“I think they need me.” Jenny waved Mrs. Hargrove back into the warm barn. “It must be lobster time. Talk to you later.”
“Call me.”
“I will—wait.” She’d just thought of something. “When you talked to Robert Buckwalter earlier, did you tell him he was number one on the list or did you just say you were thinking of making him number one?”
“Oh, I couldn’t tell him he was number one. I said maybe, but I didn’t say it had been settled. That’s not decided. Besides, it’s confidential.”
“I see. Thanks. I’ll call you later.”
Jenny slipped the cell phone into the front pocket of her chef’s apron. Well, that explained everything. Robert Buckwalter thought a kiss might nudge him into that first-place position. Cozy up to the sister of someone with influence on the list and—presto—he’s at the top. It was a game as old as mankind.
The heat inside the barn enfolded Jenny when she stepped across the threshold. She rubbed her arms. She’d been so angry she hadn’t noticed the goose bumps that had crept up her arms. It was freezing outside.
“There you are, dear,” Mrs. Hargrove said. The older woman stepped toward her. “I was worried. I forgot to tell you that there’s been a threat of kidnapping tonight. Garth Elkton has cautioned all the women to stay inside.”
“A kidnapping? Here?”
Jenny looked around in astonishment. She couldn’t imagine a less likely place for a kidnapping. The teenagers had strung pink and white crepe paper from the rafters, making Jenny feel as if she were trapped in Candy Land. Dozens of ranchers and their wives sat at the long white tables at the back of the barn. Some of the ranchers had arms as big as wrestlers. What kind of army would it take to kidnap someone from here tonight?
“But who—?” Jenny asked.
“Garth Elkton got a strange call warning him that someone was out to get his sister.”
“Francis!” Jenny had met the woman earlier and liked her instantly. “But who would want to kidnap her?”
Mrs. Hargrove leaned close. “Some folks say it’s an old boyfriend of hers. But I don’t believe them. Flint Harris is a good boy. I always thought Dry Creek would be proud of him one day.”
Jenny looked over at the string of men standing along the far side of the barn. Most of them wore dark cowboy work boots and had the raw look of a new shave on their faces. “Which one is he?”
“Why, none of them, dear. Flint Harris hasn’t been in Dry Creek for almost twenty years now.”
“Well, then, surely he’s not a threat.”
Mrs. Hargrove shrugged. “I’ve never believed he was. Everyone’s so wound up about this cattle rustling that’s going on that we’re making fools of ourselves, I’m afraid. Folks are saying now that the FBI thinks that someone from Dry Creek is tipping off the cattle rustlers. Imagine that! It’s rattled a lot of folks, but I don’t set much store by it. It’ll all blow over. But it’s best that you be careful. If you need to go over to the café, let me know and I’ll get one of the ranch hands to go with you.”
Jenny nodded. “I think we have everything we need to get started.”
Steam from the lobsters kept the air inside the barn moist and Jenny could smell the coffee someone had set to brew.
Mrs. Buckwalter took charge, thanking everyone for coming and asking Matthew Curtis, the newly married minister, to say a blessing on the celebration meal. He agreed and asked everyone to join hands.
Jenny offered one hand to Mrs. Hargrove and the other to a young girl with rosy cheeks standing next to her.
The whole town of Dry Creek held hands and then closed their eyes.
“For the blessings You have given, we thank You, Lord,” the minister prayed. He held the hand of his new bride, a fresh-faced redhead that people had been calling Angel all night long. “For this food eaten with friends, we are most grateful. Keep us in Your love. Amen.”
“And thanks for my money, too,” the young girl at Jenny’s side whispered quietly, her eyes still squeezed shut.
Jenny hadn’t noticed that the girl wasn’t holding someone’s hand on the other side of her. Instead she was clutching a green piece of paper that looked like a check.
“Maybe you should put that with your coat.” Jenny nodded her head in the general direction of a few chairs near the door that were haphazardly piled with coats. “You wouldn’t want to lose your allowance.”
“I don’t get an allowance,” the girl whispered. “But I don’t need one now, because I’m rich.”
“We’ve got a lot to be grateful for.” Jenny smiled down at the girl. What did it matter if the girl kept her few dollars in her hand if it made her feel better?
“I’m especially grateful for him,” the girl whispered again.
Jenny followed the girl’s gaze and it led her straight to the tuxedoed back of—“Robert Buckwalter!” Jenny looked down at the girl in alarm. The sweet young thing’s face glowed in adoration. “What’s he done to you?”
Jenny looked at the broad shoulders of the man who was causing trouble. It wasn’t enough that he’d kissed Jenny and Mrs. Hargrove, he’d obviously kissed others, too.
Robert looked perfectly at ease, talking with a couple of teenage boys who were fidgeting with their ties. It almost looked like he was giving them a lesson in how to make a tie bearable.
Jenny wished he would turn around and face her. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying to scowl at a man’s back as it would be to scowl at his face.
Folding chairs had been pulled close to the long table. People everywhere were walking toward the chairs and sitting down.
Jenny looked over and caught the eye of one of the ranch hands. She nodded for him to begin serving the lobsters like they had arranged earlier.
“I’ll be right with you.” Jenny was in charge of bringing the melted butter to the table, but it would take a minute for the lobsters to make the rounds and she had something to do before she served it.
“Excuse me,” Jenny said. Her eyes were level with the back shoulder of Robert Buckwalter and she could feel the stiffness in her own spine. That poor innocent girl was no match for a man like this and Jenny felt she must protest his flirtation with her.
The man turned around. “Jenny!”
Jenny almost stumbled. The man said her name with joy.
“I know this is a party—” Jenny kept her eyes focused on Robert Buckwalter’s chin. She didn’t want to lose her nerve. She had stuck up for her younger siblings for years. She’d stick up for that young girl. “—and a dance at that. But you’re an adult and you have to know that a child—well, you’re old enough to be her father and I think you should remember that.”
“I’m old enough to be whose father?”
Jenny lifted her gaze from his chin to his eyes. If she didn’t know better, she would say he was puzzled. And his eyes were distracting. A clear sky blue. They made her dizzy and annoyed at the same time.
“All of them,” she snapped. “You’re old enough to be father to all of the kids here.”
“Well, that’s stretching it, but if it makes you feel better, I assure you I’m not father to anyone—especially no one in this room.”
“You shouldn’t kiss them then.”
Jenny kept her voice low. She hadn’t forgotten about the teenage boys who were standing close enough to hear what she was saying if she wasn’t careful.
Robert had no such need for privacy. “Kissing? When?”
Suddenly the air became supercharged.
“Kissing!” A teenage boy yelled out and then gave a piercing basketball whistle. “Hey everybody—he’s gonna kiss her again!”