Free The Cowboy's Return by Linda Warren

come over.”
    Jilly wiped at her eyes. “But I’m not supposed to see her except in school.”
    “Mmm.” Camila gave it some thought. “That does present a problem, but since I’m in charge and I feel you’ve been punished enough, I say you’re not grounded anymore.”
    “You’re wonderful, Mama.”
    “I’ll run out and get a movie and make popcorn and you and Kerri can have a fun evening.”
    “What will you do, Mama?”
    “Oh, after supper, I’ll pull the orders off the computer and fill them.”
    “But it’s Saturday night. You shouldn’t be working.”
    “I’ll just be getting a jump start on Monday.”
    “But, Mama…”
    “I’ll go call Betty Sue.” She stopped at the door. “Why didn’t you answer the cell phone?”
    “It didn’t ring.” Jilly fished it out of her pocket. “Oops. It’s turned off.”
    Camila shook her head, walking out. She stopped for a moment. Tears stung her eyes and nausea churned in her stomach. What she’d worked so hard to prevent was happening—Jilly was being hurt. She shouldn’t have let her visit the Danielses’.
    But Camila knew that wasn’t the answer. Jilly had wanted to meet her grandparents and there was no way to stop that. It wasn’t easy watching her child go through this.
    ♦ ♦ ♦

    T RIPP WASN’T SURE what to do so he left—for now. He’d give Camila time to cool off then he’d try to talk to her again. He’d apologize to Jilly again, too.
    He passed the Hitchin’ Post, a beer joint, on the outskirts of town. Earl Boggs’s truck was parked in front, so Tripp stopped and went back. He was in a mood to talk to Earl.
    Inside, country music played loudly, smoke filled the room, and men sat at various tables and at the bar. He spotted Earl immediately at a table with his brother, Bert, and two of Earl’s sons, Wallis and Otis. Tripp walked over.
    “Howdy,” he said.
    “Tripp.” Bert nodded, shaking his hand. “How are your folks?”
    “They’re doing fine.” He glanced at Earl. “Could I speak with you?”
    “Sure, boy, but I’m comfortable right here so say what you have to. Dorie,” he shouted to the waitress, “bring another beer.”
    “No, thanks. I’m not staying. I just wanted to talk to you about the lease you have with my dad.”
    Earl’s eyes narrowed. “What about it?”
    “I can’t find a copy. Do you have one?”
    “A copy.” Earl laughed. “Hell, boy, your dad and me did business the old-fashioned way—with our word.”
    “I can’t find any lease deposits either.”
    “I always pay cash.”
    “There aren’t any cash deposits.”
    Earl’s chair scraped against the wood floor as he pushed to his feet. Tall and slightly balding, Earl had a beer gut that hung over his belt. “Are you saying I’m not paying Grif?”
    “I’m saying I want to see some evidence.”
    “Everyone calm down,” Bert said.
    “Stay out of this, Bert,” Earl snapped and swung his gaze to Tripp. “A big rodeo star, huh? You think you can come in here and flex your muscle. That’s bullshit. This is Bramble not Vegas and I don’t give a rat’s ass what you want to see.”
    The words were slurred and Tripp knew Earl had had too much to drink, but it didn’t stop him.
    “Get your cattle off my property.”
    “Go to hell.”
    Tripp nodded. “Fine. I’ll just round ’em up and sell ’em at the auction. I believe that’s on Wednesdays.” He leaned in closer. “You see, that’s what I learned in my rodeo days—how to round up cattle real good.” He turned and walked out.
    “You bastard. I’ll call the sheriff.”
    “Go ahead,” Tripp shouted over his shoulder.
    Inside his truck, he had to take a couple of deep breaths. He couldn’t go home. He was too wound up. As angry as he was, though, all he could see was Jilly’s hurt face.
    And Camila’s.
    ♦ ♦ ♦

    T HE GIRLS WERE in the living room eating popcorn and watching a Harry Potter movie that they had seen at least twice. Camila glanced in and saw