A Rich Man for Dry Creek / a Hero for Dry Creek

by Janet Tronstad

  Robert took her arm and helped her stand.

  Jenny had snow stuck to the back of her coat and the back of her sweatpants, but she didn’t bend to brush it off.

  “You don’t need to worry about lunch. Or dinner,” Robert said as he slipped his arm under one of hers and scooped her up into his arms.

  “Oh.” Jenny blinked.

  Jenny blinked again. The sun was still behind the man. That must be why she suddenly felt so giddy.

  Chapter Ten

  “Another cup of cocoa?”

  Jenny looked up at Robert. She was lying on the couch in Mrs. Hargrove’s living room. The same couch that Robert had laid her down on over eight hours ago when she’d twisted her ankle. He’d only let her get up a few times to hobble around the house briefly. He’d spent all of that time, except for when she took a nap, being her nurse.

  “I can’t drink another drop.” Jenny liked this Robert better—the one inside the house. The sun didn’t play with his hair and confuse her. He looked more like a normal man in the shadows of the house. “You don’t need to bother, you know.”

  “I know,” Robert said the rest of the words along with her “—you’re fine.”

  “Well, I am. The swelling has already gone down. And everyone says it’s only a sprain. I could be walking on it by now.”

  Jenny looked at the empty cup she’d just set on the coffee table. Robert had originally pulled the coffee table close, saying she needed a place to set her cup.

  That was six cups ago.

  The table had served as his command center. First, he’d brought ice for her foot. And a pillow. Then a cup of tea with honey in it. Then he’d gotten a thick salve from the hardware store and rubbed it on her ankle. He wouldn’t let her look at the label, but Jenny strongly suspected the salve was something ordinarily used on cattle. Before she could ask, he was off to bring back a cup of cocoa and some toast.

  “I wanted marshmallows, but there weren’t any,” Robert apologized. He had a towel draped over his arm like a high-class waiter. “The closest I could get was buying a breath mint from one of the kids. Stirred it around and it made a mint-chocolate cocoa.”

  Jenny took a sip. The liquid was rich and warm. And just a little minty. “It’s perfect.”

  “I’m still learning.” Robert sat down on a straight-back chair that he’d pulled near the couch earlier so they could play a game of cards. “Mrs. Hargrove has been teaching me all about preparing food. She’s on the care of pots and pans now. Never realized there was so much to this cooking business.”

  “I never realized Mrs. Hargrove cared so much about her pots and pans.”

  Robert grinned. “Not sure she does. She’s using them to teach me lessons, I think.”

  “About?”

  “Gratitude, for starters. Have you ever thought about where we’d be without a pot or a pan to our name?”

  Jenny shrugged. “We’d have to cook stuff on a stick, I guess.”

  “We wouldn’t have soups or stews.” Robert began reciting the list. “No gravies. No puddings.” He paused. “Tell that to your sister. Maybe next time she should impersonate a cookware salesman. It’s more basic.”

  “She shouldn’t impersonate anyone. And I’ve talked to her about it.”

  Robert grinned.

  Jenny eyed him suspiciously. “What’s that for?”

  “I’m just practicing doing what Mrs. Hargrove recommends.”

  “And?”

  Robert paused, then grinned wider. “I’m thinking how grateful I am for the fact that you always speak your mind.”

  “My sister wasn’t. She thought I was bossy.”

  “Well, tell your sister I’d trade places with her any day in that regard. When you’re rich, you never know if people mean what they say or not. No one dares to be bossy and I’ve kind of missed it.”

  Jenny looked at Robert more closely. He just wasn’t what she expected when she thought of a rich man. He wasn’t living up to her stereotypes at all. “Have you ever abandoned a kitten?”

  “Me? Never.”

  “A dog?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Any other pet that you may have owned?”

  “The closest thing I’ve had to a pet is a rooster named Charlie. And he wasn’t mine. He just lived next door.”

  “Well, were you good to him?”

