A Rich Man for Dry Creek / a Hero for Dry Creek (7 page)

“Make sure she knows I didn't even know the kidnap victims,” Robert said firmly. Snowflakes were melting on his hair and he still looked as if he'd stepped out of the pages of a catalog. “Make sure she knows the kidnapping had nothing to do with me. It would have happened if I hadn't been here.”

“That's what I told her. I said you wouldn't have even gone with the men if it hadn't been for the bus. I mean your mother rented it and all.”

“Well, I don't know about that.” Robert frowned. How is it that he had never noticed Jenny's eyes turned a snapping black when she was annoyed? Fascinating. He wondered if she was annoyed with her sister or with him. Maybe she thought he should have ridden to the rescue on a horse like the FBI agent instead of worrying about a big old bus. He guessed a bus wasn't very dashing. If that was it, he needed to explain. “I would like to think I would go to anyone's aid if they were being kidnapped. It wasn't just the bus.”

“What's this about some bus?” Jenny's sister asked on the phone. “Was it a school bus? Were there kids in danger? That would make a good angle.”

“There is no angle. Robert—I mean, Mr. Buckwalter—was just driving.”

Robert frowned deeper. He wasn't sure he liked the turn this conversation was taking. Granted, he didn't want his life splattered all over some tabloid in the morning, but he didn't know that he cared to have Jenny dismiss his efforts so lightly.

“It wasn't just easy driving,” Robert finally said. “The gears had been stripped. I had to get everyone back here. It was cold enough out there to freeze to death if we didn't get back.”

There, that should let her know his actions were important, he thought.

“What's that?” Jenny's sister spoke forcefully in Jenny's ear. “Put the receiver out more. I need to hear. I got the part about the kids in the school bus almost freezing to death. This is great. My boss will love this story.”

“There is no story,” Jenny said firmly.

“But what about the children?”

“There are no children.”

“Well, then, what was the school bus doing? Work with me here, Jenny. It's not like this won't hit the local papers anyway. School bus kind of stuff always does. This is practically real news.”

“Listen, to me—there are no children. There was no school bus.”

“Well, then, give me a little something. Right this minute—what is Robert Buckwalter the Third doing?”

“He's just—” Jenny looked up at Robert. The snow had melted and his hair was wet now. His cheeks were still red and his nose was white. His hands shivered slightly as he held a cup of coffee in them. “He's just warming up.”

“Ohhh, that's a good quote. Can I use that? Sources close to the man said that he is warming up and looking to be hot again.”

“Absolutely not!”

“Well, then, can I talk to him? Ask him if I can do an interview.”

“I'm sure he doesn't—”

“Just ask him. Please.”

“Oh, all right.” Jenny began as she put her hand over the receiver so her sister could not hear the conversation. “I know you won't want to—that's why I only said I'd ask. Not that you'd agree.”

Robert watched the blush creep up Jenny's face again. Her eyes had lightened again until he could see the caramel highlights in them.

“I'll do it,” Robert said.

“But I haven't asked—”

“Oh.”

“Not that you might not want to anyway. You might be able to sway the decision on the bachelor list and if that's what you want—”

“Did she give any hint of that?” Robert's face came to attention. “That she'd be willing to speak to the editors and plead my case?”

Robert wasn't sure that Jenny's sister could do anything to get him off that list, but if she was anything like Jenny he didn't want to underestimate her.

“I'll let you ask.” Jenny held out the phone. She was defeated. Why try and protect the privacy of Robert Buckwalter when he obviously wanted people all across the country to read about him as they stood in line to buy groceries? She suddenly wished she had told her sister he was hot.

Robert took the phone from Jenny's hand.

A faint siren filtered into the barn and could be heard even over the commotion caused by the three kidnappers being tied up on the barn floor against their wishes.

“I want to negotiate,” Robert said into the phone. “Agree to my terms and we'll talk.”

Jenny looked up. “You have terms?”

Robert nodded emphatically to Jenny as he continued speaking into the phone. “That's right. I'll cooperate if you cooperate. And I assure you you'll get your story somehow.” He listened and then grinned. “Yes, something with pictures. It might take me a day or two to work it out first. Talk to the editors. See what they say.”

Jenny felt stiffer than she could remember feeling for years. Terms. He had terms. He was planning to sell his soul and become an underwear model.

Jenny almost missed the barn door opening once again. If it wasn't for the siren growing louder and then stopping, she wouldn't have paid much attention. But then she heard the booming voice of Sheriff Carl Wall.

