By now Jess was getting to know more people in the town. She welcomed each customer, making it a practice to remember their names. With a smile, she greeted Hank, who'd closed his hardware store for the day. The TaggartsâKylie, Shane and their familyâwere here too, along with Kylie's aunt Muriel and her husband. But there was one person her searching eyes couldn't find.
She'd been racked with regret since Ben walked out last week. He'd given her a chance to apologize later, when he'd come in for coffee, but she'd been too busyâand maybe too proudâto say much more than hello. Now, days had passed since the last time he'd called her. What if her show of temper had driven him away for good?
At least Gil had left her alone. She hadn't heard from him since last week, when she'd hung up on him. Could her ex-husband have gotten the message that she wanted nothing to do with him?
But she'd be foolish to believe that. Gil was out there somewhere, and it wouldn't be like him to forgive and forget. He was playing mind games again, that was allâand his silence was every bit as unsettling as his phone calls. For now, short of running away, all she could do was carry on with her life and keep a sharp lookout over her shoulder.
She was refilling a customer's coffee cup when Ben walked in the door with his son. She glanced up. The coffee she was pouring sloshed onto the place mat. With a murmured apology she sponged it up with a paper napkin. Why now, when she wanted to say all the right things, had her mind suddenly gone blank?
She gave them a smile and a nod. Both of them were laughing, their faces flushed with cold.
“We're celebrating,” Ethan said, as she came over to greet them. “Mom said I could stay here with Dad this year. No boarding school.”
“That's wonderful!” Her gaze met Ben's. “What changed her mind?”
“A miracle,” Ben said. “There's no other way I can explain it.” He seemed so genuinely happy, so natural, that Jess felt the tension dissolving between them. Her hopes fluttered and took wing.
“Where's Clara this morning?” she asked. “Is she all right?”
“Mother's fine. She just wanted to save her energy for the Cowboy Christmas Ball tonight. You're still going, aren't you?”
“I promised to get there early and help with the tickets. You know, you never did teach me the Texas two-step.”
His dimple deepened. “No time now, but if you'll save me a dance or two, I can teach you on the spot.”
“I'll hold you to that.” Her cheeks warmed as his gaze held hers.
“Dad, I'm starving!” Ethan said.
“Here, get in line.” Jess guided them toward the buffet table. “Since you're celebrating, this breakfast is on me, and don't you dare argue!”
Other customers were demanding Jess's attention, but as she hurried away, her tired feet could barely feel the floor. Maybe things would actually work out between her and Ben. Maybe tonight's Cowboy Christmas Ball would mark a turning point in her lifeâa step into a world where she finally felt accepted, safe and cherished.
Was that even possible? Or was she just a loser, clinging to romantic dreams that would never come true?
* * *
“Oh my, just look at you!” Francine clapped her hands as Jess stepped out of her room and did a playful pirouette to show off her gown. The green velveteen 1890s-style dress fit her perfectly, with its tiny waist, flaring skirt and small bustle caught up in back. The sleeves and bodice were edged with ecru lace that matched the ribbon in Jess's hair, which Francine had curled and pinned up in an old-fashioned style. High-button shoes would have completed the look, but Jess had settled for her low-heeled boots. They wouldn't show much, and at least they'd be comfortable.
“You look pretty good yourself,” Jess said. “Noâforget I said that. You look spectacular!”
Francine's burgundy satin saloon girl costume, trimmed with black lace, was perfection. With her platinum curls piled high, violet eyeshadow and a star-shaped beauty spot on her rouged cheek, she could have stepped straight out of a classic western movie. The effect was a little startling, but as Francine had explained, she dressed this way every year. The townspeople, even the ones who gossiped about her, would be disappointed if she showed up in a more subdued outfit.
Jess glanced at the wall clock. “I'd better be going. I promised Maybelle I'd be at the ticket table by six-thirty. You're welcome to come with me.”
“No, I'll be fine,” Francine said. “Hank's picking me up a little later, after the fun starts. I'll see you thereâbut wait. I have something for you. Call it an early Christmas present.”