  Robert chuckled. “He was the sorriest excuse for a neighbor I’ve ever seen. He was loud. Demanding. Inconsiderate. Worse than a boom box playing at dawn. But I still gave him his handful of grain every single day that I was there. Even the day he pecked at me.”

  “Good.” Jenny lay back on the pillows on the couch.

  “Good he almost bit me?”

  “No, good because you fed him and didn’t hold a grudge. He was only being what he was—a chicken. It’s his destiny.”

  “He could have been a chicken without pecking at me. He’s a chicken—I don’t think he has a destiny. But, even if he did, just following your destiny isn’t enough. Sometimes it’s nothing but an excuse not to do better. That’s why I want you to know I’m working on changing myself, Jenny. I know I haven’t always been the most thoughtful, considerate guy in the universe, but I believe that—with God’s help—I can change.”

  “Mrs. Hargrove tells me you’re a fine young man.” Jenny bent down to drink out of her cocoa cup. That’s not all Mrs. Hargrove had said. She’d also told Jenny that Robert was a man in a million and she should snap him up before someone like that Laurel made good on her threat and got her hands on him. Jenny wondered how Mrs. Hargrove thought she, Jenny, was supposed to do that. She might as well have commanded her to sing an opera or float in the air.

  “Mrs. Hargrove is prejudiced,” Robert said.

  Jenny raised an eyebrow.

  “While you took your nap earlier, I went over and cleaned the church for her. I even followed her instructions.”

  Jenny raised her eyebrow even more.

  “That’s right. There are lessons to be learned in cleaning, too. Mostly they’ve got to do with being humble and using the right bottle of stuff when you scrub the floor on your hands and knees.”

  “Mrs. Hargrove shouldn’t be scrubbing those floors on her knees. Not at her age.”

  “I know. I’ve already called in an order for a small commercial floor scrubber. It’ll work to her specifications. She doesn’t believe in hand mops. She thinks they miss the little spots.”

  “What are the lessons there?”

  “Thinking some sins are so small they don’t need God’s forgiveness.” Robert smiled. “I know it’s a little corny, but I like what she’s done with her life. She’s made everything have meaning. So cleaning a dirty floor in the church isn’t just about scrubbing. It’s about honoring God. It’s about paying attention to the small stuff. No wonder she goes about her days like a drill sergeant. Everything is important.”

  The day had long since drifted into early evening and the light in the living room had become even dimmer. Shadows filled the corners. The couch where Jenny lay was square in front of the fireplace that took up one wall of the room. A row of windows took up another wall and a dozen framed snapshots took up the final wall.

  “I wonder what my life will be like when I’m as old as Mrs. Hargrove and I look back over it.” Robert stood up and switched on the floor lamp that stood at the end of the couch. “Wonder what my picture wall will look like.”

  “Lots of shots of you handing out money—lots of those big checks like they show on the lottery.”

  Jenny kept holding on to the differences between them. Robert had money with a capital M. She had loose change. She was walking through quicksand and she needed a firm place to stand. The difference in their bank accounts was as good a place as any.

  “We all write checks and spend money.” Robert sat down on the floor near the sofa where she was lying. “When it all ends, we’ve either spent or given away every dime we’ve ever made. If we haven’t, the governmen
t does it for us. I might have more dimes to give away than most, but it all ends the same. It’s all gone to one place or the other. We sure aren’t taking it with us.”

  “Those kids that are over at Garth’s don’t believe that.” Jenny wondered if Robert could really be so blind to the difference that money made in someone’s life. “They’re not worried about taking it with them, but they’ve seen what being poor can do to a person.”

  “And I’ve seen what being rich can do to a person.”

  “Most people would pick rich.”

  “I suppose so.” Robert nodded and then looked around at the room. The light of evening was dimming even further. The light gave a soft circle of warmth. Mrs. Hargrove had gone to the café to help prepare the dinner for the teenagers tonight. She had convinced Laurel to go with her, telling her the ranch hands would be disappointed if she didn’t come.

  Robert was alone with Jenny and he was tired of talking about money.

