Oh Lord, she prayed, please let something good come from this. Did she dare pray that Lane would want to marry her?
But was he a Christian? She just assumed he was, but his prayer for the food didn’t give her any confidence about his relationship with God.
Lane slowed down to turn onto Main Street, and Callie smiled at the tall spots of color on the sidewalk who waved to her, even though she wasn’t sure who those people were. The entire population of Fort Lob was probably gossiping about them. After all, a person could hardly sneak through town on a motorcycle, especially on Main Street.
When they arrived at the library, Lane pulled up before the door. “I’ll drop you off here, and you can let Cheyenne leave.”
Callie dismounted. “Now will you give my glasses back?”
He gazed at her eyes a moment before he winked. “Not yet.” Revving the motor, he guided the cycle to the back parking lot.
Callie laughed out loud as she walked up the library steps using the handrail as a guide and pulled open the front door. She stepped inside, and her smile froze.
The navy blue blob standing behind the checkout desk couldn’t be Cheyenne. For one thing, Cheyenne had been wearing an orange T-shirt, and for another thing, this blob was as thin as a skeleton.
“Miss Brandt!” Miss Penwell’s voice rang out across the entryway, grating on Callie’s nerves. “Where in the world have you been?”
Even without her glasses, Callie knew Miss Penwell’s lips were pursed.
Chapter 8
Lane jogged up the library steps. Callie’s glasses jiggled in his shirt pocket, and he smiled. She doesn’t even realize how pretty she is. He reached for the library’s door handle. How could he give Callie the money for laser eye surgery without offending her? It couldn’t be that expensive, probably a few thousand dollars. I’ll think of something.
He stepped inside and stopped short.
“I should have you fired!” Miss Penwell’s arms were folded against her thin chest.
Callie stood in front of the checkout counter, her head bowed.
“You are not to leave this building during your shift, Miss Brandt, and you know that.”
Lane strode up to the desk. “Now just a minute.” He kept his voice low.
“You!” Miss Penwell’s gray eyes widened. “You are the reason! It’s because of you that Miss Brandt is in trouble. She knows better than to leave the premises, and you were the devil’s agent to cause her to—”
“Listen!” Lane held up both hands, feeling his ire rise. He glanced at Callie’s profile. Her head was still bowed, her face pale. Obviously she wasn’t going to defend herself.
He took a deep breath. “Miss Penwell, we need to discuss this calmly, like three rational human beings.”
“There is nothing to discuss. You dragged my employee to Ray’s—”
“All right, Miss Penwell, I apologize. This whole thing was my fault. Please don’t fire Callie over it.”
Callie looked up at him. “Lane—”
“No, Callie. I shouldn’t have asked you to leave your job.” He glanced at Miss Penwell, noting that her lips were pressed together. “It won’t happen again; you have my word on that.”
“No, it won’t happen, young man, because you will not set foot in my library again. I forbid you to come here. No more books for you. I won’t have my employees—” She stopped as two older men walked up to the desk. “Bruce! Vern.” She frowned. “How long have you two been standing there?”
Lane recognized the men who had liked the article by Herbert Dreyfuss the first time he had seen Callie. I hope they’re on my side.
The more dignified man, the one from Scotland, stepped forward. “We’ve been here all afternoon, Lucille. We heard you dismiss Cheyenne—”
“The whole library heard you.” The other man pointed to his hearing aid. “Even me.”
Callie winced.
The Scottish man drummed his fingers on the desk. “Lucille, I’ve already discussed this issue with you.”
“What issue?” Miss Penwell frowned at him. “As I recall, Bruce, I have never had to deal with an errant employee who left the premises because some boy—”
“Lucille.” Bruce lowered his voice as he leaned toward her. “I’m talking about your temper. You cannot prohibit people from using the library.” He motioned toward Lane. “And this is not the first time I’ve heard you doing that. The town council discussed your behavior at our last—”
“My behavior! Why, Bruce MacKinnon! How dare you say that my behavior is anything but outstanding? In fact, exemplary. I’ve been running this library for thirty-nine years.”
