Читать книгу Her Montana Cowboy - Valerie Hansen - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Ryan joined Bobbi Jo at her horse trailer, took the time to properly store her saddle and bridle, then fed and watered the horses for her before following his nose and sauntering over to the picnic grounds.

Someone had covered a bunch of long wooden tables with white paper to serve as disposable tablecloths. Centerpieces displaying tiny flags, red and blue flowers and ribbons sat on each, while a bank of serving tables held enough food for the entire town, and then some.

The aroma of barbecued burgers and hot dogs mingled with that of baked beans, making his mouth water. Cold potato salad and coleslaw finished the main course, while several men were busy in a separate area slicing watermelon and offering it to the revelers filing past the dessert table.

Not one to hang out with only rodeo contestants the way most of his friends did, he freely mingled, chatting amiably as he filled a foam plate. Because he was concentrating on the food, Ryan failed to notice who happened to be dishing up coleslaw.

When his server’s hand stopped in midmotion, he looked up—and into the widest, bluest eyes he’d seen since he’d noticed the same young woman watching the parade.

He grinned at her. “Yes.”

“Um, yes what?” she asked, remaining immobile.

“Yes, I’d like some slaw and yes, I’d also like to know your name.”

She would have plopped the spoonful of cabbage into his hot beans if Ryan had not hurriedly turned his plate.

“Easy, there. Don’t make me spill the beans.”

“What?” Her cheeks flamed. “Oh, sorry.”

“Okay. Now, what’s your name?”

“Julie.”

“Pleased to meet you, Julie. I’m Ryan. Ryan Travers.”

From behind him came a testy “Hey, quit holdin’ up the line. Other folks are hungry.”

Ryan nodded politely, balancing his plate on his palm and touching the brim of his hat with his free hand. “Guess I’d better move along. I’ll be sittin’ right over there by the watermelons, Miss Julie, in case you want to join me later.”

“Aren’t you going to eat with the other cowboys? Dad reserved a couple of tables for all of you.”

“I’d just as soon make myself comfortable where I don’t have to worry about impressing anybody. It’s so crowded over there nobody will miss me.”

Although she didn’t comment, didn’t even smile, he got the feeling she’d do her best to at least stop by before he was done eating. Why he’d invited her was almost as much a puzzle to him as her obvious personal interest. He’d chosen the life of a traveler a long time ago and, although he was no longer a rookie, he was far from ready to retire at twenty-seven. Given the ages of many of his fellow riders, he probably had ten more good years in him, provided he didn’t suffer any bad injuries.

That was the main drawback with earning a living as a rodeo rider. Every time the chute opened, he stood a chance of being hurt. Maybe even crippled. Or killed. He never allowed himself to dwell on worst-case scenarios, but they lurked in the back of his mind just the same.

Which was one of the reasons he avoided romantic entanglements. That, and the conviction he didn’t deserve the kind of lasting happiness he’d seen some of his ­buddies find along the way. There were too many dark shadows in his past, too many sins for which he’d never forgive himself, let alone share with a naive, innocent woman like Julie Shaw. Her daddy was the town mayor. That pretty much said it all.

Ryan sighed, unwrapped his plastic fork and dug into his food. Sure, it was a boost to his ego to have a pretty girl notice him, but that didn’t mean he intended to take her interest seriously. He’d tell her about his rodeo career, impress her properly, then bid her goodbye the way he always did when he met someone interesting on the road.

That was one of the perks of traveling from rodeo to rodeo. Nobody expected him to hang around, so there were no hurt feelings when he left town. His life was simple. Fun. Rewarding when he won and tolerable if he happened to finish out of the money, which, thankfully, didn’t happen too often.

If the time ever came when he wasn’t winning regularly and building up his bank account enough to make everything worthwhile, maybe he’d hang up his spurs and invest in property where he could raise good bucking stock. Until then, he’d keep riding and choosing his venues to turn the best profit. That was one of the benefits of belonging to the PRCA. Their organization provided plenty of opportunities all over the country to compete for high stakes.

Ryan sensed a presence behind him and gave the front brim of his Stetson a poke with one finger to raise it so he could look up more easily. It was her! Julie. And she was obviously planning to stay because she was balancing a laden plate of her own.

He smiled and rose as best he could in the confines of the attached bench. “Ma’am. Can I fetch you a drink? The lemonade’s real good.”

“Yes, please. If you don’t mind.”

“No problem. Just keep an eye on my food for me. I’ll be back in two shakes.”

