It was hard to keep the doubts at bay when her mind replayed snippet after snippet of failures. And her grandfather’s corrections. Like the time she’d underbid a rodeo and her grandfather had docked her salary the five-thousand-dollar difference to make up for it. The time she’d brought too few rough stock to an event and her grandfather had to call in favors from other rodeo suppliers. The time she’d understaffed a rodeo and her grandfather had to hire temporary chute help from among the contestants. But she’d learned from those mistakes. She hadn’t repeated them.
What of your successes, Amanda Prescott? Those should count too, she reminded herself. How about wooing the largest rodeo within the Montana circuit and raising two National Rodeo Finals broncs, one of which achieved ProRodeo Riders Association horse of the year? What about hiring away one of the top pick-up cowboys in the business, increasing attendance by promoting the matchups between cowboy and the particular livestock, and bringing every rodeo in on budget for the last two years?
She shifted in her seat. Maybe Ty had been left some small remembrance, and she was fretting for no reason. Anything was possible.
“Now that everyone is here, we can get started.” There was an uncharacteristic officiousness in Brian’s voice as he shuffled through sheets of paper. Distinguished, late fifties, impeccably groomed, Brian had been the family lawyer for the past ten years. He read off the standard opening paragraphs of the will, which stated this will superseded all other wills and that her grandfather had been of sound mind. Mandy half listened. The other half of her mind was working through the odds of her taking over Prescott Rodeo Company given Ty’s presence. So far she hadn’t been able to get above fifty-fifty.
“I’ve a copy of the will for all of you, so I’ll just provide a summary of the pertinent facts. First off, your grandfather made a number of bequests.”
Brian proceeded to rattle off the cowhands who had been with Prescott Rodeo Company from the early days and the generous sums attached to each of their names. He ended with Mrs. Jenkins, JM’s housekeeper, who had come to work for him after Mandy’s grandmother had passed a few years ago.
It wasn’t clear where Mrs. Jenkins would end up now. It would depend on who would get her grandfather’s ranch house, Mandy supposed. Her bet was on Tucker.
“The real meat and potatoes of J. M. Prescott’s will has to do with Prescott Rodeo Company, and everyone at the table today is concerned by virtue of the contents of that document,” Brian explained.
As if synchronized, all of them turned their attention to Ty, including Mandy. Ty’s smile was closed lipped, his dark eyes never flinching under the scrutiny.
Beneath the table, she felt her mother’s cool, soft hand close over hers. A squeeze followed. It was her mother’s way of telling her to stay calm. Mandy squeezed back. Her mother didn’t remove her hand.
“As a privately held company, your grandfather had more flexibility to do as he saw fit than if it was a publicly held company. And JM took advantage of that fact, as you will soon learn.” Brian raised his gaze from the sheaf of papers he held. “I feel obligated to tell you all that I do not countenance everything he did in this document, but I don’t think any of you can question whether he was in his right mind a month ago when he drew up this new will. I’ll also caution that I am a fairly good lawyer, so I don’t expect there will be grounds to break his will.”
Sheila squeezed Mandy’s hand harder. This was going to be worse than she ever imagined. She couldn’t bear to look at Ty. If the man had duped her grandfather, she might not be able to do anything about it.
“Mandy, you and Ty Martin have been named as trustees of the scholarship fund named in your father’s honor for a worthy student from the local community college who wishes to go on for a four-year degree. I believe, Ty, you were the first recipient of that scholarship.”
Ty nodded.
Maybe that was why Ty was here. Nothing to do with PRC directly. Of course, that would make sense. Mandy began to relax. She was worrying about nothing. She might have to see Ty more than usual, but that wouldn’t be as horrible as him running her company.
She met Ty the summer following her father’s death, her life having been upended by that catastrophic event. In what would become a tradition, her grandfather offered the recipient of the scholarship a summer job helping out. She remembered stumbling upon Ty in the barn, his shirt off, as he cleaned the stalls. It had been hot, and the flies were biting as her seventeen-year-old self had sauntered in to fetch a bridle out of the tack room. She’d wanted to take a dip and planned to ride out to the creek that ran through the western side of the ranch.