Читать книгу A Rich Man for Dry Creek and A Hero For Dry Creek: A Rich Man For Dry Creek / A Hero For Dry Creek - Janet Tronstad - Страница 9

J enny left the cell phone with Mrs. Buckwalter and walked over to the refreshment table to see how much coffee was left in the big pot. She had a feeling punch wouldn’t be enough for the men when they came back.

“The sheriff’s coming back as soon as he can,” Mrs. Buckwalter reported as she joined Jenny over by the table. “Which probably won’t be soon enough to do any good so I called in some of the other authorities around.”

Jenny looked up. “I didn’t know there was anyone else around here but the county sheriffs.”

Mrs. Buckwalter grunted. “There’s some fool FBI agent riding around on a horse.”

“On a horse!”

“And his boss is here in some kind of a Jeep. They both travel a bit unconventionally I’m afraid but—”

“I don’t care if they get here in a flying saucer,” Jenny said as she lifted the smaller pot of coffee to start making the rounds. “Just as long as they get here fast.”

“You’re really worried, aren’t you?” Mrs. Buckwalter looked at Jenny as though she were seeing her for the first time.

“Of course.” Jenny blushed. “Anyone would be.”

“But you’re particularly worried about my son.”

“Only because I know him a little better than the others.”

“I see.” Mrs. Buckwalter started to smile. “You know, I’ve never known my son to kiss a woman on the cheek before.”

Jenny grimaced. She didn’t need a reminder. If she ever had any illusions of being irresistible, that kiss certainly dampened them. It wasn’t a passionate kiss. A Boy Scout could have done better kissing his grandmother. “I think he’s just trying to be democratic. Being a regular Joe.”

Mrs. Buckwalter looked up questioningly.

“I mean Bob. He wanted me to call him Bob. I think he’s trying to be one with the people or something. And he focused on me because I’m—” she straightened her shoulders “—because I’m of the class that works for a living.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with working, dear. I haven’t raised Robert to be a snob.”

“No, but I can’t imagine he has many friends who scrub vegetables for a living. I mean, sure he knows people who work, but they’re probably stockbrokers or lawyers or something classy.”

“My dear, you’re a very classy chef. I dare anyone to make a crème brûlée that surpasses yours,” Mrs. Buckwalter said indignantly. “But I don’t think it’s that at all. I’m beginning to think it’s something quite different. He did ask me if I’d brought the family album with me. I was thinking it was because my anniversary would have been next week if my husband had lived. Robert knew I’d have it with me for that day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Mrs. Buckwalter smiled wistfully. “My husband’s been gone a long time now, but the album brings it all back to me. All three generations of Buckwalters are in the album—my husband and I especially. There are pictures right up to the final anniversary we celebrated seven years ago. My husband just kept adding pages to the thing. The Buckwalter men have a knack for knowing right away the women they want to marry. My husband has a picture of the first time we met—at a charity auction back in 1955. We were both there with other people, but he managed a picture anyway. We were saving something at the time. A local park, I think. Long before it was fashionable to save anything. There we were. It’s a picture I treasure.”

“What a lovely way to remember the past.” Jenny saw the soft light in Mrs. Buckwalter’s eyes and envied the woman. The older woman didn’t talk often about her late husband, but Jenny had wondered before if she thought of him. She frequently had that same half smile on her face when she seemed lost in thought.

“They’re coming back!” one of the teenage girls yelled from the hayloft. Several of the girls had climbed the steps up to the loft so they could watch the road from the small window there. “I see lights coming this way! And a horse!”

“Thank God,” Mrs. Buckwalter said, all memories gone from her face. She turned to Jenny. “Can I help with the coffee, dear? Or anything else? My experience with crises is that they always make people hungry and thirsty.”

Jenny laughed. “I’ve got plenty of coffee. And there’s enough of that cake left for another round.”

Mrs. Buckwalter was right. The ranch hands were the first ones through the door, their boisterous good humor relieving the last of the fears of the women inside.

“We got them. Everyone’s back safe,” one stocky man stopped to announce on his way to the refreshment table. “But it’s colder than blazes out there. Hope there’s some coffee left.”

Jenny started pouring coffee into the thick porcelain mugs that had been brought over from the restaurant. Thankfully the restaurant had been well stocked with dishes when the young engaged couple decided to reopen it this past Christmas. Linda and Duane, the couple, had volunteered the use of all the dishes for tonight’s party and Jenny believed they would use every single one of them. There would be an enormous number of dishes to wash at some point and, as far as she could tell, there wasn’t an automatic dishwasher anywhere around.

