Rancher's Girl, Page 2

  “Maybe she just got out of a bad one and needs some time. How’d she look?”

  “God, she’s beautiful! Thick black hair and those penetrating eyes looking right through you. She was joking with customers and they seemed to like her. She’s beginning to settle in, I hear.”

  Sandy began to think more than he wanted. So she turned down his foreman – smart woman! Jason was a catch and release kind of guy. Miss Cable writes poetry, teaches challenged kids, seems nice, makes candy and is gorgeous. Maybe thinking about her wasn’t such a great idea.

  He changed the subject, figuring Jason would like a new one – as did he.

  “How’s the pregnant mare doing?

  “She’s in the barn waiting to deliver. Should be any day now. Want me to stay there for a few days?”

  “No, I’ll do it. You’ve got your hands full with all those new hands we hired. Go on now and let me know if you hear from Weatherby.”

  Jason nodded, pulled his cowboy hat low on his face, turned his horse and galloped off. A wind blew in from the west and blew Sandy’s hair in his face. Pushing it back, he knew he had a lot of work to do today and decided it was best to get to it. Thinking about any woman would get him only confused anyway.

  * * *

  CHAPTER THREE

  The town of Naples had sponsored an annual dance and crafts faire for going on ninety years now. The event supported the town and had grown in size yearly. Nearly three hundred craft and food vendors drew thousands of people to Naples during the two-day event. It had become a monster and had made the town prosperous. Just before the dance tonight, a gathering of cowboy poets would be reading their work.

  The main streets had all shut down for the vendors to set up their individual tents. Walking from one to another, Lily saw beautiful pieces of handmade jewelry, yard art, Western belt buckles, and food everywhere! People were wearing hats as the temperature had warmed up. Lily swatted some flies away from the taco she was eating on a paper plate.

  She watched a woman walk across the street coming her way. The woman’s demeanor was friendly, but she’d already learned to be careful meeting new people anywhere.

  “Hi there! I’m Amy Breen. You have my nephew, Arturo, in your class.” She held out her hand in introduction.

  “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Lily Cable,” she smiled while shaking Amy’s hand.

  “… It’s got to be so hard teaching those students with their handicaps. Teachers have such a hard job and their pay is so low.”

  Lily frowned. For Pete’s sake. What a thing to say right off the bat. She wasn’t sure where to jump in with all that landed on her at once.

  “Arturo is a bright young boy, despite his learning difficulties. He’s a sweet boy who tries hard and succeeds at most of his lessons. And the teachers I know enjoy their jobs and that’s why we went into teaching in the first place. If we were looking for big money, we would have gone into other fields.” She still smiled at Amy but didn’t care for her immediately. Putting down teachers was something small-minded people enjoyed doing. She got tired of defending her profession.

  Amy frowned. “Well, I didn’t mean anything, I’m sure. I was just being friendly.”

  Lily didn’t think being insulted was a good way to be friendly.

  “Well, it was nice to meet you, Amy, but I have to get back to the store.”

  Lily started walking away from Amy, tossing her taco into the nearest garbage receptacle. She had lost her appetite as well.

  “Work at the candy store too, do you?” Amy called after her.

  Lily just nodded and continued walking. Glancing back at Amy and the women who joined her made Lily uneasy. She just knew that conversation would come back to haunt her somehow. Small towns were not always welcoming.

  “Well, I never. What a snob!” Amy huffed at one of her friends who walked up. “I was just trying to be neighborly to that new teacher at the elementary school and she was pretty snotty.”

  “What’s her problem?”

  “Don’t know, and I don’t care to find out. She should have been nicer to me. I could have helped her out socially. Too bad for her.” Amy and her friend walked off to get some lunch still grumbling about the new unfriendly teacher.

  * * *

  Naples’ downtown looked like a picture postcard for the old American West. Wooden buildings complete with wooden sidewalks backed up to the Sierra Mountains. Huge cottonwoods, elm and quaky aspens dotted the streets in front and behind the storefronts. Front signs indicated clothing or souvenir stores with the occasional saloon. Yes, ‘saloon’, Lily smiled. That was a Western word for bar. The wind softly blew fallen leaves at her feet. The town couldn’t be more picturesque.

