Roughneck Cowboy (5 page)

“What's to think over? I'm giving you a chance of a lifetime.”

Dominick shuffled papers and straightened items on his desk—all businesslike—but Travis sensed a vulnerability in the old man he hadn't noticed before. If he wasn't mistaken, he swore the job offer was Dominick's way of trying to make up for years of not being there for Travis.

Father-son relationship aside, Travis was dying to prove that he was more than a roughneck. That he was capable of handling the job at Cartwright Oil.

Don't forget Charlie.

Relocating to the Lazy River would allow his daughter a chance to be part of a larger family, which would help her cope with the grief of losing her grandmother. Christmas was right around the corner and he and Charlie wouldn't have to celebrate alone. Besides, working
for Dominick would enable them to spend more time together.

And there was Sara. If he could sway her to negotiate a business deal with Dominick, he'd earn a few brownie points. No one had ever accused Travis of turning down a challenge. “I'll give you an answer soon.” He got up from the couch.

“I understand learning about me after all these years is a shock, but I have a lot of questions about your relationship with my mother.” Travis opened the door, then paused. “Don't assume those questions will go away if I decide to work for you.” He shut the door before Dominick had a chance to respond.

“H
ow come I'm gonna go to school here?” Charlie asked as Travis drove into Tulapoint Monday morning to register her for school.

The Cartwright siblings and their families had departed the Lazy River Ranch yesterday afternoon, leaving Travis plenty of time to consider Dominick's offer to work for him. When Travis woke this morning, he'd phoned the rig manager on the Hoover Diana. After explaining the situation to his boss, Travis had been assured that if things didn't work out in Oklahoma, he'd have a job waiting for him back in Houston.

With his boss's blessing, Travis decided to take the position at Cartwright Oil. He eagerly awaited the opportunity to show his father that, although he was a lowly roughneck, he possessed his fair share of business acumen. He decided the best way to demonstrate his talents was to persuade Sara Sanders to sell the Bar T to Dominick.

“Your grandfather wants us to move to the Lazy River.” Travis broke the news to his daughter. “I'm going to work for his company.”

“Grandpa's got a rig in the ocean?”

Charlie's quick acceptance of Dominick as her
grandfather amazed Travis, because he still struggled to make the connection between the word
dad
and Dominick. “Your grandfather's rigs are on land in Oklahoma and Arkansas.”

“Where's Arkansas?”

“That way.” Travis pointed east out the windshield. “I'll be checking the wells and helping to fix problems that crop up.” He had never held a job where he told others what to do—he'd always been the one taking orders. He hadn't a clue how his father's employees would react to him, but he planned to earn their respect the old-fashioned way—by rolling up his sleeves and jumping in to help when needed.

“Are you excited about going to a new school?” he asked, changing the subject.

“No.” Charlie crossed her arms over her chest. “The kids are gonna be mean.”

That she was more concerned with her classmates than leaving behind a best friend in Houston proved his daughter had sacrificed a lot while her grandmother had battled cancer. When his mother had become house bound, Charlie's friends had fallen by the wayside. Hopefully a new school would provide her with a fresh start in the friendship department.

“Figure out who the nice kids are and hang around them,” he said.

“They're gonna make fun of my name.”

“Go by Charlotte, if you want.”

She ignored his suggestion and asked, “What's gonna happen to all my toys and books and—”

“After you're settled in school today, I'm heading to Houston to pack our things.”

“Who's gonna take care of me when you go to the rigs?”

“Your grandfather or Juanita.” Charlie had met the housekeeper when the older woman had stopped at the ranch to say goodbye to Travis's siblings and their families.

“Who's gonna take me to school?”

“Dominick said the school bus will pick you up at the end of his driveway.”

Charlie's mouth dropped open. “I gotta walk all that way to the bus?”

“If I'm not around, then Juanita or Grandpa will drive you in the car and wait with you until the bus arrives.”

Right now Travis wished for the
old
Charlie back—the one who pouted and refused to speak. He could use a break from all the questions. The truck zipped past Beulah's pink Victorian and a mile later he noticed the sign for Tulapoint. He eased his foot off the accelerator and dropped the truck's speed to twenty-five miles per hour.