The barn door was opened and a damp cold filled the dance floor. Not that anyone was thinking about dancing. The music had stopped when the men left earlier and only the sound of muffled talking was heard now.

“The guy on the horse is bringing in the kidnappers,” one short rancher offered to Jenny as he held his cup out to be filled. “He had some fancy moves, I don’t mind telling you.”

“The FBI agent?” Jenny was trying not to watch the door as it kept opening, but she couldn’t help but notice that Robert wasn’t back yet.

“Don’t know what he is.” The rancher picked up a stuffed mushroom as he held his cup in the other hand. “Didn’t say nothing about who he was. Buckwalter seemed to know him, though. They made a fine team.”

The rancher put the mushroom in his mouth.

“Glad it all worked out.” Jenny wondered if they’d need more paper napkins.

The rancher didn’t seem inclined to leave the refreshment table. He picked up a carved carrot piece and eyed Jenny shyly. “That fella Buckwalter—noticed you dancing with him. Are you—you know—”

Jenny looked up from the napkins.

“—you know, involved?”

“Mr. Buckwalter and me?”

The rancher beamed. “Guess not if you still call him Mister. I figured you weren’t—what with all his money and everything. But wanted to be sure. Never held with moving in on another man’s territory, not even when anyone could see the two of you are from different worlds. Guess you’re free then.”

Jenny started to protest, but the man didn’t stop to draw a breath.

“My name’s Chester, by the way. The boys call me Harry on account of Chest. You know, Chest, Hairy—”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“Not that there’s any problem. With my chest, I mean. I got just the right amount of hair. You got nothing to worry about with me. I got me n-o-o defects. Just a regular kind of guy. That’s me.”

“I’m sure you’re a fine man,” Jenny moved a platter of toast squares to the back of the table. She’d take those over to the kitchen and make some new ones. She looked up at Chester. “But I’m too busy right now to visit.”

“Maybe later?”

“There’ll be cleanup later. Dishes.”

The rancher looked dismayed. “I suppose I could help, even though with the touch of arthritis I get in my joints—well, I’m likely to be more trouble than good to you.”

Jenny looked up and smiled. “I’ll do fine with the dishes. Thanks anyway.”

The barn door opened this time to a loud grumbling noise. A steady stream of frigid air blew into the barn making the pink streamers hanging from the beams start to sway.

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees, but no one complained about the cold. Everyone was looking at the three unkempt men who reluctantly stomped into the barn, swearing as they were forced by their captors to come inside.

Jenny recognized two of the three men who were holding the shoulders of the prisoners. Garth Elkton was one. His top ranch hand was another. The third man, a stranger who obviously hadn’t been to the dance because he wasn’t in a suit, seemed to be in charge.

Jenny looked past all those men and saw nothing but the snow falling in the black night outside. The teenage boys had come inside minutes ago. The ranch hands all seemed to be back. Men and women were giving each other quick hugs of relief. A dusting of snow had settled on the walkway outside the barn and it was covered with a score or more of large boot prints. There were no other figures standing in the doorway waiting to come inside.

“That Buckwalter fella must be still parking the bus—if that’s who you’re looking for,” the rancher who had stood at the table offered quietly. “He was the only one who knew how to drive the bus after the kids stripped the gears. Guess it’s on account of him flying planes. We would have had to walk back if it weren’t for him. He nursed the bus all the way back. He’s not a bad guy for a rich man.”

Then a final man appeared in the doorway and Jenny relaxed. Robert. I mean, she corrected herself, Mr. Buckwalter, was back safe. “No, he’s not a bad guy.”

“I wish you luck with him,” the rancher offered quietly.

“Oh, no, I’m not—I mean there’s no need—”

Just then Jenny heard the cell phone ring. The ring was faint and hard to hear over the talking of the ranchers and teenagers. She remembered Mrs. Buckwalter making a call so she assumed the older woman still had the phone and she was right.

“This is for you,” Mrs. Buckwalter shouted to Jenny as she moved through the couples who were now brushing snow off of each other. The older woman was weaving between couples and getting closer to the refreshment table but she continued to yell, “Something about a pudding order that’s late—”

Jenny winced. She was a full ten yards away from Robert. But she could hear his low chuckle over the murmured conversation of everyone else.

“Tell your sister hi,” Robert called over to her. “And tell her I want a case of chocolate pudding with sprinkles if they have such a thing.”

“Your sister sells pudding, dear?” Mrs. Buckwalter asked as she handed the phone to Jenny.

