Country Brides (8 page)

Kate got out of the car and leaned against the front fender, crossing her arms over her chest. Rorie joined her.

“He'll be out in a minute,” Kate said.

True to her word, a tall, deeply tanned man appeared with a sack of grain slung over his shoulder. His eyes were so dark they gleamed like onyx, taking in everything around him, but revealing little of his own thoughts. His strong square chin was balanced by a high intelligent brow. He was lean and muscular and strikingly handsome.

“Need any help, stranger?” Kate asked with a laugh.

“You offering?”

“Nope.”

Luke chuckled. “That 's what I figured. You wouldn't want to ruin those pretty nails of yours now, would you?”

“I didn't stop by to be insulted by you,” Kate chastised, clearly enjoying the exchange. “I wanted you to meet Rorie Campbell—she's the one Clay was telling us about the other night, whose car broke down.”

“I remember.” For the first time the foreman's gaze left Kate. He tossed the sack of grain into the back of the truck and used his teeth to tug his glove free from his right hand. Then he presented his long callused fingers to Rorie. “Pleased to meet you, ma'am.”

“The pleasure's mine.” Rorie remembered where she'd heard the name. Skip had mentioned Luke Rivers when he'd told her about the Grange square dance. He'd said something about all the girls being attracted to the foreman. Rorie could understand why.

They exchanged a brief handshake before Luke's attention slid back to Kate. His eyes softened perceptibly.

“Luke's like a brother to me,” Kate said fondly.

He frowned at that, but didn't comment.

“We're going to let you escort us to the dance tonight,” she informed him.

“What about Clay?”

“Oh, he'll meet us there. I thought the three of us could go over together.”

Rorie wasn't fooled. Kate was setting her up with Luke, who didn't look any too pleased at having his evening arranged for him.

“Kate, listen,” she began, “I'd really rather skip the dance tonight. I've never done any square dancing in my life—”

“That doesn't matter,” Kate interrupted. “Luke will be glad to show you. Won't you, Luke?”

“Sure,” he mumbled, with the enthusiasm of a man offered the choice between hanging and a firing squad.

“Honestly, Luke!” Kate gave an embarrassed laugh.

“Listen,” Rorie said quickly. “It 's obvious Luke has his own plans for tonight. I don't want to intrude—”

He surprised her by turning toward her, his eyes searching hers. “I 'd be happy to escort you, Rorie.”

“I'm likely to step all over your toes…I really think I should sit the whole thing out.”

“Nonsense,” Kate cried. “Luke won't let you do that and neither will I!”

“We'll enjoy ourselves,” the foreman said. “Leave everything to me.”

Rorie nodded reluctantly.

A moment of awkward silence fell over the trio. “Well, I suppose I should get Rorie back to Circle L and see about finding her a dress,” Kate said, smiling. She playfully tossed her car keys in the air and caught them deftly.

Luke tipped his hat when they both returned to the car. Rorie didn't mention his name until they were back on the road.

“Luke really is attractive, isn't he?” she asked, closely watching Kate.

The other woman nodded eagerly. “It surprises me that he's not married. There are plenty of girls around Nightingale who'd be more than willing, believe me. At every Grange dance, the ladies flirt with him like crazy. I love to tease him about it—he really hates that. But I wish Luke
would
get married—I don't like the idea of him living his life alone. It's time he thought about settling down and starting a family. He was thirty last month, but when I said something about it, he nearly bit my head off.”

Rorie nibbled on her lower lip. She inhaled a deep breath and released it slowly. Her guess was that Luke Rivers had his heart set on someone special, and that someone was engaged to another man. God help him, Rorie thought. She knew exactly how he felt.

The music was already playing by the time Luke, Kate and Rorie arrived at the Grange Hall in Luke's ten-year-old four-door sedan. Rorie tried to force some enthusiasm for this outing, but had little success. She hadn't exchanged more than a few words with the foreman during the entire drive. He, apparently, didn't like this arranged-date business any better than she did. But they were stuck with each other, and Rorie at least was determined to make the best of it.

They entered the hall and were greeted by the cheery voice of the male caller:

Rorie hadn't known what to expect, but she was surprised by the smooth-stepping, smartly dressed dancers who twirled around the floor following the caller's directions. She felt more daunted than ever by the evening ahead of her. And to worsen matters, Kate had insisted Rorie borrow one of her outfits. Although Rorie liked the bright blue colors, she felt awkward and self-conscious in the billowing skirts.

The Grange itself was bigger than Rorie had anticipated. On the stage stood the caller and several fiddlers. Refreshment tables lined one wall and the polished dance floor was so crowded Rorie wondered how anyone could move without bumping into others. The entire meeting hall was alive with energy and music, and despite herself, she felt her mood lift. Her toes started tapping out rhythms almost of their own accord. Given time, she'd be out there, too, joining the vibrant, laughing dancers. It was unavoidable, anyway. She knew Kate wouldn't allow her to sit sedately in the background and watch. Neither would Clay and Skip, who'd just arrived.

“Oh, my feet are moving already.” Kate was squirming with eagerness. Clay smiled indulgently, tucked his arm around her waist and the two of them stepped onto the dance floor. He glanced back once at Rorie, before a circle of eight opened up to admit them.

“Shall we?” Luke asked, eyeing the dance floor.

He didn't sound too enthusiastic and Rorie didn't blame him. “Would it be all right if we sat out the first couple of dances?” she asked. “I 'd like to get more into the swing of things.”

“No problem.”

Luke looked almost grateful for the respite, which didn't lend Rorie much confidence. No doubt he assumed this city slicker was going to make a fool of herself and of him—and she probably would. When he escorted her to the row of chairs, Rorie made the mistake of sitting down. Instantly her skirts leaped up into her face. Embarrassed, she pushed them down, then tucked the material under her thighs in an effort to tame the layers of stiff petticoats.

