Page 18 of Lost and Lassoed

“No, I don’t, but August”—he sighed—“if you don’t get some help, then I’m going to have to rethink your responsibilities at Rebel Blue until Cam comes home. You can’t do it all, and I’m not going to make you try.”

My mouth dropped open. No, he couldn’t do that. I mean, I guess he technically could. He was in charge here, but I was too, in my own way. I looked around the table. My brother, sister, and best friend all looked as shocked as I did. They didn’t know this part was coming.

“Dad…” I said, trying to find some words.

My dad held his hand up and asked, “Did you approve payroll on Friday?” Which stopped me dead in my tracks. Of course I had.

Right?

“I”—I stumbled, embarrassed that my siblings were here for this—“I don’t know.”

My dad let out a sigh. “We have nearly fifty employees on this ranch, August. That’s fifty people and their families who depend on us to provide them with a living in exchange for their hard work.” He didn’t have to say the part about the people who depended on that including my brother, my sister, my best friend, and my daughter. “And all of those people are going to get paid a day late next week.” I swallowed hard, properly chastised. He didn’t need to mention that I’d beenlate most days since Cam left, or that our maintenance schedule had been thrown off because I had trouble keeping track of the days and sent the cowpokes off in the wrong direction.

“I’m not trying to berate you, August, but I know what it’s like to be a single dad trying to do it all.” Amos’s voice was soft and gravelly again—the one we were all used to. The one that put us at ease and comforted us. “It takes a village, son.”

I looked down at my hands. He was right. I thought about the early days after my mom passed away. My dad had tried so hard to hide the fact that he was broken, but he’d depended on Hank and Aggie to help. My situation could hardly be more different, but his point still stood: He hadn’t been able to do it alone.

I took a deep breath. “Okay,” I said stubbornly. “I’ll talk to Cam, and if she’s okay with it, I’ll get some help.”

“I’ll talk to Teddy,” Emmy said.

“I didn’t say Teddy,” I shot back quickly.

“She could literally start tomorrow, Gus. You said you didn’t want a stranger. You might not like her, but at least she’s the devil you know. And she loves Riley.”

“She’s got a point, Gus,” Wes chimed in, and I shot him a dirty look.

I sighed, unable to believe what I was about to say. I was a stubborn ass, but I was also a logical person.

“Fine. Talk to her.”

Chapter 8

Teddy

“How much money do you think it took to get Cloma not just to sell the name of the boutique, but to close it altogether?” Emmy asked. It was Sunday night, and I’d taken Cloma up on her “You and Emmy can have anything you want” offer. We’d been going through every rack and trying on clothes for the past hour.

“A lot,” I said. “She gave me six months’ pay, and I don’t think she would’ve done that unless it was a drop in the bucket.”

“That’s insane,” Emmy said. She had just come out of the dressing room. She was wearing a pair of black jeans, a white tank top, and a handmade leather vest. She did a little spin. “The vest has to be one of yours, right?”

I smiled. “Yeah.” I’d made five of them last month—well, six, if you count the one I made for myself. Three pieces of leather panels, cut to perfection and stitched together using a thin leather cord. The result was slightly edgy and delightfully Western.

“It’s incredible. You’re so talented, Ted.” I’d made andrepaired a lot of clothes for Emmy over the years, and no matter what, she always made me, and my clothes, feel special.

“Too bad my sewing machine shit the bed last week, huh?” I said dryly.

Emmy looked at me like I’d just told her I was going to die tomorrow. “Still no fix?” I had never gone this long without a sewing machine. I nodded. “Shit, Ted. Is it broken for good?”

“I don’t know, but the closest certified repairman for the vintage model is in Jackson, and I feel like I should know for sure if it can be fixed before I haul it all the way down there. And if I can’t get it fixed, I’ll need to replace it.”

“So your jacket…?” she asked.

“Is still hanging in my closet all sad and mopey.”

“A casualty of the great Teddy and Gus lock-in.” I rolled my eyes at that. Why couldn’t he have sustained the casualty?

“Your brother is the worst,” I said.

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