“She will be if she’s not careful,” Jenny said as she took the phone and stepped behind the refreshment table where it was quieter.

“I heard that,” Jenny’s sister said when Jenny put the phone to her ear. “And rest assured, I won’t need to be looking for a new job. My boss is very happy with what I’ve discovered.”

“And what would that be?” Jenny kept her voice low so that no one else could hear. Six or seven of the teenagers had drifted over to the refreshment table and were staring down at the punch bowl trying to decide whether or not to scoop some of the watered-down beverage into their plastic cups.

“Well, for starters, I know where Robert Buckwalter the Third is.”

“Any number of people know that. It’s not a secret.”

“Well, none of the other tabloids know where he is these days. And I know something’s up. I told my boss that the man was very touchy about talking to the press.”

“He thought you were a pudding salesman, for Pete’s sake. It had nothing to do with the press.”

“Still, I think he’s hiding something. Some secret.”

“Well, if he is, it’s his to keep. I, for one, am not going to ask him another thing about his life.”

“Oh, you’ve been talking to him?”

“No, I haven’t been talking to him.”

“Oh.” The disappointment in the voice of Jenny’s sister was more personal than professional. She was suddenly Jenny’s little sister again. “I’m sorry. I thought maybe after that kiss…”

Jenny couldn’t help herself. She darted a quick look over her shoulder to be sure that no one was close enough to hear. “Well, he did ask me to dance.”

“You danced with him!” Jenny’s sister shrieked.

“You danced with Robert Buckwalter the Third! Wait until I tell Mom! You really danced with him.”

“It was a short dance,” Jenny was forced to admit. “The kidnapping sort of got everyone distracted.”

“Kidnapping! Somebody kidnapped him! Why didn’t you say so! Now that’s a newsbreak.”

“No, no, not Robert. It was someone else. He didn’t have anything to do with it. It’s all tied up with some rustling that’s going on.”

“Oh.” Jenny’s sister paused. “Rustling? You mean for cows? You’re sure the kidnappers weren’t really out for him and they just grabbed the wrong person or something. I mean if you were going to kidnap anyone, he’d be the one to pick. He’s got more money than the president of the United States. He certainly has more money than some cow.”

“Yes, I’m sure. He wasn’t the target.”

Jenny sensed someone standing slightly behind her before she heard the man clear his throat. She looked up.

“Make sure she knows I didn’t even know the kidnap victims,” Robert said firmly. Snowflakes were melting on his hair and he still looked as if he’d stepped out of the pages of a catalog. “Make sure she knows the kidnapping had nothing to do with me. It would have happened if I hadn’t been here.”

“That’s what I told her. I said you wouldn’t have even gone with the men if it hadn’t been for the bus. I mean your mother rented it and all.”

“Well, I don’t know about that.” Robert frowned. How is it that he had never noticed Jenny’s eyes turned a snapping black when she was annoyed? Fascinating. He wondered if she was annoyed with her sister or with him. Maybe she thought he should have ridden to the rescue on a horse like the FBI agent instead of worrying about a big old bus. He guessed a bus wasn’t very dashing. If that was it, he needed to explain. “I would like to think I would go to anyone’s aid if they were being kidnapped. It wasn’t just the bus.”

“What’s this about some bus?” Jenny’s sister asked on the phone. “Was it a school bus? Were there kids in danger? That would make a good angle.”

“There is no angle. Robert—I mean, Mr. Buckwalter—was just driving.”

Robert frowned deeper. He wasn’t sure he liked the turn this conversation was taking. Granted, he didn’t want his life splattered all over some tabloid in the morning, but he didn’t know that he cared to have Jenny dismiss his efforts so lightly.

“It wasn’t just easy driving,” Robert finally said. “The gears had been stripped. I had to get everyone back here. It was cold enough out there to freeze to death if we didn’t get back.”

There, that should let her know his actions were important, he thought.

“What’s that?” Jenny’s sister spoke forcefully in Jenny’s ear. “Put the receiver out more. I need to hear. I got the part about the kids in the school bus almost freezing to death. This is great. My boss will love this story.”

“There is no story,” Jenny said firmly.

“But what about the children?”

“There are no children.”

“Well, then, what was the school bus doing? Work with me here, Jenny. It’s not like this won’t hit the local papers anyway. School bus kind of stuff always does. This is practically real news.”

“Listen, to me—there are no children. There was no school bus.”

“Well, then, give me a little something. Right this minute—what is Robert Buckwalter the Third doing?”

