Christmas On The Range

“I’ll turn into the frog at midnight,” Ivy teased.

“Fat chance.”

“All right. I’ll come by at five on Friday. And thanks, Marcella. Really.”

The older woman wrinkled her nose affectionately. “You just tell everybody who made that dress for you, and we’re even.”

“You bet I will!”

* * *

Hayes wasn’t wearing his uniform. He had on a dark suit with a white cotton shirt and a blue patterned tie. His shoes were so shiny that they reflected the porch light at Mrs. Brown’s rooming house.

Ivy had just returned in the little used VW she’d bought and learned to drive two years earlier from Marcella’s boutique, where she’d been dressed and her long blond hair had been put up in a curly coiffure. She had on just enough makeup to make her look sensational. She was shocked at the results. She’d never really tried to look good. Her mirror told her that she did.

Hayes gave her a long, appreciative stare. “You look lovely,” he said quietly. He produced a plastic container with a cymbidium orchid inside. He offered it with a little shrug. “She said that women wear them on their wrists these days.”

“Yes,” she said, “so they don’t get crushed when we dance. You didn’t have to do this, Hayes,” she said, taking the orchid out of the box. “But thank you. It’s just beautiful.”

“I thought you might like it. Ready to go?”

She nodded, pulling the door closed behind her. She had a small evening bag that Marcella had loaned her to go with the dress. She really did feel like Cinderella.

* * *

The community center was full to the brim with local citizens supporting the animal shelter. Two of the veterinarians who volunteered at the animal clinic were there with their spouses, and most of the leading lights of Jacobsville turned up as well. Justin and Shelby Ballenger came with their three sons. The eldest was working at the feedlot with Justin during the summer and working on his graduate degree in animal husbandry the rest of the year. The other two boys were still in high school, but ready to graduate. The three of them looked like their father, although the youngest had Shelby’s blue-gray eyes. The Tremayne brothers and the Hart boys came with their wives. Micah Steele and his Callie came, and so did the Doctors Coltrain, Lou and her husband “Copper.” J. D. Langley and Fay, and Matt Caldwell and his wife Leslie, and Cash Grier with his Tippy were also milling around in the crowd. Ivy spotted Judd Dunn and his wife, Christabel, in a corner, looking as much in love as when they’d first married.

“Amazing, isn’t it, that the hall could hold all these people?” Hayes remarked as he led Ivy up the steps into the huge log structure.

“It really is. I’ll bet they’ll be able to add a whole new kennel with what they make tonight.”

He smiled down at her. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”

They bumped into another couple, one of whom was Willie Carr, who owned the bakery. Then she remembered Rachel’s odd message that she was supposed to give him.

“Willie, Rachel asked me to tell you something,” she said, frowning as she struggled to remember exactly what it was.

Willie, tall and dark, looked uncomfortable. He laughed. “Now why would Rachel be sending me messages?” he asked, glancing at his wife. “I’m not cheating on you, baby, honest!”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t that sort of message,” Ivy said quickly. “It was something about a shipment of flour you were expecting that didn’t arrive.”

Willie cleared his throat. “I don’t know anything about any shipment of flour that would go to New York City, Ivy,” he assured her. “Rachel must have been talking about somebody else.”

“Yes, I guess she must have. Sorry,” she said with a sheepish smile. “She’s incoherent most of the time lately.”

“I’d say she is, if she’s sending me messages about flour!” Willie agreed. He nodded at her and then at Hayes, and drew his wife back out onto the dance floor.

Hayes caught her hand and pulled her aside. “What shipment of flour was Rachel talking about?” he asked suddenly, and he wasn’t smiling.

“I really don’t know. She just said to tell Willie one was missing. She doesn’t even eat sweets...”

“How long ago did she tell you to give Willie that message?” he persisted.

“About two days ago,” she said. She frowned. “Why?”

Hayes took her by the hand and drew her along the dance floor to where Cash Grier was standing at the punch bowl with his gorgeous redheaded wife, Tippy.

“How’s it going?” Cash greeted them, shaking hands with Hayes.

Hayes stepped closer. “Rachel sent Willie over there—” he jerked his head toward Willie, who was oblivious to the attention he was getting “—a message.”

Cash was all business at once. “What message?”

Hayes prompted Ivy to repeat it.

“Code?” Cash asked Hayes.

The other man nodded. “It was two days ago that Ivy got the message.”

Cash’s dark eyes twinkled. “What a coincidence.”

“Yes.”

“Which proves that connection we were discussing earlier.” He turned to Ivy. “If your sister sends any more messages to Willie, or anyone else, by you, tell Hayes, would you?”

She was all at sea. “Rachel’s mixed up in something, isn’t she?”

“Not necessarily,” Hayes said at once. “But she knows someone who is, we think. Don’t advertise this, either.”

Ivy shook her head. “I’m no gossip.” She grimaced. “Rachel’s getting mixed up with some rich man, and she’s trying to get away from her boyfriend, who deals drugs. The rich man is married. I’m afraid it’s all going to end badly.”

“People who get involved with drugs usually do end badly,” Hayes said somberly.

“Yes, they do,” Ivy had to agree. She smiled at Tippy, who was wearing a green and white dress made of silk and chiffon. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks,” Tippy replied, smiling. “So do you, Ivy. Marcella made my dress, you know. She made yours, too, didn’t she?”

Ivy nodded, grinning. “She’s amazing.”

“I think so, too,” Tippy agreed. “I’ve sent photos of her work to some friends of mine in New York. Don’t tell her. It’s a surprise.”

“If anything comes of it, she’ll be so thrilled. That was sweet of you.”

Tippy waved away the compliment. “She’s so talented, she deserves a break.”

“Well, I came here to dance,” Hayes informed them, taking Ivy’s hand.

Cash pursed his lips. “Really?”

“I know I’m not in your league, Grier,” Hayes said dourly, “but I can do the Macarena, if we can get somebody to play it.”

“You can?” Cash chuckled. “By a strange coincidence, so can I. And I taught her.” He indicated Tippy.

“In that case,” Hayes replied, grinning, “may the best sheriff win.”

And he went off to talk to the bandleader.

The band stopped suddenly, talked among the members and they all started grinning when Hayes came back to wrap his arm around Ivy.

“One, two, three, four,” the bandleader counted off, and the band broke into the Macarena.

Ivy knew the steps, having watched a number of important people dance it on television some years before. She wasn’t the only one who remembered. The dance floor filled up with laughing people.

Hayes performed the quick hand motions with expertise, laughing as hard as Ivy was. They got through the second chorus and Ivy almost collapsed into Hayes’s strong arms, resting her cheek against his chest.

“I’m out of shape!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “I need to get out more!”

“Just what I was thinking,” he replied, smiling down at her.

Ivy happened to glance toward the doorway at that moment. Her gaze met a pair of pale blue eyes that were glittering like a diamondback rattlesnake coiling. Ivy’s heart ran away as Stuart York gave her a look that could have fried bread.

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