Page 61 of A Marriage Pact for the Cowboy

Chapter

Twenty

Hey, kids. Want a cup of tea?” Eryn’s dad stood by the counter, kettle in hand, as Maxwell ushered Eryn into the duplex the Ralstons shared.

“Good evening, Keith.” Maxwell toed off his damp shoes. “Sure, sounds good. Eryn?”

She unzipped her jacket, and Maxwell slid it off her shoulders and hung it before removing his own.

“Sure.” She smiled at her father. “Thanks, Dad.”

Keith reached into the cupboard for two more mismatched mugs.

“How are things going up at the farm?”

Yeah, Maxwell knew the farming operations were part of the ranch and not their own thing, but they were more behind the scenes. Some dude ranches brought roping and roundups to the forefront and let tourists experience the whole range of ranching life, but Sweet River Ranch had been more of a resort when Grandfather bought it.

Weston hadn’t pushed for inclusion. They’d been too short-staffed, at least with the kind of seasoned cowboys that could handle the confluence of cattle and tourists.

Meanwhile, they’d kept the cows, since Joseph had been instated for over a decade and knew what he was doing. Plus, there was all the rangeland, and it seemed wasteful not to put it to good use. The cow-calf operation paid for itself and brought in some extra.

“The farm is going well. We shipped a couple of truckloads of calves a few days ago, so the workload is down. But it will increase when the snow flies and Joseph is gone.” Keith shook his head. “My dad made the shift from a mixed farm to wheat when I was a young’un, so I don’t know cows real well. I hope your family hasn’t put your trust in the wrong farmer.”

Maxwell hoped the same, since hiring Keith had been his suggestion. “There are ranchers nearby who can give advice or a hand if you need it. Declan Cavanagh just up the road at Rockstead has a solid reputation. He or one of his boys would likely be happy to answer questions.”

“Good to know. Joseph said the same. He’ll be down in Jewel Lake, so not too far if I’m in over my head.”

The kettle boiled, and Keith poured hot water into the three mugs.

Maxwell touched the small of Eryn’s back and guided her to the table. It wasn’t like he’d stopped by to chat with her father, but being on the man’s good side was preferable.

“One thing I find interesting around here is how much is secured with just a handshake.” Keith set the honey bear and a jar of dry creamer on the table along with three spoons.

Maxwell eyed the creamer. Not a chance was he dumping those chemicals in his tea. “Sullivan Enterprises runs on signed legal contracts.” As did his construction company.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it in a haphazard way. Just if someone says he’ll do something and shakes on it, everyone considers it done.”

“Well, yes.” Maxwell chuckled. “If that’s a new concept, you’ve been hanging out with the wrong crowd.”

“I guess I got took a few times and got wary.” Keith nudged the honey bear across the table. “Here you go, Rynie.”

She eyed her dad. “By whom? Larry Groening?”

That was the man who’d bought their farm to save them from bankruptcy, right? The market farmer next door?

“Oh, I didn’t mean Larry. He’s definitely one of the good ones. In a town built around a Bible college, you’d think there would be more like him.”

“My grandfather and my father always taught me that a man’s word is his bond. If you promise something, you deliver it faster and better than your word. You can’t run a hotel empire like Sullivan on handshakes alone, but the addition of a notarized signature only seals what we’ve already said.” Maxwell shrugged and squeezed a little honey into his tea. “We strive to make the written agreement match the verbal one… and then outdo them both.”

“Commendable.” Keith heaped creamer into his cup and stirred.

Maxwell tried not to wince.

“So, your aunt…”

“Beatrice is the company lawyer. She—” Duh. That wasn’t the aunt Keith was talking about. Graham’s parents, Theodore and Beatrice, hadn’t been to the ranch since the wedding, just before the Ralstons had arrived.

Keith frowned. “Beatrice?”

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