A Rich Man for Dry Creek / a Hero for Dry Creek (11 page)

“Nonsense.”

Two minutes later, Jenny was lying on the icy ground on her back, looking up at the sky. She'd gone outside anyway, not even waiting for Robert. She didn't want him to think she was incapable of walking a few steps in the snow.

Well, so much for that, she thought as she winced. After the fall she'd taken, he'd think that incompetence was the least of her worries.

“I knew you should have waited,” Robert said as he stepped out of the kitchen door and knelt down beside her. “Where does it hurt?”

“My left ankle.”

“Here, let me see.” Robert slipped off his gloves and rolled down her thick socks.

For a second, her leg tingled from the cold air and then Robert wrapped his warm hands around it and gently probed. “No broken bones.”

“I'll be all right.” Jenny could almost be back in the kitchen with the steam. She was starting to feel warm again. “Just help me up. I'll be fine.”

“You'll be no such thing,” Robert said as he rolled her sock back up to cover her leg. “You've got a sprain. You'll need to stay off your foot for a while.”

Jenny looked around her. She was sprawled in front of the café.

The main street of Dry Creek wasn't so much a street as it was the widening of the road that cut through town. The barn and the church were on one side with a few houses between them and the café was on the other side with a few more houses.

Jenny was ten feet from the café, which would place her on the shoulder of the road, she supposed. It was hard to tell where the road began and ended because of the ruts in the snow left from all the cars and trucks that had been parked here last night. The ruts were now covered with fresh snow so the whole area looked soft, white and lumpy.

“It's not so bad.” Jenny looked up at Robert. The midmorning sun gave off a subdued white light but it still reflected off the sprinkling of blond hairs on his head. She'd never seen him in the full sun before. That must be why she'd never noticed before that there was any blond in the dark of his hair. She wondered how it had gotten so blond in places. “It must be the desert sun.”

Robert's eyes were bluer than the sky. Jenny decided she'd have to remember to tell her sister about them. “Does the desert change the color of blue?”

The blue in Robert's eyes turned gray and his hands left her ankle.

“Did you hit your head?” Robert's hands cupped Jenny's skull gently and started to feel their way around her forehead. “Can you count to ten?”

“Of course.”

“Backward?”

“I didn't hit my head.” Jenny's hair was on fire. She couldn't breathe. She was undone. Something in the universe was very unfair. She was no match for Robert Buckwalter. She'd done fine with him until she'd really looked at him. Now she needed mercy. She needed air. Her sister was right. The man was an Adonis.

“Count to ten then.”

“Huh?”

“Ten. Nine—”

“You need to leave me.” Jenny finally gasped the words out. She needed to get a handle on herself. Even if she hadn't hit her head, maybe she was sick or something. “I can't breathe.”

“It's your ribs!”

Robert didn't leave. Nor did he take his hands away. He only moved them to gently feel along her rib cage. “They seem fine.”

“They
are
fine. It's you.” Jenny's cheeks flamed. She hadn't felt this awkward since she was thirteen. “You need to leave so I can breathe.”

“Oh.”

Robert rocked back on his heels. He took his hands off her ribs.

Jenny closed her eyes and concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths. She was just rattled, that's all. Her sister was right. She, Jenny, needed to get out more. If just looking at an attractive man sent her into a tailspin, it was only proof that she needed to date more. She'd do that, just as soon as she got back to the safety of Seattle.

“Better?”

Jenny opened her eyes and nodded.

“You're sure you don't hurt anywhere but the ankle?”

“I'm sure. I just got the wind knocked out of me.”

Jenny forced a smile on her face. That was it. It was the shock of falling down that suddenly made the man look so gorgeous. Maybe it was like one of those near-death experiences. Not as serious, of course. But something that happened that made the next few minutes of life look more attractive than it really was. If she'd been looking at a cactus, she'd have thought it was diamond studded. It was just a case of misperception.

“I'll be fine. Just give me a hand up.”

Robert grunted. “Even if everything else is fine, you still can't walk on that ankle for a while.”

“Well, I can't just sit here in the snow,” Jenny said as she sat up and lifted her arm for assistance. “Besides, I have lunch to worry about.”

Robert took her arm and helped her stand.

Jenny had snow stuck to the back of her coat and the back of her sweatpants, but she didn't bend to brush it off.

“You don't need to worry about lunch. Or dinner,” Robert said as he slipped his arm under one of hers and scooped her up into his arms.

“Oh.” Jenny blinked.

Jenny blinked again. The sun was still behind the man. That must be why she suddenly felt so giddy.

“A
nother cup of cocoa?”

Jenny looked up at Robert. She was lying on the couch in Mrs. Hargrove's living room. The same couch that Robert had laid her down on over eight hours ago when she'd twisted her ankle. He'd only let her get up a few times to hobble around the house briefly. He'd spent all of that time, except for when she took a nap, being her nurse.

“I can't drink another drop.” Jenny liked this Robert better—the one inside the house. The sun didn't play with his hair and confuse her. He looked more like a normal man in the shadows of the house. “You don't need to bother, you know.”

