Tumbleweed Weddings

by Donna Robinson

  Lane raised his eyebrows. “Sounds interesting.”

  Tonya laid her hand on his arm. “I’m glad you’re coming over. We’ll have all afternoon to get to know each other.”

  Callie grabbed her by the elbow. “See you there, Lane.” She walked with Tonya to Derek’s truck while Lane strode to his motorcycle. Tonya climbed into the cab. Callie followed and settled beside her sister. As she closed the passenger door, she felt her opportunity with Lane slamming shut as well.

  The thing she feared had come to pass.

  Chapter 5

  Ah! The open road.

  Lane enjoyed the seven-mile motorcycle ride out to the Brandt family ranch. He followed the pickup as it rattled down the paved two-lane road. They passed a few other houses that were set way back from the road and were usually surrounded by trees. Small groups of cattle munched contentedly on tufts of wild grass. Besides those few signs of civilization, the road cut a path through barren rolling hills dotted with sagebrush.

  He could see the three Brandt siblings through the back window of the truck’s cab. Tonya sat in the middle, talking nonstop to her brother. Lane had been impressed with Derek Brandt. Taller than Lane, Derek looked to be in his midtwenties, with dark hair the same color as his sisters’. And that Tonya—what a beauty! She reminded Lane of a Hollywood actress, with her perfect facial features and flawless skin.

  Derek slowed and turned left onto a narrow blacktopped drive. Lane followed on his cycle, passing under a wrought-iron archway with the words THE ROCKING B RANCH in the middle. The driveway was long, possibly five hundred feet, with a row of evergreen trees marching up the left side. Over a small hill, a farmhouse came into view down in the valley. The front porch ran the entire width of the place, with a swing suspended on the left side near the door. Several wicker chairs sat on the opposite side of the porch. It would be nice to sit there in the shade, sipping a tall glass of lemonade.

  The pickup stopped beside the house, and Lane parked his motorcycle behind it. He had barely dismounted before Tonya appeared at his side.

  “Come into the house, Lane. I’m sure Mom has the meal all ready. She’s made a beef roast today. I know it will be great, and her mashed potatoes are to die for.”

  “Sounds good.” He gazed into her eyes—those dark-blue eyes surrounded by thick black lashes. Definitely Hollywood material.

  They ascended the porch steps together. Jake Brandt, Tonya’s father, held the door open for them. Like his son, he was tall. He wore glasses, but unlike Callie’s, the glasses didn’t magnify his eyes.

  “Welcome to The Rocking B!” Jake shook his hand. “Come on in.”

  “Thanks.” Lane motioned for Tonya to precede him into the house. As he walked in, the savory aroma of roast beef surrounded him. “Boy! That smells delicious.”

  “Doesn’t it, though?” Tonya agreed. “I’m starving.”

  Lane followed her into a spacious living room. They passed a pink-flowered sofa sprinkled with pillows, and an upright piano with framed pictures on the top. In the dining room, a large oak table was set with six green and tan place settings. Several steaming bowls of food made his mouth water.

  Mrs. Brandt came out from the kitchen. “We’re all ready to eat. Hi, Lane. Welcome to our home.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled, trying to remember her first name. “The food smells great.” He could see where Tonya got her beauty. Even though Mrs. Brandt looked in her midfifties, she still had a beautiful face. Just like Tonya’s, her eyes were dark blue with thick, dark lashes.

  “Have a seat, Lane.” Jake motioned to the chair on his left as he took the seat at the head of the table.

  Tonya slipped into the chair across from Lane. “It’s going to taste as good as it smells. This is a feast fit for a king.” She twittered a little laugh.

  He smiled. This promised to be an enjoyable meal just because he could drink in her beauty. A saying from Uncle Herb popped into his mind. “Marry a pretty gal, Lane. You’ll have to look at her across the table every morning.”

  Mrs. Brandt took a seat at the other end of the table while Derek sat down next to Tonya. Callie slid into the seat beside Lane. Jake asked the blessing, and they passed the food. The next twenty minutes were filled with pleasant conversation and fine dining.

  It had been years since Lane had enjoyed such a good home-cooked meal, probably not since he had eaten Aunt Betty’s cooking. And she had died ten years ago, when Lane was nineteen. He took second helpings of everything and was actually full. That hadn’t happened in a long time, either.