  “I’m going to make a fire in the fireplace. Maybe light a few candles,” Robert said as he walked out into the kitchen. “I’ll need to bring in some wood first.”

  Jenny nodded. She was grateful he was stepping outside. She pulled the cell phone off the coffee table and quickly dialed.

  “Yeah, it’s me.” She spoke softly when her sister answered and then she listened a bit. “No, he’s outside. That’s why I called. Have you had a chance to talk to your source?”

  “My source isn’t the main source. I want you to know that. But the woman did know Robert some years ago. She gave a good recommendation. I don’t think you need to worry. Your Robert sounds like a nice guy.”

  “He’s not my Robert and I’m out of my league here.”

  “Well, short of hiring a private detective to dig through his trash, I think we’ll just have to assume he’s datable. That’s what you really want to know, isn’t it?”

  “We can’t date—I mean, look at the differences. Besides, Dad wouldn’t approve.”

  “Dad’s not lying there on a sofa with a drop-dead gorgeous Adonis cooking for him. Is he wearing a shirt?”

  “Of course he’s wearing a shirt! It’s twenty degrees below outside.”

  “Oh,” her sister said and then brightened. “But he is cooking for you. That’s so romantic.”

  “He’s only done tea, cocoa and dry toast. He worries about my foot. It’s more medical than romantic.”

  “Forget the foot. You don’t get cocoa in hospitals. Tea and dry toast maybe, but cocoa is definitely romantic. Did it have a marshmallow?”

  “No, it had a breath mint.”

  “Now that’s romantic. I’ll bet he’s kissed you again.”

  “No.”

  Her sister was silent before she said cautiously, “But you’re lying on the sofa.”

  “With ice on my foot.”

  “You don’t still have that hairnet on, do you?”

  “No. And Mrs. Hargrove even brought me a comb-and-brush set so my hair looks all right.”

  “Then why isn’t he kissing you?”

  “I asked him about money.”

  “Forget about his money. Pretend he’s poor. Absolutely broke.”

  Jenny snorted. “You don’t just pretend someone like that is poor. It’s condescending. You talk about the problem like a mature adult.”

  “You’re talking about problems?” Jenny’s sister wailed. “Don’t talk about problems. This is a date. It isn’t supposed to have problems.”

  “It’s not a date. He’s just being kind to me because I sprained my ankle.”

  “You. Him. Alone. Hot cocoa. I’m counting that as a date. I’ve already reported to Mom. She’s been worried that you’re not dating enough.”

  “I’m dating just fine.”

  “Well, now you are since you’ve met Robert Buckwalter the—”

  “I know.”

  “—the Third. Say what do you call him anyway?”

  “Bob. He wants to be called Bob.”

  “Really? He never mentioned that in any of his interviews.”

  “That’s because he’s a changed man now.”

  “Really? He never mentioned changed in his interviews.”

  Jenny could hear her sister flipping through papers.

  “You’re sure he said changed?” her sister asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I wonder what a man like that would want to change about himself? He’s rich. He’s gorgeous. He’s kind.”

  “He wants to be Bob.”

  “And he hasn’t kissed you again?”

  Jenny shook her head. “No.”

  “Hmmm, I wonder why—”

  “He’s been reading the Bible—”

  “He’s not becoming a priest, is he? That would really upset the editors. We couldn’t name a priest as the number one bachelor.”

  “I thought you were going to back off on that bachelor thing.”

  “My editors aren’t sure. I’ve tried to back them off, but then I stopped. I think when I tried extra hard to convince them, they called their source and asked a few questions and now it’s all gotten confused.”

  “What’s confusing? The man has perfectly sound reasons for not wanting to be on that list. I’d think they’d respect his privacy and do what he wants.”

  “That’s just it. They’re not sure why he wants what he says he wants. They think he might be creating a—what did they call it?—a smoke screen. A diversion of sorts to cover up the real story.”

  “And what’s the real story? They’re not still on that engagement thing, are they? Bob, I mean Robert, he sure doesn’t act engaged.”

