Meeting Her Match. Debra Clopton

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      He accepted Pace’s handshake, and Pace noticed with satisfaction that he had an easy but firm grip. That went a long way in handling a scared horse. “You want to break horses?”

      “If I can do it your way, sir. I’ve broke a few, gentled some, but frankly, sir, when I saw that documentary you were featured in I knew I didn’t really have a clue how to do it the right way.”

      “Do you have patience?”

      “Um, yes, sir. I do.”

      Pace nodded. “Come out the end of next week. Right now I want some time alone with them. They need time to adjust to the trip and the change of scenery.”

      Jake grinned and nodded as though he’d just been given the best present under the Christmas tree. “Yes, sir. I’ll be here. You need anything else, you call me. I’m at Clint’s bunkhouse.”

      Pace watched the younger man leave, reminded of himself, recognizing the gleam in his eyes.

      “Hello, neighbor. What’s that you said about patience?”

      Pace twisted around, recognizing the voice he knew belonged to his nosy, beautiful neighbor. He might have been less than friendly the day before, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t noticed her. He’d noticed plenty.

      He’d been watching her ever since she’d climbed out of that atrocious car of Lacy’s.

      He studied her, taking his time, thinking if he could keep her offended enough, maybe she’d leave him alone…. She was staring at him with a playful smirk on her lips that matched the easy lilt of her voice. A tone very different from the irritated one of the day before. Today, she had a bright hat on that said Mornings and Hair Don’t Mix, and she was right. Her chestnut, shoulder-length hair was more out of her ponytail than in. It reminded him of a horse’s tail that had tangoed with a crop of scrub bushes.

      “My name’s Sheri Marsh, by the way. Thought I’d tell you since you had that sudden emergency inside your cabin yesterday and didn’t have time to inquire.”

      There was mischief in her eyes as she held her hand out to him. She had long, slender fingers, and he hesitated before reluctantly wrapping his callused fingers around hers. He swallowed hard at her touch, feeling an unexpected connection as her soft hand met his.

      “Patience with people—” he started, his gaze meeting hers and suddenly his gut felt the way it did the moment before he settled into the saddle of a bronc “—is on an entirely different level for a loner like me,” he finished, realizing only then that he was still hanging on to her hand. He dropped it like a hot branding iron, then reached to check the saddle cinch on his horse. His movements out of sync, he forced himself to focus on what he was doing instead of the woman standing near him.

      Stepping closer, she ran her hand down the flank of his horse. “Believe me, I figured that one out myself,” she said drily.

      He shot her a sideways glance from beneath his Stetson. She was standing close enough that he caught the fresh scent of her. Something tangy and tart, like the personality that radiated from her.

      “Well, anyway, cowboy. I just thought I’d tell you that I was sorry to interfere with your business yesterday. I was only looking out for Clint and Lacy.”

      He nodded and tried to work up the will to say he was sorry for his behavior. But before he could respond, she spun on her bright red city boots and strode away.

      He didn’t call her back, but watched her leave instead. She bounced as though she were walking on springs.

      He realized suddenly that he wasn’t alone in watching Sheri Marsh sashay away. Almost every cowboy in his line of vision and probably on the lot had stopped what they were doing and were calling goodbyes to his striking neighbor. She knew it, too. She tilted her head to this side, then that, smiling at each one and waving. The woman acted as if she were on the red carpet or something. There was no doubt that she was one hundred percent comfortable standing in the limelight. Again, that did not surprise him.

      Pace had always liked Sam’s Diner. It was a diner and pharmacy all rolled into one, like so many drugstores had been way back when. This one was complete with the original marble soda fountain and spinning bar stools. He could still remember the first time he walked into the place as a kid. He’d been ten, and he and his dad had been on the road for eighteen hours straight. Pace had been starving, and the smell of bacon and eggs had started his stomach growling the minute they’d walked through the heavy swinging door. Even as a kid he’d been taller than the bowlegged man who came storming from behind the counter and grabbed his dad’s hand. He’d shaken it so hard it looked like a strong-arm contest.

      Pace smiled at the memory of wiry little Sam taking on his six-foot-four-inch dad. To this day he’d never met anyone who could shake hands like Sam.

      “How ya doing, son?” Sam greeted him heartily as he grabbed the hand Pace held out. Though Sam had aged, his grip had only grown stronger. Pace was pretty certain it came from years of practice on all the customers who walked through his doors. “Sorry to hear about yer dad,” he said, pumping away. “It was a terrible shame. He was a good man.”

      “Thank you, sir. He died doing something he loved. He was luckier than most in that respect. I doubt he had any regrets when it came to the life he lived.”

      Sam let go of his hand at last, crossed his arms and nodded thoughtfully. “Yer right about that, son.”

      From the window table Pace heard a snort and glanced toward the two old-timers hunched over a game of checkers. Seemed nothing much changed around Mule Hollow.

      “Sam’d be right smart if he took a lesson from yer daddy on that,” Applegate Thornton practically shouted as his opponent, Stanley Orr, nodded.

      It had been five years since Pace had traveled through Mule Hollow, and he wasn’t sure if those two old-timers had moved an inch since he left.

      “Turn yer hearin’ aid on, App, yer shoutin’ loud enough to wake the dead,” Sam ordered, then turned back to Pace and Clint. “What kin I get fer you boys?”

      It was early for lunch but late for breakfast so they settled on burgers with sautéed onions and fries. They’d chosen a booth near the back of the diner, one they’d huddled in on many occasions when they’d kicked around as early teens. If he wasn’t missing Idaho so much, Pace would have felt as if he’d come home. But try as he might, he was still fighting a longing for what he’d left behind. He was trusting that the Lord was going to help handle that with time.

      “How are you doing with the move?” Clint asked as if reading his thoughts.

      Pace set his hat in the seat next to him, then met his old friend’s knowing gaze. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t having trouble. I keep asking myself what the Lord needs me for down here.”

      “Could be He just needs you to be willing to follow Him.”

      Pace hadn’t thought about that. “Could be.”

      Clint clasped his hands on the table and leaned forward. “I think it’s more than that. I believe you’ll be surprised by God’s plans for you. You’re thinking he can’t use you because you’re not the most social guy I know. On that I have to agree, but he used silent types all СКАЧАТЬ