  He glanced at his hostess. “That was a delicious meal, Mrs. Brandt.”

  “Thank you, Lane, but please call me Yvette. Everyone does.”

  He nodded. “Yvette.”

  Across the table, Tonya leaned forward. “I hope you liked the homemade rolls.”

  “Homemade?” He raised his eyebrows. “They were fantastic. I’ve never tasted such good dinner rolls.”

  She sat back. “I made them—from scratch, of course.”

  “So, you have cooking talent as well as musical talent.”

  Her beautiful eyes widened. “Oh, I have a lot of talents. Not only can I cook and play the piano, but I’m also artistic, I love to sew, I’m athletic, and I’m a hairstylist, too. I work at the Beauty Spot over on Elk Road.”

  “Really?” He grinned, teasing. “Is there anything you can’t do?” Lane expected her to lower her beautiful eyes in modesty.

  Instead, she looked thoughtful. “Not really. I can do almost anything.”

  Derek folded his arms. “She’s especially good at boasting.”

  “I am not!” Tonya frowned at her brother.

  Derek shrugged. “Then what do you call it?”

  Yvette scooted her chair back. “Now, you two. Don’t get into an argument. We have company today.” She stood. “Girls, help me clear the table, and then we’ll have dessert.”

  Callie stood, and a sigh escaped her lips.

  Lane wondered if she was living in Tonya’s beautiful shadow. “Do you only have two siblings, Callie?”

  She turned toward him. “Actually there are six of us, and I’m in the middle.”

  “Yep.” Jake laid his napkin beside his plate. “We have two married children. Ryan lives in Denver with his wife and sons, and Melissa lives in Colorado Springs with her husband.”

  Tonya picked up Derek’s plate. “Melissa just got married last summer. I fixed her hair, and she looked absolutely gorgeous at her wedding. Molly is her identical twin, and she’s a nurse. She works at the Pine River Nursing Home in Douglas.”

  Lane leaned back as Callie took his plate. “So Ryan is the oldest sibling?” He looked at Jake, but Tonya answered.

  “Yes, he’s thirty-one.” She set down her dishes and counted off her fingers. “It’s Ryan, Molly and Melissa, Callie, Derek, and me. I just turned twenty-three last week.” She shrugged slightly as she gave Lane a little smile. “I’m the baby of the family.”

  Jake adjusted his glasses. “I wish my three oldest hadn’t moved away. Seems all the young people leave Fort Lob sooner or later, and I don’t understand it.”

  “Well, duh!” Tonya picked up her stack of dishes again. “Fort Lob, Wyoming, is not exactly the hot spot of America, Dad.”

  He grinned at his daughter. “It gets pretty hot in the summer. Near a hundred degrees most days in July.”

  She looked at Lane and then rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I mean.” She giggled as she grabbed some silverware. “I like Fort Lob. I’ll probably spend my life here, married to a wonderful man someday.” She paused to give Lane a significant look. “But if my husband wants to leave, I’d have to leave, too.” She glanced at her dad. “That’s just the way it is.”

  Callie came back from the kitchen and picked up several more dishes.

  Lane glanced at her as she took the potato dish from the table. “How long have you worked at the Dorsey-Smythe Library?”

  “I got the job right after c
ollege graduation four years ago.”

  “Do you like working there?”

  Callie nodded. “I love it. I’ve always loved to read and—”

  “Which is why she wears glasses,” Tonya put in. “When the rest of us kids were playing, Callie was sitting in some secluded corner with a book. Absolutely ruined her eyes.” Toting her dirty dishes, she walked to the kitchen.

  Lane was glad she was gone. His infatuation with Tonya faded the more she talked. “Tell me about the library, Callie. With a name like the Henry Dorsey-Smythe Memorial Library, it must have quite a history behind it.”

  “It does.” Setting the dishes down, she took her seat beside him. “The history goes back to James Thomas Lob, the founder of our town. For several years in the 1800s, he was a scout for settlers who moved west. But scouting was dangerous work.”

  Derek leaned back in his chair. “But James Lob wasn’t of the same caliber as Kit Carson or Buffalo Bill or Jim Bridger. He never made a name for himself like those other guys.”