  An old surrey with fringe on it sat in front of the candy store. Lily inspected the surrey for the millionth time, marveling at the transportation used back in the 1800s. It sure couldn’t have been comfortable bouncing up and down on that hard seat for miles and miles. She reached out and straightened some of the fringe, so it would hang straight.

  “I don’t think you can ride in it anymore,” came a familiar voice by the door. She glanced over and saw Sandy Johnson. Going from meeting Amy Breen to Sandy Johnson in a period of five minutes was like going from the ridiculous to the sublime. Jesse ran up to her smiling.

  “Miss Cable! Miss Cable! “ Lily crouched down to talk to him face to face. Jesse threw his arms around her breathlessly.

  “Now, Jesse, don’t knock Miss Cable over,” said his father looking nervous. He wiped a hand down his jeans and flicked another shy glance at her.

  “Jesse, it is so good to see you here! How are you?” Lily smiled into his hair and then laughed as she straightened up. “Were you buying any of my candy?”

  “Which candy is yours, Miss Cable? Daddy, can we buy some? Huh? Can we?”

  What a sweet little boy. Lily looked into the eyes of his good-looking father and swallowed. What could she say to him?

  Professional. Stay professional.

  “Jesse wrote the nicest poem about his horse in class yesterday. Did he read it to you yet?” That seemed a safe subject.

  The shy way Sandy looked her over and licked his lips made her think of that happy cat again. She wondered if he was checking her out to be the mouse.

  “He did and it was wonderful,” Sandy smiled at his son. “Also, we just bought some of your terrific chocolate fudge. Jesse, you ate most of it before we left the store, remember?”

  “How did you like my fudge, Jesse?” Although the question was posed to little Jesse, Lily had trouble moving her eyes from Sandy’s handsome face. He gazed back at her in some mysterious way. What in the world was he thinking?

  Jesse held up a piece of half-eaten fudge. “It’s yummy, Miss Cable. Want a bite?” His hands and face were smeared with chocolate.

  “No, thanks, sweetie, but how about we clean up your face? You can’t go out into town looking like that. What do you say?”

  Jesse’s head bobbed up and down with delight as Lily took him by the hand back into the store. Sandy followed them in, holding tight to his cowboy hat. Lily got a moist towel from behind the counter and wiped all the chocolate from his little face. Jesse beamed at the attention, his little face lighting up the room.

  She wondered if his son remembered a woman’s touch and her heart ached a little for him.

  After wiping Jesse’s hands, she glanced up at Sandy. Was that a tear in his eye? He quickly wiped his eyes and commented about how dusty it was in town today. Lily smiled. It wasn’t that windy or dusty. Something else put that moisture there.

  Sandy swallowed visibly. “Miss Cable, did you know there’s a gathering of cowboy poets this evening before the dance?”

  “Yes, I heard about that. What is this gathering about? I’ve never heard of a cowboy poet.” She threw the soiled towel into a waste container.

  “You’d be surprised at the quality of writing from many cowboys around Nevada and other Western states. I guess they have a
lot of time on their hands while watching the cattle,” Sandy smiled at her.

  “I have a funny feeling you’re kidding me about having lots of time on their hands, but I don’t doubt the quality part. What’s it about?”

  “Well, Miss Cable,” Sandy began and stepped aside as someone brushed past him.

  “Lily, please.”

  “All right, Lily. Cowboy poetry grew out of a tradition of cowboys entertaining one another with tall tales and folk songs around the campfire after a day’s work on cattle drives or ranches. Poems can be historical or contemporary, but it’s a living tradition because the work still carries on.” Sandy stopped abruptly, looking embarrassed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to give you a lecture.”

  “Please, go on. I’m enjoying this.”

  “That’s about it except for the gathering being at 5:00. I have an extra ticket. Would you like to come?” Sandy stuck a hand into his pocket for the ticket.