“I know,” Robert said the rest of the words along with her “—you're fine.”

“Well, I am. The swelling has already gone down. And everyone says it's only a sprain. I could be walking on it by now.”

Jenny looked at the empty cup she'd just set on the coffee table. Robert had originally pulled the coffee table close, saying she needed a place to set her cup.

That was six cups ago.

The table had served as his command center. First, he'd brought ice for her foot. And a pillow. Then a cup of tea with honey in it. Then he'd gotten a thick salve from the hardware store and rubbed it on her ankle. He wouldn't let her look at the label, but Jenny strongly suspected the salve was something ordinarily used on cattle. Before she could ask, he was off to bring back a cup of cocoa and some toast.

“I wanted marshmallows, but there weren't any,” Robert apologized. He had a towel draped over his arm like a high-class waiter. “The closest I could get was buying a breath mint from one of the kids. Stirred it around and it made a mint-chocolate cocoa.”

Jenny took a sip. The liquid was rich and warm. And just a little minty. “It's perfect.”

“I'm still learning.” Robert sat down on a straight-back chair that he'd pulled near the couch earlier so they could play a game of cards. “Mrs. Hargrove has been teaching me all about preparing food. She's on the care of pots and pans now. Never realized there was so much to this cooking business.”

“I never realized Mrs. Hargrove cared so much about her pots and pans.”

Robert grinned. “Not sure she does. She's using them to teach me lessons, I think.”

“About?”

“Gratitude, for starters. Have you ever thought about where we'd be without a pot or a pan to our name?”

Jenny shrugged. “We'd have to cook stuff on a stick, I guess.”

“We wouldn't have soups or stews.” Robert began reciting the list. “No gravies. No puddings.” He paused. “Tell that to your sister. Maybe next time she should impersonate a cookware salesman. It's more basic.”

“She shouldn't impersonate anyone. And I've talked to her about it.”

Robert grinned.

Jenny eyed him suspiciously. “What's that for?”

“I'm just practicing doing what Mrs. Hargrove recommends.”

“And?”

Robert paused, then grinned wider. “I'm thinking how grateful I am for the fact that you always speak your mind.”

“My sister wasn't. She thought I was bossy.”

“Well, tell your sister I'd trade places with her any day in that regard. When you're rich, you never know if people mean what they say or not. No one dares to be bossy and I've kind of missed it.”

Jenny looked at Robert more closely. He just wasn't what she expected when she thought of a rich man. He wasn't living up to her stereotypes at all. “Have you ever abandoned a kitten?”

“Me? Never.”

“A dog?”

“Of course not.”

“Any other pet that you may have owned?”

“The closest thing I've had to a pet is a rooster named Charlie. And he wasn't mine. He just lived next door.”

“Well, were you good to him?”

Robert chuckled. “He was the sorriest excuse for a neighbor I've ever seen. He was loud. Demanding. Inconsiderate. Worse than a boom box playing at dawn. But I still gave him his handful of grain every single day that I was there. Even the day he pecked at me.”

“Good.” Jenny lay back on the pillows on the couch.

“Good he almost bit me?”

“No, good because you fed him and didn't hold a grudge. He was only being what he was—a chicken. It's his destiny.”

“He could have been a chicken without pecking at me. He's a chicken—I don't think he has a destiny. But, even if he did, just following your destiny isn't enough. Sometimes it's nothing but an excuse not to do better. That's why I want you to know I'm working on changing myself, Jenny. I know I haven't always been the most thoughtful, considerate guy in the universe, but I believe that—with God's help—I can change.”

“Mrs. Hargrove tells me you're a fine young man.” Jenny bent down to drink out of her cocoa cup. That's not all Mrs. Hargrove had said. She'd also told Jenny that Robert was a man in a million and she should snap him up before someone like that Laurel made good on her threat and got her hands on him. Jenny wondered how Mrs. Hargrove thought she, Jenny, was supposed to do that. She might as well have commanded her to sing an opera or float in the air.

“Mrs. Hargrove is prejudiced,” Robert said.

Jenny raised an eyebrow.

“While you took your nap earlier, I went over and cleaned the church for her. I even followed her instructions.”

Jenny raised her eyebrow even more.

“That's right. There are lessons to be learned in cleaning, too. Mostly they've got to do with being humble and using the right bottle of stuff when you scrub the floor on your hands and knees.”

“Mrs. Hargrove shouldn't be scrubbing those floors on her knees. Not at her age.”

“I know. I've already called in an order for a small commercial floor scrubber. It'll work to her specifications. She doesn't believe in hand mops. She thinks they miss the little spots.”

“What are the lessons there?”

“Thinking some sins are so small they don't need God's forgiveness.” Robert smiled. “I know it's a little corny, but I like what she's done with her life. She's made everything have meaning. So cleaning a dirty floor in the church isn't just about scrubbing. It's about honoring God. It's about paying attention to the small stuff. No wonder she goes about her days like a drill sergeant. Everything is important.”

The day had long since drifted into early evening and the light in the living room had become even dimmer. Shadows filled the corners. The couch where Jenny lay was square in front of the fireplace that took up one wall of the room. A row of windows took up another wall and a dozen framed snapshots took up the final wall.

