Page 22 of Relentless

“You okay?” she whispered.

“I’m sorry about all that,” he replied, his eyebrows gathering.

They had been friends for a long time, and the reputation from his youth as a wild, hotshot bull rider was no secret. Ruth Callaway would often shake her head and click her tongue against her teeth, muttering her doubts that Dallas would ever settle down. It was one of the few things Maeve was glad to say that Ruth had been wrong about. She was thankful that the Lord had gotten a hold of Dallas when he did, calling him into ministry as a chaplain and now as the pastor of their thriving little church.

Maeve gave his knee a firm pat.

“I don’t pay any mind to it, and neither should you,” she replied, focusing her attention on the matter at hand.

The auctioneer had a long white beard and was wearing a ten-gallon hat. He was stationed behind a large wooden platform, and above him was a large screen that listed the stats on each bull and heifer. There was a small pen where they would be presenting the various livestock, but there was only one animal that Maeve was interested in that day.

They brought out the first bull, and the auctioneer began his repetitious chant, stringing the bids together in lyrical poetry.

Maeve could feel the eyes of the Melody Fields team as she patiently waited through the first rounds of bidding. There were stock of various breeds, colors, and temperaments — and Tucker wasn’t bidding on any of them.

The next steer was scrawny and thin as a rake, with floppy ears and dopey large eyes. She cracked a smile, musing on how Oakleigh would havelovedthat little bull. She raised her number high, catching the auctioneer’s attention.

The auctioneer trilled, “That’s — three — won’t — you — bid — now — dollar — bid.”

From the corner of her eye, she observed the Melody Fields crew snap to attention and Tucker whip his placard high in the air.

Unhurried in the slightest, Maeve signaled another bid, sending Tucker practically sputtering as he followed suit. The bidding war continued to escalate, causing the auctioneer to ping-pong between the two rival ranch owners.

Dallas combed his fingers through his beard and leaned in close. “That tiny calf is the one you wanted?”

She bit her lip, concealing her amused smile as she quietly continued to bid, driving the price sky high. When the amount exceeded even the most superior-bred animals, Maeve dramatically snapped her finger and shook her head in defeat.

Tucker’s proud grin stretched across his face. His ranch hands raucously celebrated with hollers and high fives, clapping him hard on the shoulder.

The next animal brought into the arena was an old heifer edging toward the end of her lifespan.

“We’re starting the bid off low, folks,” the auctioneer announced.

Without hesitation, Maeve lifted her placard into the air.

“You sure about this?” Dallas hesitated.

“I’m sure,” Maeve firmly replied.

Tucker followed suit, confidently placing a bid.

“You can’t really be interested in that old girl,” Dallas remarked.

Maeve swiveled, raising an eyebrow at Dallas. “And what’s wrong with thatold girl?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” he backpedaled, throwing his palms up in surrender. “Clearly, I love old girls.”

She gasped. Lifting her placard, she playfully smacked him in the forehead and in the same sweeping motion, signaled another bid to the auctioneer.

“Hey now,” he chuckled.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Tucker slump. “Dang it,” she whispered. “I overplayed.”

Tucker looked down the line at his crew. They waved their hands and shook their heads in a feeble attempt to dissuade him from further bidding.

The auctioneer rattled off his final words while Tucker shuffled indecisively in his seat.

“Annnnnd —” Before the auctioneer could saysold,Tucker shot his placard into the air.

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