After another long bout of cheering, Cash Mooney sauntered from the crowd, grabbing thanks mic from Hux.
“Thanks, bud,” he said with a grin and a clap to Hux’s back. “I’ll take things from here.”
Hux and I moved off to the side where Walker and Dotty prepared whatever was necessary to present each of the items as Cash took a deep breath and readied himself to take on the task of being the auctioneer. Apparently, he’d done a few auctions himself and was really good—according to him.
Except he wasn’t. Oh my god, hesowasn’t. Not that I knew much about what all went into it, but the unintelligible jargon falling from his lips was evidence enough that I’d royally fucked up.
“What the hell is he doing?” I hissed. “He said he knew how to do this.”
Hux shook his head, a disbelieving chuckle falling from his lips. “You actually believed him?”
“Oh my God, we have to stop him. No one knows what the hell he’s saying.”
“Well, I can’t do it. I wouldn’t even know what the hell I was auctioning off.”
Neither would I, but not because of my lack of vision, just my complete and utter lack of horse knowledge. Most of the things we were auctioning off were trainings, stud fees, things I knew nothing about.
A warm hand on my shoulder startled me. I turned, glancing up into the face of the older cowboy who’d caught Whit’s eye.“Miss. I apologize about my nephew. I can, um… well, if you need someone to do this for you, I can do it.”
“Are you sure?”
I was not ready for someone else to say they could do it and screw everything up.
He tipped his hat to me and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
I sighed and glanced in Cash’s direction. “Thank you. That would be helpful.”
Turns out Cash might not know a thing about auctioneering, but his uncle sure did. The fidgety, nervous looking man who’d spilled a drink at the bar earlier had vanished entirely, a cool, confident, fast-as-hell talking cowboy replacing him. I didn’t miss Whit’s approving smirk on her lips as she watched him. Wow, she really was into him, wasn’t she?
My nerves and excitement mingled and danced in my chest as each item was auctioned off. With each“sold”that fell from the cowboy’s lips, we ventured closer and closer to our goal. One hundred fifty thousand dollars might have been a bit lofty, but in the end, we’d take whatever we could to make this dream become a reality.
When the final item—a stud service from one of Mr. Lane’s famous roping horses—finally sold, we were still five thousand dollars short. My heart sank as I glanced at Hux, noting the lines of disappointment etched into his face. I knew he’d ride regardless, but this meant so much to him. He was so determined to make this goal.
“Well, damn,” Hux huffed, hanging his head low. “Guess that’s that.”
“Actually…” I said, “There’s one final item.”
I’d known there was a chance that we might be just shy of the goal, so I’d planned to have one final item. Just in case.
Hux frowned. “What is it?”
Chapter forty-three
East Side of Sorrow
Hux
Worry crept through meat the tone Quinn used. It was hopeful on the surface, but lurking just beneath was a hint of hesitance. Almost like she was afraid of what I’d think.
“I wanted to make sure we had a backup item in case we were shy of the goal. So, I um…I brought up one of your paintings.”
My heart stuttered in my chest. I shook my head. “No. No one’s gonna want that.”
Emotions roiled within me. Not necessarily anger, but maybe frustration for sure. That and, let’s face it, a hell of a lot of anxiety. No one but her had seen my paintings. Not even Mom and Dad. Sharing that part of myself with the world…I don’t know. It scared the hell out of me.
“You don’t know that, Hux,” she replied back, a note of desperation thrumming in her words.
“I do. No one’s gonna pay five grand for a finger painting.” My words came out low, bitter, little more than a growl.
