A Rich Man for Dry Creek / a Hero for Dry Creek (4 page)

“Tonight's a special occasion.”

“Aren't they all?” She struggled upstream. “These receptions—nothing brings out the good suits like a reception or a wedding.”

Robert nodded. “Or a funeral.”

Jenny started to sweat. Being a news source was more difficult than one would think. “Funerals and weddings. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference.”

Robert looked at her like she'd lost her mind.

“I mean sometimes weddings get off to a rocky start.” Boy, did her sister owe her.

Robert nodded. “I suppose so.”

“Been to any weddings lately?”

Robert shrugged. “Not for a while. I've been away from the social scene.”

“Oh?” Jenny looked up brightly. Now they were getting somewhere.

“Haven't missed it.” Robert looked toward the barn door. “It won't take me a minute to run back to the café and get that butter.”

Jenny nodded in defeat. “It's on the back of the stove. Be sure and use a pot holder.” She suddenly remembered to whom she was talking. “That's a padded square of cloth. It'll be on the counter.”

“I know what a pot holder is.” Robert didn't add that he hadn't known until five months ago.

Jenny stood with her back to the tables and watched Robert walk out of the barn. He was limping. Now she wondered why a man who had spent five months resting would be limping.

“Handsome, isn't he?”

Jenny turned to look at the woman standing next to her. Mrs. Hargrove was one of the people in Dry Creek that Jenny liked the best. She'd organized the apron brigade for Jenny, using aprons from the church. Towel aprons. Frilly aprons. Patched aprons. They'd used them all.

“You're pretty good-looking yourself,” Jenny said.

The older woman had worn a gingham cotton dress every other time Jenny had seen her. Tonight she was in a silk mauve dress with a strand of pearls around her neck. A lemon scent floated around her.

“Maybe he'll ask you to dance,” Jenny continued. Mrs. Hargrove had said earlier that this was the first dance she'd attended since her husband died two years ago.

“Me?” Mrs. Hargrove laughed. “I was thinking he'd ask you to dance.”

“No time. I'll be busy with the food.”

“Not when the dancing starts.”

“No, by then I'll be busy with the pots and pans—washing dishes.”

“Goodness, no! The dishes can wait. Tomorrow's soon enough for that. We'll all pitch in then. That's the way it's done here. I might even ask old man Gossett to help us. Be good for him to get out. You'd be doing him a favor.”

Jenny had a sudden wish that she could dance. “But I'm not dressed for a party.”

Mrs. Hargrove shrugged. “I'll bet there's a few more dresses at the café.”

The women of Dry Creek had loaned their old prom dresses and bridesmaids dresses to the teenage girls from Seattle. For most of the girls, this was the first time in their lives they had worn a formal dress.

“He's back,” the older woman announced.

Robert Buckwalter entered the barn doorway and stood for a moment. Jenny could see the blackness of the outside air. Snowflakes were scattered on his head and shoulders. His hands were carefully wrapped around the handle of the saucepan he was holding. He hesitated in the doorway as though he was shy, unsure of his place among the guests. His shyness, combined with the perfect balance of his face almost took her breath away. Maybe he did deserve to be the number one bachelor.

He certainly didn't deserve to carry the butter.

“Here, let me get that.” Jenny wiped her hands on her apron and started toward him. The steam from the lobsters had made her hands clammy. “You shouldn't have to—”

“I can carry a pan of butter.”

“Of course.” Jenny stopped. Of course he could. Why in the world was she so nervous around the man? It must be her sister. Making him sound so mysterious. Just because he was rich, it didn't mean he wasn't just a regular kind of a guy, too. He just had more change in his pockets than most.

“Dinner's almost ready.” Jenny turned to talk again with Mrs. Hargrove.

The regular guy walked around her toward the table.

“Then your troubles for the evening will be over,” Mrs. Hargrove said kindly as she put a hand on Jenny's arm. “We're so grateful for all the work you've done, dear.”

