A Rich Man for Dry Creek and A Hero For Dry Creek: A Rich Man For Dry Creek / A Hero For Dry Creek

Jenny looked up from the napkins.

“—you know, involved?”

“Mr. Buckwalter and me?”

The rancher beamed. “Guess not if you still call him Mister. I figured you weren’t—what with all his money and everything. But wanted to be sure. Never held with moving in on another man’s territory, not even when anyone could see the two of you are from different worlds. Guess you’re free then.”

Jenny started to protest, but the man didn’t stop to draw a breath.

“My name’s Chester, by the way. The boys call me Harry on account of Chest. You know, Chest, Hairy—”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“Not that there’s any problem. With my chest, I mean. I got just the right amount of hair. You got nothing to worry about with me. I got me n-o-o defects. Just a regular kind of guy. That’s me.”

“I’m sure you’re a fine man,” Jenny moved a platter of toast squares to the back of the table. She’d take those over to the kitchen and make some new ones. She looked up at Chester. “But I’m too busy right now to visit.”

“Maybe later?”

“There’ll be cleanup later. Dishes.”

The rancher looked dismayed. “I suppose I could help, even though with the touch of arthritis I get in my joints—well, I’m likely to be more trouble than good to you.”

Jenny looked up and smiled. “I’ll do fine with the dishes. Thanks anyway.”

The barn door opened this time to a loud grumbling noise. A steady stream of frigid air blew into the barn making the pink streamers hanging from the beams start to sway.

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees, but no one complained about the cold. Everyone was looking at the three unkempt men who reluctantly stomped into the barn, swearing as they were forced by their captors to come inside.

Jenny recognized two of the three men who were holding the shoulders of the prisoners. Garth Elkton was one. His top ranch hand was another. The third man, a stranger who obviously hadn’t been to the dance because he wasn’t in a suit, seemed to be in charge.

Jenny looked past all those men and saw nothing but the snow falling in the black night outside. The teenage boys had come inside minutes ago. The ranch hands all seemed to be back. Men and women were giving each other quick hugs of relief. A dusting of snow had settled on the walkway outside the barn and it was covered with a score or more of large boot prints. There were no other figures standing in the doorway waiting to come inside.

“That Buckwalter fella must be still parking the bus—if that’s who you’re looking for,” the rancher who had stood at the table offered quietly. “He was the only one who knew how to drive the bus after the kids stripped the gears. Guess it’s on account of him flying planes. We would have had to walk back if it weren’t for him. He nursed the bus all the way back. He’s not a bad guy for a rich man.”

Then a final man appeared in the doorway and Jenny relaxed. Robert. I mean, she corrected herself, Mr. Buckwalter, was back safe. “No, he’s not a bad guy.”

“I wish you luck with him,” the rancher offered quietly.

“Oh, no, I’m not—I mean there’s no need—”

Just then Jenny heard the cell phone ring. The ring was faint and hard to hear over the talking of the ranchers and teenagers. She remembered Mrs. Buckwalter making a call so she assumed the older woman still had the phone and she was right.

“This is for you,” Mrs. Buckwalter shouted to Jenny as she moved through the couples who were now brushing snow off of each other. The older woman was weaving between couples and getting closer to the refreshment table but she continued to yell, “Something about a pudding order that’s late—”

Jenny winced. She was a full ten yards away from Robert. But she could hear his low chuckle over the murmured conversation of everyone else.

“Tell your sister hi,” Robert called over to her. “And tell her I want a case of chocolate pudding with sprinkles if they have such a thing.”

“Your sister sells pudding, dear?” Mrs. Buckwalter asked as she handed the phone to Jenny.

“She will be if she’s not careful,” Jenny said as she took the phone and stepped behind the refreshment table where it was quieter.

“I heard that,” Jenny’s sister said when Jenny put the phone to her ear. “And rest assured, I won’t need to be looking for a new job. My boss is very happy with what I’ve discovered.”

“And what would that be?” Jenny kept her voice low so that no one else could hear. Six or seven of the teenagers had drifted over to the refreshment table and were staring down at the punch bowl trying to decide whether or not to scoop some of the watered-down beverage into their plastic cups.

“Well, for starters, I know where Robert Buckwalter the Third is.”

“Any number of people know that. It’s not a secret.”

“Well, none of the other tabloids know where he is these days. And I know something’s up. I told my boss that the man was very touchy about talking to the press.”

“He thought you were a pudding salesman, for Pete’s sake. It had nothing to do with the press.”

“Still, I think he’s hiding something. Some secret.”

“Well, if he is, it’s his to keep. I, for one, am not going to ask him another thing about his life.”

“Oh, you’ve been talking to him?”

“No, I haven’t been talking to him.”

“Oh.” The disappointment in the voice of Jenny’s sister was more personal than professional. She was suddenly Jenny’s little sister again. “I’m sorry. I thought maybe after that kiss…”

Jenny couldn’t help herself. She darted a quick look over her shoulder to be sure that no one was close enough to hear. “Well, he did ask me to dance.”

“You danced with him!” Jenny’s sister shrieked.

“You danced with Robert Buckwalter the Third! Wait until I tell Mom! You really danced with him.”

“It was a short dance,” Jenny was forced to admit. “The kidnapping sort of got everyone distracted.”

“Kidnapping! Somebody kidnapped him! Why didn’t you say so! Now that’s a newsbreak.”

“No, no, not Robert. It was someone else. He didn’t have anything to do with it. It’s all tied up with some rustling that’s going on.”

“Oh.” Jenny’s sister paused. “Rustling? You mean for cows? You’re sure the kidnappers weren’t really out for him and they just grabbed the wrong person or something. I mean if you were going to kidnap anyone, he’d be the one to pick. He’s got more money than the president of the United States. He certainly has more money than some cow.”

“Yes, I’m sure. He wasn’t the target.”

Jenny sensed someone standing slightly behind her before she heard the man clear his throat. She looked up.

“Make sure she knows I didn’t even know the kidnap victims,” Robert said firmly. Snowflakes were melting on his hair and he still looked as if he’d stepped out of the pages of a catalog. “Make sure she knows the kidnapping had nothing to do with me. It would have happened if I hadn’t been here.”

“That’s what I told her. I said you wouldn’t have even gone with the men if it hadn’t been for the bus. I mean your mother rented it and all.”

“Well, I don’t know about that.” Robert frowned. How is it that he had never noticed Jenny’s eyes turned a snapping black when she was annoyed? Fascinating. He wondered if she was annoyed with her sister or with him. Maybe she thought he should have ridden to the rescue on a horse like the FBI agent instead of worrying about a big old bus. He guessed a bus wasn’t very dashing. If that was it, he needed to explain. “I would like to think I would go to anyone’s aid if they were being kidnapped. It wasn’t just the bus.”