“You movin’ on, then?”
Ryan shook his head and smiled across at the clever old man. “Nope. I’m entered for all three weekends, assuming I don’t get disqualified before the finals.”
“Good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise,” Rusty muttered, turning his attention to the jeans-wearing waitress who happened to be passing with a full coffeepot. “Hey, Mert! Quit jawin’ about that missin’ time capsule and tend to your business. My cup’s clean empty.”
The middle-aged woman tossed her dark curls and shot Rusty a glance that was part affection, part cynicism. “Hush, you old coot. I’ll get around to ya.” She smiled at Julie. “So has your daddy got any clues?”
“Sorry. No.”
“Too bad. It’s a mystery all right. Sure has folks riled up.” She included Julie’s companion in the conversation. “What can I get you two? Coffee? Pie? We got cherry and apple and coconut cream left.”
“Just coffee for now,” Julie answered. “Myrtle, this is Ryan Travers. He’s going to be in town while the rodeo’s here, so treat him nicer than you do Rusty, okay?”
Both women laughed, lifting Ryan’s spirits even more.
“Will do. Pleased to meet ya,” Mert said. “You look like an apple-pie man to me. I’ll bring you a slice. On the house.”
Dumbfounded to have been accepted so readily and so thoroughly, he nodded. “Thanks. Appreciate it. How about something for Miss Julie, too? I’d hate to eat alone.”
“She likes cherry,” the waitress told him.
“Then cherry it is. And put ice cream on it if that’s how she usually takes her pie,” he replied. “My treat.”
The waitress had filled their coffee cups as she’d taken their order. Now she topped off Rusty’s mug and elbowed him. “Looks like our Julie’s gone and lassoed herself a big spender. You’d better watch out, old man, or he’ll steal your girlfriend right out from under your nose.”
Rusty gave a hoarse chuckle. “You’re my best girl and you know it, Mert. Always have been.”
“You’re full of it but I love you, too,” she said, sashaying over to the glass pie cupboard and stopping to add ice cream to the wedges she was bringing back.
“Friendly bunch of folks,” Ryan said aside to Julie. “I can see why you come here to eat.”
“That, and it’s the only sit-down place in town,” she answered. “We can get coffee and fast food at a couple of gas stations but this is more homey.”
“Your whole town seems to have the same atmosphere,” he said. “It’s nice for a change.”
“I’m sure you’ve been in plenty of places like Jasper Gulch.”
“Yes and no,” Ryan said soberly. He paused to add cream to his coffee and thank the waitress for his pie before he explained further. “I think I feel more at home here because of you.”
“Me?”
Ryan nodded. “Yes. You’re involved in everything and you know most people by name. That seems strange to me. I usually blow into town, do my job, then pack up my truck and hit the road to the next rodeo. This is the first time in longer than I can remember that I’ve stuck around enough to really get to know any locals.”
“And?”
He shrugged, purposely wanting to appear nonchalant rather than admit how much he was beginning to enjoy the whole experience. “And nothing. I was just making an observation,” he said, taking a forkful of pie so he couldn’t easily continue their conversation.
A sidelong glance past Julie led him to notice the inquiring look the old man was giving him. Rusty Zidek might be in his nineties, but he was as observant as a man half his age. Maybe more so.
And, unless Ryan missed his guess, that sly old fox could see right through him. That was definitely not good. Not good at all.
* * *
Julie could hardly unwind to sleep that night. She was up by dawn and already seeing to her lambs and the ewes with triplets that were still isolated from the main flock. It was more work to handle them separately, but it gave the mamas a better chance of raising all three babies when they received special treatment.
What she’d planned to do was finish her chores, then go back to her cottage and freshen up before Ryan arrived. That was why, when she’d given him directions to the ranch, she’d told him to come around 9:00 a.m. He caught her in old jeans and a faded blue Future Farmers T-shirt when he drove up a full hour early.
The dogs announced his arrival and circled the truck as if it were a stray member of the flock. Julie’s first instinct was to hide in the barn. Quickly realizing that wouldn’t help at all, she squared her shoulders and stepped out to meet him.
Grinning and balancing disposable containers, he climbed out of his truck while two immense white dogs and a smaller, mottled gray, white and brown Australian shepherd checked out his tires and sniffed his boots.
“Morning! I brought breakfast. Mert says you like biscuits and gravy.” He reached back into the cab for a paper sack. “I brought doughnuts, too, just in case.”
“Just in case of what?” Julie was laughing. “Were you expecting to have to feed my whole family?”
“Nope. Only Little Bo Peep.”
Julie rolled her eyes dramatically. “I could just strangle Adam for telling you what he calls me.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think it’s kind of cute.” He looked her up and down. “Although right now you look more like Bo Peep’s country cousin. I kind of picture her with a dress and a bonnet and that funny curved staff.”
“You’ll have to wait a long, long time before you catch me in a getup like that,” Julie said. She pointed to a charming cottage behind the main house. “I live over there. Let yourself in and put the food on the table in the kitchen. I’ll be done with chores in a couple of minutes.”
“Can I help you?”
