Emily scrambled to her feet and carried the candy box to the pickup. “Can’t lose these.”
Laughing, Chance waited for her to gather up the water bottles before shaking the twigs and dried grass off the quilt and folding it up. He laid it on the backseat. After she climbed into the truck, he shut her door and jogged around to the driver’s side.
“Where to now?” Emily rubbed her hands together after he got in the pickup.
“Are you cold?”
“A little bit. The wind is nippy.”
“I’ll crank up the heater in a few minutes. We’d only get cold air now. Do you want a quilt?”
“No, I’ll be all right.”
He started the truck and turned around, bouncing across the mesa to the road. “It will likely be warmer when we get down to the pasture. There’s more wind up here.”
“Are we going where you can’t see any lights at night?”
“If that’s okay with you. We can head back to the ranch house if you’d rather.”
“I’m in no rush.”
“Good. I’ll throw in a minitour of this part of the ranch.” He concentrated on the road as he drove down from the tall, flat-topped hill. “In other words, we might as well check on the cattle while we’re over here.”
Emily laughed and stretched out her legs. “A rancher’s work is never done, right?”
“Right. We’ll find a pretty spot to park, and I’ll serenade you with my guitar. Instrumental only, unless you want to sing along. Later, we can climb in the back of the truck, bundle up in the quilts, and watch the stars come out.”
“So is this a typical date out here in the sticks?”
Chance shrugged. He hadn’t brought all that many girls, or women as he got older, out here on the ranch. “I’ve taken a few girls driving around but no picnics on the ranch. I’ve escorted a few ladies to the church picnic on occasion. Next time we go riding around, I’ll bring a pistol, and we can practice shooting it.”
He’d never done that with a woman other than his sister, who’d learned to fire a pistol along with the rest of them. He would enjoy teaching Emily. It would give him another opportunity to put his arms around her while he showed her how to do it. If she was going to become his wife and live on the ranch – and he was determined she was – she’d need to know how to protect herself.
“What do you shoot at?”
“We have a target set up on the side of a cliff. That way, if we miss, it just goes into the dirt. Will, Nate, and I put up the first one when we were in junior high, but it’s been replaced many times since then.”
“You started hunting when you were in junior high?” Her frown didn’t bode well.
“None of us hunt. Dad was never into it, so Will and I never gave it more than a passing interest. We were always busy with school activities or working with the horses and cattle. But you need to know how to shoot accurately out here, in case you come across a rattlesnake or a rabid animal.
“We haven’t had much of a problem with rabies in this area for several years, but it’s always good to be prepared. It only takes one sick animal to attack you, and that could ruin your whole day.”
“And a lot of days afterward.” Emily shivered and turned on the heater. “That’s scary.”
“It was bad for a while, but on a scale of one to ten, the concern now is a one. Rattlers are a different story.”
“I know to watch for them from visiting Grandma Rose.”
“Usually I take my dates to the city for dinner and a movie so we don’t have to worry about snakes. Or maybe go bowling. Do you bowl?”
“I’ve never tried it.”
“Woman, you’ve been deprived. I’ll have to take you sometime.”
“Okay, but for now, snuggling in the quilts and watching the stars sounds nice.”
Chance winked at her as he drove along the dirt road bordering the pasture. “It sure does.”
16
On Monday, Emily, Sue, and half a dozen others started going through the Bradley-Tucker House. They meticulously recorded everything. Later, a smaller committee, along with Emily, would divide the items into three categories – keep, think about, and let Linda handle it. Emily would determine what would be used in the museum to start with and what would stay with the house.
She was impressed with their organization. Sue divided them up, two people to a room, and by midafternoon on Friday, they had completely inventoried the downstairs. Sue, Frannie, Maybelle, and Ed were antiques experts. Where some of the others stated things like “pretty blue bowl,” they would usually show the maker, pattern, and general time period.
