A Rich Man for Dry Creek and A Hero For Dry Creek: A Rich Man For Dry Creek / A Hero For Dry Creek. Janet Tronstad

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СКАЧАТЬ If the other woman did, she was ten steps ahead of Jenny who couldn’t seem to figure out much about anything.

       Chapter Six

       “B ring those bags over here.” Laurel looked behind her and spoke sharply to Sheriff Wall who was standing staring at Laurel. The sheriff looked down at his arms as though he’d forgotten they were attached to his shoulders let alone that they held two expensive bags.

      Jenny looked around. The sheriff was not alone in his fascination with Laurel. The ranch hands had forgotten all about the hot coffee they’d been lining up to get. By the looks on their faces they no longer needed the coffee to warm them.

      “I need my lipstick.” Laurel pouted for the benefit of the men standing around. “My lips aren’t used to weather like this.” She shivered delicately. “Why, it’s terrible out there.”

      Silence greeted her pronouncement.

      “It is cold at that, ma’am,” one of the ranch hands finally ventured to say.

      Laurel smiled up at him. “You really should pick better weather for doing these cow things.” She turned her head so her smile hit Robert. “What is it they called it—the rustle or something?”

      “Rustling,” Robert said dryly. “You’re talking about the cattle rustling that has been going on around here. A hundred thousand dollars worth of loss so far. Interstate stuff. Enough to put some of these ranchers under. The FBI is working on the case now. It’s serious here.”

      “Well, they need to plan it for a warmer time of year, don’t you think?” She appealed to the sheriff who was bringing her bags to her. “Maybe you could talk to the people in charge of the rustling. Ask them to do it in the summer instead. We could have a lawn picnic then with umbrellas and iced tea.”

      “Yes, ma’am,” Sheriff Wall replied automatically. He looked worried. “Where do you want me to set these bags?”

      Laurel looked around, her eyes finally settling on the refreshment table.

      Jenny winced. The refreshment table had looked better when the evening began. The teenagers had wrapped the legs in swirls of pink crepe paper and had twisted streamers from the table edge to the floor all along the front of the table. But those streamers were gone now, leaving stubby pieces of tape behind. And the lace tablecloth borrowed from Mrs. Hargrove had a half-dozen brown circles where some coffee cup had spilled. The punch bowl still stood in the center, even though only an inch or two of liquid remained in its bottom.

      “I can’t put my bags there,” Laurel appealed to Robert. “They’re genuine alligator. They’ll get wet with that stuff.” She pointed to the punch bowl.

      “If they’re alligator, I expect they’ll be fine if they get wet.” Robert shook his head. He added in disgust, “The skin’s been wet before when it was on the alligator. I can’t believe you’d buy alligator skin luggage anyway. Aren’t they some kind of endangered group or something?”

      The other men were more forgiving and more eager to please. One of the ranch hands took off his vest and laid it over the tablecloth. “Here. I think your bags are beautiful. And don’t worry. You can put your bags on this. Won’t hurt my old vest any.”

      “Why, aren’t you kind?” Laurel gushed at the man and then looked over at the sheriff. “You can put them there.”

      The sheriff set the bags on top of the vest and then ducked his head, mumbling something about getting back to the kidnappers.

      “Kidnappers?” Laurel looked up with the first genuine expression that Jenny had seen on the woman’s face yet. Laurel’s smile was gone and she looked twenty percent smarter. “I thought you said they were cattle rustlers.”

      “Well, they’re also kidnappers,” the sheriff said somewhat sourly.

      “Oh, dear, I knew I shouldn’t have come here to this end-of-the-world place where there aren’t even police to protect me from the criminals that run loose.”

      “I’m the law around here.” The sheriff stomped a little louder than he needed to on his way over to the tangle of kidnappers that were waiting for him on the floor. “I protect all the citizens of Dry Creek.” He smiled up at Laurel. “And the visitors, too, of course. I take good care of visitors.”

      “But there’s only one of you.” Laurel looked aghast just thinking about it. “The Seattle police force must have thousands of people working. And they’re trained. Police academy and all that.”

      “I’ve got my GED. I know it’s not the same as a high school diploma, but I know the same information. And I read those police magazines every month. And not just the free ones they send. Sometimes I buy the ones off the shelves at that big drugstore in Billings. Just don’t go listening to anyone spouting off about that hit man that came here after Miss Glory. There was no way I could have known he’d dress up like Santa Claus and come to the church pageant just like he belonged—”

      “Hit man! You had a hit man, too. Right here in Dry Creek!” Laurel fanned her cheeks with one hand. “A girl like me just isn’t safe.”

      “No one can get into Dry Creek that easily,” Robert said, trying to stem her rising hysteria. When he said it, he looked at Laurel more closely. It was true. Dry Creek wasn’t the easiest place to get to in the middle of a February blizzard. What had prompted Laurel to come?

      “I’m sure we’re all safe,” Jenny added. She was standing behind the refreshment table still pouring coffee. The line of men wanting a cup was finally moving forward. The heat from the coffee urn had added a moist flush to Jenny’s face and she was beginning to wish she had her hairnet back so that her hair would stay in place.

      Laurel turned to Jenny and scrutinized her briefly before dismissing her. “Well, I’m sure you’re perfectly safe, dear. But rich people have extra perils and anyone can see I have money.”

      “What anyone can see,” Robert interrupted icily, “is that you don’t have the manners you were born with. Look around you. Money isn’t the measure of a person. Some of these people will never have an extra dime and they’re still better people than you or I will ever be with our silver spoons and our trust funds.”

      One of two of the ranch hands looked at Robert in appreciation.

      “Say what you want.” Laurel stepped over and snapped open one of her small alligator suitcases. “But I’ve never heard of anyone pulling a gun on someone else because they wanted to steal from a better kind of person. They’re after people with money and that’s it.”

      Laurel lifted the lid on her suitcase and a wave of perfume hit the air.

      The man holding his coffee cup out to Jenny strained to see over her shoulder so Jenny turned to see what the attraction was. There she saw it. Row after folded row of satin and silk lingerie. Some trimmed with lace. Some appliquéd. Slips. Nighties. In peach. Ivory. Lavender. White.

      “And you’re worried about the kids becoming underwear salesmen,” Robert said quietly as he moved closer to Jenny. “I’d say she’s set up for a sales tour of all fifty states.”

      The amused tone in Robert’s voice cheered Jenny up considerably. He might be rich. But he surely could still see through a woman like Laurel.

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