The other man spoke up. “And the council thinks it’s time you retire.”
“Vern, I’ll handle this.” Bruce turned to Miss Penwell.
“Retire?” Miss Penwell’s voice rose with her words. “And just what would I do if I retired? Sit around my house twiddling my thumbs?”
Bruce sighed. “Lucille, you’re seventy-two years old—”
“I am not!”
He raised his eyebrows. “You’re the same age as me.”
Miss Penwell pursed her lips before she spoke. “I’m seventy-one.”
“Okay, seventy-one.”
“And I’m in excellent health. Excellent, I tell you!” She waved her hands in the air as if she could stop the discussion. “I do not need to retire. Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll let Miss Brandt take over.” She stalked toward the main room.
“But, Lucille—” Bruce stalked after her. “We are not through discussing this.”
Without a word, Miss Penwell rounded the corner, and a few seconds later a door slammed behind her.
Bruce strode into the main room. “Now, Lucille, just a minute. Open this door.” His voice faded.
Vern shook his head. “We’ll never get rid of her.” He walked to the main entrance. “Someone will have to kill her before she stops working at this library.” He exited.
Callie turned her beautiful eyes up to Lane. “Thanks for defending me, but you didn’t need to apologize. I made the decision to go with you.”
“And I’m glad you did, no matter what Miss Penwell says.”
She sighed. “Poor Cheyenne. I’m going to have to call her.”
Lane reached into his shirt pocket. “Here are your glasses. Sorry I didn’t clean them.”
She gave him a faint smile. “Thanks, Lane. And thanks for lunch. It was fun, even though I had to pay the piper.”
He frowned. “Does Miss Penwell have the authority to fire you?”
“No. The town council hired me, and I know they won’t fire me. Actually, they’ve been trying to get rid of Miss Penwell for a couple months. She’s been so nasty lately.” Callie shrugged. “I don’t know what will happen now.”
“Well, she’s digging her own grave, if you ask me.” He glanced up the stairs. “I should finish that research on Yellowstone. Can I check out five books on my card?”
Callie walked behind the desk. “You can check out as many books as you want.”
“Cheyenne, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” Callie spoke into the library phone. “That must have been embarrassing when Miss Penwell yelled at you.”
“No problem. Besides, it was my bad. I practically pushed you two out the door.” Cheyenne paused. “Are you sure it’s okay to talk right now?”
“Yeah, no one’s in the building except Lane, and he’s upstairs in the Wyoming room.”
“I bet Miss Penwell scared off all the patrons with her tantrum.” Cheyenne laughed. “By the way, how did lunch go?”
Callie smiled for the first time since she entered the library. “It was wonderful.” She lowered her voice. “I’ll call you when I get home after work and tell you all about it, but I think he likes me.”
“Oh, Callie!” Cheyenne squealed into the phone. She didn’t have to keep her voice down. “I’m so excited! I can’t wait until you give me the entire scoop. I just know you two
were made for each other, and I’m already praying.”
“Thanks.” Callie took a deep breath. “I hope we do end up together, but I want to make sure it’s the Lord’s will. Right now I don’t have a perfect peace about it because I’m not sure if he’s a Christian.” She adjusted her glasses, which she had cleaned. “I think—”
Lane descended the stairs, his arms stacked with books.
“Oh, I have to go, Cheyenne. Talk to you later.” She hung up the phone as Lane approached the desk.
“Seven books, Callie.” He set the pile down and placed his library card on top. “We’ll show that old Miss Penwell who’s boss.”
Several people entered the library as Callie checked out his books. She greeted them, hoping they hadn’t heard about the afternoon fiasco.
Lane made a trip to his motorcycle to place the books in the saddlebags. Coming back inside, he folded his arms on the counter and leaned toward her. “Callie, I want to apologize for getting you in trouble.”
She waved away his apology. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was. I shouldn’t have asked you out for lunch. In fact, I’m going to make amends. Would you go out to dinner with me on Friday night?”
