A Rich Man for Dry Creek and A Hero For Dry Creek: A Rich Man For Dry Creek / A Hero For Dry Creek

Chapter Three

“H e kissed you! You’re telling me he kissed you! Robert Buckwalter the Third kissed you!”

Jenny’s sister was screeching so loudly Jenny had to hold the cell phone away from her ear. She’d slipped outside so that she could finish the phone conversation in private. She shivered from the cold.

“After he kissed Mrs. Hargrove,” Jenny said as she wiped one hand on her chef’s apron. The coarse bleached muslin steadied her. She was a chef. An employee. “He’s my boss. He can’t kiss me. He didn’t even say he loved me.”

“Love! He loves you!” her sister screeched even louder.

“No, he didn’t say that—that’s what I’m saying. He didn’t even attempt to be sincere.”

“But he kissed you.”

The Montana night was lit by some stars and a perfectly round moon. Silver shadows fell on the snow where the reflection of the barn light showed through the barn door and two square side windows. A jumble of cars and trucks were parked in the road leading up to the barn.

“Maybe he did it because I talked to you about him. Maybe there’s some servant’s code I breached when I told secrets about the master. You know, maybe it’s a revenge thing.”

Jenny could hear the pause on the other end of the phone. The silence lasted for a full minute.

Finally her sister spoke. “Have you been taking those vitamins Mom sent you?”

“Well, yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“You’re getting old. First you don’t even wonder about whether or not the man is married and now he kisses you—Robert Buckwalter the Third actually kisses you—and you think it’s for revenge!”

“Well, it could be.”

“Men like him don’t kiss for revenge! They use lawsuits. Or buyouts. Corporate takeovers. They use termination. He could fire you. But not kisses! Kisses are for romance.”

Jenny snorted. “I smell like fish and my hair is flat. No man’s kissing me for romance.”

“You’re in your chef’s apron?” Some of the bubble drained out of her sister’s voice. “With that funny hairnet on?”

“And orthopedic white shoes because I’m standing so much. And no makeup because the steam from the lobster pots would make my mascara run. And I even have a butter stain on my apron—not a big one, but it’s there in the left corner.”

“Then why is he kissing you?” her sister wailed and then caught herself. “Not that—I mean you’re real attractive when you’re…well, you know—”

“Those are my thoughts exactly. I might pass for someone in his social circle when I’m dressed up—heels, makeup, the works.”

“You looked real good in that black dress you wore last New Year’s.”

“But in my working clothes, I’m more likely to attract a raving lunatic than a rich man.”

“Are you sure you don’t have some exotic perfume on? One of those musk oil scents?”

“Not a drop.”

“Well, this isn’t fair, then. A man like this Buckwalter fellow shouldn’t go around kissing women just for kicks. He could hurt their feelings.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s so rich he doesn’t need to worry about anyone’s feelings. Especially the feelings of his employees.”

It was the dumped pet thing all over again. The rich were rich enough to be selfish. They didn’t care about their pets. They didn’t care about other people. That was all there was to it. The normal courtesies of life didn’t apply to people like Robert Buckwalter.

Jenny looked over toward the barn. Mrs. Hargrove stood in the open doorway watching her anxiously. She was motioning for her to come back inside.

“I think they need me.” Jenny waved Mrs. Hargrove back into the warm barn. “It must be lobster time. Talk to you later.”

“Call me.”

“I will—wait.” She’d just thought of something. “When you talked to Robert Buckwalter earlier, did you tell him he was number one on the list or did you just say you were thinking of making him number one?”

“Oh, I couldn’t tell him he was number one. I said maybe, but I didn’t say it had been settled. That’s not decided. Besides, it’s confidential.”

“I see. Thanks. I’ll call you later.”

Jenny slipped the cell phone into the front pocket of her chef’s apron. Well, that explained everything. Robert Buckwalter thought a kiss might nudge him into that first-place position. Cozy up to the sister of someone with influence on the list and—presto—he’s at the top. It was a game as old as mankind.

The heat inside the barn enfolded Jenny when she stepped across the threshold. She rubbed her arms. She’d been so angry she hadn’t noticed the goose bumps that had crept up her arms. It was freezing outside.

“There you are, dear,” Mrs. Hargrove said. The older woman stepped toward her. “I was worried. I forgot to tell you that there’s been a threat of kidnapping tonight. Garth Elkton has cautioned all the women to stay inside.”

“A kidnapping? Here?”

Jenny looked around in astonishment. She couldn’t imagine a less likely place for a kidnapping. The teenagers had strung pink and white crepe paper from the rafters, making Jenny feel as if she were trapped in Candy Land. Dozens of ranchers and their wives sat at the long white tables at the back of the barn. Some of the ranchers had arms as big as wrestlers. What kind of army would it take to kidnap someone from here tonight?

