Debra Clopton - The Cowboy Takes a Bride

Oh dear, it really felt as if she’d stepped back in time, and for a girl who loved the modern-day conveniences associated with the city, “back in time” didn’t sound so good.

“What do you think?” Haley asked, eyeing her curiously.

“Wow. It’s…it’s very rustic.”

Haley nodded. “It is wonderful, isn’t it? As long as I can remember, it has always been the same. Sam bought it from the previous owner and didn’t change anything, except to put in the jukebox.”

Esther Mae Wilcox shot a scowl at the jukebox as fiery as her red hair. “Much to our sorrow,” she harrumphed.

Norma Sue Jenkins, a robust woman with curly gray hair and a smile that took up her entire face, grinned at her friend. “You know you’d miss it if it died completely.”

Esther Mae glared at her. “I’d dance on its grave. If we’re going to have to listen to it, the least Sam could do is shake things up a bit. Or you, since you’re the one who always works on the thing. Change some songs. Give me some of those new cutie patooties to listen to. Like that sweet little Oakie, oh, what’s his name…You know, he sings about the beach and he married that darling little movie star Renée Zil-something-or-other.”

Sugar chuckled. “Renée Zellweger and Kenny Chesney.”

Esther Mae’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, that’s who I’m talking about.” She shook her head. “I exercise to his sweet voice in the mornings on my mini trampoline.”

Sugar got a visual, which wasn’t hard, since Esther Mae had on a cantaloupe-colored jogging suit with big red strawberries splashed everywhere.

When she and Norma Sue continued their animated discussion about the jukebox, Sugar realized this was an ongoing debate. They were a hoot. Life wasn’t going to be boring with them around.

Adela, seemingly oblivious to her friends’ argument, slipped into a nearby booth and patted the seat beside her. Sugar kept her eyes and ears on the floor show as she sat down.

Their movements brought Esther Mae up short, and she shook her red head. “Sorry, we tend to lock horns about that jukebox, but don’t pay us any mind.” She slid into the seat across from Sugar, and Norma Sue did the same. “We’re more interested in hearing all about you. Everything.”

Adela smiled. Sugar knew from the papers that she was Sam’s wife, and the one who’d originally come up with this unusual way to save her dying town. She was a doll, with electric-blue eyes made brighter by the pixie-cut, snow-white hair that perfectly framed her face. She was elegant and serene, and a complete contrast to her friends. Not that she was shy; Sugar didn’t get that impression at all. Just composed, and unruffled.

She patted Sugar’s arm with a delicate hand. “Don’t look so worried, dear, we’re not going to give you the third degree,” she said, a gentle smile creasing her face. “Are we, girls?”

Norma Sue and Esther Mae didn’t look to be in total agreement on that, but they nodded.

Haley had pulled up a chair at the end of the booth, but didn’t seem interested in adding to the conversation. She was clearly content just watching them. Her eyes twinkled and Sugar studied her with interest. The real-estate office where they’d worked before had been very stressful. With so many properties to be handled, and with so much money at stake, that was to be expected. Sugar knew it had been one of the factors that sent Haley running back to Mule Hollow. She’d told Sugar the people there were good, genuine folks who cared about each other like they were family. Then there were those newspaper articles by Molly. They, too, painted the town in a positive light.

Sugar hadn’t really believed them. Haley and Molly lived here and loved it, so Sugar had figured their information was probably a little biased. It had to be.

Still, as she let her gaze roam around the table and thought about the other women who’d welcomed her, she suddenly wasn’t so sure whether there was a bias or not.

Could Mule Hollow really be as nice as it seemed?

She was still pondering that when Sam came out of the back. A spry man with a brisk, bowlegged gait, he looked as if he might have been a jockey in his younger days. He held out his hand right away. “How do.”

Sugar slipped hers into his and almost flinched. What a strong grip! “How. Do. You. Do,” she managed to reply.

Grinning, he released her hand and rammed his fists on his apron-covered hips. “What can I bring ya?”

How about an ice pack? she wanted to say, but ordered a glass of ice water with lemon instead. Everyone else ordered tea and coffee.

“So, give us the scoop. Haley here already told us you’re an aspiring actress,” Norma Sue said.

“Technically, she already is an actress,” Haley clarified.

“In anything we would know?” Esther Mae leaned forward on one elbow. “I just love the movies.”

Sugar hesitated, thinking of all the films she’d almost had a recognizable part in. Or the ones she’d had a decent part in, only to have her scenes end up on the cutting-room floor. God had put this dream in her heart, but it hadn’t been easily attainable. “Well, I’ve actually done more commercials than movies you might recognize. I did a Folgers commercial and—”

Esther Mae slapped the table and her eyes went wide. “You did an insurance commercial—the one where the gal fell out of the hot-air balloon! That was you, wasn’t it?”

Here it went. “Yes, ma’am, it was me.”

The redhead slapped the table again. “I knew it. That was a funny commercial. Why, the way you sort of flipped and dived out of that basket…” She was overcome with chuckles, and began to wave her hand in front of her face as she tried to get ahold of herself. “I still nearly split a gut, thinking about the way you looked. Your face was stretched back by the wind, sort of flapping—”

“That was you?” Norma Sue shrieked.

Sugar nodded. She hated that insurance commercial. Hated knowing that was all anyone knew her from. That after all of her hard work, it was her most memorable moment. At least in the coffee commercial she’d done some real acting, and not just physical comedy. It was depressing. But that was going to change. It was. And besides, actors got their start in commercials—even stupid commercials—every day.

“I’ve seen that ad. You were funny,” Adela said, as Sam returned with a tray of drinks.

“So tell us about your plans,” Norma Sue urged. “Haley said you want to start an actual acting troupe. A theater of some sort.”

“Yes.” Sugar sat up, energy surging through her just from thinking about it. “I want to do a summer stock–type production. I think it would be great to have both acting and singing in it. Have you ever been to Branson, Missouri? I’m thinking more along the lines of a play, but those shows inspire me to think some singing cowboys would be great. Haley told me about the wonderful community center you have, and I thought it would be the perfect place to start a show. I want something that runs week after week. One that could draw attention to the town and to me. I need some great reviews that Hollywood will pay attention to. You know, so I can get that breakout part I so desperately need in order to succeed.”

Norma Sue looked thoughtful.

“You came to the right spot. We have some very talented cowboys in our town!” Esther Mae exclaimed. “Bob Jacobs, Molly’s husband, sounds like Tim McGraw. He’s just fabulous. And there’s more, too.”

Norma Sue and Adela shot a look at each other. “Is something bothering you?” Sugar asked.

“We have some folks here who don’t want anything to do with getting on stage,” Norma stated. “We leave them alone.”

Okay, Sugar thought, wondering about the odd statement. Suddenly, Haley set her tea down, drawing all eyes to her. “I just realized we might have a problem. This show would run every weekend, right?”