Betting on Hope

by Debra Clopton

  Tru watched in disbelief as she climbed back into the saddle without hesitating. “Who are you and where did you put the woman who was terrified of getting thrown out of the saddle?”

  Mild amusement lit her face. “I lost her somewhere between the saddle and the ground. Let’s do this, cowboy.”

  He shook his head, trying to knock the disbelief out of the way. “Now, that is the attitude of a winner right there. When you get knocked down, you come up fighting.”

  And that is exactly what she did over the next hour. She rode—not fast, not spectacular, but she held on and started getting the feel of the horse. Determination etched her features as she managed to keep her feet in the stirrups. She remained rooted to the saddle and stayed out of the dirt.

  By the time they called it quits, her smile was huge.

  And he was again fighting an internal battle of wills with himself over wanting to pull her into his arms and congratulate her with another kiss.

  They both led their horses into their separate stalls and Tru was glad to have a few minutes to get his frustration under control. He was still yanking at the straps of his saddle when Maggie came into his stall and leaned against the rail.

  “We need to talk.”

  He glanced at her from beneath his hat and kept on working.

  She hiked a shoulder. “I’ll admit I’ve been pretty mad at you this week. But I’ve finally calmed down a little, and it hit me that something is different about you. If it’s the kiss, then I think we need to get this talked out and over with, so we can move forward.”

  His gut twisted, but he remained silent.

  “Look, we have a little less than five weeks to go. We can’t continue with this tension straining between us like this.”

  He scowled. He could tell her that, yes, the kiss was a big part of it. He could not tell her his problem.

  He couldn’t tell anyone.

  He carried the saddle past her and out into the stable run. She followed, hurrying to keep up with him as he went into the tack room and placed the saddle on its rack. The room wasn’t very large and when he turned to her she was closer than he’d expected. Her mint-green eyes dug into him. The frame of long lashes surrounding her beautiful eyes blinked slowly before she met and held his gaze.

  Every muscle in his body tensed with wanting to pull her to him.

  His heart thudded in his ears.

  She moistened her lips and his insides curled with longing. Watching her attack the challenge of riding had only made him want her more. He stepped toward her—yanked himself to a halt and backed up. She backed up too, bumping into the door frame and stopped, her back pressed hard against it.

  “What should we talk about, Maggie?”

  She inhaled a shuddering breath and held her chin up. “Why did you kiss me in the first place?” Her words were breathy, enticing when he knew she hadn’t meant for them to be.

  “Because you drive me crazy.” Honesty won as he stepped off a moving train into thin air.

  “Oh.” Her gaze dropped to his lips, then she frowned.

  “I’m no good for you, Maggie. You know it and I know it.”

  Maggie knew what he said was true. But her knees went weak realizing that he’d admitted that she drove him crazy.

  She told herself to remember that she wasn’t the first woman to drive him crazy. The cowboy had made a regular habit of it if the tabloids were to be believed. And he’d just said he was no good for her.

  That made it pretty obvious that there was truth mixed in with the trash.

  Lifting his hand, he took a strand of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers. The air in the room vanished.

  “This can’t happen.” He looked tortured for a moment, then he seemed to get control of his emotions and shields fell into place. He turned and strode from the tack room, down the alley, and out into the back of the barn.

  Maggie couldn’t move. Maybe she should have followed him and asked him to explain what had just happened. But she didn’t. It was a question that had gotten all of this started. No, she pushed away from the wall and walked unsteadily to her car.

  It was best to process her own emotions before pushing his again.

  19

  On Saturday morning Tru found himself standing beside a fryer in the overhang outside Doonie’s office. They had orders for thirty-five fried turkeys. These turkeys would be eaten sometime during the year and some of them maybe that night.

  There were ice chests full of turkeys lined up around them. The eight gas burners with tall pots of oil heating up for the frying were lined up along the wall—Doobie had placed them there to be out of the slight wind that was blowing like hot breath.