  Her sister was silent for a minute. “They’ve had another tip. Something their source said by mistake.”

  “Robert thinks their source is Laurel. So if she claims they’re engaged, I suppose they would listen.”

  “No, they’ve decided he’s not engaged to Laurel. She’s worked for them for years and they know her pretty well.”

  “Well, good—at least that’s settled.”

  “They still think he’s engaged.”

  Jenny’s heart sank. She hadn’t considered that. She’d been so worried he was involved with Laurel, she didn’t count the billion other women in the world who would want to marry the man.

  “Is she someone nice?” Jenny asked stiffly.

  The room had suddenly gotten colder. Jenny told herself she shouldn’t begrudge the man a fiancée. She was, after all, the hired help. It was none of her business.

  “I think she’s nice.”

  “Oh.” Jenny blinked back a tear.

  “They think it’s you.”

  Jenny heard her sister’s voice at the same time as Robert came back into the living room with his arms full of logs for the fireplace.

  “Me?” Jenny squeaked, and blinked again.

  Robert walked over to the fireplace and put the logs down. “Let me say hi to your sister. I’m assuming that’s her. She’s the only one who calls on that number. I’m wondering what the editors have told her. Maybe I should talk to her.”

  Jenny blinked again. “She can’t talk to you.”

  “It’s okay,” her sister said on the other end of the phone. “I won’t tell him about the—you know what. Besides, I know it’s not true. I just couldn’t convince my editors. They think that because you’re my sister, I’m protecting you from the media frenzy.”

  Jenny looked up at Robert as he walked back to the sofa. The outside cold had added white to his forehead and pink to his cheeks. His chin was strong with a faint smudge of whiskers covering it. He’d left his head bare when he went outside and a few specks of snow glistened on his black hair. The lamp near the sofa gave a soft light that left the room full of partial shadows. Jenny wished she could go hide in one of them.

  “Is your sister on a deadline?”

  Jenny’s mouth was dry. Robert’s blue eyes had deepened to midnight and they were looking down at her. “What?”

  “Is that why she can’
t talk to me? I thought your sister might be writing something. Last time I talked to her she said they were giving her the simple assignments. Grunt work she called it. She’s just waiting for her big break.” Robert smiled at Jenny. “I hope she gets it. She’s a nice kid.”

  “Yeah.” Jenny swallowed.

  “If it’s the deadline, tell her I’ll only take a minute. I know how it is when every minute counts.”

  “It’s not that. It’s just that there’s nothing new.” Jenny forced her voice to be bright. “The editors are still making a decision. I asked. There’s nothing new at all.”

  “Oh, well, thanks.” Robert turned to walk back to the fireplace. “That’s what I wanted to know.”

  Jenny looked down at the phone in her hand as though it had turned into something strange and exotic.

  “You still there?” her sister said on the other end.

  “Barely,” Jenny said into the phone quietly. Her heart had finally started to beat again. “But I have to go. We’ll talk later. Call me back.”

  Robert looked over his shoulder as he knelt down to the fireplace. “Tell her to call in the morning. I’ve got plans for tonight.”

  Jenny heard her sister squeal on the other end of the phone. “Plans! He’s got plans!”

  “He’s talking about dinner.” Jenny kept her voice even. She didn’t want to encourage any rumors. “I think the plan is vegetable soup.”

  “For starters,” Robert said as he lit a match to the log in the fireplace. “Only for starters.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The next morning Jenny sat in the front seat of the four-wheel-drive Jeep Robert had borrowed from Linda and Duane at the café. Robert had promised her a surprise last night and this morning, after seeing that she could hobble along fine on her ankle, he told her she might as well come and see it firsthand.

  “This isn’t the road to Billings.” Jenny had steeled herself for the surprise. She didn’t dare tell him that she could give him a surprise of her own.

  How in the world had those tabloid editors put two and two together and come up with such an outlandish idea? Robert could very well be engaged. He could even be engaged to Laurel despite all his protesting. But one thing Jenny knew for sure was that he wasn’t engaged to her.