Page 7 of River Legacy
“Speaking of your father, shouldn’t you at least let him know where you’re going?”
“I’ll call him after I eat. I can’t do it on an empty stomach,” she said and flashed him a smile.
I’m putty in her hands, Ryder thought and mentally kicked himself. “Come on, my pickup’s parked over here.” Usually, he valeted it, but he’d figured he might want a fast getaway if things went the way he had expected with Forester, so he’d parked on the street. “Don’t you have to get your luggage?”
She shook her head. “I can charge whatever I need to my father.”
Not in Powder Crossing, he thought with a chuckle. This woman had no idea where they were going. The Powder River basin in southeastern Montana was another world. She was about to get a rude awakening, but maybe a little reality as to how working farm and ranch people lived would be good for her. Well, she’d asked for it, he thought as they headed for his pickup.
Chapter Three
Enraged, Claude marched up to his room, showered and changed, before sending his suit out to be cleaned compliments of his boss. He wanted to kill that cowboy, but it was nothing like what he would do to Victoria Forester if she was ever his bride. Which was probably never going to happen after the things he’d said in anger.
He tried not to think about that. Wen couldn’t possibly be on board with this cowboy. Anything either of them told her father about his behavior Claude would deny. When they got back to Dallas, he would get Victoria alone. Maybe they could make a deal. A short marriage in name only and a cash reward at the end to keep her father from marrying her off to someone worse.
What angered him the most was that this weekend wasn’t supposed to go this way. He already had Wen’s blessing. Surely, he could make his boss see that Victoria needed a strong hand and a whole lot of discipline.
But first he had to get her away from that arrogant cowboy who’d talked to him as if Claude was an errand boy.Tell Wen thanks for the dinner invitationand the room keys, but I’m going to pass. I’m sure he’ll understand. Had the cowboy really expected him to run to his boss with amessage?
Maybe more unbelievable was that Ryder Stafford was even considering blowing off Wen’s dinner invitation. No one did that. Wen would go ballistic when Stafford didn’t show, let alone if Victoria didn’t either.
So let her amuse herself with the cowboy, he thought. She’d be back. Especially after tonight. Wen demanded punctuality and abhorred people who made him wait even a minute.
Claude smiled to himself. No way was he passing on the cowboy’s message. He could wait to see how Wen liked it when his daughter and her so-called fiancé didn’t show up at precisely six o’clock for dinner.
Yes, tonight just might finally make his boss see what needed to be done about his precious Victoria. Wen had been threatening to cut off her allowance if she didn’t do what he wanted. This would be the last straw. Then they’d see how long it would take Victoria to come around to reason without her daddy’s money. No way could she live on any money she made at that nonprofit organization where she taught underprivileged kids art classes.
Claude laughed, suddenly feeling much better about his chances at getting what he wanted. The more the thought about it, the more assured he was that Victoria Forester wasn’t engaged to that saddletramp. This was just another of her stunts. When he met Wen for dinner, he would pretend he knew nothing about Victoria and her fake fiancé.
He could see it now. He and Wen would be seated downstairs in the restaurant before six. They’d have a drink. When six rolled around, no Victoria, no cowboy. Wen would wonder where his daughter and her fiancé were. Claude would play dumb. He’d seen his boss fire employees who were five minutes late to a meeting.
It would get later. Victoria or Ryder wouldn’t show up. Nor would they send an explanation, expecting Claude to deliver Ryder’s message—something he would deny having heard. And if that wasn’t the end of the cowboy and Victoria wasn’t brought into line, then Claude would do whatever was required to help things along.
Seeing the time, he smiled and went down to the restaurant ten minutes early. Wen was always punctual. Which was why Claude was always at least ten minutes early. He was sitting at the bar when his boss walked in. He saw him look around for Victoria and Ryder before letting the waiter show them to a table reserved for four.
Wen ordered a drink. Claude brought his from the bar. He’d already warned himself to go easy on the booze. He had to play this just right, reminding himself that he was perfect son-in-law material and needed to act like it. Wen looked toward the entrance of the hotel. No sign of his dinner guests. Claude made a point of looking at his expensivewatch but said nothing, careful to keep his expression neutral.
When five minutes had gone by, Wen called his daughter and left a message that they were waiting. A few more drinks and an appetizer later, Wen called her hotel room. Still no answer. Then he tried Ryder’s room and was told that the cowboy hadn’t checked in. Claude had pocketed the packet of keys Ryder had left.
“Let’s go ahead and order,” his boss said tightly and picked up his menu. “She knows how I feel about being forced to wait on anyone. She’s probably doing this to get back at me.”
“She should know better, but I’m really surprised her fiancé is late too,” Claude said from behind his menu. “I would think he would go out of his way to make a good impression on you.”
Wen put down his menu with a sigh. “You don’t like Ryder, do you?”
He felt the atmosphere change and warned himself to be careful. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“You think my daughter has made a bad choice.”
Claude couldn’t believe how quickly this had gone wrong. “I... I wouldn’t presume to—”
“Ryder Stafford and his family own one of the largest ranches in eastern Montana. I’ve been trying to buy it for some time now, but he’s refused to even consider selling.” Wen picked up his drink and took a sip. “Earlier he told me that he would start shooting anyone I sent with another offer.”
“I had no idea—”
“Exactly,” his boss said as he motioned the waiter over to take their orders. “You had no idea.” Wen turned to the waiter. “I want the biggest beef steak you have. So rare it still moos. I’m celebrating tonight.”
Claude glanced at his menu, his heart pounding. What was going on? This wasn’t going the way he’d thought it would at all. He started to order a steak, but quickly changed his mind. He knew how his boss felt about anyone who ordered a steak well-done—the only way Claude could eat it.