Her heart leaped into her throat. “I’d love to.”
“Good.” He grinned then reached up and pulled off her glasses.
Startled, Callie stepped back. “Lane—”
“Just wanted one more look.” His smile faded as he gazed into her eyes.
She gazed back, a wistful sigh escaping her lips.
The front door opened, and a group of kids walked in.
Lane set her glasses on the desk. “Until Friday.” He strode to the door, then he turned and winked at her before stepping outside.
At least she thought he winked. His face was so blurry she could barely make out his eyes.
Friday night. Callie hugged herself. But this was only Monday, and Friday seemed to stretch into eternity. Oh Lord, please give me peace about Lane.
Donning her glasses, Callie reached for the phone and dialed Cheyenne’s number. This was too good to keep until after work.
Chapter 9
It was a trying week for Callie.
She didn’t see Lane at all, but she saw plenty of Miss Penwell. Instead of arriving each day at two o’clock as she normally did, the head librarian came in at one o’clock on Tuesday and criticized everything Callie did. Fortunately, the library was closed on Wednesday, but on Thursday, Miss Penwell arrived at noon, spewing out more criticisms until Callie left at six.
Before going to the library on Friday morning, Callie decided to fortify herself with a cup of coffee at the Trailblazer Café on Main Street. It wouldn’t surprise her if Miss Penwell arrived at ten o’clock today. She probably heard that Callie had a date with Lane after work. In fact, Callie expected the whole town knew about their date by now, thanks to Tonya and her big mouth.
A lot of the locals, mainly retired men, met at the Trailblazer for breakfast every morning. Today, eight of them—old-timers she had known her entire life, including Bruce and Vern—sat at two tables in the corner. Along with swilling coffee refills, most of the men perused a copy of The Scout, Fort Lob’s newspaper.
Vern spotted her as she walked by. “Hey, Callie! Did you see the column in today’s paper by Herbert Dreyfuss?”
She stopped beside their table. “I haven’t read this week’s column yet.”
“Another great article about Wyoming.”
“Yeah.” Floyd DeWitt pointed to the paper. “We’ve been discussing it all morning.”
“Really?” Callie folded her arms. “What’s it about?”
“Yellowstone National Park.”
“Yellowstone?”
Vern nodded. “Would you believe, Dreyfuss says it’s one of the best vacation spots in the country. And he tells you all about it.” He chuckled. “That Dreyfuss is a smart one, just like I always said.”
Callie bid the men good day and left to get her coffee.
Yellowstone. What a coincidence.
At 6:30 that evening, Lane guided his rumbling motorcycle down the long driveway toward the Brandt farmhouse. He and Callie had agreed to leave his cycle at her house and drive her car to Lusk for dinner. Even though Lusk was a good half hour away, it was closer than any other town, and they certainly didn’t want to eat in Fort Lob, where everyone could watch them.
To be honest, he was tired of Fort Lob’s gossip. If it weren’t for Callie, he would have moved to Lusk or Pinedale by now.
Approaching the farmhouse, he noticed Jake Brandt sitting on the porch. Lane’s stomach lurched. He’s going to grill me about dating his daughter. After all, what did Mr. Brandt know about Lane Hutchins?
Except for taking Callie out to lunch on Monday, Lane hadn’t been on a date in years. He’d forgotten how much parents could worry about their daughters. He parked his motorcycle beside the house and dismounted.
“Howdy, Lane!” Jake called from one of the wicker chairs. “Come on up and have a seat. Callie should be out in a few minutes.”
Lane climbed the three steps to the porch. “Thanks.” He took the other wicker chair and drummed his fingers on the arms. This is it.
“Great weather for a Friday night, ain’t it?” Jake stretched his long legs in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. “I like to sit here most evenings and watch the sunset. Course, it doesn’t set until eight or eight thirty this time of year, but every sunset is spectacular. God’s handiwork.”
Lane relaxed. Maybe Jake wouldn’t grill him after all. “I hear you’re a sheep rancher.”
