Dry Creek Sweethearts. Janet Tronstad

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СКАЧАТЬ during the mornings. He works there some. If you need to talk to him, that is.”

      “Oh, we’ll need to talk to him,” the man said. “The Jazz Man is on a pilgrimage.”

      “Jazz—you mean?” Linda looked frantically at the bus. She wished she could see in those tinted windows. Or wipe the mud off the side of the bus and read what it said.

      The man nodded proudly. “He’s going to meet God, right here in Dry Creek, his childhood home.”

      “He’s here?” Linda asked. She took a step forward involuntarily and then took two steps back. “Here himself.”

      She wondered if there was another Jazz Man who had grown up around here.

      The man continued to beam and nod. “Isn’t it great?”

      Linda swallowed. Great wasn’t the word she would use to describe it. Astonishing, maybe. But great, no.

      “We’ll have to start making arrangements, of course. Are there any hotels around? We’ll need to reserve some rooms.”

      “Mrs. Hargrove has a room she rents out sometimes. It’s over her garage.”

      The man frowned, but he took out a notebook from his pocket and opened it up. “I suppose it will have to do. What is the name of her place?”

      “Name?” Linda was finally one hundred percent convinced that Lucy was right and that every business needed a name. “I don’t think it has one yet.”

      “Oh.”

      “But you can find it easy enough. It’s just down the street from my café.”

      “You own the café? Are you serving breakfast yet?”

      Linda nodded. “As soon as I get there and open up.”

      “I’ll be there. I don’t suppose you have soup on the menu?”

      She shrugged. “I could heat some up for you. It’s leftover from yesterday, though. Vegetable beef.”

      “Perfect. I’ll stop in before I go over to the church. Or should I go to the church first? That sounds more pious, doesn’t it?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. The reporters aren’t here yet. Besides, it’s Duane Enger who’s found religion. Not me.”

      Linda was speechless. What was the man talking about? She didn’t mean to be skeptical about another person’s faith, but the Duane she knew hadn’t spared a thought for God. Duane had gone to church to please his great-aunt and that was all. “You’re talking about the real God? Not some strange guru cult thing?”

      The man drew himself up to his full height. “Of course I’m talking about the real God.”

      “Oh, well then—” Linda stammered. She could have asked the man if he used real butter and gotten the same reaction. “Congratulations.”

      The man nodded. “I think we’ll have Duane sing a solo for church to celebrate his return to the faith. That should make for some good pictures. You have choir robes, don’t you?”

      Linda nodded her head. That settled it for her. The Duane she knew would never wear a choir robe. “Sort of. But they’re old. And faded. They’ve been packed away for a couple of years. No one usually wears them for a solo anyway.”

      “What color are they? I hope they’re not a metallic gray. That doesn’t show up so well in pictures.”

      “They’re blue with white collars.”

      “Good.” The man nodded. “Blue is good for pictures. And it looks so religious, if you know what I mean. You always see it in the old religious paintings. Why do you suppose that is?”

      “You really should be talking to Pastor Curtis about this. I think those robes would need to be cleaned if anyone was going to wear one.”

      “I’ll do that. Right after breakfast.”

      There didn’t seem to be anything else to say so Linda nodded. Maybe the man was crazy. She’d been looking at those tinted windows for five minutes now and she didn’t see any movement inside the bus. Maybe the man was some kind of stalker who went to the childhood homes of celebrities and told everyone the celebrity was inside a bus when it was really empty. It would be kind of creepy, but—

      Suddenly, Linda realized she and this man were the only ones standing here in the middle of the Engers’ driveway. “I should get to the café.”

      The man smiled. “I’ll be there for breakfast in a few minutes.”

      Linda turned. “You might want to stop at the hardware store first.”

      She started walking back to her car.

      There were always lots of men sitting around the old woodstove in the hardware store early in the morning before the café opened. Charley Nelson and Elmer Maynard particularly made that a habit now that they’d retired from ranching. They sat there and waited for the café to open. Both of them had lived enough years on this earth to be able to spot a crazy person if they talked to him for more than a minute. She’d stop and warn them to be on guard.

      And, just to be on the safe side, she’d bring out her heavy metal spatula from the kitchen when she served this man his breakfast. She could slip it into the pocket of her big apron; it wouldn’t look as much out of place as the butcher knife would. Besides, the man didn’t look tall enough to overpower her, so the spatula should keep her safe and secure enough. A solid rap with that should discourage him.

      In a way, she told herself as she got in her car and drove the rest of the way to her café, she hoped the man was crazy. That meant Duane Enger wasn’t anywhere near Dry Creek. Even a spatula wouldn’t do much to protect her from Duane.

      She’d opened the café door before she remembered she had something even stronger than a kitchen utensil to rely on here. She had the power of prayer. She was still new in her faith and she had to confess she was too used to solving her own problems. She needed to learn to ask God for help more; Mrs. Hargrove and Pastor Curtis had both told her that.

      “He wants you to turn to Him, dear,” Mrs. Hargrove was forever saying. “You’re His child now. He cares about you.”

      So, after Linda went into the kitchen part of the café to start the coffee, she took her Bible out of her purse and started to read the Psalms. The words did make her feel better.

      After all, if God could keep someone safe in the valley of the shadow of death, He could protect her from a man having delusions of grandeur in a mud puddle in the Enger driveway. She’d still carry the spatula for backup insurance, though. The Bible talked about wise and prudent women, too. There was no point in being foolish and going off unprepared for problems.

      Chapter Three

      Duane woke up several hours later and squinted. Enough light was coming in the tinted windows to let him know it was midmorning. He wished it was still dark. His eyelids felt as though they СКАЧАТЬ