Downtown Tulapoint consisted of a handful of weathered brick and clapboard businesses. Mama's Café advertised a ninety-nine-cent breakfast burrito and an all-you-can-eat BBQ buffet on Mondays. An old two-story home had been converted into a business called Tina's Trinkets & Tea House. A white travel trailer with a giant blue snow cone on the roof sat in the parking lot of Gunderson's Drugstore.
Closed for the Season
had been spray-painted across the boarded up windows. Bank of Oklahoma and Kendall Hardware & Tack occupied one city block. Across from the bank a neon Michelob sign advertised Casey's Bar & Grill.
Travis slowed the truck to a crawl as he drove through a school zone.

“This place sucks.”

“I thought Grandma told you not to say that word,” Travis scolded.

“Grandma's not here anymore.” Charlie's lower lip wobbled and Travis cursed his insensitivity.

His mother's death didn't feel real. He'd hardly mourned for her before he'd discovered the diary and all hell had broken loose. Charlie was too young to wonder why they'd never had any contact with the rest of their family, but it was only a matter of time before she asked. He hoped by then he'd have the answers.

“There's the school.”

“Where?”

“Up ahead.” The one-story brick building appeared well maintained. As he pulled into the parking lot, he noticed a handful of older homes behind the elementary school. Railroad tracks ran parallel to the houses and a rusty grain elevator sat empty at the abandoned station.

“It's puny,” Charlie said.

His daughter's school in Houston housed pre-K through fifth grades with four classes in each grade. This school would be lucky to have one class for each grade. “Small can be a good thing.

“The playground's nice,” he added. A chain-link fence enclosed the school yard, which consisted of swings, climbing apparatus and plenty of asphalt for playing dodge ball, jump rope and four square.

“Dad?”

“Yeah.”

“If we live with Grandpa, does that mean you and me get to spend more time together?”

Travis sucked in a quiet breath. He'd always believed he'd been a decent parent—unlike Julie, he hadn't run from the responsibility of raising their child. He'd kept a roof over Charlie's head and food on the table. He'd paid for her clothing and medical care, but he'd done it from a distance. His mother's death had opened his eyes to what he really was—an absentee father.
Just like Dominick had been for Travis.

“I promise we'll do more things together when I get back from Houston. And—” he tweaked Charlie's nose “—now that I'm working for Grandpa, I'll be able to come to your concerts.” His daughter sang in the school choir, but Travis had never been around to attend any of the group's performances.

“Promise?” Charlie's mouth lifted in a half-smile.

“Cross my heart.” He traced an imaginary X over his chest.

“Okay, I guess we can stay.”

He grabbed Charlie's backpack with her sack lunch inside and they entered the building. The smell of disinfectant and lemon-scented cleaner greeted them as he ushered his daughter into the main office.

“May I help you?” A gray-haired woman in her fifties removed her bifocals. The nameplate on the desk read Rosie Finch.

“I'd like to register my daughter for school,” Travis said.

“How nice. I hadn't heard we had a newcomer to town.” Rosie opened a drawer and withdrew a packet of papers. “You'll need to fill out these forms.” She smiled at Charlie. “What grade are you in, dear?”

“Second.”

Rosie found a pen and filled in several blanks. “What's your name?”

“Charlotte Cartwright,” Travis supplied.

Rosie's pen slid across the paper, leaving a trail of blue ink. “You're Dominick's son?” Evidently the news of Travis's arrival at the Lazy River had spread through the small town.

“That's correct. I'm Travis Cartwright.”

Charlie stood on her tiptoes and peered over the counter at the woman. “I have the same name as my grandma, but everyone calls me Charlie.”

Rosie's cheeks lost their pink hue as she stared at Travis. “I heard about your mother's passing. I'm so sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“I went to school with Charlotte.” Rosie left her desk and stood at the counter. “Her father owned the bank in town. It was such a tragedy when Charlotte's parents drowned in a boating accident right before she married Dominick.”

Travis wasn't in the mood to discuss his family history with a practical stranger. He checked his watch. “I'm in a hurry if we could—”

“Oh, certainly. Principal Edwards will wish to speak with you before Charlie's assigned to her classroom.” Rosie entered the principal's office, closing the door behind her.

“Does everybody here know Grandma?” Charlie asked.

“Looks that way.” Travis skimmed the forms, then began filling in the information.

“Dad.” Charlie pointed across the room to the plateglass window. “Here comes that schoolteacher lady.”

Sara Sanders's shoulder-length hair curled softly around her face. She wore an ankle-length jean skirt with a camel-haired sweater that ended below her hips. A brown leather belt hung loosely around her waist, matching the color of her leather boots. There was no disguising her height or sturdy build, but dressed as a teacher she appeared feminine and touchable—not prickly as she had when she'd stopped in at the ranch to speak to Dominick before Thanksgiving.

