Now that’s what marriage is about, Robert thought to himself. The automatic, comfortable affection of settled love. Having someone to kiss goodbye when you’re going off to war or even just heading to the store.
Seeing all those kisses made him feel lonely enough to be brave. What could it hurt?
Jenny was talking to Robert’s mother, her head bent slightly to hear his shorter mother. The dark wave of Jenny’s hair lay on her neck. Wisps of hair moved with his hand as Robert brushed the hair aside. He hoped to get Jenny’s full attention. He’d kissed Mrs. Hargrove on her hair part earlier and had no more appetite for hair kisses.
Jenny looked up. His mother looked up. Satisfied, Robert bent his head to kiss Jenny on her cheek. Her skin was soft as a petal. He could hear her surprised gasp even though it was little more than an indrawn breath.
“I’ll be fine,” Robert assured Jenny quickly, overlooking the fact that she hadn’t asked.
“You’re not going with them,” Robert’s mother said. Jenny still seemed a little dazed. The older woman repeated, “You can’t possibly be thinking of going with them.”
“I’ll be fine.” Robert moved to kiss his mother, as well. “Don’t worry.”
“But they have guns!” Mrs. Buckwalter said, as though that settled everything.
“I’ll be back,” Robert said as he started to walk toward the door. “Just tell that sheriff to get back here.”
“But he can’t go.” Mrs. Buckwalter repeated the words to Jenny as they watched Robert go through the barn door. A gust of cold wind blew in as the men stepped outside.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Jenny echoed her son’s words for the older woman’s benefit.
“But this isn’t like him.” Mrs. Buckwalter looked at Jenny. “He’d told me he was a changed man, but…” Her voice trailed off. “I thought he meant he was going to move back to Seattle or take up watercolors or get engaged or something sensible—not take off looking for men with guns.”
Jenny tried to smile reassuringly. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
Chapter Five
Jenny left the cell phone with Mrs. Buckwalter and walked over to the refreshment table to see how much coffee was left in the big pot. She had a feeling punch wouldn’t be enough for the men when they came back.
“The sheriff’s coming back as soon as he can,” Mrs. Buckwalter reported as she joined Jenny over by the table. “Which probably won’t be soon enough to do any good so I called in some of the other authorities around.”
Jenny looked up. “I didn’t know there was anyone else around here but the county sheriffs.”
Mrs. Buckwalter grunted. “There’s some fool FBI agent riding around on a horse.”
“On a horse!”
“And his boss is here in some kind of a Jeep. They both travel a bit unconventionally I’m afraid but—”
“I don’t care if they get here in a flying saucer,” Jenny said as she lifted the smaller pot of coffee to start making the rounds. “Just as long as they get here fast.”
“You’re really worried, aren’t you?” Mrs. Buckwalter looked at Jenny as though she were seeing her for the first time.
“Of course.” Jenny blushed. “Anyone would be.”
“But you’re particularly worried about my son.”
“Only because I know him a little better than the others.”
“I see.” Mrs. Buckwalter started to smile. “You know, I’ve never known my son to kiss a woman on the cheek before.”
Jenny grimaced. She didn’t need a reminder. If she ever had any illusions of being irresistible, that kiss certainly dampened them. It wasn’t a passionate kiss. A Boy Scout could have done better kissing his grandmother. “I think he’s just trying to be democratic. Being a regular Joe.”
Mrs. Buckwalter looked up questioningly.
“I mean Bob. He wanted me to call him Bob. I think he’s trying to be one with the people or something. And he focused on me because I’m—” she straightened her shoulders “—because I’m of the class that works for a living.”
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with working, dear. I haven’t raised Robert to be a snob.”
“No, but I can’t imagine he has many friends who scrub vegetables for a living. I mean, sure he knows people who work, but they’re probably stockbrokers or lawyers or something classy.”
“My dear, you’re a very classy chef. I dare anyone to make a crème brûlée that surpasses yours,” Mrs. Buckwalter said indignantly. “But I don’t think it’s that at all. I’m beginning to think it’s something quite different. He did ask me if I’d brought the family album with me. I was thinking it was because my anniversary would have been next week if my husband had lived. Robert knew I’d have it with me for that day.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Buckwalter smiled wistfully. “My husband’s been gone a long time now, but the album brings it all back to me. All three generations of Buckwalters are in the album—my husband and I especially. There are pictures right up to the final anniversary we celebrated seven years ago. My husband just kept adding pages to the thing. The Buckwalter men have a knack for knowing right away the women they want to marry. My husband has a picture of the first time we met—at a charity auction back in 1955. We were both there with other people, but he managed a picture anyway. We were saving something at the time. A local park, I think. Long before it was fashionable to save anything. There we were. It’s a picture I treasure.”