“Of a lamb’s tail,” Julie added, blushing and averting her gaze. “I raise sheep for their wool.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Her head snapped around and she stared at him. “You have?”

“Uh-huh. Stay put. I’ll be right back and you can tell me more about it.”

It was all Ryan could do to keep from laughing as he turned and headed for the lemonade. Clearly, Julie was used to being disparaged for her choice of livestock. Little wonder, since she lived in cattle country. If his vested interests had been in ranching, he might feel the same. However, because he was only passing through, it made no difference what kind of damage her flock did to the grazing lands thereabouts. After all, her daddy was a cattleman as well as a local politician. Chances were, he had enough influence to keep Jasper Gulch ranchers from running her out of town on a rail.

Ryan’s grin broadened as he made his way back to his table with a plastic cup of cold lemonade. Julie’s story was likely to be interesting. And she was certainly easy on the eyes. This promised to be a really nice afternoon. One he was looking forward to.

* * *

If someone had asked Julie how long she’d been sitting there, talking to the fascinating rodeo cowboy, she’d have said it had only been a short time. That was why, when the PA system sounded off, inviting revelers to gather at an old wooden bandstand at the edge of the main picnic area, she was astounded. One glance at her watch confirmed that she’d lost track of time.

“Uh-oh. I’m supposed to be with my family when my father makes his speech.”

“About the celebration, you mean?”

“That’s part of it. There’s also a time capsule buried behind the stage. It was put there during the christening of Jasper Gulch a hundred years ago and everybody’s pretty excited about digging it up and seeing what’s in it.”

“Surely you must already know. I mean, didn’t the town’s founding fathers write it all down back then?”

Julie shrugged. “Beats me. I suppose they must have, but there’s no telling what happened to that record. A lot of artifacts were ruined back in the fifties when a sprinkler system in city hall malfunctioned and everything in storage molded.”

“What a shame.” Ryan got to his feet and began to gather up their trash. “You go join your family. I’ll take care of this.”

“Nonsense,” she said, reaching for her plate. “I can clean up my own mess.”

“I’m sure you can. But you have somewhere to go and I don’t. I’m in no hurry.”

“Aren’t you riding today?”

“Not until after three. I have plenty of time.” He patted his flat stomach. “I ate too much anyway. Need to go walk some of this off.”

“You said you compete in rough-stock events, right?”

“Yup. Bareback and saddle bronc first, then bulls last, right before the fireworks.”

“I’ll try to be there to watch you.”

“Good. Maybe your good vibes will help me win.”

Pausing, she decided to speak her mind. “I don’t believe in that kind of influence. Skill matters, of course, but I prefer to trust the Lord.”

The expression on his face told her more than she wanted to know, particularly when he said, “Afraid I can’t agree. It’s just as likely that we’re all responsible for our own fate.” He swept his arm in an arc as soon as he’d dropped their refuse in a trash barrel. “Look at all this. Do you honestly believe a divine Creator is keeping track?”

Hands fisted on her hips, she faced him. “Yes. I do.”

It distressed her to see him shaking his head. “Not me. I used to think it was a possibility once, but I’ve learned different.”

“That is so sad.”

“More than you know,” Ryan mumbled.

He had not been facing her fully when he’d spoken, but she could still make out the words. For all his bravado and flirting and apparent sense of self-worth, he was as lost as one of her lambs in a snowstorm. Her heart went out to him.

Lost is exactly what he is, she concluded.

So treat him kindly and demonstrate God’s love followed as clearly as if her pastor had been standing there, preaching right to her.

Was that why she’d met Ryan Travers? Was she supposed to minister to him? Or was she simply so enamored of this particular man that she was inventing reasons to hang around him? If her former, elderly minister, Pastor Peters, was still around, she could ask him without embarrassment. The new clergyman, Ethan Johnson, was another matter. Not that she didn’t trust him to keep the few confidences she’d already shared. She was simply shy about baring her most intimate thoughts to a person she hardly knew.

Nevertheless, Julie reasoned, there was plenty of scripture that explained how to approach a skeptic. And since Ryan Travers sounded disillusioned more than unbelieving, she already had a foundation upon which she could build.

Assured, she hurried to join her father and the local dignitaries, who were about to unearth the time capsule. Guesses about what it contained had been floating around town for months. It would be interesting to see how many of them were right. Plus, her dad had invited the press, not to mention a TV crew from Bozeman that was doing a live remote broadcast of the unearthing of the capsule before moving on to cover the rodeo action. This was the biggest party Jasper Gulch had ever hosted, and it promised to make the news all across Montana.

