by Leslie North
Even if it killed her.
“Fences make good neighbors,” she reminded herself with a grim, solitary smile.
3
“Rollie!” Randy called, slamming his truck door. “Hey, boy, where’d you run off to? Suppertime!”
Randy scanned the land fanning out in front of the ranch house, looking for the shaggy mutt he'd brought to his parents’ ranch with him from home—one of the only things he'd brought, maybe because his things weren’t all that important to him, and maybe because he was in denial about having to live in Winding Creek to begin with. He might pretend that he didn't care about the dog one way or another, but over the last few weeks, he figured that Rollie had been one of his only saving graces. Anytime he got home and didn't see the pup within the first couple minutes, he started to get a little worried.
“Like a freaking mother hen,” he said, rolling his eyes at himself and letting out a bark of disgusted laughter.
As if the laugh was a siren for the dog, Rollie came trotting around the corner of the barn, panting in the heat, tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. At seeing Randy, he gave an appreciative bark and bounded to Randy's side to commence with the customary licking. At the same moment, the phone inside the house began to ring.
“Shoot,” Randy said, bending to scratch the top of Rollie’s head before heading for the front door. The ringing continued until he grabbed the receiver, wondering as he lifted it to his ear who exactly made calls on landlines these days.
“Randy McCall?” a female voice asked, loud enough that he could still hear her clearly after he’d yanked the phone away from his ear in reflex action. “Am I speaking to Randy McCall?”
“You sure are,” he said. Yelling, more like. “And who do I have the pleasure of speaking to right now?”
“Of course,” the voice said with a chuckle. “I suppose I should have led with that. This is Mayor Rebecca Blaine. I’m calling about the Fourth of July Festival tomorrow. More specifically, the auction component.”
“Right!” Randy said, slapping his forehead and silently cringing. “Mayor, how are you? I’m so sorry I forgot to call you.”
It had been close to a week now since he had run into Mayor Blaine in Winding Creek's hardware store. He had been looking to replenish some of the supplies needed to continue sprucing things up around the family ranch, and the mayor had been pursuing paint supplies for a major office overhaul she had in mind. Standing behind him at the checkout, she had asked him if he would be willing to participate in the annual auction, one of those awful events where bachelors were auctioned off for their services, provided those services were PG-rated, of course.
While Randy wasn’t thrilled at the idea, he'd agreed to it, nevertheless, for two reasons. First, he had an almost pathological need to help others, and the auction was for a cause he believed in. Second was his strong desire to find something besides Heather Browning to occupy his thoughts.
It had been almost a week since Heather had so summarily shot down his offer to help. Thoughts of her and her kids had continued to rattle around inside his brain, popping out at unexpected times and driving him crazy. Being auctioned off wouldn’t be his first choice, but it beat obsessing over a woman as strange and prickly as Heather.
"Don't be sorry, Randy," Mayor Blaine said good-naturedly. "All you have to do is tell me you're still in. It would be a shame if you weren't because we've already got some buzz going."
“Buzz, huh?” he asked reluctantly, trying to keep his tone neutral. “What kind of buzz are we talking about?”
“Are you kidding me?” she laughed. “You’re Winding Creek’s second prodigal bachelor returned this year. Between you and the new Strawberry Woman, people are practically swooning with excitement.”
"People are still talking about Heather, huh?" he asked. Though he’d meant to come off as conversational, the second the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
The pause on the mayor's end told him that the wheels in her head were spinning. “I have been,” she said, and in his mind’s eye, he could see her trademark mischievous smile. “Talking about her, that is. She and those cute twins have come into town a handful of times.”
“Sure. Makes sense,” he said hurriedly. “As far as my participation in the auction goes, though, I’ll be there. I’m always happy to help out.”
“Good,” she said brusquely. “That’s what I like to hear. Get a good night’s sleep tonight, then, because people will be looking for your smiling face tomorrow.”
“Not a problem, Mayor Blaine,” Randy said with more confidence than he felt. “I’ll be there and ready to go.”
Except that, when the time came, he was not ready to go. He got himself to the festivities, all right, at least his physical self. He’d meant to take the mayor's advice about a good night's rest and then gone and done the exact opposite. He was pretty sure he'd only managed about three hours of solid sleep, and as he stepped out of his truck, he definitely felt that way. At age twenty, he'd been able to get up and go after a night of partying and no sleep, no problem. Though not that much older now at twenty-six, he felt the extra years, for sure. At the moment, he would've liked to find himself just about anywhere but a Fourth of July picnic.
But obligations were obligations, and he wasn't in the habit of shirking his. Not like he could get away unseen, either, even if he had a mind to. He could already see people congregating in front of the stage where the auction items would be shown off.
“Good thing Heather didn’t take me up on my offer to help,” he muttered to himself, although he didn’t feel nearly as relieved as he probably should have. He started toward the growing crowd, glancing at his watch, and cringed to see how close he was cutting it.
“Randy McCall!” cried a woman he vaguely recognized from one of the shops in town. “You’re really playing fast and loose with the arrival time, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” he said sheepishly, turning on his most winning smile despite his fatigue and general mental haze. “I guess I am. Last night was one of those nights.” She was welcome to take it as trouble sleeping or a veterinary emergency, he didn’t care which.