“He’s just—” Jenny looked up at Robert. The snow had melted and his hair was wet now. His cheeks were still red and his nose was white. His hands shivered slightly as he held a cup of coffee in them. “He’s just warming up.”

“Ohhh, that’s a good quote. Can I use that? Sources close to the man said that he is warming up and looking to be hot again.”

“Absolutely not!”

“Well, then, can I talk to him? Ask him if I can do an interview.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t—”

“Just ask him. Please.”

“Oh, all right.” Jenny began as she put her hand over the receiver so her sister could not hear the conversation. “I know you won’t want to—that’s why I only said I’d ask. Not that you’d agree.”

Robert watched the blush creep up Jenny’s face again. Her eyes had lightened again until he could see the caramel highlights in them.

“I’ll do it,” Robert said.

“But I haven’t asked—”

“Oh.”

“Not that you might not want to anyway. You might be able to sway the decision on the bachelor list and if that’s what you want—”

“Did she give any hint of that?” Robert’s face came to attention. “That she’d be willing to speak to the editors and plead my case?”

Robert wasn’t sure that Jenny’s sister could do anything to get him off that list, but if she was anything like Jenny he didn’t want to underestimate her.

“I’ll let you ask.” Jenny held out the phone. She was defeated. Why try and protect the privacy of Robert Buckwalter when he obviously wanted people all across the country to read about him as they stood in line to buy groceries? She suddenly wished she had told her sister he was hot.

Robert took the phone from Jenny’s hand.

A faint siren filtered into the barn and could be heard even over the commotion caused by the three kidnappers being tied up on the barn floor against their wishes.

“I want to negotiate,” Robert said into the phone. “Agree to my terms and we’ll talk.”

Jenny looked up. “You have terms?”

Robert nodded emphatically to Jenny as he continued speaking into the phone. “That’s right. I’ll cooperate if you cooperate. And I assure you you’ll get your story somehow.” He listened and then grinned. “Yes, something with pictures. It might take me a day or two to work it out first. Talk to the editors. See what they say.”

Jenny felt stiffer than she could remember feeling for years. Terms. He had terms. He was planning to sell his soul and become an underwear model.

Jenny almost missed the barn door opening once again. If it wasn’t for the siren growing louder and then stopping, she wouldn’t have paid much attention. But then she heard the booming voice of Sheriff Carl Wall.

“Where are they?” the sheriff demanded as he stomped into the room carrying two large suitcases.

“Careful with those.” A platinum blonde stepped daintily behind him. “Those are alligator skin cases.”

Jenny had never seen such a woman. Now there was somebody who could get away with modeling underwear. She was tall, thin and reeked of style. She was just a touch haughty and Jenny knew without a doubt that the hair color she wore was not her own.

The FBI agent seemed to share Jenny’s suspicions that the woman was not one of the locals and he walked over to the woman. “I’ll need to see some identification.”

“Identification?” The woman stopped. She managed to look very offended. “I don’t need any identification. I’m with him.”

The woman pointed at Robert Buckwalter.

Jenny saw Robert flinch. He’d quietly pressed the off button on the cell phone, hanging up on her sister. That meant that whatever was going to be said now was something that Robert wanted to be kept from the press.

This is it, Jenny braced herself. That woman spells a secret if anyone does.

“Now, Laurel, you know that’s not—”

The FBI agent appeared to have no patience. He looked at Robert. “She’s with you?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘with’—I know Laurel, of course. Our families are, well…My mother knows her better—so, no, I wouldn’t say ‘with.’”

“It was ‘with’ enough for you on Christmas!” Laurel staged a pout that would have done justice to a Hollywood starlet.

Jenny nodded to herself. Of course.

“I didn’t see you on Christmas!” Robert protested. It was colder than an Arctic winter inside this barn and he was starting to sweat. “I haven’t seen you for months!”

“Well, maybe not this Christmas,” Laurel agreed prettily. “You were a naughty boy and didn’t come to my party. And here I’d counted on you.”

Jenny started to breathe again. He hadn’t seen her for months.

“I never said I would come,” Robert said wearily.

He’d never said he would come. Jenny started to sing inside.

“Don’t worry, I forgive you. I figure we have lots and lots of Christmases to spend together.” Laurel stepped close and smiled at Robert confidently. “Laurel knows these things.”

Jenny dropped the teaspoon she held in her hand. She wondered if Laurel did know these things. If the other woman did, she was ten steps ahead of Jenny who couldn’t seem to figure out much about anything.