“But who—?” Jenny asked.

“Garth Elkton got a strange call warning him that someone was out to get his sister.”

“Francis!” Jenny had met the woman earlier and liked her instantly. “But who would want to kidnap her?”

Mrs. Hargrove leaned close. “Some folks say it’s an old boyfriend of hers. But I don’t believe them. Flint Harris is a good boy. I always thought Dry Creek would be proud of him one day.”

Jenny looked over at the string of men standing along the far side of the barn. Most of them wore dark cowboy work boots and had the raw look of a new shave on their faces. “Which one is he?”

“Why, none of them, dear. Flint Harris hasn’t been in Dry Creek for almost twenty years now.”

“Well, then, surely he’s not a threat.”

Mrs. Hargrove shrugged. “I’ve never believed he was. Everyone’s so wound up about this cattle rustling that’s going on that we’re making fools of ourselves, I’m afraid. Folks are saying now that the FBI thinks that someone from Dry Creek is tipping off the cattle rustlers. Imagine that! It’s rattled a lot of folks, but I don’t set much store by it. It’ll all blow over. But it’s best that you be careful. If you need to go over to the café, let me know and I’ll get one of the ranch hands to go with you.”

Jenny nodded. “I think we have everything we need to get started.”

Steam from the lobsters kept the air inside the barn moist and Jenny could smell the coffee someone had set to brew.

Mrs. Buckwalter took charge, thanking everyone for coming and asking Matthew Curtis, the newly married minister, to say a blessing on the celebration meal. He agreed and asked everyone to join hands.

Jenny offered one hand to Mrs. Hargrove and the other to a young girl with rosy cheeks standing next to her.

The whole town of Dry Creek held hands and then closed their eyes.

“For the blessings You have given, we thank You, Lord,” the minister prayed. He held the hand of his new bride, a fresh-faced redhead that people had been calling Angel all night long. “For this food eaten with friends, we are most grateful. Keep us in Your love. Amen.”

“And thanks for my money, too,” the young girl at Jenny’s side whispered quietly, her eyes still squeezed shut.

Jenny hadn’t noticed that the girl wasn’t holding someone’s hand on the other side of her. Instead she was clutching a green piece of paper that looked like a check.

“Maybe you should put that with your coat.” Jenny nodded her head in the general direction of a few chairs near the door that were haphazardly piled with coats. “You wouldn’t want to lose your allowance.”

“I don’t get an allowance,” the girl whispered. “But I don’t need one now, because I’m rich.”

“We’ve got a lot to be grateful for.” Jenny smiled down at the girl. What did it matter if the girl kept her few dollars in her hand if it made her feel better?

“I’m especially grateful for him,” the girl whispered again.

Jenny followed the girl’s gaze and it led her straight to the tuxedoed back of—“Robert Buckwalter!” Jenny looked down at the girl in alarm. The sweet young thing’s face glowed in adoration. “What’s he done to you?”

Jenny looked at the broad shoulders of the man who was causing trouble. It wasn’t enough that he’d kissed Jenny and Mrs. Hargrove, he’d obviously kissed others, too.

Robert looked perfectly at ease, talking with a couple of teenage boys who were fidgeting with their ties. It almost looked like he was giving them a lesson in how to make a tie bearable.

Jenny wished he would turn around and face her. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying to scowl at a man’s back as it would be to scowl at his face.

Folding chairs had been pulled close to the long table. People everywhere were walking toward the chairs and sitting down.

Jenny looked over and caught the eye of one of the ranch hands. She nodded for him to begin serving the lobsters like they had arranged earlier.

“I’ll be right with you.” Jenny was in charge of bringing the melted butter to the table, but it would take a minute for the lobsters to make the rounds and she had something to do before she served it.

“Excuse me,” Jenny said. Her eyes were level with the back shoulder of Robert Buckwalter and she could feel the stiffness in her own spine. That poor innocent girl was no match for a man like this and Jenny felt she must protest his flirtation with her.

The man turned around. “Jenny!”

Jenny almost stumbled. The man said her name with joy.

“I know this is a party—” Jenny kept her eyes focused on Robert Buckwalter’s chin. She didn’t want to lose her nerve. She had stuck up for her younger siblings for years. She’d stick up for that young girl. “—and a dance at that. But you’re an adult and you have to know that a child—well, you’re old enough to be her father and I think you should remember that.”

“I’m old enough to be whose father?”

Jenny lifted her gaze from his chin to his eyes. If she didn’t know better, she would say he was puzzled. And his eyes were distracting. A clear sky blue. They made her dizzy and annoyed at the same time.