The old bandstand had been repaired and repainted so many times its floor rippled and the stairs leading up to the main stage had depressions worn in the center of each step. Overcome with nostalgia, Julie envisioned a community orchestra playing a waltz and finely dressed couples from just after the turn of the twentieth century dancing on the grass where groups of people now milled around in anticipation.

Julie joined her family in a row of folding chairs onstage. Everybody was there. Her mother, Nadine, was straightening Jackson Shaw’s string tie. All three of her brothers, Cord, Austin and Adam, were grouped together, chatting privately while waiting for the speeches to begin.

Faith waved gaily and patted an empty chair. “Over here. I saved you a seat.”

Trying to appear unruffled, Julie fought to catch her breath. “Thanks. I was afraid I’d be late.”

“Oh? Where were you? As if I didn’t know.”

Warmth crept up her neck. Julie knew her cheeks had to be flaming. “I was eating.”

“I saw. How did you manage to displace the barrel racer? She was with the rest of the riders, the way your new friend was supposed to be.”

“I guess Ryan is more of a loner,” Julie said with what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug.

“Didn’t look that alone to me. You two were sure having a long conversation. So spill. What did you learn about him?”

“Um, not a lot. He’s been riding professionally since he was a teenager and specializes in the three rough-stock events.”

“Where does he come from and where does he live when he’s not traveling? Who’s his family? Are his parents living? What’s his ranking so far this year?”

Julie’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t ask.”

“Then what in the world did you find to talk about?”

“Sheep, mostly.”

Faith rolled her eyes. “Well, you can probably cross that cowboy off your list. I can’t imagine anybody being as enamored of fleeces as you are.”

“He seemed interested.”

Cocking her head to gesture without drawing undue attention, Faith indicated a portly, well-dressed businessman mounting the steps to join the people already assembled on the bandstand. “Wilbur acts that way, too, when he’s trying to impress you.”

“That’s only because he gave up on you. I thought Dad was going to explode when you turned the guy down flat.”

“I do have my moments of lucidity.” Faith giggled. “Poor guy. I know he tries.”

“Who? Dad or Wilbur?” Julie gave the banker the once-over. He had pudgy cheeks to match his expanding girth and so little hair that he’d combed it in a style that made it stick to his forehead as if he thought bystanders would be fooled into thinking he had more hair.

“Definitely poor Wilbur,” Faith said.

“I know. He reminds me of that English teacher we used to have in high school. The one with the nervous tic.”

Faith chuckled. “I remember. And you’re right. Mr. Thompson does kind of resemble him.”

“You do realize, don’t you, that if I keep turning down Wilbur’s social invitations, Dad may decide he’s the right man for you after all? You are older.”

“Perish the thought. I suppose he’ll make a great husband for somebody, but he’s not my type.”

“My sentiments exactly.” Julie brightened. “Hey, maybe you should reconsider. Wilbur might build you a music room if you married him.”

“I’d rather play on a city sidewalk and let people throw coins into my violin case than marry somebody for money. As far as I’m concerned, my music is my life.”

“A violin won’t keep your feet warm in the winter,” Julie teased.

“I suppose you think I should get an Australian shepherd like yours.”

“It beats accepting a man our father has picked out for us. Besides, you could do worse. Cowboy Dan is a great dog.”

Faith was smiling and shaking her head. “You always were a sucker for animals, Julie. You’ve brought home critters ever since you were little. It’s no wonder you like to hang out with sheep and sheepdogs.”

“They accept me just as I am,” Julie countered. “And they never, ever try to guilt me into dating and marriage. What’s not to love about that?”

All Faith said was “Amen, sister,” leaving Julie smiling behind her hand and hoping their father didn’t notice her lack of decorum as he began his speech.

* * *

Ryan chose to meander around the fairgrounds, getting his bearings and greeting old friends from prior rodeos before heading for the bandstand. The mayor’s oratory was not high on his bucket list, nor was he willing to stand around wasting time when he could be sizing up the livestock on which he made his living.

Only one thing drew him to the bandstand. Julie had told him she’d be there, making a command performance, and he wanted to see her again.

Why?

Good question, he asked himself and answered. She wasn’t like most of the women he met in his travels. Matter of fact, she was so different, so open and honest, she’d made quite an impression on his jaded attitude about buckle bunnies. That term for the female groupies who frequented rodeos made him smile. He always kept his clothing pure Western and shunned the ornate silver and gold buckles he’d accumulated as prizes, rather than wear them as badges of honor. Every ride was another chance to prove himself to the judges and the fans. It wasn’t necessary to brag about his prowess by donning an enormous gaudy oval emblem at his waist.

