. “I never knew you wanted to be a rancher.”
“You never cared about a lot of things I wanted.” His bitterness surprised even him.
She stood and picked up her mug, leaving his where it sat. As she headed for the door, she nodded toward it. “We have a policy around here. We clean up after ourselves. Something I seem to remember you have a hard time with.”
* * * *
Wyatt signed his name on the last page of the contract and leaned back in the chair, the gravity of what had just transpired making him dizzy. Three hours ago, he was as rootless as tumbleweed and had more money in the bank than he’d known what to do with. As of two seconds ago, he was the proud owner of a hundred-acre ranch and had a few million dollars less to worry about getting moldy in the Cattleman’s Bank and Trust.
“Congratulations.” His brother-in-law, Lance Cartwright, smiled at him from across the table sitting in the middle of the massive country kitchen of what was now his new house. Or at least, it would be as soon as the Estradas moved out at the end of the week.
“Thanks for drawing up the papers.” Wyatt set the pen on top of the documents as Lance reached for them. He looked at the smiling Estradas, sitting at the end of the table. “Thank you. I don’t want you to think I’m rushing you out of your home.”
When he’d arrived at the Estradas’ ranch, Stella was waiting for him with a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies, while Luis handed him a cold Coors. Stella and his mother had been best friends since they were children. Luis and his father had been drinking buddies for years. The older couple couldn’t contain their excitement that Wyatt was interested in their ranch.
Stella reached over and squeezed his hand. “Nonsense. You aren’t rushing us out. Our place in Albuquerque is ready for us to move into. And now, we don’t have to burden the kids with trying to get rid of the stock and the ranch. Jose has his life in San Antonio, and Mary has her hands full with teaching full-time.”
“We are so happy you wanted the place, Wyatt. Let’s have a drink to celebrate.” Luis stood and headed for the cabinet by the refrigerator, but stopped half way there and looked around the kitchen. “This is a great house for kids. I remember when Stella babysat. Those little buggers would drive me crazy.”
“Hey, I remember being one of those little buggers.” Lance laughed and pointed at Wyatt. “But you’re right. Wyatt could use a couple rug rats running around this place.”
Wyatt’s grin froze on his face, and he forced a chuckle. “Don’t start sounding like my mother. I’m not ready for kids.” The lie hung heavy in the air. “How about that drink?”
“Comin’ right up.” Luis took a tequila bottle from the cabinet. As he poured three shots, Stella grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge. She never drank anything stronger. As Luis handed one of the glasses to Lance, he asked, “Have any of those mares your cousin has pastured next to our place pop up pregnant?”
Lance took the shot and chuckled. “Two of them are.”
Wyatt accepted his glass from Luis and grinned. “Is Zack still upset with old Thunderbolt?”
Back in August, the fence between the Estradas’ ranch and the CW had broken down, allowing an old rodeo paint stallion by the name of Thunderbolt to get in with Zack’s newly purchased thoroughbred mares. From what Wyatt recalled, Zack had been furious until Talon’s older half brother, Johnnie Blackwell, and their cousins, Jake and Brent Parker, had relieved him of the mares by stealing them. Fortunately, Wyatt had contacts west of Midland who’d been investigating a ring of horse thieves, and the Texas Rangers had been able to recover the animals before they’d been sold on the black market.
“Do pigs like mud?” Lance shook his head. “But he’ll get over it. Thunderbolt was a champion back in the day. Those foals will be damned good horses.” He raised his glass to Wyatt. “And just think, now that stud is all yours.”
Not only had Wyatt purchased the ranch, he’d also bought eighty-five head of cattle and six horses. Talk about jumping in with the alligators.
Luis held up his shot glass. “Make sure you charge him for the stud service the next time.”
They all laughed and clicked glasses. “I sure will. To new beginnings.”
Lance’s smile broadened. “You better believe it. To new beginnings.”
* * * *
Talon strode through the old beer joint and looked around the dark interior from under the brim of his hat. Unlike the Longhorn Saloon, the Hardware Bar was a dive he liked to avoid. His boots crunched on the peanut shells covering the floor as he made his way to the scuffed bar. He breathed a sigh of relief that his older half brother, Darryl Blackwell, and not his mother was at the bar. She was the number one reason he didn’t like the place. Although Talon had never been close to any of his Blackwell brothers, Darryl was the one that seemed to accept Talon into the clan the most.
Darryl nodded a greeting as he stopped to take Talon’s order. “Hey, what can I getcha? Haven’t seen you in a coon’s age.”
With a shrug to Darryl’s second statement, he said, “A bottle of Coors.” When his brother handed it to him, he jutted his chin toward the back room. “Is Chief in the back?”
Darryl chuckled and wiped at the bar with a rag as stained and beat-up as the wood. “Of course, where else would he be Wednesday night? From what I’m hearing, he’s beating the pants off the guys.”
“Thanks.” Talon tossed a bill on the bar to cover the cost of his beer and headed to the back room.
Several cowboys looked his way as they waited their turn on the pool tables, but he ignored them and entered the poker lounge. Although gambling was technically illegal in Texas bars, the Hardware somehow always avoided being shut down for its gaming room. His stepfather had claimed the reason was Lydia O’Donnell, Darryl’s mother, knew too many secrets of too many men on the town council for them not to be afraid of her.
Smoke from cigars and cigarettes clung to the air as he looked around until he found Chief. The old Comanche picked up the cards dealt to him and tossed two away. Talon waited on the fringes of the room, drinking his beer, as the man he’d always considered his grandfather played out the game.
Tate Jackson tossed in his cards with a curse. “I’m done.” The big African-American stood and rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Louise is gonna kill me if I’m not home by ten.”
Chief gathered up the chips in the center of the table. “More like that wife of yours don’t like you donatin’ your paycheck