Robert frowned as he set the saucepan on the table. If dinner was coming soon, he had work to do fast. He suspected people were always more easily shocked on an empty stomach. Plus, after dinner, the sounds of those records playing would mask his attempts at being outrageous.

He'd given some thought to his dilemma while outside and he'd decided age could go two ways. Instead of focusing on someone young like Bambi, he could try someone old enough to be his grandmother.

“Ah, there you are.” Robert turned back to Mrs. Hargrove. He understood she was the Sunday school teacher for most of the little people in Dry Creek. She should be thoroughly offended by a kiss from a strange man. Everyone else should be shocked, too.

He looked around for Bambi and called her over. There'd be no point in rattling the people of Dry Creek if he couldn't shake up the rest of the country, too.

“Yes?” Mrs. Hargrove looked up at him. Her eyes were bright with curiosity. Her cheeks were pink. She must be seventy years old. She looked like every cookie-lover's picture of Grandma.

Robert dove right in. “I love you.”

“Why, I love you, too.” She beamed back.

“What?” Robert stalled. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go.

“I love all of God's children,” Mrs. Hargrove continued. “They say that's how Christians will know each other. By the love they have for others. I John 4:7. Does this mean you're a Christian?”

“Well, no, I—I mean I'm not opposed to Christianity.” Robert started to sweat in earnest. How had God gotten into this? “Don't really even know much about it—”

“Well, I'd be happy to tell you.”

“Great, maybe later. It's just that's not what I meant when I said I love you.”

“Well, then, what did you mean?”

Robert was desperate. He looked over and nodded at Bambi. She was in position. Then he started to bend down.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Hargrove bent, too. “My beads.”

Robert heard the scattered dropping of pearls as his kiss landed smack on the top of Mrs. Hargrove's gray head. His lips met the scalp where her hair was parted.

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Hargrove said as she bent down farther.

Now Robert couldn't even kiss the top of her head unless he squatted down to where his kneecaps should be.

“Here, let me help you,” Jenny said as she stepped closer to both of them.

Robert wasn't about to give up. It wasn't ideal. But the camera was in place and he was determined to kiss someone. Even if it was Jenny.

He heard her first soft shocked breath as he drew Jenny to him. He was close enough to feel her second indignant breath as he bent his head.

The camera flashed. The talking stopped. A bead rolled.

Robert was triumphant. His big moment was recorded. He could end the kiss. But he didn't. Something was happening.

The kiss blossomed. Jenny tasted of home. The minute Robert felt her lips tremble beneath his, he was lost. He didn't want the kiss to end. He felt like he had caught a fragile thread of something precious he didn't even understand.

“Mmmm, sweet. I like that—I mean you—I like you,” he whispered when he finally drew away.

“Not love?” Bright red dots stood out on both of Jenny's cheeks. “I thought ‘I love you' came easy enough to your type.”

Robert felt like he was coming out of a cozy cave and facing the frost of winter.

“My type?” he asked cautiously.

Jenny's brown eyes had deepened to a snapping black. She bristled.

“The type of man who kisses his employees—whom he
likes
—even when he says he loves Mrs. Hargrove.”

“I don't kiss my employ—” Robert stopped. That was no longer true. “I mean, I don't. Well, I didn't—”

There was an incessant ringing somewhere and a gnarled old hand reached from behind Robert. Mr. Gossett had pulled the ringing phone out of the coat pocket. “This yours?”

“You want it?” Robert asked Jenny.

Jenny's cheeks were red still and her breathing quick. She was adorable.

Robert suspected she reached for the phone more for something to do than because she wanted to talk.

“Yes.” Jenny turned her back to him and walked a few feet away.

“You talked to him!” She looked over her shoulder in a betraying move. It was the sister. “So he knows.”

Robert knew he should pick up on the accusation Jenny had left dangling and make some strong sexual harassment statements. Publicly threaten to fire her unless she kissed him again. That would certainly knock him off the bachelor list. Women didn't tolerate sexual harassment anymore and they shouldn't.

