Roz Fox - More to Texas than Cowboys

“Will you sign it first?”

“The plaster’s still too soft.” Noah jogged down the steps, stirrups clanging as they slapped his leg. He slung the saddle over Jasper’s back and tightened the cinch. “Kristin said if it wasn’t for the fact that you broke both bones in that arm, she’d have used one of the newfangled inflatable casts. Take it from me, though, they’re not as impressive as the one you got.” Winking, he vaulted into the saddle.

“What’s impres—” Clattering down the gravel path, he didn’t hear her question.

Inside by the open window, Greer heard the entire exchange. Something cramped in her chest as she witnessed the easy, sexy way he had of mounting a horse.

Snatching up the CD player and several of Shelby’s favorite disks, she poked her head out the window. “Father Kelley meant your cast is cool, Shel.”

Drawing back, Greer noticed their moving van slowing to negotiate the turn into their lane. Darn, she could’ve used a few minutes to get more organized.

CANTERING OUT, Noah saw the big van make the sharp turn off the main road. If he was really a nice guy he’d go back and help the two men seated in the cab. Given the late hour, they’d be lucky to have everything unloaded by dark. Greer would be left with the chore of assembling beds and making them up. To say nothing of knocking together something for supper. His stomach growled, reminding him they’d all missed lunch.

He would’ve turned back if Greer Bell had shown the slightest indication that she’d appreciate his help. She hadn’t. In fact she’d been testy almost from the moment they met. Noah had no illusions that if she’d had any other choice, she would’ve sent him packing when he showed up to untangle Shelby from the broken porch rail.

Crossing the point where their two property lines intersected, Noah kicked Jasper into a solid gallop, never once glancing back or letting on that he’d noticed the moving van headed into the Dragging F.

He’d have to quit referring to it as the Dragging F, especially considering the disgust Greer had expressed for the name today. Not that he wasn’t in agreement. If he planned to see her again, which he now doubted, Noah would’ve suggested she name the ranch after the fantastic sunrises that rose daily over the river. As if the woman would stand still for any advice from him.

Again Noah wondered what he’d done to make her angry. Or did she dislike all men? He knew, of course, that some divorced women took back their maiden names. It was less common if that woman had kids, which Greer did. Come to think of it, what had she said earlier at Tanner’s—that Shelby had never met her grandparents?

Robert Bell, Noah could imagine, since he was a crusty old guy. The type who was a law unto himself. One who took his job on the church board seriously—which also gave Noah pause. He’d refrained from telling his father that he was growing tired of the copious complaints from Holden’s friends on the board about his lax style of handling church duties. Noah hadn’t wanted to press a man recovering from a stroke. He knew his father well enough to figure they’d clash on other issues, too. After all, he’d lived in Holden’s house for eighteen years. It was a given that they wouldn’t see eye to eye on Noah’s relaxed methods, his avoidance of Holden’s hellfire-and-brimstone approach.

GREER STEPPED OUT on the porch carrying the things she’d gone in search of. The CD player needed an extension cord so she could plug it into an outlet and through an open window, and she busied herself doing that.

“Mama, Father Kelley said we’re s’posed to call him Noah.”

Flustered, Greer glowered at the fast-disappearing horse and rider. “We can’t. It’s not polite. Why would he say that?”

Shelby looked at her solemnly. “He said ’cause we’re neighbors and he hopes that makes us friends.”

Plugging the player’s cord into the extension, Greer punched the on button. She straightened fast when Missy Elliott’s latest hit tune exploded from the machine. The noise warred with the squeal of the moving van’s brakes until she turned down the volume. “We’ll talk about this later, Shel. I’m going to be very busy for the next couple of hours. If you need anything, yell loudly to get my attention.”

“I need a dog,” she yelled, a cheeky grin spreading over her face. “Did you hear Noah tell me he’s going to get one? He’s driving to the animal shelter next week. Can’t we go with him?”

“Shelby Lynn Bell, no! And don’t be calling Father Kelley by his first name, and I don’t care what he said. Just because chance made us neighbors does not mean we’ll be friends. Remember Mr. Greenfield?” Leaving it at that, Greer hurried down the steps and out to meet the movers. She wasn’t quick enough, however, to miss her daughter’s final retort. The girl said that Noah was nicer, younger and a whole lot cuter than Mr. Greenfield, who looked like a troll.

That observation on Shelby’s part was true, and it was all Greer could do not to laugh. She didn’t, though, because she sensed there were going to be further issues with Noah Kelley. Especially if he got a dog.

Later she’d make time to fortify her position on all fronts. Just now the lead mover had handed her a checklist and insisted she had to point out where she wanted each box and piece of furniture. And, he told her sternly, when they finished her check marks needed to match those on the sheet provided by the movers. It’d been a long day—too long—and now it had begun to seem endless.

THE LENGTH OF TIME it took the two burly men to unload the truck clocked in at almost three hours. That was partly due to a restless nine-year-old who kept wanting a snack or a drink or asking a question, which meant Greer had to take frequent breaks. Luckily the men, a father and son driving team, were understanding; they planned to pick up a northbound load in San Antonio, where they’d spend the night. The younger of the two scrawled his name on Shelby’s cast before they closed up the truck and left.

“I wanted Noah to be first to sign it,” Shelby admitted. “But he said the plaster was still soft when he went home. Do you think he’ll come back tonight?” Shelby strained to keep Noah’s house in sight as her mom attempted to help her inside.

“Watch where you’re walking, Shel, or you’ll trip and risk breaking something else.”

“Why are you acting so grouchy?”

Greer sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m tired,” she said, raking a hand through her hair.

“I’m hungry,” Shelby said. “It’s getting dark and we haven’t had dinner.”

“I fixed you fruit and cheese for lunch.” Greer remembered swiping a few orange wedges—all she’d had since breakfast. “Unloading took longer than I expected. Mr. Jarvis and his son were kind enough to set up our beds. We’ll have supper and then I’ll find the sheets. What would you like to eat?”

“Grilled cheese sandwiches?”

“I should’ve known.” Greer laughed. “That’s exactly why I wrote griddle on the box we packed it in.”

“I wonder if there’s anything good on TV? You said programs won’t be the same here as in Denver.”

“They will be different, hon. Right now, though, there’s nothing on at all. I need to call the cable company in the morning and arrange for service.”

“No TV? For how long?”

“I don’t know. This isn’t the city.” Seeing the storm brewing in her daughter’s eyes, Greer tried to deflect it. “Maybe we can pretend we’ve just moved into the Little House on the Prairie, Shelby. You’ve read all of those books a dozen times and watched the series almost that often.”

“That would be cool. Do we have an oil lamp I can put in my room?”