“All of them,” she snapped. “You’re old enough to be father to all of the kids here.”

“Well, that’s stretching it, but if it makes you feel better, I assure you I’m not father to anyone—especially no one in this room.”

“You shouldn’t kiss them then.”

Jenny kept her voice low. She hadn’t forgotten about the teenage boys who were standing close enough to hear what she was saying if she wasn’t careful.

Robert had no such need for privacy. “Kissing? When?”

Suddenly the air became supercharged.

“Kissing!” A teenage boy yelled out and then gave a piercing basketball whistle. “Hey everybody—he’s gonna kiss her again!”

Jenny paled and she looked back at Robert. His eyes had deepened from sky blue to a midnight blue. And he was starting to grin.

“You shouldn’t have mentioned kisses,” he said.

“What’s going on?” Jenny felt as if she’d landed in a science-fiction movie. She turned around. She was suddenly surrounded by twenty, maybe thirty teenagers and they were all noisily aiming cheap disposable cameras at her.

“I suppose we should blame my mother. She bought them the cameras so they could take pictures of the wildlife in Montana.”

“But what do they want with us? We don’t even live in Montana. I grew up in Seattle. I don’t even know what the wildlife here looks like. I’ve never seen an elk, or a mountain sheep, or—”

“I think,” Robert said, as he touched her shoulders and turned her around until she was facing him again, “they want to see this.”

Robert dipped his head toward her and Jenny’s heart stopped. She knew he meant to kiss her. It was obvious. But she couldn’t move. She meant to move. Her mind assured her of that. It was her feet. Her feet had betrayed her and turned to stone.

Robert’s lips met hers and Jenny’s feet melted. She could hardly stand. She put her arms on his shoulders more for support than anything.

Ahhh. It was sweet. Very sweet.

Jenny felt like she went to a distant place where there was nothing but this man kissing her. Everything else was fuzzy. Then she saw a bright light. And heard a faint click. Then another click. This is it, she thought. Her heart was giving out. The end was always described as coming with a bright light. She wasn’t sure about the clicking. She should have paid more attention in Sunday school. She bet Mrs. Hargrove knew about the clicking. Jenny only hoped it didn’t have anything to do with that other place. Could it be fire crackling? She really should have paid more attention.

Then the light wavered and Jenny blinked.

The kiss stopped.

She glanced up and saw his face. Robert Buckwalter looked as stunned as she felt.

“It’s the cameras,” Jenny finally whispered. She wasn’t dying, after all.

“I heard bells.”

“No, it was just the clicking.” Jenny pulled away from him slightly so she could check her feet.

Her feet would work, Jenny assured herself as she pulled away farther. She suddenly needed more room. “I’ve got to see to the butter.”

“Are you going for it again?” one of the teenage boys yelled out. “I’ve still got five shots left on my camera. Might as well fill it up.”

“Yeah, me, too,” another boy added.

“I heard bells,” Robert Buckwalter repeated slowly.

“You heard clicking,” Jenny said forcefully. She took a deep breath. “To you it sounded like bells. To me it sounded like the fires of…” She took another quick breath. “Just how gullible do you think I am? I’m not doing anything about that list, so you can just forget this—this—” Jenny waved her hand, but could not finish the sentence. This what? This earthquake? This landslide? Everything seemed more something than simply this kiss.

“Besides, I have the butter to serve,” Jenny said with dignity as she pulled herself away. She congratulated herself. Her feet worked perfectly well.

The lobsters were all eaten and the butter dishes empty before Robert felt free to escape from the party and sit on the steps leading out of the barn door.

He was a mess. Some love song was filling the barn with swaying rhythm and dozens of couples were dancing together. He should be dancing. He should be in there dancing with the woman who had turned him inside out, but he wasn’t. Jenny was bustling around making sure everyone had coffee. Everyone, that is, except him. He was sure she wouldn’t offer him any even if he stood in front of her like a beggar with an empty cup.

One thing was clear—Jenny had little use for Robert Buckwalter. What wasn’t clear was if she could love Bob instead.

“Mind if I join you?”

Robert looked up to see Matthew Curtis, the minister, coming out of the barn.

“Help yourself.” Robert moved over on the steps. The steps were wooden and had been swept clean of snow even though they were still cold enough to make a man notice when he was changing spots. “There’s room for both of us on these steps.”

“I could get us chairs from inside,” Matthew offered as he turned to go back in the barn. “That’s what I should do—get us some nice folding chairs.”

“I haven’t seen anyone else use folding chairs.”

“Well, we don’t, but you’re—”

“I’m what?”

Robert wondered how much trouble he could get in if he took a swing at a minister. “Go ahead, tell me. I’m what?”