But Robert didn't open his mouth. Suddenly the list was not all that important.

He had met the woman the Bob inside him wanted to marry and she was looking at him this very minute like he was some hair ball a very unwelcome stray cat had coughed up.

Considering the set of her jaw as she talked to her sister, Robert figured he had as much chance of ever kissing her again as he had of teaching that stray cat to dance a tango.

“H
e kissed you! You're telling me he kissed you! Robert Buckwalter the Third kissed you!”

Jenny's sister was screeching so loudly Jenny had to hold the cell phone away from her ear. She'd slipped outside so that she could finish the phone conversation in private. She shivered from the cold.

“After he kissed Mrs. Hargrove,” Jenny said as she wiped one hand on her chef's apron. The coarse bleached muslin steadied her. She was a chef. An employee. “He's my boss. He can't kiss me. He didn't even say he loved me.”

“Love! He loves you!” her sister screeched even louder.

“No, he didn't say that—that's what I'm saying. He didn't even attempt to be sincere.”

“But he kissed you.”

The Montana night was lit by some stars and a perfectly round moon. Silver shadows fell on the snow where the reflection of the barn light showed through the barn door and two square side windows. A jumble of cars and trucks were parked in the road leading up to the barn.

“Maybe he did it because I talked to you about him. Maybe there's some servant's code I breached when I told secrets about the master. You know, maybe it's a revenge thing.”

Jenny could hear the pause on the other end of the phone. The silence lasted for a full minute.

Finally her sister spoke. “Have you been taking those vitamins Mom sent you?”

“Well, yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“You're getting old. First you don't even wonder about whether or not the man is married and now he kisses you—Robert Buckwalter the Third actually kisses you—and you think it's for revenge!”

“Well, it could be.”

“Men like him don't kiss for revenge! They use lawsuits. Or buyouts. Corporate takeovers. They use termination. He could fire you. But not kisses! Kisses are for romance.”

Jenny snorted. “I smell like fish and my hair is flat. No man's kissing me for romance.”

“You're in your chef's apron?” Some of the bubble drained out of her sister's voice. “With that funny hairnet on?”

“And orthopedic white shoes because I'm standing so much. And no makeup because the steam from the lobster pots would make my mascara run. And I even have a butter stain on my apron—not a big one, but it's there in the left corner.”

“Then why is he kissing you?” her sister wailed and then caught herself. “Not that—I mean you're real attractive when you're…well, you know—”

“Those are my thoughts exactly. I might pass for someone in his social circle when I'm dressed up—heels, makeup, the works.”

“You looked real good in that black dress you wore last New Year's.”

“But in my working clothes, I'm more likely to attract a raving lunatic than a rich man.”

“Are you sure you don't have some exotic perfume on? One of those musk oil scents?”

“Not a drop.”

“Well, this isn't fair, then. A man like this Buckwalter fellow shouldn't go around kissing women just for kicks. He could hurt their feelings.”

“That's what I'm trying to tell you. He's so rich he doesn't need to worry about anyone's feelings. Especially the feelings of his employees.”

It was the dumped pet thing all over again. The rich were rich enough to be selfish. They didn't care about their pets. They didn't care about other people. That was all there was to it. The normal courtesies of life didn't apply to people like Robert Buckwalter.

Jenny looked over toward the barn. Mrs. Hargrove stood in the open doorway watching her anxiously. She was motioning for her to come back inside.

“I think they need me.” Jenny waved Mrs. Hargrove back into the warm barn. “It must be lobster time. Talk to you later.”

“Call me.”

“I will—wait.” She'd just thought of something. “When you talked to Robert Buckwalter earlier, did you tell him he was number one on the list or did you just say you were thinking of making him number one?”

“Oh, I couldn't tell him he was number one. I said maybe, but I didn't say it had been settled. That's not decided. Besides, it's confidential.”