They agreed to wait until Monday to start on the second floor. Emily figured that would go fairly quickly too. The garages would take longer since there were hundreds of boxes, many not labeled. They would save the attic for last. Emily, Sue, Ed, and Jim were the only ones who could go up and down the steep stairs above the second floor, and Jim could only help occasionally. Emily hoped to start setting up some exhibits in a few weeks while the others finished the sorting.
After everyone left, she worked at the kitchen table for a while, entering the lists in the computer and making notes. When her cell phone dinged, she picked it up, noting she had a text message from Chance. Smiling, she read his note.
“Still ^ 4 pancakes 2nite?”
Quickly tapping the letters on her phone, she replied: “Yum.” She’d never been to a pancake supper, but since it was a fund-raiser for the Fire Victims Fund, she was certainly willing to participate. Pancakes were good anytime.
His reply came a few minutes later. “Meet u hi school 5:30?”
“OK.” She set the phone on the table and went back to work, but the bell on the phone chimed again.
“XOXOX”
Hugs and kisses. Grinning, Emily set the lists aside. “Well, that shoots my concentration.” Relaxing for a minute, she let her mind drift back to their picnic on Sunday.
After they left the mesa, they drove around for a while, checking the cattle. She was amazed that he knew how many and even which ones were supposed to be in that pasture. He said each cow on the ranch had some unique characteristic that set it apart from the others. Evidently, everyone who worked with the cattle could tell the difference, though many of the cows looked the same to her.
After he was satisfied that all the stock in that area were accounted for and looked healthy, he found a picturesque spot along Jack’s Creek to park the truck. They lazed on the creek bank beneath the shade of a weeping willow while he played his guitar.
He even gave her a short guitar lesson. It was mostly an excuse for her to sit in front of him so he could wrap his arms around her and show her how to position her fingers on the strings and strum. She abandoned the idea quickly. Those strings hurt her fingers. He admitted it took perseverance and gritting your teeth for a while until calluses built up on the fingertips.
When the sun set, he moved the pickup out into the middle of the pasture away from any tree or hill that might hamper their view. They snacked on the rest of the chicken and cake and indulged in a few chocolates.
He surprised her again by producing a thermos of hot, sweetened tea, which he took into the back of the pickup with them. Wrapped up together in the quilts and leaning back against the toolbox, they sipped tea from the same cup and waited for the stars to come out.
When the first twinkling light appeared, Chance took the cup from her hand, setting it and the thermos aside. “We should celebrate the appearance of each one with a kiss.”
That worked delightfully well for a little while until the stars were popping out so fast that they bumped noses trying to keep up. Laughing, they had cuddled close, her head on his shoulder, his cheek lightly resting against her hair. They stared in awe at the splendor of the night sky as it can only be seen in Texas.
He used some shooting stars as an excuse to smooch a little more. When he took her back to the ranch house, he’d given her a lingering, heart-stopping kiss be
fore he hopped out of the pickup and jogged around to open her door.
She would never think of stars, or kisses, the same way again. No man’s touch had ever moved her, both physically and emotionally, the way Chance’s did. They shared a closeness that came from honesty, respect, understanding, admiration, and a common faith. He never went beyond the bounds of propriety, but he stirred a longing in her heart that was new, exciting, and unsettling.
Although she’d never considered herself a coward – apart from enclosed dark places and being underground – this whole thing with Chance was a little scary. She couldn’t allow herself to get in too deep. Close relationships, whether it be boyfriends or family, didn’t work out well for her.
So when she’d received an email on Thursday from a former colleague about a job in Dallas, she jumped at the prospect. The new McGovern Historical Museum was in the final stages of organization. They wouldn’t publicly announce the open positions until next week, but her friend passed on the contact info and told her to send them her resume ahead of time. She sent it off immediately. It was a wonderful opportunity to get in on the ground floor of a brand-new museum. The timing would be good too, since the start date wasn’t until June.