She hurried back to her bedroom, and Jess heard the sound of rummaging. A few minutes later she came back with a little velvet box, the kind that might hold a ring. “I've had this since before you were born,” she said, holding it out. “I think it's time I gave it to you.”
With unsteady hands, Jess took the box and raised the lid. Inside was a heart-shaped gold locket, about the size of her thumbnail. On one side was a tiny hinge, on the other a catch. A thin gold chain ran through a ring at the top.
“Open it,” Francine said.
Jess pressed the catch. The halves of the locket parted to reveal the small photo that had been cut to fit and glued insideâthe photo of a man in his twenties with fiery hair. A lump rose in Jess's throat. He looked like a young Clint Eastwood, lean-faced and square-jawed with challenging eyes and a reckless grin. There could be no doubt. For the first time ever, she was seeing Denver Jackson, her father.
“That's the only picture I have of him,” Francine said. “But I don't need it anymore. I've got you, honey.”
Tears welled. Moved beyond words, Jess blinked them away.
“Now turn around.” Francine took the locket from Jess's hand. “Let me put it on you so you can wear it tonight.”
“Are you sure I should?” Jess protested as the chain settled around her throat. “I couldn't bear to have anything happen to it.”
“It'll be fine.” Francine fastened the clasp. “Wear it for meâand for him. He would be so proud of you.”
“Thank you.” Jess hugged her mother, her heart bursting. “I've got to go,” she said, turning away before she could break down. Slipping on her coat and grabbing her purse, Jess dashed out the door and drove to the high school gym.
Even at this early hour, the parking lot was busy. Some people were dropping off food for the buffet. Others had arrived early to help set up the dining tables and folding chairs. At the parking lot's far end, behind the school lunchroom, the local volunteer fire crew was preparing to carve the pit-barbecued beef. The aroma of slow-roasted prime Angus floated on the cold winter air.
The dusty black tour bus that had brought the band from Nashville filled the space next to the gym's back door. Jess had never heard of the Badger Hollow Boys, but Francine had assured her that the band, which had played here before, was first-rate. They were already setting up when Jess walked into the gym and paused to look around.
Half the gym floor was taken up by the buffet and the dining tables. The other half was for dancing and the band. The decorating committee had done their job earlier. A nine-foot Christmas tree, aglow with ornaments, stood at one corner of the dance floor. Twinkling lights, hung with tinsel, were strung from the basketball hoops. The air smelled of pine and home cooking.
“There you are! I was getting worried!” Maybelle, dressed like a prim schoolmarm with her hair in a bun, bustled over and began giving Jess her orders. “The table's over here by the door. Most people will have ticketsâyou're to take them and stamp their hands as they come in. For the ones who're paying at the door, the price is fifteen dollars for adults, ten for students, five for children under ten, and babies under two are free. Any questions?”
“Don't worry, I know how to make change. I'll be fine.” Jess took her seat behind the table as Maybelle hurried off.
Jess enjoyed a few relaxing minutes, watching the band warm up and taking in the festive atmosphere. Then people started arrivingâtrickling in at first, then flooding through the doors of the gym. Most of them had tickets, but everybody needed to be hand-stamped with a Texas star symbol.
After the first half hour, the crowd coming inside began to thin. Francine and Hank had arrived. So had Clara, with Ethan. Jess had yet to see Ben. But if he was on duty, he might not have to come through the ticket line.
By now the ball was well under way. People in old-fashioned western dress were lining up at the buffet and feasting at the tables. A few couples had ventured onto the dance floor. The Badger Hollow Boys knew their old-time music. Their playing was lively but mellow.
Jess was watching the dancers, wondering if she could ever learn those steps, when she heard a voice at her elbow.
“What's a beautiful lady like you doing all alone?”
She glanced up to find Ben grinning down at her. He was dressed as a cowboy, his sheriff's badge pinned to his leather vest.
“So, have you arrested any bad guys tonight?” she joked.