“Besides,” Ryan said aloud, “broncs and bulls don’t know the difference or care how many events I’ve won. They just want to buck me off.”

Which was why he should be back at the stock pens taking another look at the caliber of animals he’d draw from later today. And he’d go soon, he promised himself.

Right now, the focus of the crowd seemed to be shifting. People onstage were getting to their feet, and it looked as if Julie was about to accompany the mayor and his delegation to wherever their ancestors had buried the time capsule.

As Ryan observed the area, he noted a black-and-white poster displayed on an easel. It was a fuzzy blowup of an old, damaged sepia photograph. Five men in dark suits, cowboy boots and bowler hats were leaning on shovels and grinning at the camera. Behind them was the same bandstand that still stood, but the nearby trees were a lot smaller. He judged the wooden box in the foreground to be about two foot square, give or take. At least they knew what the time capsule looked like.

Curious, he followed the procession to a shady area behind the back of the old bandstand. There, the ground was dry and had been trampled by so many feet it would have been impossible to tell exactly where the current digging was going to take place if there had not been a cement marker.

He eased to the side, placed his back against a wooden wall flanking the rear of the stage, folded his arms and waited. He’d abandoned any notion of finding Julie in that milling crowd when he’d seen how difficult it was going to be. Therefore, he’d set himself up so she could locate him. Assuming she wanted to.

Ryan’s pulse jumped. Apparently, she did.

A smile began to lift the corners of his mouth and had spread into a wide grin by the time she managed to work her way to him. “Hi,” he drawled. “I wondered where you’d gone after you came off the stage.”

“I’m supposed to be up front with Dad and the others for a photo op. I’m playing hooky.”

“Something tells me you don’t like being in the spotlight.”

“You’re right. I only do it to please my folks, and then not always. I’m here today because I respect my father and want to support him. And Jasper Gulch.”

“You’ve lived here all your life.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. And I plan to stay. It’s more than home, it’s where I have my business and where my family is.” She smiled wistfully. “What about you? Where does your family live?”

“My mother’s in Bozeman.”

“Wonderful. Then you can visit her while you’re in the neighborhood.”

“I suppose.” He deliberately changed the subject and took her elbow. “Come on. Let’s go try to find a place where we can see the time capsule when they bring it up.”

“Okay.”

Julie gave no sign she was surprised by his abrupt action. Good. He didn’t like to talk about his past or what was left of his family. Growing up with an absent father and then losing his only brother in that terrible crash had been bad enough without having to explain to an outsider.

Ryan’s jaw clenched. Even visiting his mother briefly was hard. Seeing her again rekindled all the feelings of loss and anger and guilt he’d borne for so long. He’d never attempt to describe all that to anybody else, of course. Just feeling it himself was painful.

A stump amidst the grove of remaining trees caught Ryan’s attention and he pointed. “That way. Next to that bunch of reporters.”

Julie smiled up at him. “I see what you mean. Think we’ll both fit on the stump?”

“No, but I’ll make sure you don’t fall off,” he promised.

Taking her hand, he helped her step up onto the rough, weathered surface and steadied her. “Can you see now?”

“Yes! They’ve moved the marker that was on top and have dug almost down to the concrete vault. As soon as they pry up the lid and get the actual box out, the committee will carry it back to the stage and open it in front of everybody.”

Watching her pretty face, Ryan noticed her smile fading and a scowl taking the place of her earlier elation. Her hold tightened. She glanced at him, clearly troubled.

“What is it? What’s the matter?” he asked.

Julie was acting as if she was in shock. Flashes from cameras blinded everyone.

The TV crew had surged forward and one of them was shoving a microphone on a boom at the dignitaries. Someone was counting backward, “Three, two, one…” preparing to broadcast live.

“We’re here in Jasper Gulch for the unearthing of their time capsule and the mayor has just opened the vault!” a female reporter shouted into her microphone as the crowd began to rumble with an undercurrent of disbelief and astonishment. “Get a shot of that hole,” the woman yelled aside to her camera crew before returning to her broadcast. “They’ve just opened the sealed vault, ladies and gentlemen. It’s empty!”

Julie saw the reporter gesturing as the spectators pushed in around the site.

She held out her hands to Ryan and he helped her safely step down from the stump.

“What could you see?” he asked.

“It’s gone,” Julie told him in a hoarse whisper. “The vault is empty. The capsule’s been stolen!”