“Well, then, it’s a good thing you don’t have to start your twenty-four hours of service today, isn’t it?” the woman asked with a chuckle, linking her arm through his and steering them both toward the stage. Twenty-four hours of manual labor was the prize he’d be giving his highest bidder. Generally, he had no problem with working hard. As out of sorts as he was feeling today, though, he’d as soon wait a day or two to do his duty.
“It sure is, ma’am,” he said, laughing to cover his feelings, and added fervently, “I couldn’t agree with you more.”
She hurried him toward the back of the makeshift stage where half a dozen other men ranging from mid-twenties to well into their forties were waiting in the proverbial wings. As she took off to see to something or other, he looked around at his comrades in misery. Every one of them looked nervous about what they were doing, and it was almost enough to make Randy laugh.
People were funny about things like getting up on stage and being the center of attention. While he wouldn't call it his favorite pastime, at least it didn't bother him. This whole business was more than likely going to end with him doing chores for a blue-haired little old lady for a few days before going his sweet way. That was a price he was more than willing to pay in order to do Winding Creek some good.
He picked up a sweating paper cup of iced tea laid out on one of the refreshment tables, already anticipating its sugary goodness. Before he could get it all the way to his lips, though, a warm hand clamped onto his arm.
“Well, son,” the woman who’d escorted him said with a big grin, a mark from her overly bright pink lipstick visible on her teeth. “I hope you’re ready for this because you’re our opening act, and it’s gonna be a doozy.”
Randy opened his mouth to ask just what she was talking about, his sense of ease evaporating rapidly. Before he could
get a word out, though, she was pulling him up the stage's back steps and out onto center stage. A good foot shorter than he was, and light as a feather, this woman whose name still eluded him was surprisingly strong.
Before he could wrap his genuinely exhausted head around how quickly things were moving, she had stood him in the middle of a little box outlined in tape that had likely been placed there for just this occasion.
Seemingly out of nowhere, a microphone appeared in her hand, and the auction was underway. "All right, guys and dolls!" she shouted, the reverb from the microphone making Randy and most of the members of the crowd wince. "It's my honor to get our annual auction underway, and this time, we're starting with a real doozy. How's about you all give me a little hoot and holler if you remember Randy McCall, this fine young man born and raised in Winding Creek!"
The crowd erupted into a surprisingly loud uproar, people whistling, clapping, and carrying on as if they were at a rock concert instead of a Winding Creek summer shindig. Randy stared for a second, trying to get his bearings. He was sure he must look like a first-class idiot, but he hadn't been expecting this kind of introduction, not to mention the response. When he raised a hand in greeting and managed to grin at his fellow townspeople despite his internal misgivings, he received another round of cheers even louder than the first.
He scanned the group, surprised by the warmth that came with seeing so many familiar faces. He found himself looking for one face in particular, the one belonging to the newest resident of Winding Creek, but he didn't see her anywhere. Considering how standoffish she had been, he maybe shouldn’t have expected her to be there, but that didn't stop him from being a little disappointed. He wanted to see her again, if for no other reason than to prove to himself that he'd made her out to be something more in his head than she was in reality.
“Okay, okay!” his auctioneer called, laughing merrily as she spoke. “That’s quite the welcome and no less than I’d expect. Unfortunately, I’ve got some bad news for you all. Or at least for those here wanting to snatch up Randy for yourselves.”
"Wait, what?" Randy asked in confusion over the groans that sounded from more than one onlooker. The woman beside him tipped him a devious wink before turning her attention back to the crowd. Randy thought she was thoroughly enjoying her role.
“I know, believe me, I expect there’s a lot of disappointment right now, and I can’t say I blame you. However, there’s already been a special deal struck for our golden boy here. Madam Mayor and a handful of others went in together and came up with a tidy sum, and well, they scooped this man right off the top. Say hello to Ms. Heather Browning’s welcome-to-town gift!”
This revelation was met with cheers interspersed with a handful of groans and boos as the crowd continued to grow rowdier. Randy stood there, doing his best to keep up and pretty sure he was failing miserably.
“Come on, handsome,” the auctioneer said in a low, conspiratorial tone, one hand held over the microphone so that the words stayed between the two of them. “Gladys is waiting by the steps to take you to the mayor. She’s going to be tickled pink. People are going to be talking about this for years!”
“Yeah?” Randy said with a bemused chuckle. “Well, in that case, I’m happy I could help.”
The auctioneer was right as Randy soon saw for himself. The mayor was waiting in the shade of a canopy, the town’s version of a VIP section, and catching a glimpse of Randy’s face, she threw back her head and laughed. Distracted, he put on a puzzled smile, still trying to work through everything that had just happened.
He had to admit, this was arguably the best of all possible worlds. He could fulfill his obligation to the auction and help Heather at the same time. The circumstances might take the starch out of her resistance, too, seeing as this time he wouldn't be offering to rescue her on his own dime.