Seeing him standing there in full Western garb, his jeans and shirt clean and pressed, his boots polished, Ryan made Julie feel as if she’d been rolling on the ground by contrast. For all she knew, there were bits of straw caught in her long hair, too.
“No,” she said. “You’ll get all dirty. I’ll finish up. I’m already a filthy mess.”
“Am I supposed to argue with you?” Ryan asked with a wry grin.
“Just don’t agree out loud,” she replied, her face flushing as she dusted off her hands and brushed them over her faded jeans.
“Okay.” Turning, he started away.
Julie raised her voice to command, “Cowboy, go to the house,” and almost doubled up with laughter when Ryan stopped abruptly and whirled.
“Huh?”
His confused stare explained everything. Trying to stop chuckling long enough to speak, she pointed to the happily spinning Australian shepherd at her feet, then raised her arm toward her cottage. “I was talking to the dog. His name is Cowboy Dan.”
“Thank goodness,” Ryan responded. “I was afraid I was in trouble already.” He grinned broadly and looked to the herding dog. “C’mon, Dan. Let’s us cowboys go to the house like Miss Julie wants.”
To her shock, the shepherd raced over to Ryan, circled him once and fell into step at his side, as if they’d walked together before and were great pals.
Managing to mute her amused reaction to the dog’s obvious adoration of her favorite rodeo cowboy, she muttered, “Oh, no. Not the dog, too.”
* * *
Ryan’s boots made hollow-sounding footsteps on the raised wooden porch of Julie’s cottage. Before he could shift his burdens and reach for the doorknob, someone welcomed him. Someone who strongly resembled Julie.
“Hi. Remember me?” Faith stood back and held the door. “Please, come in.”
“Dan, too?”
“Of course. He lives here.”
“Do you?”
“No. This is all Julie’
s. I was up at the main house and heard your truck pull in. I knew she wasn’t expecting you this early, so I popped over to make sure the place was presentable.”
“Looks fine to me. A little woolly, maybe.”
“She runs her business from right here,” Faith explained, pointing to a stack of clear plastic bags stuffed with raw wool. “It tends to get overly furry from time to time, particularly in the spring when she does most of the shearing.”
“Surely not all by herself.” Ryan carried the food to the open kitchen and found a place on the table to set it after shoving aside stacks of invoices.
“No, no. She hires it done. She used to do it all back when she had only a few sheep. She’d never keep up these days, not even with electric clippers.”
“I’m impressed. She’s really a hard worker.”
Faith nodded while preparing a fresh pot of coffee. “That she is. As the youngest, I suppose she started out by trying to keep up with the rest of us. Now we all wonder where she gets her energy.”
“Where do you work?”
“Here on the family ranch, except when I’m in Bozeman playing in an orchestra. I’m a concert violinist.”
“Wow. Aren’t you worried about hurting your hands doing ranch work?”
“I’m careful. And I always wear gloves.”
“Well, at least you’re not a rodeo rider. We tend to get stomped flat from time to time.”
“I know. I never have understood why men insist on pitting themselves against animals that are bred for orneriness.”
“It’s the challenge,” Ryan told her.
“It’s crazy, but that’s only my personal opinion. I have no idea how my sister feels about it. I do know she’s on pins and needles every time you ride.”
“She is? I knew she was enthusiastic, but I never pictured her as afraid.”
Faith faced him and hesitated for a moment before she spoke. “Like I just said, the only time she’s scared is for you.”
If Ryan had been any more surprised, his jaw might have dropped before he could snap it shut. Julie was that concerned? For him? But not as much for other riders?
“Here she comes,” Faith said, lowering her voice. “It might be best if you didn’t tell her what we’ve been talking about. I don’t want her mad at me.”
He totally agreed about keeping their conversation private, only not for the same reasons her sister had cited. Knowing that Julie had become overly concerned for his safety in such a short time was very, very troubling.
* * *
Julie burst through the door to her cottage and waved, but she didn’t slow down until she’d reached the privacy of her bedroom and bath. Seeing Faith in the kitchen with Ryan had helped. A lot. At least she knew he’d be entertained and wouldn’t question her morals since her sister was conveniently present.
She didn’t know why she trusted him, but she did. Implicitly. There was something about him that told her it was safe to relax and enjoy his company without surrounding herself with others for reassurance. Nevertheless, she appreciated Faith taking matters into her own hands and visiting at such an appropriate time.
Washed, changed and with her hair brushed, Julie returned to the kitchen. “I hope the gravy stayed hot.”
“If it didn’t, you can nuke it,” Faith said, starting away.
Julie realized her sister was about to leave. “I’m sure there’s enough for all three of us,” she said, shooting a quick glance at Ryan. “Isn’t there?”
“Sure. You said I’d brought enough to feed your family. Faith’s more than welcome to share.”
“Well, I…”
“Please stay,” Julie urged, hoping she didn’t sound half as desperate as she suspected she did. “Ryan brought doughnuts, too. I know you love those.”
“You just want me to get fat so you’ll look thinner,” her sister teased. “Three coffees, then?”
“Yes, please.” Ryan opened the sacks and spread their impromptu meal on the table while Julie removed another stack of papers to make more room.