“Hello, Luke.” A pretty blonde with sparkling blue eyes sauntered over. “I didn't know if you'd show tonight or not. Glad you did.”

“Beth Hammond, this is Rorie Campbell.”

Rorie nodded. “It 's nice to meet you, Beth.”

“Oh, I heard about you at the drugstore yesterday. You're the gal with the broken-down sports car, aren't you?”

“That's me.” By now it shouldn't have surprised Rorie that everyone knew about her troubles.

“I hope everything turns out okay.”

“Thanks.” Although Beth was speaking to Rorie, her eyes didn't leave Luke. It was patently obvious that she expected an invitation to dance.

“Luke, why don't you dance with Beth?” Rorie suggested. “That way I'll gather a few pointers from watching the two of you.”

“What a good idea,” Beth chirped eagerly. “We'll stay on the outskirts of the crowd so you can see how it's done. Be sure and listen to Charlie—he's the caller. Then you'll see what each step is.”

Rorie nodded agreeably.

Luke gave Rorie a long sober look. “You 're sure?”

“Positive.”

Studying the dancers, Rorie quickly picked up the terms
do se do, allemande left
and
allemande right
and a number of others, which she struggled to keep track of. By the end of the dance, her foot was tapping out the lively beat of the fiddlers' music and a smile formed as she listened to the perfectly rhyming words.

“Rorie,” Skip said, suddenly standing in front of her. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?”

“I…I don't think I'm ready yet.”

“Nonsense.” Without listening to her protest, he grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet.

“Skip, I'll embarrass you,” she protested in a low whisper. “I 've never done this before.”

“You've got to start sometime.” He tucked his arm around her waist and led her close to the stage.

“We got a newcomer, Charlie,” Skip called out, “so make this one simple.”

Charlie gave Skip a thumbs-up and reached for the microphone. “We 'll go a bit slower this time,” Charlie announced to his happy audience. “Miss Rorie Campbell from San Francisco has joined us and it's her first time on the floor.”

Rorie wanted to curl up and die as a hundred faces turned to stare at her. But the dancers were shouting and cheering their welcome and Rorie shyly raised her hand, smiling into the crowd.

Getting through that first series of steps was the most difficult, but soon Rorie was in the middle of the floor, stepping and twirling—and laughing. Something she'd always assumed to be a silly, outdated activity turned out to be great fun.

By the time Skip led her back to her chair, she was breathless. “Want some punch?” he asked. Rorie nodded eagerly. Her throat felt parched.

When Skip left her, Luke Rivers appeared at her side. “You did just great,” he said sincerely.

“For a city girl, you mean,” she teased.

“As good as anyone.”

“Thanks.”

“I suspect I owe you an apology, Rorie.”

“Because you didn't want to make a fool of yourself with me on the dance floor?” she asked with a light laugh. “That 's understandable. Kate and Clay practically threw me in your lap. I'm sure you had other plans for tonight, and I'm sorry for your sake that we got stuck with each other.”

Luke grinned. “Trust me, I've had plenty of envious looks from around the room. Any of a dozen different men would be more than happy to be ‘stuck' with you.”

That went a long way toward boosting her ego. She would have commented, but Skip came back just then carrying a paper cup filled with bright pink punch. A teenage girl was beside him, clutching his free arm and smiling dreamily up at him.

“I'm going to dance with Caroline now, okay?” he said to Rorie.

“That's fine,” she answered, smiling, “and thank you for braving the dance floor with me.” Skip blushed as he slipped an arm around Caroline's waist and hurried her off.

“You game?” Luke nodded toward the dancing couples.

Rorie didn't hesitate. She swallowed the punch in three giant gulps, and gave him her hand. Together they moved onto the crowded floor.

By the end of the third set of dances, Rorie had twirled around with so many different partners, she lost track of them. She'd caught sight of Clay only once, and when he saw her he waved. Returning the gesture, she promptly missed her footing and nearly fell into her partner's waiting arms. The tall sheriff's deputy was all too happy to have her throw herself at him and told her as much, to Rorie's embarrassment.

Although it was only ten o'clock, Rorie was exhausted and so warm the perspiration ran in rivulets down her face and neck. She had to escape. Several times, she'd tried to sit out a dance, but no one would listen to her excuses.

In an effort to catch her breath and cool down, Rorie took advantage of a break between sets to wander outside. The night air was refreshing. Quite a few other people had apparently had the same idea; the field that served as a car park was crowded with groups and strolling couples.

As she made her way through the dimly lit field, she saw a handful of men passing around a flask of whiskey and entertaining each other with off-color jokes. She steered a wide circle around them and headed toward Luke's parked car, deciding it was far enough away to discourage anyone from following her. In her eagerness to escape, she nearly stumbled over a couple locked in a passionate embrace against the side of a pickup.

Rorie mumbled an apology when the pair glanced up at her, irritation written all over their young faces. Good grief, she'd only wanted a few minutes alone in order to get a breath of fresh air—she hadn't expected to walk through an obstacle course!

When she finally arrived at Luke Rivers's car, she leaned on the fender and slowly inhaled the clean country air. All her assumptions about this evening had been wrong. She'd been so sure she'd feel lonely and bored and out of place. And she'd felt none of those things. If she were to tell Dan about the Grange dance, he'd laugh at the idea of having such a grand time with a bunch of what he'd refer to as “country bumpkins.” The thought annoyed her. These were good, friendly, fun-loving people. They'd taken her under their wing, expressed their welcome without reserve, and now they were showing her an uncomplicated life-style that had more appeal than Rorie would have believed possible.