They drove awhile in companionable silence.
“Do you know about Hannah?” Clay finally asked. “Does she still have any feelings for Mark?”
“I don’t know. She never says. She did go to see Mark a lot when he was first in the coma, but after Jeremy was born she didn’t go as often. Of course, it was probably hard with the baby. Then I think she gave up. All I know is that she finished a nursing program and has signed up for some kind of specialized training. She’s taking the course now back east. That’s why Jeremy is here with us for a couple of weeks.”
“She’s not engaged, though?” Clay persisted.
Allie hesitated. “She hasn’t said anything. Jeremy has talked about a man his mother knows, though—Sammy something. Jeremy doesn’t seem to like the man, but I don’t know what Hannah has planned.”
“Not Sammy Yates?” Clay protested in alarm.
Allie frowned. “I think so. I didn’t know much about him, but he was in school with Mark and Hannah.”
“Well, that’s not good,” Clay said.
“What’s wrong with Sammy?”
“He’s stealing Mark’s girl.”
“But—” Allie started and then stopped. “Does it matter now?”
There seemed to be no answer for that, and they continued the drive in thoughtful silence. Clay noticed the wind starting to blow as they got near Dry Creek.
“We should stop at the café and get something to go,” Allie said as they came to the first building in the small town. The sky had darkened by now, and it was clear a storm was coming. “It’s past noon and they will have already eaten at the ranch. Not that they won’t all have room for a hamburger, too. We’ll want to be able to get right to work and make sure everything is closed up tight in the barn before this storm hits.”
The strip of asphalt running through the small town widened a bit in front of the café. Cement steps led up to the door, and red-and-white-checked curtains fluttered over the glass-paned windows on each side of the entry. Three other mud-spattered pickups were parked next to the café, and Clay slipped his vehicle into place at the end of the line.
When he stepped out of the pickup, Clay was grateful for the sheepskin coat that he still wore. He opened one of the front flaps and wrapped that around a shivering Allie as they hurried over to the stairs. The rush of the wind made them laugh as they pushed against it all the way. Finally, Clay opened the door and they tumbled into the café, breathless and still laughing.
“It’s getting fierce out there,” a pleasant-looking waitress with red hair said as she paused in her path across the café, a full coffeepot in her hand. “Have a seat anywhere and I’ll get to you after I refill the cups over there.”
She inclined her head to where four of the ranchers sat. Clay recognized them from this morning at the hardware store. He nodded in their direction, but none of them nodded back.
Clay decided to ignore them. Life was too short to butt heads against everyone who had an inclination to suspect other people of everything they might have done in life.
Clay followed Allie to one of the side tables. Before he sat down, he took his coat off and laid it over one of the empty chairs at their table. He liked the cozy warmth inside the café.
The woman came back quickly with an order pad in one hand and a pencil in the other. “Sorry about that.”
“Not a problem, Lois,” Allie said.
So this was Lois, Clay thought in delight. Her hair was too bright to be natural, but her smile looked 100 percent genuine. She had pretty amber eyes and well-defined cheekbones. He’d guess she was about forty years old, so she’d be a few years younger than Randy. He looked at her hands and didn’t see any kind of a ring. Her white apron was neat, and it covered a blue T-shirt and basic jeans.
He’d known Allie was giving the order while he studied Lois, but he was suddenly aware of an ominous silence and looked over at Allie.
She was not happy with him. Her lips were pursed and only relaxed slightly when she spoke. “I’ve been asking how you want your hamburger.”
“Well-done with grilled onions if you have them,” he said, looking up at Lois.
“Not a problem,” the waitress confirmed as she added a note to her order pad. “Now for the pie. We have apple, cherry and a lime chiffon that I made. I make a different chiffon pie every day. The apple and cherry are excellent, too. We have them delivered from a bakery in Miles City.”
“We’ll get five pieces of pie then,” Allie said. “I’ll take apple for my dad and nephew. A cherry for me. Clay, what do you want?”
Her eyes glowered at him, but he answered politely. “I’d love a slice of cherry, too.”
“And Randy?” Allie asked.
“Randy Collins?” Lois echoed the question. Clay was gratified to see her face brightened up even more than what looked like her usual good cheer. “He always gets a slice of chiffon. Lemon, raspberry. Like I said it’s lime today, and I know he’d order that if he were here.”
Clay grinned. The Randy he used to know would rather eat sawdust than something as girlie as chiffon pie. In fact, Clay distinctly remembered Randy chastising him for eating cherry pie. That’s when the other man had explained that a wrangler ate only apple pie unless it was Thanksgiving. On that day it was permissible to have a slice of pumpkin, as well.
Clay chuckled, and both women looked at him askance.
“Everyone will love a piece of pie,” he said. The words were meaningless, but at least no one looked at him funny any longer. “In fact, give me an extra slice of apple.”
Fifteen minutes later, Clay and Allie were leaving the café, carrying white bags of takeout. The wind was whipping around even stronger, so Clay walked close enough to shelter Allie from some of the worst of it.
