Page 37 of We Drank the Dawn

Bea laughed, shaking him a little harder. “It’s going to go to voicemail.”

Tag swiped the phone screen, his hands trembling.

Harlan yell-whispered, “Put him on speaker!”

Tag nodded as he tapped the speaker-phone. “Meadowbrook Ranch. Tag speakin’.”

The boisterous voice on the other end answered. “Tag, it’s Frank. Thanks for taking my call. How are things over at Meadowbrook?”

“Uh, good, sir. Goin’ just fine.”

“And how are you liking the pro circuit?”

Tag loosened a little, a small smile moving his lips. “We’ve had a fun time. We’ve met some great folks and had some good runs.”

“And don’t I know it—you surely have. You know, the Alliance just had a committee meeting this afternoon and we were all talking about American Pie. Man, that is a rank horse.” He gave a raspy laugh. “Jimmy Grubble had every video you’ve submitted of her playing on the projector.”

Bea pressed her lips together and rubbed Tag’s back to encourage him. A soft whisper traveled over the cowboys. Hollie lifted a hand to cover her lips. Based on their reactions, I guessed Jimmy Grubble’s obsession with American Pie was a good sign. Was this the call Tag had been waiting for?

Frank took a deep breath and continued, “Well, I know I said to expect a call in November, but we just had our quarterly this afternoon.” He chuckled softly. “You sittin’ down, son?”

Bea pressed a fist to her mouth, releasing a hollow breath.

“Yes, sir.” Tag, shaking uncontrollably now, propped his elbows on his knees, depositing his phone face-up on the table. Bea snatched Wren away as her chubby, drooly hands reached for it.

Frank said, “In the twenty-five years I’ve been in various leadership roles for the Alliance, I could list on one hand the amount of times there has been a unanimous decision about anything. There’s always some hang up somewhere. Someone wanting to slow the process down with this objection or that concern, and it’s annoying. But, Tag, when I say every single member of the committee has been watching Meadowbrook, I mean it. As soon as your name went up for the vote…”

Tag’s hand slipped into his hair, gripping it.

Bea covered her face with her fingers, frozen as she waited.

I realized I was biting my bottom lip, hardly breathing.

“You’re the fastest yes we’ve ever given.” I heard the smile in his voice. “Is Meadowbrook ready for a pro paycheck?”

Tag let his head drop downward as a ripple of hushed exclamations flowed over the porch. A choked cry lifted from Bea’s lips and she squeezed her eyes shut, leaning against Tag’s shoulder. Warmth pooled in my chest and heat prickled behind my eyes.

Finally, Tag responded, his voice tight with emotion. “Yes sir, we are.”

“Good. You’re the most anticipated roughstock contractor of the new season and we can’t wait to see you climb the ranks. We know you will.”

A few silent tears leaked onto Bea’s smiling cheeks.

Tag’s fingers wound through hers, pulling her free hand into his lap. He blinked a few times, emotion clouding his eyes.

Frank kept on. “I’m betting it won’t be too terribly long before we see you in Vegas. What do you think about that?”

Tag could scarcely press the words out. “It—would be an honor.”

“Good, good. Well, you’ll get your official membership card in the mail in a few weeks. When you do, you can just shred your probationary one.”

“Will do.”

“My one request is that you not announce it publicly just yet. You’ll have a couple folks who do our media releases reach out for an interview and we’ll include it on the website with our official statement. Usually, when we add contractors, journalists will want to get your story. Keeping it hush until we make the announcement just ensures the Alliance gets to do the honors of breaking the news.”

Frank prattled about the media and a few other things Tag needed to do. But when they disconnected the call, everyone—myself included—burst into cheers.

ELEVEN