“What a lovely way to remember the past.” Jenny saw the soft light in Mrs. Buckwalter’s eyes and envied the woman. The older woman didn’t talk often about her late husband, but Jenny had wondered before if she thought of him. She frequently had that same half smile on her face when she seemed lost in thought.
“They’re coming back!” one of the teenage girls yelled from the hayloft. Several of the girls had climbed the steps up to the loft so they could watch the road from the small window there. “I see lights coming this way! And a horse!”
“Thank God,” Mrs. Buckwalter said, all memories gone from her face. She turned to Jenny. “Can I help with the coffee, dear? Or anything else? My experience with crises is that they always make people hungry and thirsty.”
Jenny laughed. “I’ve got plenty of coffee. And there’s enough of that cake left for another round.”
Mrs. Buckwalter was right. The ranch hands were the first ones through the door, their boisterous good humor relieving the last of the fears of the women inside.
“We got them. Everyone’s back safe,” one stocky man stopped to announce on his way to the refreshment table. “But it’s colder than blazes out there. Hope there’s some coffee left.”
Jenny started pouring coffee into the thick porcelain mugs that had been brought over from the restaurant. Thankfully the restaurant had been well stocked with dishes when the young engaged couple decided to reopen it this past Christmas. Linda and Duane, the couple, had volunteered the use of all the dishes for tonight’s party and Jenny believed they would use every single one of them. There would be an enormous number of dishes to wash at some point and, as far as she could tell, there wasn’t an automatic dishwasher anywhere around.
The barn door was opened and a damp cold filled the dance floor. Not that anyone was thinking about dancing. The music had stopped when the men left earlier and only the sound of muffled talking was heard now.
“The guy on the horse is bringing in the kidnappers,” one short rancher offered to Jenny as he held his cup out to be filled. “He had some fancy moves, I don’t mind telling you.”
“The FBI agent?” Jenny was trying not to watch the door as it kept opening, but she couldn’t help but notice that Robert wasn’t back yet.
“Don’t know what he is.” The rancher picked up a stuffed mushroom as he held his cup in the other hand. “Didn’t say nothing about who he was. Buckwalter seemed to know him, though. They made a fine team.”
The rancher put the mushroom in his mouth.
“Glad it all worked out.” Jenny wondered if they’d need more paper napkins.
The rancher didn’t seem inclined to leave the refreshment table. He picked up a carved carrot piece and eyed Jenny shyly. “That fella Buckwalter—noticed you dancing with him. Are you—you know—”
Jenny looked up from the napkins.
“—you know, involved?”
“Mr. Buckwalter and me?”
The rancher beamed. “Guess not if you still call him Mister. I figured you weren’t—what with all his money and everything. But wanted to be sure. Never held with moving in on another man’s territory, not even when anyone could see the two of you are from different worlds. Guess you’re free then.”
Jenny started to protest, but the man didn’t stop to draw a breath.
“My name’s Chester, by the way. The boys call me Harry on account of Chest. You know, Chest, Hairy—”
“I’m sorry, but—”
“Not that there’s any problem. With my chest, I mean. I got just the right amount of hair. You got nothing to worry about with me. I got me n-o-o defects. Just a regular kind of guy. That’s me.”
“I’m sure you’re a fine man,” Jenny moved a platter of toast squares to the back of the table. She’d take those over to the kitchen and make some new ones. She looked up at Chester. “But I’m too busy right now to visit.”
“Maybe later?”
“There’ll be cleanup later. Dishes.”
The rancher looked dismayed. “I suppose I could help, even though with the touch of arthritis I get in my joints—well, I’m likely to be more trouble than good to you.”
Jenny looked up and smiled. “I’ll do fine with the dishes. Thanks anyway.”
The barn door opened this time to a loud grumbling noise. A steady stream of frigid air blew into the barn making the pink streamers hanging from the beams start to sway.
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees, but no one complained about the cold. Everyone was looking at the three unkempt men who reluctantly stomped into the barn, swearing as they were forced by their captors to come inside.