“I wonder what my life will be like when I'm as old as Mrs. Hargrove and I look back over it.” Robert stood up and switched on the floor lamp that stood at the end of the couch. “Wonder what my picture wall will look like.”

“Lots of shots of you handing out money—lots of those big checks like they show on the lottery.”

Jenny kept holding on to the differences between them. Robert had money with a capital
M.
She had loose change. She was walking through quicksand and she needed a firm place to stand. The difference in their bank accounts was as good a place as any.

“We all write checks and spend money.” Robert sat down on the floor near the sofa where she was lying. “When it all ends, we've either spent or given away every dime we've ever made. If we haven't, the government does it for us. I might have more dimes to give away than most, but it all ends the same. It's all gone to one place or the other. We sure aren't taking it with us.”

“Those kids that are over at Garth's don't believe that.” Jenny wondered if Robert could really be so blind to the difference that money made in someone's life. “They're not worried about taking it with them, but they've seen what being poor can do to a person.”

“And I've seen what being rich can do to a person.”

“Most people would pick rich.”

“I suppose so.” Robert nodded and then looked around at the room. The light of evening was dimming even further. The light gave a soft circle of warmth. Mrs. Hargrove had gone to the café to help prepare the dinner for the teenagers tonight. She had convinced Laurel to go with her, telling her the ranch hands would be disappointed if she didn't come.

Robert was alone with Jenny and he was tired of talking about money.

“I'm going to make a fire in the fireplace. Maybe light a few candles,” Robert said as he walked out into the kitchen. “I'll need to bring in some wood first.”

Jenny nodded. She was grateful he was stepping outside. She pulled the cell phone off the coffee table and quickly dialed.

“Yeah, it's me.” She spoke softly when her sister answered and then she listened a bit. “No, he's outside. That's why I called. Have you had a chance to talk to your source?”

“My source isn't the main source. I want you to know that. But the woman did know Robert some years ago. She gave a good recommendation. I don't think you need to worry. Your Robert sounds like a nice guy.”

“He's not my Robert and I'm out of my league here.”

“Well, short of hiring a private detective to dig through his trash, I think we'll just have to assume he's datable. That's what you really want to know, isn't it?”

“We can't date—I mean, look at the differences. Besides, Dad wouldn't approve.”

“Dad's not lying there on a sofa with a drop-dead gorgeous Adonis cooking for him. Is he wearing a shirt?”

“Of course he's wearing a shirt! It's twenty degrees below outside.”

“Oh,” her sister said and then brightened. “But he is cooking for you. That's so romantic.”

“He's only done tea, cocoa and dry toast. He worries about my foot. It's more medical than romantic.”

“Forget the foot. You don't get cocoa in hospitals. Tea and dry toast maybe, but cocoa is definitely romantic. Did it have a marshmallow?”

“No, it had a breath mint.”

“Now that's romantic. I'll bet he's kissed you again.”

“No.”

Her sister was silent before she said cautiously, “But you're lying on the sofa.”

“With ice on my foot.”

“You don't still have that hairnet on, do you?”

“No. And Mrs. Hargrove even brought me a comb-and-brush set so my hair looks all right.”

“Then why isn't he kissing you?”

“I asked him about money.”

“Forget about his money. Pretend he's poor. Absolutely broke.”

Jenny snorted. “You don't just pretend someone like that is poor. It's condescending. You talk about the problem like a mature adult.”

“You're talking about problems?” Jenny's sister wailed. “Don't talk about problems. This is a date. It isn't supposed to have problems.”

“It's not a date. He's just being kind to me because I sprained my ankle.”

“You. Him. Alone. Hot cocoa. I'm counting that as a date. I've already reported to Mom. She's been worried that you're not dating enough.”

“I'm dating just fine.”

“Well, now you are since you've met Robert Buckwalter the—”

“I know.”

“—the Third. Say what do you call him anyway?”

“Bob. He wants to be called Bob.”

“Really? He never mentioned that in any of his interviews.”

“That's because he's a changed man now.”

“Really? He never mentioned changed in his interviews.”

Jenny could hear her sister flipping through papers.

“You're sure he said changed?” her sister asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, I wonder what a man like that would want to change about himself? He's rich. He's gorgeous. He's kind.”

“He wants to be Bob.”

“And he hasn't kissed you again?”

Jenny shook her head. “No.”

“Hmmm, I wonder why—”

“He's been reading the Bible—”

“He's not becoming a priest, is he? That would really upset the editors. We couldn't name a priest as the number one bachelor.”

“I thought you were going to back off on that bachelor thing.”

“My editors aren't sure. I've tried to back them off, but then I stopped. I think when I tried extra hard to convince them, they called their source and asked a few questions and now it's all gotten confused.”

“What's confusing? The man has perfectly sound reasons for not wanting to be on that list. I'd think they'd respect his privacy and do what he wants.”

“That's just it. They're not sure why he wants what he says he wants. They think he might be creating a—what did they call it?—a smoke screen. A diversion of sorts to cover up the real story.”