“Beer?” he asked, holding the longneck out to her.
“It’s his,” she said, pointing at Toben. “I won his in pool.”
“That’s not what you won,” Toben argued.
“She’s a pool shark,” Mitchell said. “What did you win?”
Poppy took a long swig of her beer, looking between him and Mitchell. She chuckled. “I don’t know yet.”
“Lady’s choice,” Toben offered, enjoying the instant tightening of Mitchell’s jaw far too much.
Chapter Twelve
“Anything else over here, Ma?” Rowdy called to her.
Poppy dug through the packing paper, pulling out the last trophy. Her dad’s. The gold had been all but rubbed off the plastic cup, and the metal nameplate was slipping on the marble base, but it was a treasure. She smiled, running her finger over her father’s name. Barron White. Calf Scramble Champion, Gillespie County Fair. “Your grandpa’s trophy,” she answered, carrying it from the break room.
Rowdy waited, arranging memorabilia on the wooden shelf that ran around the top of the shop. Her entire family’s career was on display, including some of her mother’s handiwork. She’d been a master seamstress and quilter. Poppy had mounted the christening gown her mother had pieced, smocked and embroidered by hand in an oblong case.
Most of the pictures she displayed were copies, the originals showcased back at the house. Wherever she was, she liked to have her family around her. The quilts that covered every bed in the house and filled her large wood chest were made by her mother and grandmother. Cuddling up beneath them was as close to a hug as she could get. “Am I old enough to try the calf scramble this year?” Rowdy asked, placing the trophy on the shelf.
“Not yet. The youngest I’ve seen is ten. But we’ll check and see, okay? Safety first.” She wasn’t worried about Rowdy’s behavior, but some of the older boys could get a little competitive in the arena. He was big for six, but the cutoff for a calf scramble was seventeen. And while she knew being rough-and-tumble was part of being a cowboy, she wasn’t sure she was ready to see her boy knocked around—or his confidence dinged.
“I know, Ma.” But his sigh said it all. He was disappointed. “How’s it look?”
She stepped back. “Maybe a little to the left?” She nodded when he moved it. “Perfect. Just enough room to put a few of yours up there.”
“What about Dad?” Rowdy asked, climbing down the ladder. “Think he’d want to put any of his stuff up here? Since he’s family and all?”
Poppy smiled at her son, hiding the conflict his words stirred. Toben was Rowdy’s father, not necessarily her family. And yet she understood his desire to include him. To Rowdy, Toben’s addition was a gift. For her... Well, she still wasn’t sure what he was to her—beyond exasperating. “You can ask him.”
“Okay.” Rowdy nodded. He sat, looking around the shop. “The place looks good, Ma. Real good.”
Poppy looked around the shop as well, excited to see her vision coming to life. This was real. And, if she did say so herself, awesome. Every nook and cranny just as she’d imagined—neat, tidy and inviting to shoppers. Not just tourists, mind you, but hardworking ranching and rodeo folk, too.
The left of the shop was all fashion—men’s and women’s. Everything from boots to hats, silly socks to cowboy-print pajamas, ladies’ blinged-out jeans, jewelry, Wranglers, work wear, his-and-hers pearl-
snap button-downs and some fancier rodeo-worthy attire.
The right side of the shop was housewares, rodeo gear, and saddle and tack supplies. The smell of leather and wood polish scented the air. She’d stocked harnesses, saddle pads, stirrups and a sample book of fabric for saddle pads. She had little figurines made from discarded horseshoes, painted plaques, cowboy joke books and a wide array of cookbooks and kitchenware.
All surrounded by rodeo posters, memorabilia and bits and pieces of her family’s history.
“Yep,” she said, hands on hips, nodding. “Almost ready, don’t you think?”
The door opened, admitting Renata Boone. “Am I intruding?” she asked, her attention lingering on Rowdy.
So she knew about Rowdy. Did all the Boones know he was one of them? “No, come on in,” Poppy said, smiling. “We were just putting up a few things.”
“I love what you’ve done with the shop, Poppy. We’ve got the one hat and boot shop, but they don’t have the selection you’ve got.” Renata spun slowly around, then poked and explored several shelves. “This is adorable.” She smiled. “When are you opening?”
“I thought Fourth of July weekend made the most sense.”
She nodded. “That’s a great idea. I know the Shops Association would love to throw a grand opening celebration for you, invite your shop neighbors and friends. Maybe a day or two before?” She paused. “Good way to meet everyone on Main Street.”
“Thank you—that sounds wonderful, Renata.” Poppy was stunned by the offer.
“Well, it is part of my job.” Renata grinned. “But I’m really excited you’ve picked Stonewall Crossing to call home. But I do have a favor to ask. We’d love for you to ride in the Grand Entry, carry the American flag. If you’re interested?”