“I see. Thanks. I'll call you later.”

Jenny slipped the cell phone into the front pocket of her chef's apron. Well, that explained everything. Robert Buckwalter thought a kiss might nudge him into that first-place position. Cozy up to the sister of someone with influence on the list and—presto—he's at the top. It was a game as old as mankind.

The heat inside the barn enfolded Jenny when she stepped across the threshold. She rubbed her arms. She'd been so angry she hadn't noticed the goose bumps that had crept up her arms. It was freezing outside.

“There you are, dear,” Mrs. Hargrove said. The older woman stepped toward her. “I was worried. I forgot to tell you that there's been a threat of kidnapping tonight. Garth Elkton has cautioned all the women to stay inside.”

“A kidnapping? Here?”

Jenny looked around in astonishment. She couldn't imagine a less likely place for a kidnapping. The teenagers had strung pink and white crepe paper from the rafters, making Jenny feel as if she were trapped in Candy Land. Dozens of ranchers and their wives sat at the long white tables at the back of the barn. Some of the ranchers had arms as big as wrestlers. What kind of army would it take to kidnap someone from here tonight?

“But who—?” Jenny asked.

“Garth Elkton got a strange call warning him that someone was out to get his sister.”

“Francis!” Jenny had met the woman earlier and liked her instantly. “But who would want to kidnap her?”

Mrs. Hargrove leaned close. “Some folks say it's an old boyfriend of hers. But I don't believe them. Flint Harris is a good boy. I always thought Dry Creek would be proud of him one day.”

Jenny looked over at the string of men standing along the far side of the barn. Most of them wore dark cowboy work boots and had the raw look of a new shave on their faces. “Which one is he?”

“Why, none of them, dear. Flint Harris hasn't been in Dry Creek for almost twenty years now.”

“Well, then, surely he's not a threat.”

Mrs. Hargrove shrugged. “I've never believed he was. Everyone's so wound up about this cattle rustling that's going on that we're making fools of ourselves, I'm afraid. Folks are saying now that the FBI thinks that someone from Dry Creek is tipping off the cattle rustlers. Imagine that! It's rattled a lot of folks, but I don't set much store by it. It'll all blow over. But it's best that you be careful. If you need to go over to the café, let me know and I'll get one of the ranch hands to go with you.”

Jenny nodded. “I think we have everything we need to get started.”

Steam from the lobsters kept the air inside the barn moist and Jenny could smell the coffee someone had set to brew.

Mrs. Buckwalter took charge, thanking everyone for coming and asking Matthew Curtis, the newly married minister, to say a blessing on the celebration meal. He agreed and asked everyone to join hands.

Jenny offered one hand to Mrs. Hargrove and the other to a young girl with rosy cheeks standing next to her.

The whole town of Dry Creek held hands and then closed their eyes.

“For the blessings You have given, we thank You, Lord,” the minister prayed. He held the hand of his new bride, a fresh-faced redhead that people had been calling Angel all night long. “For this food eaten with friends, we are most grateful. Keep us in Your love. Amen.”

“And thanks for my money, too,” the young girl at Jenny's side whispered quietly, her eyes still squeezed shut.

Jenny hadn't noticed that the girl wasn't holding someone's hand on the other side of her. Instead she was clutching a green piece of paper that looked like a check.

“Maybe you should put that with your coat.” Jenny nodded her head in the general direction of a few chairs near the door that were haphazardly piled with coats. “You wouldn't want to lose your allowance.”

“I don't get an allowance,” the girl whispered. “But I don't need one now, because I'm rich.”

“We've got a lot to be grateful for.” Jenny smiled down at the girl. What did it matter if the girl kept her few dollars in her hand if it made her feel better?

“I'm especially grateful for him,” the girl whispered again.

Jenny followed the girl's gaze and it led her straight to the tuxedoed back of—“Robert Buckwalter!” Jenny looked down at the girl in alarm. The sweet young thing's face glowed in adoration. “What's he done to you?”

