Cindy laughed. “You’re being silly. Why should you work so hard if you can afford others to do the work? You’re the prince around these parts, you know?”
“Prince? God forbid.” His eyes widened. “Is that what people are calling me?”
She wouldn’t dare tell him she’d thought of him as a handsome prince from the moment she laid eyes on him. A prince in a cowboy hat. She glanced down so he couldn’t read the emotions in her eyes. “Yes. I mean, you’re heir to the largest ranch around. Folks are saying you’re here to find a bride.”
“That’s nothing more than a story Grandpa came up with.” He shoved to his feet. “He’s having a big barn dance next month. Will you come?”
She stared up into his eyes. “If I’m able.” Oh, how she loved to dance. She hadn’t had the opportunity since Pa died. Geneva absolutely forbid her to attend social functions. Said there was no point in her getting aspirations above her station.
Cindy kept reminding herself that in a few more months the farm would belong to her and the tables would be turned. Her father’s will was tucked safely away in a safety deposit box at the bank. The thing that really frightened her was the face Geneva was convinced the land would go to her. Had Pa written another will? One Cindy hadn’t seen?
To keep the peace in her home, she held her tongue most of the time. The dance wasn’t something she would remain quiet about.
“Please sit and eat. Don’t let what others say bother you.” She patted the quilt next to her.
He quirked his mouth, then sat. “You’re a sweet girl, Cindy. I don’t think much gets you riled, does it?”
If he only knew how hard it was to keep her anger bottled inside. “I try. What good does losing my temper do?”
He chuckled. “What good indeed.” He bit off a strawberry, then raised a glass of lemonade. “To interfering people.”
“To interfering people.” She clicked her glass against his, not minding so much at that moment whether Geneva found out she’d spent time with Lance. Her stepmother would be quick to point out that a man of Lance’s stature in the community wouldn’t look at Cindy as anything more than a dalliance or, if she were lucky, a friend. No, with Cindy’s mother having her out of wedlock and leaving her with her father, Cindy wouldn’t be considered worthy enough.
Her father’s words about her being a princess in God’s eyes flittered through her mind, only to be pushed away. She’d think on that later, when she was alone, and Lance’s warm gaze wasn’t studying her face.
“You grew sad for a moment.” He put his hand on hers. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing other than the fact I need to get home.” The time with Lance was nice, but she mustn’t fool herself into thinking they could have anything between them. “Thank you for the lunch. Gathering her shoes in her hands, she dashed across the pasture.
~
“Just because I’ve an eye on that widow’s land doesn’t mean you can make google-eyes on the youngest. She’s a bastard and I won’t have it, pretty as she is.” Grandpa wiped the corner of his mouth with a linen napkin Sunday after church.
“I wonder what you’d say if Cindy were the heir to the Hopkins acres.” Lance dug his fingers into his leg.
“Is she?” Grandpa narrowed his eyes. “Unless the deceased put it in his will, the land will go to his widow.”
“So, you would look at me dating Cindy differently if she were to inherit.”
“It’s a moot point, since she isn’t.” Grandpa scooted back his chair and tossed his napkin in the middle of his plate. “We’ve work to do. No sense discussing might haves and what ifs.” He turned and left Lance at the table.
Grandpa was wrong. Cindy was worth more than all three of her step-family put together. Lance was a grown man. If he wanted to date her, he would. He stormed from the table and out to the barn.
Currying his horse, Samson, a large thoroughbred with a flowing mane and tail befitting his name, always calmed Lance. Today, he brushed Samson so long before he felt release of his tension he was afraid he’d brush off the horse’s hair.
With a sigh, he tossed the brush onto a shelf. “Well, old boy, life isn’t always smooth, is it?” He wasn’t exactly sure what it was about Cindy that drew him to her, but drawn he was. She wasn’t the only gal in town with hair the color of cornsilk or with big green eyes. Maybe it was the quiet strength that shined from her.