  Jesse spoke up. “Daddy, you didn’t tell her you were talking tonight too!” Jesse excitedly continued to Lily, “My daddy reads me his poems all the time and helps me to fall asleep.”

  They both laughed. “I don’t think he meant it quite like that,” said Sandy.

  “I would love to hear your poetry tonight, Mr. Johnson.

  I’m impressed that you not only write poetry, but perform it as well. I write too, but I’m not brave enough to perform in front of people.”

  “You read to us all the time at school,” said Jesse.

  “Please call me Sandy and Jesse loves your poetry. He told me so.”

  He handed her the ticket. When their hands met for a second time, that spark of static electricity was stronger this time.

  “Be our guest at the gathering tonight.” He looked so deeply into her eyes, Lily forgot what they were talking about for a moment. She took the ticket without removing her eyes from his face.

  “Thanks,” she breathed in a throaty whisper.

  Jesse looked from one to the other and smiled showing a missing front tooth. “See you later, Miss Cable!” he yelled while dashing out the door and into the street.

  Sandy moved away from her slowly. It was obvious he was reluctant to go. “We’ll see you later then, Lily?” Was it really a question?

  Lily nodded, too stunned to answer. Wow. She watched him follow Jesse happily running down the street. Wow again. Look at those shoulders! She snapped awake and was about to go back to work when out of the corner of her eye, she saw Amy Breen watching her from across the street. That was not a happy expression on her face. What was that about? And how would it affect her?

  * * *

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Entertainment was everywhere in town that day. People were singing and making all kinds of music and tribal dancers performed at the town stage. You could take a ghost tour of the town or study the native language of the local Washoe Indians. Birders were collecting to go birding and Western dance instruction was going on in another part of town.

  Lily was amazed at the diversity in Western culture. It had been incredibly different living in San Francisco and she wanted to soak in all the local customs and traditions. Everywhere she looked, people were eating, exploring, talking, singing and in general, being happy. She had needed a shot in the arm and it looked like she had found the right town to get it. Lily just hoped she wouldn’t forever be branded as an outsider. Sometimes you have to be born in some of these places to ever really fit in.

  The huge stage occupied a major presence by the old City Hall. Flags and pennants decorated it with the state flag of Nevada flying alongside. Battle Born was the state slogan. During the Civil War, President Lincoln had needed the silver and gold ore from the Comstock mines up around Virginia City, so he had made Nevada a state. History dripped from everywhere.

  Men with huge cowboy hats and long mustaches began to assemble on the stage. They wore brightly colored Western shirts, vests, jeans, and jackets. Every single man had on beautiful print scarves knotted neatly at their necks. GQ magazine had nothing on these guys. With some of them, the bigger the hat, the longer the mustache. Their faces were weather-beaten with rosy cheeks. Speaking and laughing together, Lily guessed they had either known each other forever, were the happiest guys she had ever seen or maybe both. There was indeed something to the cowboy way of life…

  She was looking for a seat close to the stage when she saw him. Sandy looked more handsome than all of them, and that was saying a lot.

  Lily stopped and stared.

  What was it about this guy?

  He sure had a certain something – charisma? He wore a terrific red shirt with a silver buckle on his belt that decorated his worn jeans. Chaps over his jeans made him look like he had just galloped in on Ole Paint. She wouldn’t have been surprised to watch him brush the dust off his jeans or kick the mud off his boots.

  Her eyes fell to those boots. They were the same ones she saw him wearing that day they’d met in her classroom. Oh, if those boots could talk, what would they say about all those days in the wide-open spaces rounding up cattle or roping horses? She wondered what the boots might say about the last time he stood close to a woman or danced with her. She wanted those boots to be very chatty.

  Well, it was time to take a breath and find that seat. “Oops, he’s looking at me too,” she muttered.

  Sandy had seen her at the same time. He watched her lithe figure stop when she saw him and openly stare. He had half listened to Dave on his right, talking about his new poem. Her face was beautifully framed with those soft curls of black hair. What was it he found so attractive about women with dark eyes and hair?

