Page 17 of Sweet Deal
“Interesting analogy for a cattle rancher.” But he had noticed the same thing. And truth was, he was just as happy to be home as his mother was to have him. He just wasn’t sure how much of that had to do with Honeysuckle Texas and how much rested squarely on the shoulders of Rachel Sweet.
“There you are.” Wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, his mother entered the room. “Did you make up your mind?”
What was it with everyone? Did they think a man could make life-changing decisions in a heartbeat?
“The game?” His mother obviously misunderstood his blank stare. “Baseball game,” she repeated slowly as if he were very hard of hearing or completely daft.
“I forgot to tell him,” his brother admitted.
His mom rolled her eyes. “Men. You can’t find a snake if it were sitting in front of you and you can’t remember to give simple messages.” Sporting a quick smile to belie the harshness of her words, she added a quick kiss on Mark’s cheek for good measure. “The annual alumni baseball game is tomorrow night. They could use an extra man on the team. Some of the Sweet boys will be playing.”
Vaguely, he remembered someone mentioning a game between earlier grads and the current high school baseball team, but he didn’t realize it had become an annual event.
“So?” his mom repeated. “I can tell Garret Sweet that you’ll play?”
He hadn’t held a baseball in so long, he wasn’t sure he’d know what to do with it. “As long as it’s all in fun, sure, why not?”
Chapter Eight
“Good grief.” Rachel came to a stop just inside the barn doors, her brother nearly knocking into her.
“What the…” Preston glanced at the pile of goods lining the walls and creeping into the walkway. Leading the way, he followed the trail to the tack room and stood to one side so he and Rachel could see inside.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, papers scattered all about, Carson clutched a few pages in his grip and stared so intently that he hadn’t heard them come inside.
“I thought you were looking for a saddle?” Preston asked.
“Found it.” Carson waved a thumb over his shoulder, pointing in the general direction of the wall behind him.
Rachel turned to see. Sure enough, their father’s saddle leaned into the corner.
“Where was it?” Preston’s gaze shifted from the corner to their brother.
“Under a pile of blankets and behind a stack of boxes.
“Boxes?” Preston’s brows crinkled to match the surprise Rachel felt. “Why are there boxes in a tack room?”
“Probably because Ray stank at housekeeping. That saddle is worth a fortune, but he probably didn’t even know it was there.” Carson waved papers in the air as he pushed to his feet. “And under all those blankets, he must have forgotten about these boxes.”
“What’s in them?” Rachel inched forward to see what Carson referred to.
“All kinds of records. Most useless, but once I found them, I kept digging, hoping to find something that would lead us to Ray or what he sold.”
Eyes alight with interest, Preston moved closer, looking over his brother’s shoulder. “Find something?”
“Not about Ray.” He handed his sister the pages.
Scanning quickly, she shook her head. “This is Clint’s work application.”
Carson nodded but remained silent.
“And?” She handed it off to Preston at her side.
“Look closely.”
Now she scanned it over her brother’s shoulder. She and Preston must have found the same thing at the same time, because both their heads snapped up.
“Ex-con?” Preston barely managed to get the words out.
