Debra Clopton - The Cowboy Takes a Bride

“Ross,” Stanley said, pausing to spit a sunflower husk into the spittoon. “You ever reach fer yor socks when you was talkin’ to a female? I never did.”

Ross wasn’t too sure he wanted to be in the middle of this conversation. “Well, no sir, not that I can remember.”

Stanley nodded. “See thar? Hogwash. That’s what that is.”

Applegate scowled and turned red. “You had to see it. That woman made it all sound perfectly legitimate.”

Ross couldn’t imagine he’d ever feel the need to pull up his socks while talking to a woman, not even yesterday, when he’d been talking to Sugar Rae Lenox. And if ever there was someone who had him “sure ’nuff smitten,” she more than fit the bill.

Sam came out of the back, snagged a cup and set it down in front of Ross. “Mornin’ to ya, Ross.”

“Mornin’, Sam.”

“Those beavers still chawin’ down your trees and damming up your creek?”

Ross shook his head in disgust. “They can cut down trees faster than a logging crew. I’m heading back out there in a few minutes and I’m afraid to see what else they’ve done. Not only that, I had tractor trouble again yesterday and I didn’t get my hay cut.”

“That ain’t no good.”

“No sir, it sure isn’t.”

The door swung open and Clint Matlock walked in, followed by a handful of other wranglers. Sam snagged five mugs, one on each finger, slapping the first down on the counter as the rancher took a seat beside Ross.

“How’s it going, Clint?” Sam asked, filling the cup.

He yawned. “Late night. Thanks for this, Sam. I already drank half a pot at home. But nothing has a kick like your coffee.”

“That’s my special blend. I stick my ornery finger in the water before I brew it.” Sam arched a bushy brow and grinned, then headed around the counter toward the booth of cowboys.

Clint chuckled and took a slow swallow and looked sideways at Ross. “Hear you helped our newest resident move in yesterday. Thought I’d warn you that Lacy came home very inspired by the way you were looking at Haley’s new office manager.”

“I didn’t make any pretense of hiding my interest.”

“That so?”

Ross took a drink of his coffee. “Mmm-hmm. I’ve got to go check on those worrisome beavers that are trying to turn my pasture into a lake, then I’m coming back to town to stake my claim on that one.”

His friend gave him a speculative look. “That sounds promising. You need any help?”

Ross grinned. “I think I can handle asking a girl out on a date all by myself. But thanks for the support, buddy.”

Clint shook his head. “I meant do you need any help with the beavers? I’ll let you do your own romancing. Whether Lacy and the other women of Mule Hollow let you alone is a whole other ball game.”

Ross wasn’t worried. “I don’t plan to give them enough time to get an organized matchmaking plan in order. I’m sure once they see I’m already matching myself up, they’ll sit back and let me alone. They’ve never tried to fix me up before.”

Clint cupped his coffee and breathed in the aroma, looking at Ross over the brim. “They only leave couples alone when they don’t really see anything special between them. If, however, they see lasting possibilities they will watch carefully and tweak as necessary.”

“Did you just say ‘tweak’?”

Clint grimaced. “’Fraid so. Obviously, up to this point, my friend, you haven’t had ‘tweak potential.’ But Lacy saw something yesterday, and all that may be about to change.”

“Hey,” Stanley called, looking up from his checkers. “Maybe she saw him reach fer his socks! App here thinks that’d be the way to knowin’ who’s smitten and who ain’t.”

Applegate scowled. “I’m tellin’ ya that woman last night on Leno made sense. She had more degrees tagged onto the end of her name than Liz Taylor’s got ex-husbands, so she should know.”

Stanley jumped two of his checkers and grinned impishly, making Ross wonder if he was picking on App to distract him from the game.

“Don’t ask,” Ross said, shaking his head when Clint looked at him. “App watched something on TV about body language, and he figures he’s got it all figured out.”

“So did you reach for your socks?” Clint asked with a chuckle.

“Might as well have, from what we heard,” App said.

“You two need to take your act on the road,” Ross teased.

“You think yor family would take us on?” Stanley asked.

“Are you kidding? They’d snap you two up in a minute. Y’all could give ole Homer Lee a run for his money.”

Applegate grunted. “I’m bored stiff sittin’ here lookin’ at Stanley every day, but you couldn’t pay me enough ta git up on a performin’ stage.”

Ross took a drink of his coffee, remembering all the years he’d spent on stage. “I couldn’t agree more. I just thought I’d offer. A good comedic act can always find an audience.”

Stanley spat a sunflower husk into the spittoon. “I’d pay good money fer App ta stay off the stage.”

That got a laugh from everyone.

Sam topped off Ross’s and Clint’s coffee. “Do you ever miss it, Ross?”

“Nope.” He took a drink, feeling the burn. “Twenty years in the spotlight was more than enough for me. But I could still put in a good word for you two if you want me to,” he said, laying money on the counter and standing. It was time to go to work.

“We might be bored,” Applegate said, “but wild horses couldn’t get us ta leave Mule Hollow.”

Ross grabbed his hat and snugged it down on his head. “You’ve got that right. This is the place to be.”

And it was. He was happy with his life.

He’d started performing on stage at age four, singing with his grandpop. It hadn’t taken long for him to be listed on the marquee as a box-office draw. Even for a little kid, seeing his name up on that sign had been a thrill. He’d been twenty-four when he’d realized he couldn’t do it anymore.

Didn’t want to do it anymore.

His grandpop had been dead for a couple of years, and living his life around two shows a day, six days a week, had started to give Ross ulcers. Living someone else’s dream would do that to a body.

After stepping out on the sidewalk, he strode toward his truck and climbed in. This was his dream. Overseeing the land, the legacy he’d inherited from his dad’s family. Running cattle, building up his ranch, even with broken tractors and irritating beavers included. God had blessed him with great family on both sides of the tree. He’d had a choice of two separate ways of life, but this was the one he wanted to cultivate. This was the one he wanted to raise his kids in.

Backing the truck out, he glanced up toward the apartment where Sugar Rae Lenox now resided. He was living his dream, but he was ready for the good Lord to send him a soul mate. Truth was, he’d had his name up in lights, but the only place he wanted to see it these days was on a wedding certificate.

He just had to find the right woman to sign on with him.

Sugar couldn’t wait to see the barn.

She knew she should ask beforehand, but she couldn’t help herself. The ladies had said it was on the outskirts of town, and she had to view it. Had to know if this would be a place where she might be able to set up her show.

The very idea of putting on a strawhat production of some sort in a real barn excited her more than even the thought of having it in the community center. An honest-to-goodness barn theater added an entirely new element to the project, making her excitement level jump to unforeseen heights.

“Thank you, Lord,” she gasped when she saw the big old barn come into view. The thing was huge. And ancient. And lovely. Simply lovely. For a gal who’d been doubting herself, her dream, her faith, this felt like a sign that God was still on her side. So far everything about coming to Mule Hollow was proving to her that the voice of doubt she’d begun to hear was unfounded. God wasn’t the one whispering in her ear, telling her to abandon her dreams.