“I’m sorry about the mess,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting to entertain in here or I’d have cleared the table.”
“It’s fine as long as you don’t break out candles and fancy china to try to impress me,” he countered. “I’d much rather eat at a kitchen table than have to worry about my manners in an elaborate dining room.”
“Your manners are perfect,” Julie insisted.
Ryan’s grin and twinkling gaze warmed her heart, particularly when he said, “I should hope so. I gave you my best impression of a gentleman.”
“Are you telling me you were pretending?” she gibed.
“Let’s call it being extracautious,” he answered as she slid into a chair between him and her sister. “I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of all your town friends.”
“Hey, as long as you don’t use chewing tobacco like so many cowboys do, you’re fine with me.”
“Nope. No bad habits.”
Across the table Faith chuckled. “That’ll be the day.”
He arched an eyebrow, purposely overreacting. “I beg your pardon? If you want to share my doughnuts you’d better be nicer to me.”
“Yeah,” Julie warned with a smile that belied her warning. “Cool it. You’re starting to sound like we do when we stand up to our big brothers.”
“Do you have brothers and sisters?” Faith asked innocently.
Ryan knew she hadn’t meant to probe a tender spot, so he merely shook his head and answered as simply as he could, hoping to stop the questioning without putting a damper on everyone’s mood. “I had one brother. Lost him when I was a kid.”
“We’re so sorry,” Julie said.
“No problem.” He took a sip from his mug of coffee to buy time until he was certain he had everything under control, particularly his emotions, before he decided to go on and get it over with. “It happened a long time ago. Kirk started drinking in his teens. I should have told Mom, but I thought I owed him my loyalty, so I kept quiet. Eventually, he crashed a car when he was driving drunk and that was that.”
“So how did you end up becoming a cowboy?” Julie asked quietly, tenderly.
“Partly because of my brother and partly because of a high school rodeo team. Kirk put me on my first horse. The team trained me later and gave me confidence.”
“That’s wonderful,” Faith said. “I can see where you might have been so upset, you followed in his footsteps.”
Although Ryan didn’t comment, he did nod and continue eating so he wouldn’t be expected to reply. She was very close to the truth. He had been angry. And lost. And, in his pain, he had struck out at everyone and everything. Alienated drastically, he might easily have ended up on the street, or worse, if a special rodeo coach hadn’t taken him under his wing and given him an attainable goal.
The sympathy in Julie’s gaze was so touching, so poignant, he refused to acknowledge it rather than show vulnerability.
Instead, he forced a smile, picked up one of the disposable containers and held it out. “More gravy, ladies? There’s plenty.”
Chapter Nine
“I check my flock at least twice a day, even when they’re pastured, and I should go do it soon,” Julie told Ryan.
Faith had taken her leave and Julie and he were sitting in the shade on her front porch, having a last cup of coffee while Dan lay at their feet, dozing.
“Okay.” Ryan yawned and patted his flat stomach. “Boy, it’s a good thing I don’t eat that much at breakfast every day or I’d be too fat to ride.”
“Hey, you’re the one who brought sausage gravy. That stuff is seriously heavy. It sets up like cold oatmeal.”
“That’s an appetizing image.”
He was grinning at her with such a
n impish glint in his eyes she had to fight harder than usual to keep from blushing. “Did you look at it by the time we’d finished? A spoon would have stood upright.”
“Can you cook?” he asked.
The question took Julie by surprise and made her frown. “Why?”
“Just wondered. I didn’t see a lot of signs of it in your kitchen.”
“I get by. If things get too bad I can always head over to the main house and eat with my family. They have a housekeeper, who also does the cooking. Sandy Wilson. She went to school with Mom.”
“Something tells me you don’t eat there often.”
Julie set her coffee mug aside and stretched. “Nope. I’m too independent, I guess. I’d rather eat crackers and peanut butter at home than dine on filet mignon at my parents’ table.” Smiling slightly, she eyed him. “Besides, they’re always talking politics and it’s boring.”
“How much political wrangling can there possibly be in a little town like Jasper Gulch? I know your dad’s the mayor, but that job should be pretty cut-and-dried.”
“It would be if nothing ever changed or wore out or went wrong. Dad does an amazing job balancing the books and getting the most from every tax dollar. I suppose that’s why he beat Ellis Cooper in the last election and hung on to his office. Being mayor’s a thankless job.”
“Any word on the missing time capsule?”
“Not yet. There’s plenty of speculation floating around, of course, including a few folks who think Ellis took it just to spite Dad.”
“Do you think he did?”
“I strongly doubt it.”
“It’s hard to believe there’s no clue yet. I saw the blowup of the guys getting ready to bury it in the first place. Maybe somebody snapped a picture of the contents before the box went into the ground.”
“I’d never thought of that. I’ll ask around and see if any of the old-timers have keepsake photos.”
“With all the emphasis on history in Jasper Gulch, I can’t believe there’s no local museum.”
“There’s been talk of it. Nothing much was ever done to put one together until recently. The town council advertised for an expert, and one of our former locals answered. Olivia—Livvie—Franklin has experience. When she gets here, maybe she’ll be able to accomplish more than a few volunteers have so far.”
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