  “Thanks for coming to help us,” Doonie said, a whimsical grin cracking across his face. “We needed another turkey around here.”

  Tru laughed. “Yeah, believe me, I’ve been called that ever since I accepted this invitation to cook with you three.”

  “Hey, we’re glad you’re here,” Doobie said. He was wearing an apron with a slogan that read, “I’m not the turkey. That’s my brother.”

  “Yes, I’m not exactly certain how I got entangled with this motley crew. I for one have never fried a turkey.” Rand rubbed his freshly shaven face and looked at Tru with clear eyes, which was a good sign. And a much better way to write any articles for the Gazette.

  Tru knew how Rand had gotten pulled into it. Local folks were getting increasingly worried about Rand’s drinking. The consensus was it was time to step in, and this was part of the plan.

  “After we fry thirty-five, you’ll be a pro,” Tru said. “And you’ll have done a civic duty, Councilman.” He grinned at the distinguished-looking man.

  He gave Tru a speculative look. “Maybe since you’re here, that little Maggie and her friend will give us some good promo for Thanksgiving in July. It’s not a bad drive from the Houston area. A nice day trip for folks to support a good cause.”

  Tru grimaced. He wouldn’t count on it after yesterday. “Only because I’m with you turkeys.”

  That got him chuckles. “We work hard at it.”

  And they did. The mayor might be a funny man, but he—and/or his brother—had come up with this idea last year and it was turning out to be a huge success.

  “We have more ordered this year and if it keeps up we might have to rope more turkeys into helping us fry.”

  “That’d be great.” Tru watched Doonie start the flame under each fryer.

  Folks were gathering at the booths that were set up along Main Street. There had been several vendors setting up with homemade food. Peg and Lana had the girls who were able help out at a pie table. There were five of them all together and he could see Jenna there, too, getting ready for the people that would soon start showing up.

  He looked around for Maggie. She’d said she was coming and he knew she wouldn’t miss it. There was going to be a lot to put into a column for this and the town was already talking about trying more things to include in her column. They wanted to advertise the town while they could. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but then again, it didn’t matter. Once this was over, he’d get on back to his ranch and his work and it wouldn’t matter to him how many people came to town looking for their dreams. His were right there on his ranch.

  Grief, sharp and caustic, cut through him for the family he would never know. He knew he was going to have to learn to deal with the loss—

  Someone yelled, and he spun to see flames bursting from one of the fryers reaching for the overhang of the house.

  It was the burner at the far end of the cookers from where Tru stood. Doonie was reaching to try and turn it off. Tru yelled.

  Maggie had her pen and paper out for notes on the Thanksgiving in July Day. She was very aware of Tru down the street where the turkey frying was getting under way. After yesterday’s encounter in the barn she was hyperaware. He’d said he was no good for her, and she believed it, but the look in his eyes said he didn’t want to be
lieve his words. Why had he looked so troubled and gruff as he’d walked away from her?

  Tru Monahan was not easy to understand. And she’d begun to think he wasn’t at all the man she’d thought him to be.

  He intrigued her, attracted her and by all accounts should be off-limits to her, but she could not stop thinking about him. And in order to concentrate on her column she needed to desperately. Her editor had called the day before. Helen Davenport had not been happy. Yes, the column had garnered some interest, but there was no real meat to what she was writing about. There needed to be something more to hook and sustain the readership of the project. Maggie had to come up with something. It was time to give the column life and focus, but what?

  Spotting Peg standing beside a booth that had all manner of handmade items and cookies for sale, Maggie headed that way.

  “Hi, Peg,” she said, “How is it going?”

  Peg broke into a huge smile when she saw Maggie. “Oh, Maggie, come here and let me give you a hug.” She did exactly that, engulfing Maggie, squeezing her hard then patting her arm as she released her.