He wanted to hop on Samson’s back and go for a ride. One that would take him past the Hopkins place. But, being a Sunday, he gave the horse a rest. Perhaps a long walk through the woods that bordered Grandpa’s land would help settle his mind.
He grabbed a water bottle from the small fridge he kept in the barn, then his fishing pole from a hook on the wall, a can of worms, his tackle box and then headed across the cow pasture. The animals, content with grazing, barely glanced his way. He walked until he reached the creek where he’d eaten with Cindy. His heart fell when she wasn’t there.
The water gurgled over the rocks inviting Lance to remove his boots. Barefoot, he climbed up a boulder as tall as his head and cast his line. Hopefully, their cook would have fish to prepare for supper.
He hummed as he did a perfect casting arc, teasing the surface of the water with a handmade fly. He’d done his tenth cast when a twig snapped. His head jerked up. His pole dipped as a fish hooked.
Across the creek, shoes in hand, was a barefoot Cindy. She gave him a sad smile and melted back into the shadows.
“Wait.” He reeled in his fish, tossing it onto the ground. “Cindy!”
She didn’t reappear and the joy of catching a fish dimmed. Still, he recast. Eventually, he’d see her again and could ask her why she appeared to be avoiding him.
He knew she visited the creek often. She’d told him so. Had he misread her during their lunch? Perhaps she didn’t like him.
When he’d snagged six more fish, he was more confused about his neighbor than before. When she’d appeared on the other bank, he had the feeling she’d stood there for a few seconds, only moving back when he noticed her.
It didn’t make any sense.
He thought they were friends.
He strung the fish on a stringer and headed home. If Cindy kept avoiding him, he’d knock on her door and ask why.
3
Geneva handed Cindy a long list. “This ought to keep you busy. Take your father’s truck. I expect you home in two hours to fix lunch.”
Cindy scanned the list. “I’ll have to go to three stores. This will take longer than that.”
“I suggest you hurry then.” She turned to head upstairs, then paused, one hand on the newel post. “I’m having dinner with Mr. Moore so it will be just you and…your sisters.” She gave a sinister smile. “Soon, our land will join his and you’ll be gone.” She laughed.
Cindy stared after her as she climbed the stairs. She might have to squeeze in a visit to her lawyer among the shopping. If Pa had changed his mind for some reason, she’d be disappointed, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. She was resilient. She’d find a job in another town and start a new life where no one knew of her shame. Still…she needed to know.
Grabbing her purse from the table by the door, she headed to her father’s 150 Ford truck. She laughed. The orange truck, special ordered because it was her favorite color, always reminded her of a pumpkin.
Thirty minutes later, she sat across the desk from her father’s lawyer. “If he didn’t change his will, then why is my stepmother so insistent the farm and land will go to her?”
Mr. Barnhart shrugged. “Absolutely no idea. You turn twenty-five in a little over a month. At that time, it all becomes yours.”
Cindy stared at her folded hands in her lap. Geneva was telling everyone that it would all belong to her soon. How did she plan to do that? Cold shivers ran up her spine. “If something happens to me, have the police look to Geneva or her daughters first.”
His gaze pierced hers as she looked up. “You suspect foul play?”<
br />
“It’s the only way the property will go to her.” Cindy’s eyes were opened. It wouldn’t be easy to harm her. Maybe I should disappear until my birthday.”
“If you choose to, let me know.” He scribbled down a phone number. “My private number. I’ll help you find a place to stay.”
Cindy stood. “Thank you.” She had at least one person in town she could trust.” A glance at her watch sent her racing for the nearest super store. She was going to be late getting home because of the half hour wait at the lawyer’s office.
She slammed the truck door closed and sprinted for the store’s front doors, flashing her membership card as she flew by and grabbed a cart. She turned and smacked right into the back of a man’s legs. “Oh! I’m so—”
Lance turned with a scowl which relaxed when he saw her. “Good morning.”
“Uh, hi.” She tried to push past him.
He held her cart in place. “You’re avoiding me. Why?”