Now, the waiting began, but she wouldn’t sit around stewing about it. There would be dozens of applications for the assistant curator position for them to sort through, followed by interviews. She might make it to the final level of two or three candidates and still not be chosen for the job. It had happened before.
“Enough ruminating.” Emily pushed back the chair and stretched out a kink in her back. Stacking up the lists, she put them away in her briefcase. Next, she turned off her laptop and put it in the case. She went around the house making certain all the lights were off and windows and doors closed.
Pausing in the hallway, she studied the portraits hanging there. The first was Doctor Kenneth Bradley and his wife, Margaret, on their wedding day in 1900. She was a breathtakingly beautiful nineteen-year-old with blonde hair pinned up in an elegant, puffy style. She had light eyes, probably pale blue. Since the photo was black and white, one couldn’t be certain whether they were blue or green. Her long-sleeved, floor-length gown was covered with exquisite lace and had a long train. The lace veil was caught up at the top of her head in a pearl circlet and hung down her back.
He, too, was blond, but his eyes were darker than Margaret’s. The doctor was attractive, though Emily didn’t consider him handsome. Perhaps if he’d smiled, she would have thought otherwise. Generally people didn’t begin smiling in pictures until the 1920s when faster film became available. Until then, all those somber faces were due mainly to the fact that nobody could hold a smile long enough to take the picture, which often required over a minute.
Still, in the Bradleys’ wedding picture, there was a softness in their faces, a hint of happiness reflective of the day.
Emily moved down the hall. In the next photo, they were standing in front of their new house. It had been built in 1904, so she assumed the picture was taken then or shortly thereafter. Margaret had matured somewhat. She was still incredibly beautiful, but the lens captured an unmistakable sadness in her expression. Emily was taken aback by Kenneth’s harsh countenance. Either he was a very unhappy man, or he had a bad case of indigestion.
The family photo celebrating Sally’s arrival was markedly different. Though they still didn’t smile, their joy was evident in the lightness of their expressions and the tender way that the doctor touched his wife’s arm.
There were also numerous wonderful pastel drawings throughout the house, many of them portraits of Sally at various ages. All were signed “M.B.” The housekeeper said that Margaret Bradley was an accomplished artist. She didn’t think that described her talent well enough.
Emily decided to put some of the drawings in the main museum. They should be viewed by everyone, not merely those who decided to wander up to the grand Queen Anne on Third Street.
She loaded her laptop and briefcase in the van, locked the back door of the house, and set off in anticipation of pancakes and the company of a special, handsome man. And a bunch of other people.
Since she was a little early, she drove through downtown. Lindsey’s dad had set up scaffolding in front of Maisie’s antiques store that morning, and the talented artist had already drawn off the grid on the building. It would be fun to drive by each day and watch her progress.
Slowing as she passed the museum, Emily envisioned the sign that Lindsey had started painting for them. They would hang it across the false front. For now, it was set up in the artist’s garage. Ed had asked about pressure washing the outside of the building to get rid of the soot, but Emily had nixed the idea. He was lining up some guys to help him scrub it down by hand next week. She hated to make the task harder, but they couldn’t risk damaging the old bricks.
Driving the length of Main Street, she stopped across from where the cotton gin had stood. Much of the larger debris had been removed, but the crew still had some work ahead of them to finish the cleanup job. The gin had been fully insured because there was always a danger of a fire breaking out somewhere in the machinery or in the ginned bales. Being destroyed by a prairie fire probably had been at the bottom of their most likely hazard list.
She turned north, going through the section of town that had been hit by the fire. Two weeks earlier, block after block had been nothing but charred ruins. Now maybe a third of the rubble was gone, though even on those lots, the ground was still black. Some of the charred trees had been removed, but some of the taller ones still remained. The bottom half of the trunks and lower branches had burned, but the top branches had not. It was a strange sight. Still, some lots were cleared, so folks could start rebuilding if they had the means to do so.