It was only when she opened the office door and stepped inside that their eyes met. He swore he heard her breath catch. Obviously his presence had caught her by surprise. He nodded. “Ms. Sanders.”

Sara shifted her attention to his daughter. “Hi, Charlie.”

“Hi.”

“I thought you were leaving town.” Sara directed the question to Travis.

“Change of plans.”

Charlie inched closer to the teacher. “We're gonna move into my grandpa's house and I'm gonna go to school here.”

When Sara showed no reaction to the news, Travis added a few more details. “Dominick offered me a job troubleshooting his company's oil wells. As soon as Charlie's registered, I'm returning to Houston to pack up our house. I'll be back by Friday.” When Travis accepted the job, he'd decided to rent his house in Houston and allow Charlie to finish the school year in Tulapoint. Hopefully by then he'd know whether he wanted to continue working for Cartwright Oil. If he did, then
he'd sell the house and find a permanent home for him and Charlie around Tulapoint.

“Charlie,” Rosie interrupted the conversation. “Principal Edwards would like to speak with you.” The older woman whispered to Sara, “He's as handsome as Dominick was in his younger years.” Grinning, Rosie led Charlie into the principal's office and shut the door.

Left alone with Sara, Travis asked, “How was your Thanksgiving?”

Her eyes twinkled, but she kept a straight face. “Probably not as interesting as yours.”

He grinned. “Probably not.” An awkward silence ensued, which caught Travis by surprise. Usually he had no trouble carrying a conversation with a woman.
Sara's not just any woman—she's the thorn in Dominick's backside.

The principal's door opened and a short, stout man approached with his hand extended. “Thomas Edwards, principal of Tulapoint Elementary. Welcome to town.” He motioned to Sara. “Ms. Sanders, you have a new student.”

“Wonderful.” Sara smiled at Charlie.

Things couldn't have worked out better if Travis had planned them. With Charlie being one of Ms. Sanders's students, Travis had a legitimate excuse to contact the teacher and become better acquainted with her.

“Rosie will need Charlie's files from her previous school and her immunization records,” Edwards said.

“I had the school fax over the health forms this morning.” Travis withdrew the papers from his coat pocket and handed them to Rosie. “They'll send the rest of her records in the mail.”

“Ready to meet your new classmates?” Sara asked Charlie.

“I guess.” Charlie edged closer to Travis.

“Remember, you're taking the bus home today and Juanita will pick you up at the end of the driveway.” Travis dropped to one knee and pulled his daughter close. Charlie didn't protest. “Call me as soon as you get home from school,” he said.

His daughter had her own cell phone—a present from him after her grandmother's death. He'd also bought Charlie three new Barbie dolls and probably would have kept giving her toys if she hadn't accused him of trying to make her stop crying.

“Ms. Sanders,” Rosie said. “When I mentioned the class Christmas party, Charlie asked if her father could help out.”

Way to go, Charlie.

“You said you wanted to do more stuff with me,” Charlie reminded Travis.

“That I did.” Travis could kill two birds with one stone—take an interest in his daughter's activities and find out why Sara Sanders and her brothers refused to do business with Cartwright Oil. “I'd be happy to help with the party.”

“The room mothers and I are meeting Friday, after school, if you care to join us.” The invitation lacked enthusiasm.

Travis hugged Charlie one more time. “Be good.” He waved as his daughter left the office holding Sara's hand.

“I'm sorry about your mother's passing.” The principal's apology sounded heartfelt. “I was three years behind Charlotte in school.”

Rather than open the door for more questions, Travis said, “I should finish filling out these forms before I leave.”

“If you have any concerns, don't hesitate to call or set up a meeting with me.” Edwards slapped Travis on the shoulder, then retreated to his office.

“Would you care for a cup of coffee?” Rosie asked.

“No, thanks.”

Left alone with his thoughts, Travis's mind wandered to Sara. The schoolteacher didn't like him, but that didn't mean she was immune to him. He'd felt her heated stare when she'd thought he hadn't been paying attention. He appreciated a certain amount of stubbornness in a woman and he admired Sara for standing her ground with a man like Dominick, but no matter that he found her intriguing, their relationship had to remain businesslike. He had too much on his plate to pursue the schoolteacher on a personal level. He had all he could handle learning a new job, trying to get to know his siblings, being a better father to Charlie and earning Dominick's respect by delivering Sara's agreement to sell the Bar T.