The night air was damp. Snow wasn’t falling, but the air was heavy with the promise of a blizzard later. Clouds covered most of the stars and half of the moon.

Matthew turned and stepped down next to Robert. “I’d guess right now you’re a man who’s just feeling bad. Want to talk about it?”

Robert realized he did. “You might not understand how it is with me.”

“No, probably not,” Matthew agreed as he settled onto the steps. “Can’t say I’ve ever had the problems of a rich man.”

“What makes you think it’s got to do with money?”

Matthew shrugged. “Just a guess. You’re rich. That’s got to be a burden—although I’d guess it’s a little less of a burden after tonight.”

Robert looked at him.

“All those rolls of film you bought from the kids must have set you back a pretty penny. I heard them saying you were paying one thousand dollars for each picture they got of you kissing Jenny. I heard them cameras each take twenty-four shots. One of the kids is still kicking himself for taking three shots of the decorations before you started your kissing. Can’t blame him. I almost got a camera myself and started taking pictures. That’s going to be a half-million-dollar kiss when you’ve paid off all the kids.”

“Does Jenny know about this?” Robert wasn’t so sure he wanted her to find out about this when she was carrying around a pot of hot coffee. She might be inclined to throw some of it his way without benefit of a cup.

“No. The kids are keeping quiet like you asked. They’re tiptoeing around her. But they’re so excited, they’re going to burst if they don’t tell someone. I’d guess a few of the adults know. And they’re all wondering why—”

“It seemed like a good idea.” Robert paused. The air was cold enough to make puff clouds of his breath. “It started with Bambi. I thought she should go to college someday.”

Matthew nodded. “You’re a generous man. That should make you feel good.”

“It should.”

“But it doesn’t?”

“It’s not enough. The way I see it, I’m missing something.”

Matthew nodded. “Go on.”

“I have too many friends. No, that’s not right. They’re not really friends. They’re only people who like me because I’m rich. Because I have all the toys. Each one of those kids in there has a better friend and is a better friend to someone than I am. That’s a hard realization to come to. If I died, it’s not me people would miss, it’s my toys.”

“You planning on dying?”

“Well, no, not anytime soon.” Robert realized it was hard to pin down the hollow feeling he had. “But if I did—”

Matthew nodded again. “What’s troubling you is that you need to be part of the kingdom and you’re not.”

Robert stopped. He’d heard there were militia groups in Montana. He wondered if he’d stumbled across one. They’d sure love to recruit a rich man like him who could buy them enough ammunition to start a small war.

“The kingdom?” Robert asked cautiously.

“Sure, the kingdom of God,” Matthew said calmly. “It’s all that will fill up that empty feeling. When you’re ready, we’ll talk about it.”

“I don’t think it has to do with God.”

Matthew grinned as he stood. “I know. You think it all has to do with that cute chef inside who’s in need of a dance. If you don’t ask her, somebody else is going to beat you to it.”

“She won’t dance with me.”

Matthew grinned even wider. “Well, maybe not the first time you ask her. But you’re Robert Buckwalter the Third. Way I hear it, you know about all there is about charming women.”

The minister stepped inside the barn and Robert stood up and brushed himself off before following him.

The minister was right. He did know how to charm women. He just wasn’t sure charm would work with someone like Jenny.

The music was softer now. Even the kids were slowing down.

Robert went over to the refreshment table and got a glass of punch to work up his nerve. Jenny was still flitting about filling up coffee cups for those people who were sitting around the edge of the dance space and talking. He’d studied her pattern. She needed to return to the refreshment table to refill her thermal pot after every tenth cup. She was due back any minute now.

When she came back, he would ask her to dance with him.

Chapter Four

“W ell, I hope you’re happy now,” Jenny said as she set the thermal coffeepot down on the refreshment table and glared at Robert Buckwalter. “Throwing your money around like it’s confetti.”

Robert stiffened. He looked around at the teenagers dancing. He hoped no one had told her what he was buying with the money. None of the dancers were looking at him in apology. “No one else is complaining.”

“Of course they’re not complaining.” Jenny turned to the big coffeepot and twisted the knob on its spigot so it would slowly fill the smaller thermal coffeepot. The mellow smell of brewed coffee drifted up from the pot. She looked up and continued her conversation. “What do you expect? They’re teenagers. They love money.”

“Money has its uses.”

Jenny switched off the knob. The small pot was full. And she was tired to the bone. She’d been a fool. There for a blinding moment she’d thought Robert Buckwalter was a regular kind of a guy who just happened to be rich. What kind of rabbit hole had she fallen down? She should know better. No one just happened to be rich. Money changed everyone. “Not everything in the world revolves around money.”