Valerie Hansen - Her Montana Cowboy

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.”