Jenny recognized two of the three men who were holding the shoulders of the prisoners. Garth Elkton was one. His top ranch hand was another. The third man, a stranger who obviously hadn’t been to the dance because he wasn’t in a suit, seemed to be in charge.
Jenny looked past all those men and saw nothing but the snow falling in the black night outside. The teenage boys had come inside minutes ago. The ranch hands all seemed to be back. Men and women were giving each other quick hugs of relief. A dusting of snow had settled on the walkway outside the barn and it was covered with a score or more of large boot prints. There were no other figures standing in the doorway waiting to come inside.
“That Buckwalter fella must be still parking the bus—if that’s who you’re looking for,” the rancher who had stood at the table offered quietly. “He was the only one who knew how to drive the bus after the kids stripped the gears. Guess it’s on account of him flying planes. We would have had to walk back if it weren’t for him. He nursed the bus all the way back. He’s not a bad guy for a rich man.”
Then a final man appeared in the doorway and Jenny relaxed. Robert. I mean, she corrected herself, Mr. Buckwalter, was back safe. “No, he’s not a bad guy.”
“I wish you luck with him,” the rancher offered quietly.
“Oh, no, I’m not—I mean there’s no need—”
Just then Jenny heard the cell phone ring. The ring was faint and hard to hear over the talking of the ranchers and teenagers. She remembered Mrs. Buckwalter making a call so she assumed the older woman still had the phone and she was right.
“This is for you,” Mrs. Buckwalter shouted to Jenny as she moved through the couples who were now brushing snow off of each other. The older woman was weaving between couples and getting closer to the refreshment table but she continued to yell, “Something about a pudding order that’s late—”
Jenny winced. She was a full ten yards away from Robert. But she could hear his low chuckle over the murmured conversation of everyone else.
“Tell your sister hi,” Robert called over to her. “And tell her I want a case of chocolate pudding with sprinkles if they have such a thing.”
“Your sister sells pudding, dear?” Mrs. Buckwalter asked as she handed the phone to Jenny.
“She will be if she’s not careful,” Jenny said as she took the phone and stepped behind the refreshment table where it was quieter.
“I heard that,” Jenny’s sister said when Jenny put the phone to her ear. “And rest assured, I won’t need to be looking for a new job. My boss is very happy with what I’ve discovered.”
“And what would that be?” Jenny kept her voice low so that no one else could hear. Six or seven of the teenagers had drifted over to the refreshment table and were staring down at the punch bowl trying to decide whether or not to scoop some of the watered-down beverage into their plastic cups.
“Well, for starters, I know where Robert Buckwalter the Third is.”
“Any number of people know that. It’s not a secret.”
“Well, none of the other tabloids know where he is these days. And I know something’s up. I told my boss that the man was very touchy about talking to the press.”
“He thought you were a pudding salesman, for Pete’s sake. It had nothing to do with the press.”
“Still, I think he’s hiding something. Some secret.”
“Well, if he is, it’s his to keep. I, for one, am not going to ask him another thing about his life.”
“Oh, you’ve been talking to him?”
“No, I haven’t been talking to him.”
“Oh.” The disappointment in the voice of Jenny’s sister was more personal than professional. She was suddenly Jenny’s little sister again. “I’m sorry. I thought maybe after that kiss…”
Jenny couldn’t help herself. She darted a quick look over her shoulder to be sure that no one was close enough to hear. “Well, he did ask me to dance.”
“You danced with him!” Jenny’s sister shrieked.
“You danced with Robert Buckwalter the Third! Wait until I tell Mom! You really danced with him.”
“It was a short dance,” Jenny was forced to admit. “The kidnapping sort of got everyone distracted.”
“Kidnapping! Somebody kidnapped him! Why didn’t you say so! Now that’s a newsbreak.”
“No, no, not Robert. It was someone else. He didn’t have anything to do with it. It’s all tied up with some rustling that’s going on.”
“Oh.” Jenny’s sister paused. “Rustling? You mean for cows? You’re sure the kidnappers weren’t really out for him and they just grabbed the wrong person or something. I mean if you were going to kidnap anyone, he’d be the one to pick. He’s got more money than the president of the United States. He certainly has more money than some cow.”
“Yes, I’m sure. He wasn’t the target.”
Jenny sensed someone standing slightly behind her before she heard the man clear his throat. She looked up.
“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—”
A Rich Man for Dry Creek / a Hero for Dry Creek Page 6