“I’m not. I’ve just been extremely busy.” Please don’t read the lie on my face.
He didn’t look convinced, but did release her cart. “Did you get the invitation to the dance? It’s going to be a masquerade.”
“No.” Darn her stepsisters.
“I thought as much.” He pulled a gold envelope from inside his shirt. “I’m hand delivering this one. Will you come?”
“I’ll try.” If she was in town, if she could escape the watchful eye of Geneva. So many things could prevent her from going.
Lance bent and retrieved something off the floor. “Is this yours?” He handed her the shopping list.
“Yes. I must have dropped it when I ran into you. Thanks.”
“We’re headed to a lot of the same departments. I’ll grab a cart and go with you.”
She sighed. If he only knew what his being with her did to her heart. Instead of saying no, she nodded and headed for the aisle of paper goods. A household of four women used a lot of toilet paper.
By the time they finished at that store, her nerves were frazzled and she still needed to make a trip to the feed store. Lance had kept up a pleasant chatter the whole time and she’d done nothing but answer in monosyllables. While she knew she shouldn’t encourage a man above her in every way, she couldn’t help but be disgusted at her actions.
Lance helped her load the purchases into the back of the truck. “I’m headed for Miller’s Feed. Want to come? I can buy you lunch after?”
“I do have to go to the store, but I can’t do lunch.” If Geneva wouldn’t have a cow for Cindy not getting the feed, she would have skipped that particular errand. As it was, she couldn’t say no then show up where Lance would know she’d lied.
He flashed a grin. “I’ll take what I can get.”
Despite her resolve to keep her distance, she returned his smile. He did make her feel good. Almost as if there really could be something between them.
Dare she go to the dance? She could always leave before the unmasking. Then, she could enjoy herself and pretend to be someone else.
~
Lance hated to see Cindy drive away without joining him for lunch, but shopping with her for the last two hours had been a real pleasure. He hefted the last bag of chicken feed into his truck, then climbed into the driver’s seat.
When he hadn’t received an rsvp from her, he’d suspected her family might have hidden her invitation. Good thing he’d brought one along in case he ran into her. Now, she had no excuse for not attending.
Back at the ranch, he helped the workers unload the truck, then headed for the house and what he hoped was a meaty sandwich.
The cook, Lucille looked up from the sink. “Your lunch is in the fridge. But, I think you should shower first.” She raised her eyebrows.
“Where’s Grandpa?”
“Waiting for you in the den. You’d best hurry.”
Lance nodded, grabbed the sandwich from the fridge, along with a glass of ice tea, then headed for the den. Grandpa didn’t like to be kept waiting. A shower could wait.
“Heavens, boy, you’re filthy. How many times have I told you that you don’t have to do the hard physical labor? I hire people for that.” Grandpa folded the newspaper he’d been reading.
“I like it.” He patted his hard abs. “Keeps me in shape. Lucille said you wanted to see me.”
“I need your help in going over the guest list. Most of the RSVPs are in.”
“May I shower first?”
Grandpa nodded. He stood and headed for a small round table and two chairs. “I’ll have a cup of coffee while I wait. Hurry now.”
Lance wolfed down his lunch, showered, and returned to the den within fifteen minutes. He sat in a chair opposite his grandfather and glanced at the guest list. He groaned inwardly to see that Mrs. Hopkins and her daughters were attending. “Cindy Hopkins needs to be added,” he said.
Grandfather frowned. “Geneva said she wouldn’t be attending.”
“I spoke with her today and she said she would.” Lance sat back and crossed his arms. “What is up with that woman’s treatment of her step-daughter? Cindy is a pleasant, well-mannered woman who is twice as attractive as the other two daughters. Not to mention she does the cooking, the cleaning, the shopping. The other three do nothing from what I can see. Why you want to marry the widow is out of my comprehension.”