  “I always admired Buffalo Bill Cody,” Jake put in. “He was a fascinating man. When the U.S. Army was fighting the Indians, he’d hunt buffalo so they’d have something to eat. That’s how he got his nickname.”

  “Not the army, Dad,” Callie said. “He supplied buffalo meat for the men who were building the transcontinental railroad.”

  Lane didn’t want to get off the subject. “So Lob quit scouting and built this town?”

  Callie nodded. “But it wasn’t much of a town when he was living.”

  Jake laughed. “It was more like a few buildings with a big fence around them to keep out the Indians.”

  “Where does Henry Dorsey-Smythe come in?”

  Tonya walked back into the room. “Okay, everyone. Mom is ready to cut the pies.” She looked at Lane. “Do you want cherry or apple?”

  “Uh … cherry would be great.”

  Tonya smiled. “Whipped cream?”

  “Sure.” Lane smiled back.

  Tonya gazed at him another moment before she took the other orders.

  Lane drummed his fingers on the table. As soon as he ate his pie, he would make some excuse to leave. Tomorrow he could ask Callie at the library about the history of Fort Lob. He wondered if there were any books about its founder. Fort Lob seemed to be one of those overlooked towns in the United States with a fascinating history.

  On a more personal note, he had to think of some way to get Callie to remove her glasses. She might be as beautiful as her sister.

  And a lot less suffocating.

  Chapter 6

  On Monday morning, Callie reached beneath the library’s checkout desk and pulled out a book to read. Business had been slow this morning. Only twelve people had entered the library, and ten had left. Of the two remaining people, Mrs. Anderson had settled in the conservatory. The other person was Cheyenne Wilkins, Callie’s best friend since first grade. Cheyenne worked at the post office, but Monday was her day off.

  Removing the bookmark from Hearts Joined Together, Callie began reading. This was a new romance novel she had ordered from Casper, and she was already in chapter nine. In a few minutes, she was deep into the story, but every time the library’s front door opened, she looked up and noted who came in and who left. After a half hour, she had tallied seven people who had come and gone. Somehow she kept her mind on her book.

  “Morning, Callie.” Lane Hutchins closed the door and walked toward her.

  “Oh!” She shoved the novel under the desk, not bothering with the bookmark, and hoped Lane hadn’t noticed the title. She didn’t want him to think she was interested in romance.

  The sleeves of his blue denim shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and he held two hardcover books in one hand.

  “Uh, hi, Lane. I guess you’re back to finish your research on Yellowstone.”

  “Yeah, I should work on that.” He laid the two volumes on the desk. “I went down to Cheyenne this morning and got a couple books for the library.”

  Callie looked at them—two new copies of A History of Gunfights in America by Herbert Dreyfuss. “Wow! These are expensive!” He must have bought them at a bookstore, and the retail price was $27.99 each.

  He grinned. “It was nothing. Since the town council put a limit on the library’s spending, I thought I’d donate these. At least the library will have two new books in its possession.”

  “Thank you, this is great. I’ll have to catalog them.” She hoped Miss Penwell would show more favor to Lane for his generous donation. Hmm … maybe that was why he bought them in the first place.

  Lane folded his arms on the desk and leaned forward. “I’d like to learn more about the history of Fort Lob and this library. Are there any books on the subject?”

  “A few.” Callie found it hard to breathe with Lane this close. His muscled arms rested on the counter, and she stared at them. “Uh, there are some books in the Wyoming room upstairs, and we also have information on the Dorsey-Smythe family on the third floor.”

  “The third floor?” Lane stood up straight. “I didn’t realize you had a reference room up there.”

  “We don’t.” Callie dropped her voice. “It’s not open to the public. But if you’re interested in the history of the library, we have some old documents, letters, and photographs.”

  His eyes opened wide. “I’d love to see those.”

  She glanced around. “Let me make sure no one needs me.”

  Cheyenne walked in from the conservatory. The green and orange broomstick skirt she wore swirled around her sandaled feet. “Are you busy, girlfriend?” She laid four books on the desk. “I want to check these out.”

