fifty-dollar offer stands any time you’re willing to accept it.”
His fierce glare told her the offer was unacceptable.
“If you don’t cooperate, I’ll go to your insurance company,” he warned.
If it came to that, then so be it. Surely a claims adjustor would agree with her. “You can threaten me all you want. Fifty dollars is my best offer—take it or leave it.”
“I’ll leave it.” This was said emphatically, conviction behind each syllable.
Joy handed him back the written estimate. “That’s perfectly fine by me. You can contact me when you’re prepared to be reasonable.”
“You think I’m the one who’s being unreasonable?” he asked, sounding both shocked and hurt.
She rolled her eyes. Lonny should’ve had a career as a B-movie actor, not a bull-rider or whatever he’d been. Bull something, anyway.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” she said calmly.
Lonny had the audacity to scowl.
This man was the most outrageous human being she’d ever had the misfortune to meet. Remembering the child’s presence, Joy bit her tongue in an effort to restrain herself from arguing further.
“You haven’t heard the last of me,” he threatened.
“Oh, say it isn’t so,” Joy murmured ever so sweetly. If she never saw the likes of Lonny Ellison again, it would be too soon.
Lonny whirled around and opened the door on the passenger side for his niece.
“Be careful not to scratch this priceless antique,” Joy called out to the little girl.
After helping Cricket inside, Lonny closed the door. “Very funny,” he said. “You won’t be nearly as amused once your insurance people hear from mine.”
Joy was no longer concerned about that. Her agent would take one look at Lonny Ellison’s beaten-up vehicle and might, if the cowpoke was lucky, offer him fifty bucks.
Whatever happened, he wasn’t getting a penny more out of her. She’d rather go to jail.
Chapter Three
“You’ve got a thing for Miss Fuller, don’t you?” Cricket asked as she sat beside Lonny in the cab of his truck. “That’s what my mommy says.”
Lonny made a noncommittal reply. If he announced his true feelings for the teacher, he’d singe his niece’s ears. Joy was right about something, though. His anger was connected to their earlier relationship, if he could even call it that. The first few dates had gone well, and he’d felt encouraged. He’d been impressed with her intelligence and adventuresome spirit. For a time, he’d even thought Joy might be the one. But it became apparent soon enough that she couldn’t take a joke. That was when her uppity, know-it-all, schoolmarm side had come out. She seemed to think his ego was the problem. Not so! He was a kidder and she had no sense of humor. He’d been glad to end it right then and there.
His sister had tried to play the role of matchmaker after she returned to Red Springs and became friends with Joy. Lonny wasn’t interested, since he’d had a private look into the real Joy Fuller, behind all her sweetness and charm.
“Mom says sometimes people who really like each other pretend they don’t, ’cause they’re afraid of their feelings,” Cricket continued, sounding wise beyond her years. He could hear the echo of Letty’s opinions in her daughter’s words.
Leave it to a female to come up with a completely nonsensical notion like that.
“Do you like Miss Fuller the way Mom said?” Cricket asked again.
Lonny shrugged. That was as much of a comment as he cared to make. He was well aware of his sister’s opinions. Letty hoped to marry him off. He was thirty-five now, and the pool of eligible women in Red Springs was quickly evaporating. His romantic sister had set her sights on him and Joy, but as far as he was concerned, hell would freeze over first.
Lonny figured he’d had his share of women on the rodeo circuit and he had no desire for that kind of complication again. Most of those girlfriends had been what you’d call short-term—some of them very short-term. They’d treated him like a hero, which was gratifying, but he’d grown tired of their demands, and even their adulation had become tiresome after a while. Since he’d retired six years earlier, he’d lived alone and frankly, that was how he liked it.
Just recently he’d hired Tom, a young man who’d drifted onto his ranch. That seemed to be working out all right. Tom had a room in the barn and kept mostly to himself. Lonny didn’t want to pry into his business, but he had checked the boy’s identification. To his relief, Tom was of age; still, he seemed young to be completely on his own. Lonny had talked to the local sheriff and learned that Tom wasn’t wanted for any crimes. Lonny hoped that, given time, the boy would trust him enough to share what had prompted him to leave his family. For now, he was safer living and working with Lonny than making his own way in the world.
Despite his sister’s claims, Lonny was convinced that bringing a woman into his life would cause nothing but trouble. First thing a wife would want to do was update his kitchen and the appliances. That stove had been around as long as he could remember—his mother had cooked on it—and he didn’t see any need to buy another. Same with the refrigerator. Then, as soon as a wife had sweet-talked him into redoing the kitchen, sure as hell she’d insist on all new furniture. It wouldn’t end there, either. He’d be forking out for paint and wallpaper and who knows what. After a few months he wouldn’t even recognize his own house—or his bank account. No, sir, he couldn’t afford a wife, not with the financial risk he and Chase were taking by raising their cattle without growth hormones.
A heifer took five years to reach twelve hundred pounds on the open range, eating a natural diet of grass. By contrast, commercial steers, who were routinely fed hormones, reached that weight in eighteen to twenty months. That meant they were feeding and caring for a single head of beef nearly three years longer than the average cattleman. Penned cattle were corn-fed and given a diet that featured protein supplements. Lonny had seen some of those so-called supplements, and they included chicken feathers and rot like that. Furthermore, penned steers were on a regimen of antibiotics to protect them from the various diseases that ran rampant in such close quarters.
Yup, they were taking a risk, he and Chase, raising natural beef, and the truth was that Lonny was on a tight budget. But he could manage, living on his own, even with Tom’s wages and the room and board he provided. Lonny was proud of their cattle-ranching venture; not only were they producing a higher quality beef, for which the market was growing, but their methods were far more humane.
Cricket sang softly to herself during the rest of the ride. Lonny pulled into the long dirt drive that led to Chase and Letty’s place, leaving a plume of dust in his wake.
When he neared the house, he was mildly surprised to find Chase’s truck parked outside the barn. His sister had phoned him a couple of days earlier and asked him to collect Cricket after school. Letty had an appointment with the heart specialist in Rock Springs, sixty miles west of Red Springs. Chase had insisted on driving her. Of course Lonny had agreed to pick up his niece.
Letty had undergone heart surgery a little less than a year ago. While the procedure had been a success, she required
