A Cowboy's Temptation

“You’ve scanned all the pages?” Darby asked.

“A few are a bit blurry, making it, you know, maybe a little hard to get an accurate count.” Marta gave her a conspiratorial smile.

“This’ll never work,” said Darby, even though she was reluctantly smiling back. Could they possibly fudge their way through? Their subterfuge wouldn’t make the final decision. It would only give people a chance to vote.

“As a fallback, we’ll try for a dozen more signatures tomorrow. I double-checked. The exact wording on the regulation is: ‘A petition filed at least twenty-four hours before permit implementation. The petition must be endorsed by at least six hundred residents of Lyndon City.’ It doesn’t say the six hundred residents must have endorsed it prior to the initial petition filing.”

“That has to have been the spirit of the rule,” Darby said, coming to her feet to read the screen. Had Marta found a loophole?

“It’ll take a judge to say for certain,” said Marta. “And, in the meantime, if the railway gets bad press, they might rethink their commitment to the Lyndon Valley route.”

Darby moved up behind Marta’s chair. “You’re frighteningly devious.”

“Just thinking things through.”

“I’m glad you’re on my side.”

“I’m always on your side. Here goes nothing.” Marta clicked Send on the screen.

They both watched as the cursor flashed across the screen. At eleven fifty-eight, it flashed “Sent.”

“Do you suppose he’s still up?” asked Darby, picturing Seth in the mayor’s mansion. In her imagination, he was in blue jeans and a plaid shirt. She liked him better that way, relaxed and laid-back. When he dressed up in his suit, he seemed to get more uptight.

“I’m sure he’s still up,” said Marta. “I’m guessing he’s swearing a blue streak about now.”

Darby found she could easily picture that. “Wine?” she asked, breathing a sigh of temporary relief.

They’d done all they could do for tonight, and she definitely needed to wind down before she tried to sleep.

“Sounds easier than making margaritas,” Marta agreed, naming their favorite drink. “You want to do a swim first? I’ve been either sitting or standing still most of the day. I need to stretch my muscles.”

“Sure,” Darby easily agreed. She’d sleep even better if she got some exercise.

Early in the summer, she’d tethered a floating dock half a mile out in the lake for guests to use. Floodlights from the yard would illuminate their way, and it was a full moon tonight, which would give them even more light.

“Three miles?” she asked.

“That’ll do it,” Marta agreed. “Then wine. We get to celebrate this.”

“Celebrate what? Not quite getting enough signatures?”

“Celebrate still having a chance, even though we experienced a setback.”

“You’re a true optimist.”

“I find it helps.”

As they’d done several times in the past, they decided to push a small dinghy out to the floater. The dinghy was stocked with towels, the wine, warm-up clothes and life jackets. It was also a means for them to paddle back to shore without getting wet again.

After swimming several laps, they pulled up onto the floater and changed out of the suits into sweatpants and jackets, rubbing their hair dry before opening the bottle of wine.

“This is paradise,” Marta observed, settling onto one of the towels.

The moon was high in the sky, surrounded by pinpricks of stars. A soft breeze wafted the scent of pine from the hillsides, and the lake water lapped softly against the floater, little more than ripples on the calm surface.

“Can you imagine a freight train chugging past, spewing out diesel smoke and shaking the ground?” Darby pointed to a rise behind the Sierra Hotel building. It would travel the length of the lowest ridge, crossing Wren Road, where it would have to blow its whistle. They’d have to put a bridge across the creek, and the reverberation would carry across the lake for miles.

“What was it like?” Marta asked as she poured herself a glass of wine. “Being in a war zone?”

“I was mostly behind the wire,” said Darby, taking the bottle from Marta and pouring her own glass. She didn’t mind talking about her time overseas. She knew Marta wanted to understand her passion for keeping Sierra Hotel open.

She took a sip of her wine. “It’s the uncertainty that gets to you. No matter how calm things might feel in the moment, at any second all hell can break loose.”

“That’s the problem with the trains.” Marta nodded.

“The women who stay here might have just been in a war zone, maybe even a military firefight, or maybe they’ve chased gang members down the streets of Chicago. I can’t imagine telling them that all will be calm and quiet, well, except for the sudden blasts and clattering from the freight trains. Can you imagine having that wake you up in the middle of the night? They’d be lunging for their firearms. They need a complete break,” Darby ended. “A complete break from the stress.”

Marta held up her glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to defeating the mayor.”

Darby saluted in return, wondering just how difficult that was going to be. “How long have you known him?” she asked.

“All my life. I used to have a crush on his brother, Travis. Most of the girls in my age group had a crush on one or the other. Or on Caleb Terrell, at least until he moved away.”

“I can see it,” Darby allowed. She’d seen both Travis Jacobs and Caleb Terrell around over the past three years.

“Forgetting for a second that Travis and Caleb are both married,” Marta continued. “Which one do you find attractive?”

“Of the two of them?” It seemed like an odd, theoretical question.

“Of the three of them,” Marta clarified.

“You’re asking if I’m attracted to Seth?”

Marta grinned. “I’m trying to figure out your type.”

“Seth’s more my type than the other two.” Darby didn’t see much point in denying it. She’d trusted Marta with her secrets for a long time now. “I mean, they’re all good-looking, but I guess I like the take-charge type, smart, committed, take-no-prisoners.” She gave a little self-deprecating laugh. “Even if those prisoners are me.”

Then she paused. “You know it occurs to me that I might not find him quite as sexy if he backed down. Do you suppose that’s a terrible character flaw?”

“You find him sexy?”

Darby rubbed a fingertip along the rim of her wineglass. “I’m afraid I do.”

Marta looked calculating again.

“What?” Darby prompted.

“I’m wondering if we can use that to help our cause. Any chance he reciprocates?”