  Sandy muttered a few ‘heys’ to the various men assembled and tried not to look back at Lily. But he couldn’t help it. She looked so natural in jeans, light blue shirt and vest. She looked like she had lived here all her life. Her teacher clothes definitely didn’t do her figure justice and he had even loved the skirt and blouse she wore that day in the classroom when they met. But in jeans – Whew… His mind was drawing blanks when he finally heard, “Sandy, are you listening to me?” from an agitated voice.

  He looked over to the voice’s source and found Amy Breen tugging on his sleeve and saying his name, “Sandy, earth to Sandy. Anyone home?” He came out of his reverie about Lily to focus on Amy.

  “Yes, Amy, I’m here. What do you want?”

  “Jesse and Arturo are playing just fine with no evidence of being tired. Are you sure you can’t go to the dance with me after the gathering?” A syrupy sweet voice tried to change his mind.

  “I’m beat, Amy. Really, the only thing I want to do tonight is escape to my living room, build a fire and put my feet up, without the boots.” Sandy tried to smile with his half-hearted attempt at levity, but he knew Amy wasn’t buying. Her smile didn’t meet her eyes.

  “Have you met the new teacher, Lily Cable?” Her friendly but detached voice now tried to lure him in. “She’s from San Francisco, I hear. Can’t trust those Californians, you know.”

  “Oh, come on. That’s crap and you know it. And yes, I’ve met Miss Cable. She’s Jesse’s teacher and he loves her. She seems very nice from the little I’ve spoken to her.” Sandy automatically glanced at Lily sitting in the second row as he spoke. She still looked good.

  Meanwhile, Lily had turned her attention to the nice couple on her right. They were from Reno and were chatting with her about another cowboy poetry festival in Elko, Nevada. Lily wanted to absorb as much Western culture as she could. It suddenly seemed very important to her to learn and appreciate as much as possible. Nodding to the couple beside her, Lily wondered about her attitude. Where was this newfound interest coming from? Why did she want to know so much about this culture all of a sudden? With a jolt, she glanced at the announcer on stage turning on the microphone. A loud popping sound came from the microphone and the man cleared his throat.

  After waiting for the applause to die down, he began. “Thanks for comin’ tonight, folks. We’ve got one heckava l
ineup for you: Dave Hamey from Elko, Dan Michaels from Tonopah, also…”

  He continued down the list until Lily heard him say, “And last, but certainly not least, our very own Sandy Johnson! Let’s hear it for this incredible collection of cowboy poets!”

  The audience literally hooted and hollered. Lily didn’t think audiences actually did that after 1860.

  First up was Dave Hamey who had won several Nevada literary arts awards. He wore his signature huge, gray cowboy hat with silver piping around the broad brim. Dave spoke of his days working on Nevada ranches as a cowboy. His poetry captivated Lily with the meter and rhyme and the way he would spin his Western tales. The cadence of his poetry was hypnotic and Lily found herself tapping her feet and imagining the sights he was describing. The audience broke into thunderous applause when he finished. It was easy to see why Dave had won various awards and had performed his poetry in festivals and on TV shows all over the world. The man was a rock star!

  And on and on it went. Each man looked like the fictional Marlboro Man and spoke like Robert Frost or Frederic Remington or some other magnificent poet. Their poems’ imagery would rouse the audience with high intensity with one poem and make them cry with the next. Cadences were fast, slow, swing, stop. Every time a poem ended, the audience would hold its collective breath waiting for the next line that never came. Applause erupted again and again.

  Lily was surprised at the intensity and involvement of the audience. She didn’t think that Robert Frost, as good an American poet as he was, could elicit this kind of response from an audience. Cowboys certainly were a special breed.

  Lily bent down to pick up her ticket that had fallen on the ground. She looked up to see Sandy Johnson on the stage watching her. She straightened immediately and pushed back the hair that had fallen in her face. This guy seemed to unnerve her with a look!

  Sandy rose from his seat and took the microphone mid-stage.

  A hush fell over the audience as if this was the cowboy they had all come to hear. Lily looked around at the reverential faces sitting by her. Maybe he was special too.