  “You did good yesterday. So good. Jenna needed that outing more than you’ll ever know. Most of our girls come to us looking for a way out, a way to get back to their lives and start fresh, knowing that they gave their child a future with loving adoptive parents. But there are a few of our older young women who just need help and come here to have their babies while they get their lives sorted out for themselves and their newborns. But Jenna, poor kid, is struggling. Your involvement with her is a blessing. The kid is so alone. You’re being a great friend to her and it means the world.”

  “I’m just trying to help. I really like her and I . . . I know where she comes from when it comes to a bad family situation. Not that I talk about it much, but I’ve been there.”

  Peg’s eyes filled with compassion. “Then it is wonderful for her to be able to look at you and see the success you’ve become and know she can achieve great things as she moves forward with her life.”

  Maggie wasn’t so sure “great things” could really be tagged on to what she’d achieved. But if she could give Jenna something positive to grasp hold of, she was glad to do it.

  “I haven’t really spoken to her about any of it. Like I said, it’s not something I talk about much. But I think I will.”

  Peg studied her, thoughtfully. “Maybe you should. Opening up can be a freeing experience.”

  Maybe. She glanced down the road and saw Tru working. Longing filled her. She focused on the table Peg was working on setting up with all kinds of homemade goodies. “So what do y’all have here?”

  About that time Lana came walking up carrying more boxes. “Candles and pot holders. They’re all handmade. Check out this soap. It has the most wonderful ingredients in it, rosemary and thyme. You’ll love it if you buy some.”

  “I plan to. Maybe I could include an address in the column this week for folks who want to purchase some of your products.”

  Lana and Peg beamed. “That would be amazing,” Lana said as Jenna came up pulling a little red wagon with boxes in it.

  She greeted Maggie with a hug and the gesture nearly brought tears to Maggie’s eyes.

  “So show me what you made.” She peered into the box of sensational smelling candles.

  Jenna grinned. “I made some, but most of these candles were already made when I arrived. Still, the cherry bomb ones are mine. I love the color.” A slight blush came to the tough girl’s cheeks. “Hey, even a tough girl likes girly stuff.” She laughed, as if reading Maggie’s mind.

  “Totally,” Maggie agreed. She moved on after that, giving them time to set everything up. She wove her way through the crowd toward the turkey frying.

  Publicity from her article and Amanda’s show might cause Thanksgiving in July to get some national exposure, and they could have a great turnout next year. That would raise them thousands.

  It was a good feeling to know what she and Tru had thought of as a disaster could possibly turn out to be good for the town. She had come to care about Wishing Springs and her heart tugged. What would it be like to call a place like Wishing Springs home?

  She could call the town home if she wanted to. The thought hit her hard. After all, her physical presence wasn’t required all that often. The town was only an hour and a half from the office anyway. It made a perfect scenario for her to be able to commute from Wishing Springs if she chose.

  But it was small—she thought of the threatening letter she’d gotten. She’d made the calls and both Shane and her dad had been out of prison for over a year. So she felt certain the letter was coming from one of them. They could find her easier in a small town.

  Especially with all the advertising that was going on about the bet and upcoming special. It wasn’t a reassuring thought.

  She’d almost made it to the guys frying the turkeys when she heard yells and saw Tru running. A turkey fryer had caught fire!

  Obviously, it had just happened. Doonie or Doobie—whichever—had eyes as round as tractor tires. The flames were reaching for the roof. One of them ran toward the fire and a scream lodged in Maggie’s throat just as Tru reached the twin and grabbed him, pulling him out of the way before he got himself hurt.

  The roof had started to burn now.

  Maggie’s heart thundered and she started to run forward, but someone grabbed her in turn.

  “No, Maggie,” Clara Lyn said, holding tight. “You’ll only be in the way.”

  “But Tru needs help,” she cried.

  “He’ll be fine. You’ll only give him more to worry about.”

  Maggie saw that it was true and clutched Clara Lyn. Fear gripped her as Tru waved the twins and Rand out of the way as they tried to help turn off the other fryers. It was chaos. The out-of-control fire and canisters of gas were not a good combination.