Grandpa frowned. “Because of the land, Lance. Bill Hopkins and I have had a friendly competition going since high school. We competed over everything. Grades, racing, women. We were both wanting to date the prettiest girl in school. Rachel Mae Turnbull. A real beauty, but a little loose, if you know what I mean.” He twirled his coffee cup between his hands.
“Anyway, Bill won her affections. They had a child out of wedlock. A little girl. Then, Rachel Mae took off for parts unknown, leaving Bill to raise his daughter.” He breathed deeply through his nose. “Cindy Hopkins is born on the wrong side of the sheets. She’s worth nothing. Definitely not worth the hand of a Moore.”
“This is the twenty-first century. Not the middle ages. No one cares about any of that anymore.” Lance shook his head. “I can’t believe you do. It sounds as if Bill was your friend. How can you scorn his daughter? Is it because he got the prize and you didn’t?”
Grandpa planted his hands flat on the table and pushed to his feet. “I’ve had my say. You will not marry a penniless girl.”
Lance shot to his feet. “I’ll marry whom I please.”
“The ball is being held for you to choose. Make sure you do.” Grandpa stormed from the room.
Oh, Lance would make his choice all right.
5
Cindy watched as Ana and Natalie prepared for the masquerade ball. Ana wore a white wig piled high on her head, a heavily jeweled mask over her eyes, and a gown the color of mustard. Natalie’s wig was black as pitch, her mask covered with purple sequins, and her gown was the color of a tomato. Couldn’t they see how awful the colors were against their skin?
“It’s too bad you didn’t get an invitation.” Natalie pouted in the mirror before applying a black lipstick.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t enjoy yourself,” Ana added. “You haven’t a gown worth wearing after all.”
Cindy stifled a smile by pressing her lips together. She’d found a suitable gown in a vintage store, plum with a black overlay. Not as elaborate as the gowns these two wore which reminded her of the Victorian era, but it suited Cindy. She planned on wearing red cowboy boots and a black mask with sequins and feathers. Hillbilly Cinderella was her disguise.
“Don’t worry about me,” she told the other two. “I plan on catching up on my reading.”
“Not before your chores are done.” Geneva strolled into the room wearing all black. How fitting.
“Of course.” Cindy had already started the long list and would finish in an hour or so once the others were out of her way. She tucked her legs up under her on the chaise lounge in Ana’s room. “Have fun you three.”
Geneva narrowe
d her eyes, then grinned, the gesture not quite meeting the eyes under the mask she wore. “We’ll be home late. Don’t wait up.”
“I won’t.” Cindy smiled. “I’m thinking of taking some time out while working to plan ways of remodeling once the house is mine. I do hope you won’t mind, but your style isn’t really the same as mine.”
Geneva leaned over her. “This house and land will not be yours, girlie. Mark my words.” She straightened. “Come on girls. The rented limo is waiting.”
Way to put on airs. Cindy sighed, parting the curtains and watching as they climbed into a black limo. Time for her own disguise.
She whipped through the dishes, the dusting, and the last load of laundry. The party invitation said it started at eight p.m. It was now ten. It would end at one, so Cindy intended to leave at midnight, just as the original Cinderella story.
For one night, she would be a princess, and Lance her prince. Then, she would put away any fanciful ideas of a relationship between the two of them and concentrate on reclaiming her birthright.
She raced to her room and donned her dress. She slipped her feet into her boots, shoved her hair up under a cowboy hat, then put on her mask. Only her lips showed. She slathered on a deep red gloss. Ready. No one would recognize her for sure, but she would definitely stand out from the crowd. She rushed outside and into the truck.
Despite a truck acting as if it wanted to prevent her from going by playing games with the brake, she stood in the doorway of the enormous Moore building at ten-thirty. Normally a warehouse, it was now transformed into a wonderland of crystals and white silk. White lights hung in swags around the room. Grand chandeliers lit up the dance floor. Buffet tables loaded with refreshments were positioned against the far wall. Everywhere Cindy looked were people in all forms of disguise. Some full masks, some half like she wore.
Love Draws Near Page 14