“Where are they?” the sheriff demanded as he stomped into the room carrying two large suitcases.

“Careful with those.” A platinum blonde stepped daintily behind him. “Those are alligator skin cases.”

Jenny had never seen such a woman. Now there was somebody who could get away with modeling underwear. She was tall, thin and reeked of style. She was just a touch haughty and Jenny knew without a doubt that the hair color she wore was not her own.

The FBI agent seemed to share Jenny's suspicions that the woman was not one of the locals and he walked over to the woman. “I'll need to see some identification.”

“Identification?” The woman stopped. She managed to look very offended. “I don't need any identification. I'm with him.”

The woman pointed at Robert Buckwalter.

Jenny saw Robert flinch. He'd quietly pressed the off button on the cell phone, hanging up on her sister. That meant that whatever was going to be said now was something that Robert wanted to be kept from the press.

This is it, Jenny braced herself. That woman spells a secret if anyone does.

“Now, Laurel, you know that's not—”

The FBI agent appeared to have no patience. He looked at Robert. “She's with you?”

“I wouldn't say ‘with'—I know Laurel, of course. Our families are, well…My mother knows her better—so, no, I wouldn't say ‘with.'”

“It was ‘with' enough for you on Christmas!” Laurel staged a pout that would have done justice to a Hollywood starlet.

Jenny nodded to herself. Of course.

“I didn't see you on Christmas!” Robert protested. It was colder than an Arctic winter inside this barn and he was starting to sweat. “I haven't seen you for months!”

“Well, maybe not this Christmas,” Laurel agreed prettily. “You were a naughty boy and didn't come to my party. And here I'd counted on you.”

Jenny started to breathe again. He hadn't seen her for months.

“I never said I would come,” Robert said wearily.

He'd never said he would come. Jenny started to sing inside.

“Don't worry, I forgive you. I figure we have lots and lots of Christmases to spend together.” Laurel stepped close and smiled at Robert confidently. “Laurel knows these things.”

Jenny dropped the teaspoon she held in her hand. She wondered if Laurel did know these things. If the other woman did, she was ten steps ahead of Jenny who couldn't seem to figure out much about anything.

“B
ring those bags over here.” Laurel looked behind her and spoke sharply to Sheriff Wall who was standing staring at Laurel. The sheriff looked down at his arms as though he'd forgotten they were attached to his shoulders let alone that they held two expensive bags.

Jenny looked around. The sheriff was not alone in his fascination with Laurel. The ranch hands had forgotten all about the hot coffee they'd been lining up to get. By the looks on their faces they no longer needed the coffee to warm them.

“I need my lipstick.” Laurel pouted for the benefit of the men standing around. “My lips aren't used to weather like this.” She shivered delicately. “Why, it's terrible out there.”

Silence greeted her pronouncement.

“It is cold at that, ma'am,” one of the ranch hands finally ventured to say.

Laurel smiled up at him. “You really should pick better weather for doing these cow things.” She turned her head so her smile hit Robert. “What is it they called it—the rustle or something?”

“Rustling,” Robert said dryly. “You're talking about the cattle rustling that has been going on around here. A hundred thousand dollars worth of loss so far. Interstate stuff. Enough to put some of these ranchers under. The FBI is working on the case now. It's serious here.”

“Well, they need to plan it for a warmer time of year, don't you think?” She appealed to the sheriff who was bringing her bags to her. “Maybe you could talk to the people in charge of the rustling. Ask them to do it in the summer instead. We could have a lawn picnic then with umbrellas and iced tea.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Sheriff Wall replied automatically. He looked worried. “Where do you want me to set these bags?”

Laurel looked around, her eyes finally settling on the refreshment table.

Jenny winced. The refreshment table had looked better when the evening began. The teenagers had wrapped the legs in swirls of pink crepe paper and had twisted streamers from the table edge to the floor all along the front of the table. But those streamers were gone now, leaving stubby pieces of tape behind. And the lace tablecloth borrowed from Mrs. Hargrove had a half-dozen brown circles where some coffee cup had spilled. The punch bowl still stood in the center, even though only an inch or two of liquid remained in its bottom.

“I can't put my bags there,” Laurel appealed to Robert. “They're genuine alligator. They'll get wet with that stuff.” She pointed to the punch bowl.

“If they're alligator, I expect they'll be fine if they get wet.” Robert shook his head. He added in disgust, “The skin's been wet before when it was on the alligator. I can't believe you'd buy alligator skin luggage anyway. Aren't they some kind of endangered group or something?”