  Callie had always thought Cheyenne was pretty with her blond hair and blue eyes, and her round face sported two deep dimples. Her dad called her “pleasingly plump,” but Cheyenne moaned that she was fat.

  “Hi, Lane.” Cheyenne’s eyes were almost level with his. “Nice to see you again.”

  “Uh, hi.” His brow furrowed.

  Callie motioned to her friend. “This is Cheyenne Wilkins. You met her yesterday at church. Her dad owns the grocery store.”

  “Oh yeah.” Recognition dawned on his face. “I think I met the whole town yesterday. So, Cheyenne … were you named after the city?”

  “Yeah, my mom liked the name. Of course, there was hippie blood in her family, so she had to name me something different.” She laughed.

  “You’re looking rather hip yourself today.” Callie pointed to Cheyenne’s big hoop earrings and the psychedelic headband surrounding her blond hair. Topping her skirt, she wore a neon orange T-shirt.

  Cheyenne laughed. “Last night I was cleaning out Mom’s old sewing room and found a whole bunch of hippie stuff.” She touched the headband. “This belonged to my aunt Vera. She was totally immersed in the hippie culture in the sixties.”

  Picking up the first of Cheyenne’s books, Callie ran it under the scanner. Lane stood at the corner of the desk, perusing the cover of A History of Gunfights in America.

  Callie picked up Cheyenne’s second book. “I’ll check these out and then take you upstairs, Lane. Today has been quiet, so I should have plenty of time to show you some things.”

  As if to prove her wrong, the door burst open and two moms with a passel of kids trooped in. The noise level rose ten decibels. They greeted Callie and Cheyenne. Right behind them, five teen girls walked in and ascended the stairs.

  Callie’s heart sank. “I’d better stick around the desk for a while, Lane. I’m the only librarian, so—”

  “I’ll watch the desk for you.” Cheyenne turned to Lane. “I used to work here during high school. It’ll be fun to check out books again.”

  Callie cocked her head toward the noisy children’s section. “Do you think you can handle all the ragamuffins? Sometimes they check out lots of books.”

  “Sure.” Cheyenne walked behind the desk. “Piece of cake.”

  “Okay, I’ll try to hurry.” Callie looked at Lane. “Follow me.
”

  Lane trailed behind Callie, his heart picking up its pace. Herbert Dreyfuss might get a book out of this research.

  She led him up to the second floor then unlocked a door that held a sign reading EMPLOYEES ONLY. Another set of stairs took them to the third floor, where Callie opened a door into a small room with a slanted ceiling.

  “It’s warm up here.” Lane walked to the window and looked out over the town of Fort Lob. “What a great view!”

  “You can see for miles.” Callie walked around old furniture, covered with sheets, and stopped in front of a cabinet with glass doors. She took a set of keys from her jeans pocket and unlocked it. Pulling out a large box, she set it on a nearby table. “These are old town documents and photos.” She took another box from the cabinet and glanced at a label on the top. “These are letters written by the Lobs and Dorsey-Smythes.”

  “True history.” A thrill ran through him as he opened the lid of the first box. Neatly packed inside were thick envelopes, yellowed with age, and old sepia photographs of Fort Lob in the early 1900s. “Wow, what a gold mine.”

  Callie went back to the cabinet, and Lane wondered what else that cabinet held. His gaze swung around, and he pointed to three trunks sitting on the floor. “What’s in those trunks, Callie?”

  “Those belonged to Mildred Dorsey-Smythe. She was the granddaughter of James Thomas Lob.”

  “And who was Henry Dorsey-Smythe?”

  “Mildred’s father. She turned the house into a library and named it after him. She felt her father never got any recognition in this town since her grandfather was so famous.”

  Lane nodded. When Callie left, he would take a look in those trunks. They might hold some valuable stuff. “When did Mildred die?”

  “Almost fifty years ago. And let me tell you, Lane, this house is falling apart. I wish the town council would do something about it.”

  “Don’t they have money to repair it?”

  “They have money.” She pulled another box from the cabinet then locked it and faced him. “But they want it to fall apart. Mildred willed the house to the town to use as a library, and according to her will, it must remain a library unless the town can’t keep it in repair.” She huffed out a breath. “I think the town council wants to condemn this place.”