He opened the door for Allie, and she climbed into the pickup. He handed her all of the food, and she set it on the floor at her feet. Then Clay shut the door and fought his way around to the driver’s side.
He was freezing by the time he opened his door and got inside.
“I hope this blizzard goes away before Sunday,” Clay said as he blew on his hands for a few seconds to warm them before he put them on the cold steering wheel. “Mark couldn’t be out in a storm like this one.”
“It won’t last that many days,” Allie said. “According to the weather forecast it’ll be gone by Wednesday.”
“Good.” Clay’s meeting with his new art agent had been set for seven o’clock Wednesday morning at this café.
Clay turned the key and started the pickup. Then he backed out and got started on the road to the Nelson ranch. The smell of the hamburgers had him pressing a little harder on the gas pedal.
They had gone a few miles when Allie looked over at him. He was just beginning to wonder why she was so quiet when she spoke.
“I saw you checking out Lois,” Allie announced haughtily. “She just moved here a few months ago. She’s pretty, don’t you think?”
Clay smiled. Allie was trying to pretend she didn’t care, but she did look put out about it, which gave him more hope than it probably should have.
“Just doing a favor for someone,” Clay replied mildly.
Allie snorted. “Don’t expect me to believe that. You don’t even know anyone around here in need of a favor except me and Mark and Dad and—” She stopped and her eyes got wide. “Randy?”
Clay nodded with a grin.
Allie hooted in laughter. “I wondered what was up when she said Randy was ordering all that chiffon pie. He’s more a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy. And I don’t think he even likes lime.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t,” Clay agreed. “That’s why I asked for the extra slice of apple pie. He’d be feeling pretty low if everyone else was having apple and cherry and he was stuck looking at his piece of lime chiffon.�
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Allie nodded, her eyes still dancing with merriment.
Clay saw her smile periodically as they finished the trip to the ranch. He was glad to know she was still a romantic at heart. She was probably picturing Randy and Lois getting together at some point. It took a real man to eat chiffon pie to prove his love, Clay told himself.
He sat there a moment before the realization struck him like a bolt out of the sky that he wasn’t sure he’d be willing to eat chiffon pie. Was he too set in his ways for love? Was he asking too much of Allie to insist she believe that he was telling the truth about his innocence in that robbery four years ago? Would it be enough if he put the past behind them and just moved on from here? Or would her unwillingness to believe him on that one point always be with them? Agreeing on chiffon pie wasn’t the same as agreeing on a matter of truth.
Maybe he didn’t have what it took for love. Maybe he was like those daffodils that were starting to bloom around the church. They would be dying without that tarp. Unfortunately, there were no plastic wraps for people’s emotions.
He was surprised to realize he would be disappointed if the sunrise service didn’t happen. He planned to read the Gospel of Luke again tonight. He wasn’t sure he understood everything. And what he did understand seemed impossible to him.
He thought of Mark and their old pledge to study up on the Gospel of Luke. He’d read it through several times already, but he’d go slower with it tonight and see if he could find any clues on how to know what were the right things to say to Mark.
Chapter Thirteen
“We need some work on that wagon,” Randy said as Clay stepped inside the barn. Allie had gone into the main house with the take-out bags, but Clay knew he would enjoy his food more if he checked on the progress out here first.
Clay walked over to where Randy was standing by the Easter wagon. Rickety gray planks leaned inward as they formed the two sides of the wagon. The back was open. The bed was made of the same kind of wood, but seemed to be in better shape. Long gaps showed where the wood had splintered away, and rusty nails held the whole thing together.
“There’s some plywood up in the hayloft,” Clay said. “Maybe we could use that to shore up this thing.”
The wind was blowing flakes of snow into the barn through the opening that led out to the attached corral. There was a sliding door that could be closed, but no one had done it yet. The horses were bunched together near the barn wall, but so far they hadn’t come back into the barn. Clay didn’t blame them for preferring to stay outside as long as possible.
“I hope the blizzard is gone by the time we have to drive this wagon into Dry Creek,” Randy said as he squatted down to point out some boards low on one side. “It could fall apart from the rattling.”
“We’ll get at it in a bit,” Clay said. “But Allie brought everyone hamburgers and pie at the café in Dry Creek, and we’ll want to eat that while it’s warm.”
“Sounds really good,” Randy said as he straightened. “Mr. Nelson made up some soup and sandwiches earlier, but I’m hungry already.”
“I figured as much,” Clay said.
The two of them went into the house and washed up. Allie already had on the table the hamburgers in their wrappers and the pieces of pie in the plastic containers the café had given them. Mr. Nelson and Jeremy were finishing playing a game of some kind and were at the table shortly after Clay and Randy got there.
“I hear you like chiffon pie,” Clay said innocently as he and Randy sat at the table.
Allie grinned as she sat down to join them. “Lime,” she added.
Randy nodded grimly. “How many pieces of that were left?”
“You wanted more?” Clay asked in astonishment. Maybe he had misjudged the wrangler. “Of chiffon?”