“Hey, keeping order in this place is serious business. No guns allowed, no alcohol, no drugs, no party crashers and no rough stuff. Just because all I have to do is walk around and look tough, that doesn't mean I'm not working. But I haven't forgotten that dance you promised me.”
Jess glanced toward the dance floor. “Better make it a slow one. I don't want to make a fool of myself. Anyway, for now, I need to stay here. A few people are still coming in.”
“Can I get you a plate?”
“Food can wait. But something to drink would be nice.”
“I'll get you some cold apple cider. Be right back.”
* * *
Ben crossed the gym to the buffet table, glancing back to make sure Jess was all right. He'd kept his eye on her all evening. He knew she wouldn't agree to being babysat, but his danger instincts were on high alert. If her ex was going to make a move against her, tonight in this noisy, crowded place would be ideal. The Cowboy Christmas Ball had been advertised on the town's website. For anyone with computer access, finding the time and place would be no problem. All the bastard would have to do was put on cowboy gear and show up.
Ben had scanned the crowd repeatedly, looking for any stranger who resembled Gil McConnell's mug shot. So far, the coast looked clear. Maybe he was being overprotective.
Returning with the cider, he found that his mother had just joined Jess at the ticket table. “Why not let me spell you while you take a break, dear?” she was saying. “I've done this job before. You could relax, maybe get some food.”
“Or give me that dance you promised.” Ben stepped up to the table and held out his hand. “Come on. The tune just starting is a Texas two-step. I can give you your first lesson.”
After setting her cup on the table, he swept her onto the crowded dance floor. Warm, soft and fragrant, she fit into his arms as if her shapely body had been made just for him. With his hand at the small of her back, he guided her through the simple steps.
Quick, quick, sloooow, sloooow . . . Quick, quick, sloooow, sloooow
. After a few tries, she began to move well with him, matching his steps as he held her close.
From the dance floor, he could see Francine sitting with Hank. She gave him a grin and a wink before he turned his full attention back to Jess.
“See, that's not so hard, is it?” he murmured in her ear.
Laughing, she shook her head. Reflected Christmas lights danced in her eyes. It was now or never, Ben told himself.
“Jess, I've been thinking,” he began.
“About what?”
He cleared his throat, feeling as awkward as a schoolboy. “About you and me. I know we're both carrying a lot of baggage, but I like to believe we've got the start of something good. If you feel the sameâ”
The ringing cell phone in his pocket cut off his words. Checking the caller ID, he saw it was the 911 dispatcher. Talk about bad timing. “Sorry,” he apologized to Jess. “I've got to take this.”
“What is it, Lois?” he asked, turning aside.
“Somebody just called in an armed robbery at Rowdy's Roost. One gunman inside and a driver outside in a beat-up green pickup.”
“I'm on my way.” Ben had no choice except to do his job. He could only hope Jess would be all right. “We'll finish our dance later,” he told her. “Stay here. Don't go anywhere till I get back.”
Grabbing a nearby deputy for backup, he headed out to his SUV. Siren blaring and lights flashing, he floored the gas pedal and roared out of the parking lot.
Rowdy's Roost was on the far edge of town. A fast ten minutes later, they swung off the main road and onto the graveled drive. A half-dozen vehicles were parked outside the bar. There was no green pickup in sight.
“The place looks pretty quiet,” the deputy observed. “The robbers must've lit out and gone.”
“Stay here. I'll check it out.” Taking the 9mm Glock he'd left under the seat, Ben climbed out of the SUV and walked to the closed door. “County Sheriff,” he called out. “I'm coming in.”
Pistol at the ready, he opened the door. The interior of the bar was dim and smoky. The bartender was polishing glassware. A few regulars sat on stools, drinking beer. From the back, the
clickety-click
of pool balls told Ben there was a game going on.
The bartender turned and looked at him. “Somethin' wrong, sheriff?”
“I got a call about a robbery out here.”
The bartender shook his head. “Never happened. Maybe you got the wrong place. Or maybe somebody's prankin' ya.”