Page 10 of Chasing Liberty

He wondered what his ma would have said to him about marrying for convenience. When Liberty had come to him and mentioned the proposition, marry her in exchange for land, he couldn’t deny he saw it as a rare opportunity to get ahead in life. Wyler wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking would happen when they did get married. He might have been under the impression that he and Liberty would continue the good thing they had, but the second the Elvis impersonator pronounced Wyler and Liberty husband and wife, things had become a bit complicated. He’d become a husband and that meant something to him.

God, he needed to get his life back—the single life when he didn’t have a care in the world.

He swiveled on the chair and beelined his gaze to the exit that beckoned. A flash of blonde hair across the dimly lit room caught his attention. Not just blonde hair but strawberry blonde with sunkissed highlights.

Liberty?

Nah, it couldn’t be.

Almost falling off the chair because he craned his neck in search of her, he caught himself. There wasn’t a woman there. He must have been imagining her. Seeing what he wanted to see.

Damn, now he knew he had it bad.

He was caught between a rock and a hard place.

Anger rushed through his veins like scalding water added to ice. Damn Liberty and her cold heart.

Shoving to his feet, he was ready to call it a night. He fished out his wallet, took out some cash, and tossed it onto the table. “You boys have fun and be careful.”

“Where are you going?” Jinx asked.

“I need some sleep. It’s been a long week.” He didn’t need to tell his crew that he was sex starved and only one woman would satisfy him, and she wanted nothing to do with him. He could see the pity in their eyes.

He pushed his wallet into his back pocket and took a step toward the door when a slender hand fell onto his bicep. She was one of the dancers and her smile and body promised things that would spank the holy ghost right out of a man. She was beautiful, he’d give her that, with sultry eyes and pouty lips, and the tight sequined top showed off all her assets. “Sorry, ma’am. I’m on my way out.”

She looped her arm around his elbow and brushed against him. She smelled like whiskey and trouble. “Don’t be shy, cowboy.”

A lot of people mistook his quiet nature for being shy. “Have a nice night.”

“Just one private dance?” Her bright eyes caught the overhead neon light.

He resituated his Stetson. “I’m flattered, but I’m going to have to skip the dance.”

The dancer was persistent though.

She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the VIP section.

Irritation gnawed at Wyler, but he was too much of a gentleman to be unkind to the lady who was just trying to earn a living. He could relate. He’d been kicked out of his house by his father at fifteen and he’d had to scrape his way through life, until he found something he was good at. He’d been hired as staff in a rodeo circuit to take care of the horses, then he worked his way up to the eight-second ride. There he found the family he never had growing up. The riders were like brothers and showed him the ropes, took him under their wings. They too had similar stories to his. Living on the road for months on end meant they had to rely on each other because sometimes, even for tough men who didn’t think twice about jumping on the back of an angry bull and roping feisty cattle, the loneliness could start working on their minds. They suffered through isolation for the adrenaline rush they gained by pleasing the fans.

Wyler hadn’t minded the long tours on the road. He’d enjoyed traveling from place to place, state to state, and performing for an audience while racking up points for the circuit. Until the day came when he started waking up in the morning sore in places he never knew existed. He was getting the hell beat out of him and he wasn’t bouncing back as quickly.

One day he got a call from Cave McCoy who said Sagebrush Rose Ranch needed some reliable hands. It took Wyler about an hour to decide he needed a change of scenery. He’d been ready for some time to hang up his spurs and plant some roots.

He could still remember the day he’d driven onto Sagebrush. He’d stopped and looked up at the swinging sign with the Rose brand, knowing the place had to be something special. It had been a scorching afternoon when he met Sam Rose, the man whose reputation preceded him, who was sittingunderneath the shade of an old oak tree nursing a scotch and smoking an expensive cigar. He didn’t stand to greet Wyler but did extend a firm gripped hand. The seasoned man had a power about him that warned others that he had a long, invisible reach.

Wyler had met a lot of people over the years, powerful people, but none were like Sam. He had confidence and many stories in his leathered, wrinkled skin and crooked hands. Cave had told Wyler that Sam was a good boss and worked right along his hands. Never asked his crew to do anything he wasn’t willing to do himself.

He’d invited Wyler to sit in the extra chair and while the patriarch took a long puff on his cigar, he looked Wyler directly in the eye. “McCoy said you’re a hard worker, responsible and like glue in the saddle. Hard to find those attributes these days.”

“Not ringing my own bell, but yeah, I take pride in my work.”

“I have three rules.” Sam held up three gnarled fingers. “Number one, break the next two and you’re out.” He lowered one finger. “Number Two. This is a working ranch. Look around you, son. The land doesn’t run itself. That means you work until the day is done. I don’t have any use for hell-fired lazy cowboys. And there comes number three. Take care of your business in town on the weekends.” He lowered his hand and looked at something beyond Wyler’s shoulder.

“Darlin’, can’t you see I’m busy?” Sam said.

“It’s as hot out here as Dolly’s oven on Sunday,” came the sweetest voice Wyler had ever heard.

Curious, Wyler had turned to see who “darlin’” was, expecting to see an angel coming his direction but instead it was a cowgirl with curves that could make the devil himself cry. The white hat had shaded her eyes and the button-down shirt and tight-fitting jeans made him shift in his seat as she marched across the grass like a warrior princess going into battle.

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