Randy shook his head and leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “I just want to know how many pieces of her pie are left. There are a couple of the guys at the Elkton Ranch that go in and buy a piece of her chiffon pie every day. They even bought some of her kiwi chiffon! They’ve started getting it to go so I know they don’t eat it, but they have no business making time with Lois that way. They stand and flirt with her while she dishes up the pie.”
Clay couldn’t help but grin. “I didn’t see any ring on her finger. I guess they figure she’s not spoken for yet.”
“I’m working on it,” Randy said testily, glowering at him. “I figure she’d want to know me some before she’ll agree to go out with me.”
“That’s a good plan,” Allie said soothingly. “Be friends first.”
Clay didn’t comment. That wasn’t how a man went about all of this—not if he had competition for the lady of his heart.
“But those Elkton guys are crowding me,” Randy said. “I want a spectacular first date, and I’m not ready for it yet.”
“Maybe they just like pie,” Clay offered.
“It’s chiffon,” Randy protested. “Nothing but air and some frilly stuff. Those guys don’t like it. It’s a woman’s pie.”
By that time, Allie had the hamburgers passed around. Mr. Nelson said the blessing and everyone started to eat. It was silent until Allie started to give out the slices of pie.
“That green one must be mine,” Randy said, his voice sounding dejected while his eyes watched the slice of apple pie that was making its way over to Mr. Nelson. Randy didn’t say anything, but a deep sigh rose from his chest.
“Don’t worry,” Allie said to Randy. “Clay has you covered on this one.”
Then she handed him the piece of apple pie. “He insisted we get this extra for you.”
Randy’s face brightened immediately, and he looked over at Clay. “I owe you for this one, buddy.”
Clay nodded but didn’t say anything.
“Seriously,” Randy continued. “I could have been nicer to you when you got here, and for you to do this—I’m insisting I pay you back some way.”
“That’s not necessary,” Clay said.
Clay looked out the closest window. He wondered if Randy was suggesting they become friends. He didn’t know what to say about that so he concentrated on the view from the window instead. Snow was falling in earnest now, large wet flakes coming down. “We better get going if we want to get those animals taken care of.”
* * *
Allie was the first one out to the barn, and she reveled in the silence when she stepped inside the small door that was across from the house. The horses had made their way inside and were waiting by the feed trough. She’d stored the cortisone drops for their eyes in the tack room, so she figured she’d get those dispensed before she worried about getting another hay bale down from the loft.
She realized she was mighty cheerful considering a storm was coming their way. She had to admit she liked having chores to do again. Halfway through the barn, she heard a squeal and a series of rapid footsteps.
“Julie,” she said as she squatted down to meet the miniature pig that was barreling toward her. When the animal got to her, its squeals intensified.
“Sorry,” Allie said. “I didn’t bring a treat for you.”
She patted the pig on the head like she would a dog. It didn’t seem to satisfy the animal much, though, because it kept making a racket.
The stallion suddenly neighed and stomped its foot. The pig looked up and stopped making noise at that signal. Allie smiled. It seemed the animals had things figured out among themselves.
The air blowing into the barn from the opening to the corral was getting colder, and Allie could see that the horses were wet. She walked to the tack room and brought back some of the old towels she kept out here for the very purpose of rubbing animals down when that happened. By the time she’d finished with the rubdowns, Clay was there to bring the hay down from the loft.
“Give them enough hay to get
them to morning,” Allie said as Clay was climbing the ladder. “That way we don’t have to come out later.”
“I’ll do that,” Clay said. “But I want to work on this wagon some this afternoon. I need to sort through the leather harnesses, too.”
Allie nodded. She was grateful Clay was putting all he had into this Easter processional. She knew he was doing it for Mark, but she hoped it would also ease some of the tension between Clay and the older ranchers around here. She’d been upset when she’d seen how unfriendly they had been to Clay. Every man had a right to a second chance.
After Clay threw a couple of hay bales from the loft to the feed trough, he climbed down the ladder with a small bag of oats over his shoulder for the goat.
“You’re going to have to earn this,” Clay said to the brown-haired goat. Then he put some out for it.
Allie smiled. Her father used to say a man could tell which wranglers would make good ranchers by whether or not they talked to the animals in their care.
“Don’t spend so much time out here that you forget about getting your sketches ready for that agent of yours,” Allie cautioned. Clay might enjoy the animals, but it sounded like his future was brighter with his artwork.
“I’ve got time for it all,” Clay said as Randy came inside the barn to join them.
Allie nodded. She hoped Clay was right. It would likely snow all day tomorrow, but the next day Clay would meet with his art agent. She kept wanting to take another look at the collection of sketches he had done of her. She still couldn’t believe what she saw. It was like he’d seen her emotions in all her everyday tasks. It might be strange to think of others looking at those drawings and seeing her emotions, but it also made her feel good, like she would be connected with all of those people in some way.
She wondered suddenly what would happen if the agent didn’t like the way she looked.
“Are you doing some new sketches?” Allie asked Clay. “Maybe you should. For your meeting.”
Easter in Dry Creek Page 15