  The sound of a siren rang out suddenly. Relief filled Maggie. Maybe the firemen could help Tru. Fear for him was almost more than Maggie could stand.

  People parted as the fire truck moved down the street. Maggie wanted to scream for them to hurry. The building was on fire and Tru was in the middle of the trouble, turning off the gas flames on the fryers that weren’t out of control.

  The four firemen jumped from the truck and started hauling hoses instantly. One of them was Bo—a cowboy fireman. With dimples. Maggie was startled and relieved at the same time as he waved Tru out of the way and then he and his fellow firemen took over.

  Within several moments the fire was out and Maggie breathed a sigh of relief.

  Clara Lyn started clapping and the entire town joined in. Tru looked serious, but Bo and the other firemen grinned at the crowd. Bo, a teasing light in his eyes, took a bow, then he and his buddies went about rolling up the fire hoses.

  “Isn’t that the best-looking fire department you’ve ever seen?” Reba sighed, coming out of the crowd to stand beside her. “Our cowboys know how to get rid of fires. Kind of like that old George Strait song, ‘The Fireman.’ Mmm-hmmm.”

  Clara Lyn agreed. “And that Tru, he was a real hero. Why that crazy Doonie would have let the whole town burn down if Tru hadn’t been there.”

  Maggie doubted that that would have been true, but there was no denying that if Tru hadn’t been close, someone might have been hurt. It certainly would have been far worse. As it was, the damage had been contained. Of course, it was still a disaster.

  One of the firemen pulled off his helmet and Maggie gasped. She’d thought Bo and Tru looked like the younger version of Pops, but this guy looked exactly like Pops. It was as if Pops had walked right off that pencil portrait and donned a fireman’s uniform. “Who is that?” she asked.

  Reba chuckled at her reaction. “That’s Jarrod, Tru and Bo’s older brother. He’s the volunteer fire chief. You haven’t met him yet? He’s a real dreamboat. And just as single as his little brothers.”

  “No, no, I haven’t.” Maggie’s mind started whirling with sudden ideas. “Cowboy fire
men. It’s like John Wayne and George Strait to the rescue.”

  Both of the older women chuckled.

  “Yeah,” Clara Lyn said. “We tease them that fires are set in the county just to see all them handsome cowboys roll to the rescue.”

  Maggie looked through the crowd, and even if they didn’t realize they were doing it, every woman’s gaze tracked Jarrod as he walked over to speak with Tru. Women had crowded as close to the brothers as possible and hovered as if ready to run in and administer CPR.

  Maggie’s gaze narrowed as one of them called Tru’s name and he spoke to her before he turned back to his brother. Both men looked serious as Tru, judging by his hand movements, was explaining to Jarrod what had happened. Despite the seriousness of the situation, excitement sprang to life inside Maggie.

  Her heart dropped, though, when she saw the cute female who had called out to Tru move his way as soon as Jarrod left him. The woman stood entirely too close, and though she couldn’t see his expression, Maggie was well aware of the fact that Tru didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get away from his admirer.

  Maggie’s ears felt hot as she forced her gaze away and got back to work thinking about her new idea.

  Everyone was talking and the crowd had converged on Rand, Tru, and the twins. Within minutes they were dragging the freezers of turkeys from under the overhang into the open air. Maggie moved to help, but there were so many men in the mix, the women just hung close. It didn’t take long with a group pitching in to help. Tru’s admirers had grown to a small entourage who seemed intent on making every move he made. Maggie hung back, feeling an overwhelming sense of humiliation as it became very evident that she had somehow become one of the many who’d succumbed to the undeniable appeal of Tru Monahan.

  As everyone was intent on getting the fryers that had survived the fire spray ready to start up again, Maggie gave herself a good talking-to. And then she shut off her aching heart and got back to work.

  She made a note that it took more than a little fire to stop the town from their goal of raising money for Over the Rainbow. As she kept writing, Tru came over to stand beside her.