The other men were more forgiving and more eager to please. One of the ranch hands took off his vest and laid it over the tablecloth. “Here. I think your bags are beautiful. And don't worry. You can put your bags on this. Won't hurt my old vest any.”

“Why, aren't you kind?” Laurel gushed at the man and then looked over at the sheriff. “You can put them there.”

The sheriff set the bags on top of the vest and then ducked his head, mumbling something about getting back to the kidnappers.

“Kidnappers?” Laurel looked up with the first genuine expression that Jenny had seen on the woman's face yet. Laurel's smile was gone and she looked twenty percent smarter. “I thought you said they were cattle rustlers.”

“Well, they're also kidnappers,” the sheriff said somewhat sourly.

“Oh, dear, I knew I shouldn't have come here to this end-of-the-world place where there aren't even police to protect me from the criminals that run loose.”

“I'm the law around here.” The sheriff stomped a little louder than he needed to on his way over to the tangle of kidnappers that were waiting for him on the floor. “I protect all the citizens of Dry Creek.” He smiled up at Laurel. “And the visitors, too, of course. I take good care of visitors.”

“But there's only one of you.” Laurel looked aghast just thinking about it. “The Seattle police force must have thousands of people working. And they're trained. Police academy and all that.”

“I've got my GED. I know it's not the same as a high school diploma, but I know the same information. And I read those police magazines every month. And not just the free ones they send. Sometimes I buy the ones off the shelves at that big drugstore in Billings. Just don't go listening to anyone spouting off about that hit man that came here after Miss Glory. There was no way I could have known he'd dress up like Santa Claus and come to the church pageant just like he belonged—”

“Hit man! You had a hit man, too. Right here in Dry Creek!” Laurel fanned her cheeks with one hand. “A girl like me just isn't safe.”

“No one can get into Dry Creek that easily,” Robert said, trying to stem her rising hysteria. When he said it, he looked at Laurel more closely. It was true. Dry Creek wasn't the easiest place to get to in the middle of a February blizzard. What had prompted Laurel to come?

“I'm sure we're all safe,” Jenny added. She was standing behind the refreshment table still pouring coffee. The line of men wanting a cup was finally moving forward. The heat from the coffee urn had added a moist flush to Jenny's face and she was beginning to wish she had her hairnet back so that her hair would stay in place.

Laurel turned to Jenny and scrutinized her briefly before dismissing her. “Well, I'm sure you're perfectly safe, dear. But rich people have extra perils and anyone can see I have money.”

“What anyone can see,” Robert interrupted icily, “is that you don't have the manners you were born with. Look around you. Money isn't the measure of a person. Some of these people will never have an extra dime and they're still better people than you or I will ever be with our silver spoons and our trust funds.”

One of two of the ranch hands looked at Robert in appreciation.

“Say what you want.” Laurel stepped over and snapped open one of her small alligator suitcases. “But I've never heard of anyone pulling a gun on someone else because they wanted to steal from a better kind of person. They're after people with money and that's it.”

Laurel lifted the lid on her suitcase and a wave of perfume hit the air.

The man holding his coffee cup out to Jenny strained to see over her shoulder so Jenny turned to see what the attraction was. There she saw it. Row after folded row of satin and silk lingerie. Some trimmed with lace. Some appliquéd. Slips. Nighties. In peach. Ivory. Lavender. White.

“And you're worried about the kids becoming underwear salesmen,” Robert said quietly as he moved closer to Jenny. “I'd say she's set up for a sales tour of all fifty states.”

The amused tone in Robert's voice cheered Jenny up considerably. He might be rich. But he surely could still see through a woman like Laurel.

“Didn't you pack any real clothes?” Robert finally asked. “You certainly can't survive a blizzard with that kind of stuff. You need long johns and sweaters with maybe some sweatpants and wool scarves.”

“Oh, I had two other boxes of clothes, but they got lost in the airport baggage system somewhere. I expect they're at the Billings airport by now. Anyway, they're going to send them out when they can,” Laurel answered cheerfully. “Not that they have any of those blizzard clothes in them. I brought some special-occasion clothes instead.”

Laurel looked at Robert with a glance he could only call sweetly possessive. It made him nervous. He'd known Laurel for years. They'd actually gone to school together, so he was better prepared for her games than most. He knew the sweetness was an act. He just didn't know why she was playing up to him. “There are no special occasions planned here.”

“We'll see.” Laurel smiled smugly.