Heather was clearly a woman with a lot of pride, but Randy didn't think she would throw a gift from the town’s mayor back in the woman’s face. If Heather was really going to try to give it a go in Winding Creek, to make her farm a success, she was going to need to remain in the good graces of the powers that be. That said, Randy wasn't sure whether it was actually a good idea for him to spend any more time with the crazy woman from San Francisco.
"Randy McCall," Mayor Blaine said, still chuckling as she extended a hand for him to shake. "I suppose I owe you an apology. I really shouldn't have blindsided you that way, but it was too much fun! And it certainly got everyone's attention, didn't it?"
"I guess it did," Randy said, returning the handshake as was polite and then shoving his hands down into his pockets uneasily. "And I'm glad to help in any way possible, so there's no need for apologies. Only, I'm wondering if I might ask you a question?"
"After the stunt I just pulled?" the mayor said, her eyebrows raised. "I'd say answering a question is the least I can do."
“I’m just wondering why you bought me for Heather Browning in the first place. I mean—” He trailed off in confusion.
The mayor exchanged a knowing look with the small gathering of other women in the tent as Randy shifted from one foot to the other. Some of the women seemed uncomfortable, and Randy could sense that something was up.
"She's new to our town, isn't she?" Mayor Blaine said innocently. "And as I told you before, she's been seen in town a couple of times with those gorgeous twins. Lovely children, but them combined with the Fincher place, and she must have quite a lot on her plate."
“I guess that’s true enough,” Randy said, nodding thoughtfully as he waited for her to get to the point.
“And, of course, she’s a beautiful woman.” The mayor shrugged. “Beautiful—and unattached, if my intel is correct.”
“Your intel?” Randy snorted. “Whoa, this is serious.”
"No," the mayor corrected him. "Not serious, just an observation. Nothing wrong with a little matchmaking from time to time, is there?” she asked with a little wink, while the others exchanged glances. A few winced as if embarrassed, though they stood their ground. The mayor plowed on. “Like I said, she's very pretty, and you're a single man. I'd be lying if I said that we weren't hoping to have you stick around for a while. Winding Creek needs you."
Matchmaking! He didn’t know whether to be outraged or bemused. "You're forgetting one thing, though, Mayor Blaine," Randy said, his heart hammering in his chest. "I'm not here looking for romance or even to settle down. I'm only interested in making sure my parents' ranch is taken care of the way they wanted, and then I'll be on my way."
“If you say so,” Mayor Blaine said, raising her hands in defeat. “But you’ll fulfill your part of the bargain, won’t you? You’ll help Ms. Browning out?”
Randy was quiet for a tick, his thoughts racing. On the one hand, part of him wanted to see Heather again, probably a whole lot more than he should. Surprisingly, he wanted to see her kiddos again, too. He'd never considered himself the teaching type, but he had liked how it had felt, and even after such a short amount of time, he could tell he was becoming invested in their well-being.
That was part of the problem. Getting involved was not in the plan, not for him, nor likely for Heather. The best thing would probably be for him to walk away and let somebody else try to help Heather.
“Randy?” the mayor asked pointedly, leaning forward and lightly punching his upper arm. “Are you still with us?”
“I am,” he said with a nod, whether to her or to himself, he wasn’t entirely sure. “And there’s no need to worry about me. I keep my promises, Mayor. You can count on that.”
“Good,” the mayor said, looking like the cat who’d got the canary. “Then you can stop by the farm later and tell her about her prize.” She waggled her eyebrows at him. “Maybe convince her to let you escort her and those twins to tonight’s fireworks gala.”
It was all he could do not to sigh.
4
Heather stood completely still in the middle of the old, rambling house that now belonged to her. She
had never stopped to listen when she’d lived in San Francisco. She didn’t think she’d even been aware of how much there was to hear. She had developed the habit since moving here, though, and now she was coming to look forward to such contemplative moments at the end of the day. Here in Winding Creek, Montana, a place that seemed somehow tucked away from everywhere else, the world outside her door felt more alive in some way.
She wasn't simply listening for outdoor sounds, though; those weren't even the most important ones. She was listening hardest to hear the sleeping breathing of her children, tucked safely away in their beds upstairs. Back home, it would have been ludicrous to think she could have heard such a thing from a whole floor away, but on this strawberry farm, out on the outskirts of nowhere in particular, she imagined she could possibly hear their hearts beating. Even if it was all in her head, it made her feel better. Despite all the stressors of the move, the farm, and the constant worry over money, she was surprised to find that she felt better more often than not.
“All safe and sound,” she whispered, smiling. “Tucked away in their beds.” She had an urge to sneak up the stairs and peek into their room, but she knew from failed attempts in the past that it would probably wake them up.
Instead, she shoved her feet into her cowboy boots and stood up slowly. The dang boots were killing her feet, and she missed the flip flops that had been part of her usual wear back in San Francisco, but she was determined to do what she needed to do to fit in. Plus, something told her Randy McCall wouldn't exactly be impressed if he learned that she had gone to visit his favorite patient with practically bare feet. One good stomp from a stray hoof was all it would take to crush her unprotected toes, and she’d probably end up spooking Honey in the process. “And Randy wouldn’t like that one bit, would he?”