Reaching the school, she found a place with two parking spaces side by side. After turning off the engine, she scanned the lot for Chance’s pickup. Dub and Sue were already there, as well as Nate and Jenna and about seventy other cars. This pancake supper thing was a bigger deal than she’d imagined. Chance said various groups had done it over the years as a fund-raiser – churches, 4-H clubs, Scouts, Rotary Club, or some other organization. This one was sponsored by the Volunteer Fire Department, which meant Chance was involved. He’d been there earlier in the day helping set up tables and chairs and getting everything organized.
She spotted his truck as he turned off the street into the lot. He slowly cruised up and down a couple of rows until he saw her van. Flashing her a big grin, he pulled in beside her. She got out of her car and walked around to the driver’s side of the pickup.
He opened the door, stepped out of the truck, and surprised her by pulling her close. “Hi, darlin’.” He glanced around the parking lot, a mischievous sparkle lighting his eyes. “Coast is clear.” He leaned down and gave her a slow, thorough kiss. Raising his head, he sighed softly. “Now I can make it through the evening.”
It took Emily a moment to calm her heart and clear the haze from her brain. Coherent thought was up there somewhere – unless it had just been completely vaporized. Resting her hands on his chest, she stared up at him. “Shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why?” A light frown creased his brow.
“Short-circuited my brain.”
Throwing back his head, he laughed and slowly released her. “Mine too. Good thing I’m cleaning up instead of cooking.”
She stepped back and he followed, closing the truck door. Motioning to all the cars, she said, “I didn’t realize there would be so many people here.”
“There will likely be three or four times this many come and go before the evening is over. We usually get a couple hundred customers at a regular supper. Since this is for the fire victims, I expect a lot more than that. We didn’t sell tickets like we usually do. It’s strictly donation. Or not. We wanted folks to come even if they don’t have a dime to spare. It’s as much about getting together as it is about raising funds.”
Before they joined the foo
d line, they walked over to see the family, who had split up at two of the round tables to be sociable. Sitting between Nate and Jenna, Zach diligently worked away on a pancake. He looked up and gave them a syrupy grin.
“Hi, buddy.” Chance squatted down beside him. “Are the pancakes any good?”
“Uh-huh.” The little boy nodded and picked up a piece of bacon. “Bacon too.” He pointed the crispy piece of pork at the two empty seats beside Nate and Jenna. “You sit here.”
“Okay. Thanks for saving us a place.”
“There’s sausage and ham too.” Jenna wiped a syrup drip from her son’s chin before it landed on his bright blue shirt. “Dad took one helping of each and four pancakes.” She smiled at her father over at the next table. “Guess he couldn’t make up his mind.”
“Exactly. Besides, I’ve been cooking and smelling all that food, so I’m extra hungry,” Dub said with a grin.
Chance stood, and Emily leaned down and planted a kiss on the top of Zach’s head. As she straightened, Chance casually put his arm around her waist.
Sue’s eyes danced with delight, and she nudged her husband. “Don’t they make a purty couple?” She didn’t speak particularly loud, but it appeared that everyone within a thirty-foot diameter heard her.
Or maybe some noticed that Chance was with a woman and told everybody around them. People craned their necks this way and that to see who he was with. Several who had heard Sue’s comment nodded and smiled in agreement.
“He gave her a smooch out in the parkin’ lot,” said a grizzled old man in worn and patched overalls. His white hair and long beard accentuated the deep wrinkles in his tanned skin. “A good one too.”
Heat flooded Emily’s face. No doubt she was red as the proverbial beet.
“Now, Jinx, you aren’t supposed to go spoutin’ off about such things.” Dub grinned at his son and winked at Emily. “You’re embarrassing the lady.”
“Sorry, miss, but it’s ’bout time Chance got himself a gal. You’re real good lookin’ too. Wish I was thirty years younger. I’d give ’im a run for his money.”
Emily's Chance (v5) Page 15
