peered at Gabe. “What are you thankful for?”
“Thank You, God, for introducing me to Wynona last night. She’s one hot chili pepper.”
Sara kicked his shin.
“Ouch!” Gabe winced.
“Your turn.” She stared at Cole.
“Thank You for my sister, who cooked this fine meal. Amen.” Cole reached for the meat platter.
No use conversing until her brothers appeased their hunger. They tore into the food like vultures, scraping the bowls clean—so much for leftovers. Before she dished up the pumpkin pie she broached her least favorite topic—their neighbor. “Dominick won’t drop the lawsuit.”
“Figured he wouldn’t,” Cole said. “He wants our oil but he doesn’t want to pay us what it’s worth.”
Gabe slouched in his chair, rubbing his belly as he stared into space—probably dreaming about the hot chili pepper.
“Be right back.” Sara retrieved the pumpkin pie and whipped cream from the kitchen and returned to the dining room. She’d never told her brothers about their father’s final shout out to Charlotte Cartwright on his deathbed. Now that Travis had made himself known, she wondered if there was more to her father and Charlotte’s relationship than being neighbors. While her brothers finished dessert, Sara pondered. Was Dominick simply a greedy businessman or did he have a personal vendetta against her father? Whatever had caused the rift between the two men should have been laid to rest along with her father when he’d died.
“Don’t mean to change the subject—” Gabe pushed his plate away “—but since we’re all together, I might as well spill the news.”
Alarm bells went off in Sara’s head. “What news?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Where to?” Cole asked.
“Out on the road with a few buddies.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Might try rodeoing.”
“What about money for entry fees?” Cole glared across the table.
“I’ve got some saved.” Gabe shrugged. “If I run low, I’ll pick up work as a ranch hand somewhere.”
Sara flung her napkin at her brother’s face. “You’ll work for another ranch but you won’t lift a finger to help your own family?”
“I might if I knew this place would belong to us forever. It’s only a matter of time before we lose the ranch,” he said. “I know you promised Dad you’d do everything in your power to keep from selling, but even Dad would recognize when to cut his losses. You can’t best Dominick. Besides, his bid was generous and—”
“Generous? Dominick’s a crook,” Sara protested.
“If you don’t negotiate with him, the bank will take the ranch, then turn around and sell it to Dominick anyway. And we’ll walk away with nothing.”
Gabe made a valid point, but Sara wasn’t ready to raise the white flag.
“I’m taking off in the morning.” Her brother shoved his chair back and stood.
Sara poked Cole’s shoulder. “Say something.”
“What do you want me to say? ‘Stay, Gabe? Stay and work your ass off for nothing?’”
Tears clogged Sara’s throat. “But Dad—”
“Dad’s dead, and we can’t hold off the creditors forever. If we lose the ranch, which is the road we’re headed down now, you’ll have your house in town and Gabe and I will have nothing but our trucks and the clothes on our backs.”
“I promised Dad that Dominick would never get his hands on this ranch.”
“You made that promise, Sara.” Gabe pointed to Cole, then himself. “We didn’t.”
Cole got up from the table. “Thanks for making dinner.”
“Yeah, sure,” she whispered. Some Thanksgiving this turned out to be.
CHAOS.
Thanksgiving in the Cartwright household was unlike anything Travis or his daughter had ever experienced. Bodies everywhere. Kids shouting and racing from room to room. Good-natured arguing. And laughter. Plenty of laughter.
Travis stood in the family room, pretending interest in the football game on TV while covertly observing his siblings and their families. The past two days, he’d felt as if he’d been riding an emotional roller-coaster with no off switch. His mother’s death hadn’t sunk in, yet he found himself surrounded by family he hadn’t known existed until a few weeks ago.
“Having second thoughts?” Duke stopped at his side.
“About what?” Travis studied his stepbrother’s outfit—Western dress shirt with pearl snaps, bolo tie, Texas-size belt buckle and snakeskin boots. Obviously the Detroit executive loved dressing the part of a cowboy.
“Second thoughts about being a Cartwright.” Duke glanced across the room, his expression softening when he saw his wife. “Dominick can be overwhelming.”
“And evasive,” Travis said. “I’ve asked to speak to him in private, but he’s avoiding me.”
“Maybe he doesn’t trust you.”
Travis understood his siblings’ doubts about him, but shouldn’t his father feel differently? “Trust me how?”
Duke narrowed his eyes. “Maybe Dominick assumes all you care about is getting your hands on his oil money.”
“I don’t give a crap about his wealth.”
“If that’s true, I don’t know whether to admire you or pity you.”
“I get that you’re protective of Matt and Samantha, but—”
“Matt and Sam had a rough childhood growing up without a mother. Even though they’re adults, they’ve yearned for a mother’s love their entire lives, which makes them vulnerable to you.”
What about him? He’d yearned for a father’s love all his life.
“You’re their only connection to Charlotte.” Duke stepped in front of Travis, blocking his view of the family. “Don’t even think about taking advantage of Matt, Sam or Dominick. You mess with my family and you mess with me. Got it?”
Yeah, Travis got it, all right. No matter that he was Dominick’s biological son, he was still an outsider. “Message received.”
Duke’s posture relaxed when he changed the subject. “Renée said Charlie’s mom isn’t in the picture anymore.”
Evidently Charlie had spilled the beans about their life in Houston. Travis didn’t care. He had no secrets. “Julie left after Charlie was born.” Travis didn’t go into details. No matter how he told the story of Julie abandoning him and a baby, he always came out looking like an idiot.
“Renée’s seen everything in her job as a social worker. She says Charlie’s a well-adjusted little girl for having grown up without a mother.”
“Her grandmother gets credit for that.” Travis worried about the impact his mother’s death would have on Charlie in the long run. He wasn’t opposed to marriage, but his job on the rig made relationships stressful. Travis would hate to marry and then have Charlie become attached to the woman only to be abandoned again when the stress of his work schedule caused another woman to pack her bags and leave.
“You like rig work?” Duke asked.
Travis studied his stepbrother, unsure if he was making polite conversation or was genuinely interested in Travis’s answer.
“Don’t get me wrong—I love my job.” Duke shrugged. “But every day is the same. Meetings.