Laurel shut the lid on her suitcase and swung around a little designer purse. “You know, I think the lipstick is still in my purse. Silly me. I didn't need to rummage around in that suitcase after all.”

Laurel pulled a long gold lipstick tube out of her purse along with a small mirror. She looked over at the men. “I don't suppose one of you would hold this mirror up for me, would you? I just don't feel right unless my lipstick is fresh.”

The request almost caused a fight among the ranch hands until Laurel turned and asked. “Robert, would you help me?”

Robert grimaced. Yes, this was Laurel at her best. What could he do? If he didn't hold the mirror, a half dozen of those ranch hands would go home tonight with black eyes. And the punch bowl might get broken. He happened to know the bowl was a favorite of Mrs. Hargrove's.

“Why don't you prop the mirror up on that ledge over there?” Robert pointed. The barn, even though it was now a community center, had been built for working cattle and still showed the marks. “See, you can see where the stall used to be?”

Laurel gasped. “You expect me to use the remains of a cow stall!”

“Well, there hasn't been a cow along that wall in ten years. I don't see the harm.”

Laurel tried to contain her annoyance, but it showed. Her normally pink cheeks got a little redder. Her baby blue eyes narrowed. Her chin jutted out in a stubborn angle. Then she took a deep breath and smiled sweetly back at Robert. “You're right, you know.”

Laurel turned to walk over to the ledge and Robert watched her. She was definitely up to something.

“Anyone else want coffee?” Jenny asked the men standing around the table. They were blocking the way for the other people who wanted something to drink by standing there and watching the blonde.

“I'll take another cup,” one ranch hand said with a sigh. “She's way out of my league anyway.”

“Well, of course she is, Kingman,” another ranch hand responded as he got back in line, too. “She's way too pretty for any of us. But we can still look. She's like a picture in one of those fancy magazines.”

“Yes, she is,” Jenny agreed. She knew how the ranch hands felt. Sometimes you couldn't help being drawn to someone even though you knew you didn't have a chance in a million of anything happening.

“She shouldn't have come here,” Robert said as he looked over the people of Dry Creek. Some ranch hands were still drooling over Laurel as she dramatically rubbed her lipstick on repeatedly. He'd lay odds there'd be some sharp words exchanged among those boys before the night was over. The teenage boys weren't far behind the ranch hands and the girls were looking like they were ready to mutiny. Even the married farm couples looked uneasy. “Laurel doesn't belong in a place like this.”

Jenny lifted her chin. She'd emptied the coffeepot and the line had ended. “There's nothing wrong with this place.”

“I didn't mean—” Robert was brought back sharply. “Of course, there's nothing wrong with this place. It's a great place full of great people.”

“Just because it used to be a cow barn doesn't mean it's any less of a place,” Jenny continued like he hadn't even spoken. “It's a place filled with friendship and good people—well except for them maybe.” She nodded her chin at the kidnappers who were now neatly tied at one side of the barn. “And who knows—even they might not be so very bad when all is said and done.”

“I agree.” Robert moved closer to stand beside Jenny. He didn't know how to say what he was thinking. “I like the people here. I like that this used to be a cow barn.”

“It's because you're slumming, isn't it?” Jenny said quietly. The punch bowl was now empty so she pulled the ladle out. “Getting a dose of real life before you settle down in some mansion somewhere with a perfect wife and perfect kids.”

“That's not it at all.”

Jenny had a sudden fierce wish to have her hairnet back. She knew now why she was always so insistent on wearing it even in food situations where the health code didn't require one. It reminded her of who she was in the situation. She was the chef. She knew her place. She wasn't a guest.

“Excuse me.” Jenny forced a smile. “I better start cleaning up or I'll be here all night.”

“Well, you're not going to clean up alone,” Robert protested. “Tell me what to do and where to start.”

“You can't help—not in that tuxedo. You'll ruin it.”

“I don't care about the tuxedo.”

“It's wasteful to ruin a ten-thousand dollar suit doing dishes.” Jenny felt her jaw set. If she needed any reminding about the difference between herself and Robert Buckwalter, this was certainly it. He could ruin an Italian tuxedo just because he wanted to do something else at that point in time.

Robert looked down at the suit. It probably had cost over ten thousand dollars. But who needed a suit like this, for goodness' sake? He'd just never given any thought before to how much he spent on clothes.

“Even taking in the punch bowl won't work. It's sticky with sugar and almost impossible to carry without holding it against yourself,” Jenny said as she reached for the bowl herself. “What you could do is gather up the coffee cups while I take the bowl to the café and rinse it out.”