Jenny looked at the broad shoulders of the man who was causing trouble. It wasn't enough that he'd kissed Jenny and Mrs. Hargrove, he'd obviously kissed others, too.

Robert looked perfectly at ease, talking with a couple of teenage boys who were fidgeting with their ties. It almost looked like he was giving them a lesson in how to make a tie bearable.

Jenny wished he would turn around and face her. It wasn't nearly as satisfying to scowl at a man's back as it would be to scowl at his face.

Folding chairs had been pulled close to the long table. People everywhere were walking toward the chairs and sitting down.

Jenny looked over and caught the eye of one of the ranch hands. She nodded for him to begin serving the lobsters like they had arranged earlier.

“I'll be right with you.” Jenny was in charge of bringing the melted butter to the table, but it would take a minute for the lobsters to make the rounds and she had something to do before she served it.

“Excuse me,” Jenny said. Her eyes were level with the back shoulder of Robert Buckwalter and she could feel the stiffness in her own spine. That poor innocent girl was no match for a man like this and Jenny felt she must protest his flirtation with her.

The man turned around. “Jenny!”

Jenny almost stumbled. The man said her name with joy.

“I know this is a party—” Jenny kept her eyes focused on Robert Buckwalter's chin. She didn't want to lose her nerve. She had stuck up for her younger siblings for years. She'd stick up for that young girl. “—and a dance at that. But you're an adult and you have to know that a child—well, you're old enough to be her father and I think you should remember that.”

“I'm old enough to be whose father?”

Jenny lifted her gaze from his chin to his eyes. If she didn't know better, she would say he was puzzled. And his eyes were distracting. A clear sky blue. They made her dizzy and annoyed at the same time.

“All of them,” she snapped. “You're old enough to be father to all of the kids here.”

“Well, that's stretching it, but if it makes you feel better, I assure you I'm not father to anyone—especially no one in this room.”

“You shouldn't kiss them then.”

Jenny kept her voice low. She hadn't forgotten about the teenage boys who were standing close enough to hear what she was saying if she wasn't careful.

Robert had no such need for privacy. “Kissing? When?”

Suddenly the air became supercharged.

“Kissing!” A teenage boy yelled out and then gave a piercing basketball whistle. “Hey everybody—he's gonna kiss her again!”

Jenny paled and she looked back at Robert. His eyes had deepened from sky blue to a midnight blue. And he was starting to grin.

“You shouldn't have mentioned kisses,” he said.

“What's going on?” Jenny felt as if she'd landed in a science-fiction movie. She turned around. She was suddenly surrounded by twenty, maybe thirty teenagers and they were all noisily aiming cheap disposable cameras at her.

“I suppose we should blame my mother. She bought them the cameras so they could take pictures of the wildlife in Montana.”

“But what do they want with us? We don't even live in Montana. I grew up in Seattle. I don't even know what the wildlife here looks like. I've never seen an elk, or a mountain sheep, or—”

“I think,” Robert said, as he touched her shoulders and turned her around until she was facing him again, “they want to see this.”

Robert dipped his head toward her and Jenny's heart stopped. She knew he meant to kiss her. It was obvious. But she couldn't move. She meant to move. Her mind assured her of that. It was her feet. Her feet had betrayed her and turned to stone.

Robert's lips met hers and Jenny's feet melted. She could hardly stand. She put her arms on his shoulders more for support than anything.

Ahhh. It was sweet. Very sweet.

Jenny felt like she went to a distant place where there was nothing but this man kissing her. Everything else was fuzzy. Then she saw a bright light. And heard a faint click. Then another click. This is it, she thought. Her heart was giving out. The end was always described as coming with a bright light. She wasn't sure about the clicking. She should have paid more attention in Sunday school. She bet Mrs. Hargrove knew about the clicking. Jenny only hoped it didn't have anything to do with that other place. Could it be fire crackling? She really should have paid more attention.