“Yep, fifth generation. My great-great-grandparents were homesteaders in the 1880s. I have a good spread here—two thousand acres and five hundred sheep.”
“Wow! That’s huge.”
Jake seemed pleased. “Aw, that’s nothing. My grandfather owned eight thousand acres with horses, sheep, and cattle. But it’s hard to care for such a large ranch. My dad sold most of the land and animals, concentrating only on sheep. I still have a few horses.”
Lane gazed at the rolling hills that stretched toward the horizon. “So, all this land is yours?”
“As far as your eye can see. I plan to pass the ranch on to my son Derek. He has a college degree in range management, you know, and he’s helped me with some new methods.”
The front door opened, and Callie stepped onto the porch.
Lane’s heartbeat quickened. She was beautiful. The summery yellow print dress she wore emphasized her soft curves and made her dark, curly hair look even darker. He hardly noticed her glasses.
Lane felt underdressed in his shirt and jeans. Good thing he hadn’t worn his I VISITED DEVIL’S TOWER T-shirt, which he had considered doing. But he’d decided against it since he wanted to have a shirt pocket available… .
She closed the door behind her. “Sorry you had to wait, Lane.”
“No problem.” He stood, wanting to tell her how nice she looked, but her dad’s presence stopped him.
“Here’s the key to my car.” She handed him a set of keys, and a whiff of sweet fragrance drifted toward him. “It’s around the back.” She descended the porch stairs.
Jake got to his feet. “Have a good time, you two.”
“Thanks.” Lane smiled as he shook the older man’s hand. He liked Jake. “We will, Dad.” Callie rounded the corner of the house. “And don’t wait up for me,” she called.
Hmm… Lane followed her to the car. The evening looked bright.
“You move to a different state every three months?” Callie’s head spun.
She sat on the passenger side of her car, secretly thrilled to see Lane behind the wheel. Since he obviously didn’t own a car, she pictured this little Honda as their family car when they got married—if they got married.
“But, Lane, how can you move so often? I always thought military people had it rough moving every three years. But three months?” Only fugitives did that.
Fugitives? C
allie glanced at his profile. What if he was a fugitive trying to escape the law? She knew so little about him.
“I love moving.” He grinned. “I’ve lived in sixteen states in the past five years, and every place was in a small town. It’s been an interesting adventure, and I enjoy the change of scenery.” He shrugged. “If I cover all fifty states, I figure it will take me another eight or nine years, at least.”
Callie’s buoyant spirit sank. I hate moving. “Is there a method to your madness?”
Lane’s expression turned serious. “It’s research, actually. By the time that fiftieth state is covered, I plan to write a book about my experiences. I’m going to call it Living in Small-Town America.” He glanced at her. “How does that title grab you?”
“Sounds interesting… .” He sure has big dreams. “But I’ve heard it’s really hard to get published. Of course, you have to write the book first, and that’s a lot of work.”
“Oh? Do you have personal experience?”
“Well …” She thought about that half-finished novel in the notebook on her closet shelf, languishing next to the manuscript she had started five years ago about Fort Lob’s history. “Nothing to speak of.”
They entered the town of Lusk, and Callie pointed ahead. “Turn left at that stop sign. I love the Italian restaurant on West Second Street.” She was glad to change the subject and decided she would enjoy this evening with Lane, whether she married him or not. “It’s called Mama’s Kitchen, and it has great Italian food.”
“You know what? This restaurant has great Italian food.” Lane took another bite. He had never tasted such good lasagna in his life.
A mural of Italy’s wine country covered the wall beside their two-person table, and a tiny lamp, set on the edge, shed a circle of yellow light on the white linen tablecloth.
“I guess ‘Mama’ is a good cook.” Callie adjusted her glasses. “They always give their customers such big portions. I have enough Eggplant Parmigiana on my plate for three people, and we have to save room for dessert. Mama’s Kitchen has the most delicious desserts.”
Tumbleweed Weddings Page 6
