Between Strangers. Linda Conrad

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      “They’ve got a formidable operation there with many different kinds of businesses. Sheep. Cattle. They breed show horses and champion stock bulls, and do lots of other profitable things, as well. My friend’s dad, Buck Stanton, hired me to run the stock contracting end of the business.”

      “Stock contracting?”

      “Yeah. We supply the livestock to rodeos. Our operation isn’t big enough yet to produce the shows themselves. But we’ll be getting there someday.”

      “Your ranch raises the bucking horses and those mean ol’ bulls?”

      The question brought an automatic grin. “There’s a bit more to it than that. I acquire bucking stock at auction, study the genetics of breeding good buckers and make sure the stock stays rank by pasturing them far away from humans.

      “So far we have a crew of thirty in my division. Vets, chute men, transporters. The whole deal is growing by leaps and bounds.”

      “Goodness,” she said with a slight chuckle. “I had no idea so much went into that sort of thing. Have you been doing it very long?”

      “Not long,” he told her with a shake of his head.

      “I see.”

      There was something in the way she said the words that told him she had questions not yet spoken aloud. He just didn’t know what answer to give if she wouldn’t ask the question.

      Nothing for him to do but keep talking. Maybe he’d hit on the right answer by accident. Plus…all this talking was helping to keep him alert and was making the time go by quicker.

      “But the ranch is definitely my home now,” he told her without a second thought. “It’s great not having to travel all the time.”

      “But you’re traveling now. Was this trip for business?”

      His thoughts on this trip were still all jumbled in his head. Grief and regret mixed together with a final release of duty and the promise of a brand-new life. He wasn’t sure he could talk about it just yet.

      “No,” he grunted. “My grandmother passed away. I felt it was my duty to attend her funeral in New Orleans.”

      “Your ‘duty’?” Marcy asked in a quiet voice. “I don’t understand.”

      Hell, he’d managed to say the wrong thing after all. He really did not want to talk about this.

      “It’s not important,” he said quickly. “What’s important is that I’m headed home. And if I’m lucky, I’ll make it there by Christmas Eve.”

      “Does your family celebrate that with special traditions?”

      “Didn’t know I had much family left. And now that Grandmother Steele is gone, I guess I’ll never know much about that side of the family.” Now why had he let that slip? Jeez, he was sure saying way too much to a stranger. “I hope to make the Stantons in Montana my family from now on. They’ve done more than give me a job—they’re more like family than just friends and employers.” Again, that was just too much to say. What was the matter with him?

      “But you don’t have a wife and kids waiting for you back in Montana?”

      Ah. He had a feeling that was the question she’d been wanting to ask. He’d noted over the years that it was a question most women asked when they first met a man.

      “No, ma’am. Not as yet. But I’m hopeful that’ll be changing real soon. Now that I’m building a home, I intend to have everything that goes with it.”

      “Oh? You’re engaged, then?”

      He shook his head. “Not yet. But I expect that Lorna Stanton will consent to marry me when I propose at the family’s traditional Christmas Eve party. So…no, as of this moment, I’m not engaged, either.”

      “Did you mean to say that this Lorna is your girlfriend?”

      “I suppose you could call her a girlfriend,” he admitted hesitantly. “But I’ve never thought of her that way. We have a lot in common. A marriage between us makes sense. It’s a good solid fit.”

      “Hmm. So does she love you? Do you love her?”

      “I can’t say that we’ve come that far yet. But I believe the best marriages are the ones where love grows over time. I’m starting a little late in life, but we still should have fifty years or so to learn about love.”

      “Wait a minute.” Marcy held up her hand, palm out. “You intend to ask this woman to marry you, but neither of you are in love? Have you two, uh, well, do you know for a fact that you will be compatible…in all areas?”

      “If you’re asking about in the bedroom, the answer is no, I don’t know for sure about that part of it. But we respect each other. And that’s all I’ll say on the subject.”

      Oh, brother. Marcy could only shake her head. He couldn’t be for real. She knew love was a difficult dream to realize, and this guy didn’t even have the basic steps down yet.

      “I kind of hate to ask this,” she began tentatively. “But does Lorna know you intend to propose? Have you two talked about the possibility?”

      He seemed to take a moment thinking that one over. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I thought it would be more romantic that way. Women like that kind of romance, don’t they?”

      Marcy bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing aloud. “Some things aren’t meant to be that big a surprise, you know?”

      The darkening shadows of late afternoon made the atmosphere around them suddenly seem melancholy. Marcy wished that she knew Lance a little better. He could be heading for a huge fall, and she wanted to be his friend so she could try to keep it from being such a hard landing.

      He paid no attention to her attempt to warn him. “I found a wonderful engagement ring on my last evening in New Orleans. It’s an antique and very special. Wait until I tell you the crazy story of how I got it.”

      They rounded a bend in the road and Lance smiled. “The story will have to wait. You can’t see it through the snowfall yet, but the truck stop is right up ahead. We’ll be able to get in out of this storm in just a few minutes.”

      After the waitress found a high chair for Angie, and Marcy had unbuttoned and removed the baby’s snowsuit, she shrugged off her own coat and slipped into the booth beside her daughter. The place was packed and it had taken thirty minutes to get seated. Truckers, bus drivers, state police and families who’d been on their way to holiday parties, all of them had wound up stuck here waiting out the storm.

      “Here’s a couple of menus,” the harried waitress told her. “But we’re not serving everything as usual. The boss wants to conserve so we can make it over the next few days without running out of food.”

      “That’s okay,” Marcy said with a shrug. “I have to check with the rest of my party, but I’d imagine we’ll be having whatever you’ve got. And the baby will be fine if you can just bring her some milk.”

      “I’ll СКАЧАТЬ