The Cowboy Takes a Bride (3 page)

Grinning, he released her hand and rammed his fists on his apron-covered hips. “What can I bring ya?”

How about an ice pack?
she wanted to say, but ordered a glass of ice water with lemon instead. Everyone else ordered tea and coffee.

“So, give us the scoop. Haley here already told us you're an aspiring actress,” Norma Sue said.

“Technically, she already is an actress,” Haley clarified.

“In anything we would know?” Esther Mae leaned forward on one elbow. “I just love the movies.”

Sugar hesitated, thinking of all the films she'd almost had a recognizable part in. Or the ones she'd had a decent part in, only to have her scenes end up on the cutting-room floor. God had put this dream in her heart, but it hadn't been easily attainable. “Well, I've actually done more commercials than movies you might recognize. I did a Folgers commercial and—”

Esther Mae slapped the table and her eyes went wide. “You did an
insurance
commercial—the one where the gal fell out of the hot-air balloon! That was you, wasn't it?”

Here it went. “Yes, ma'am, it was me.”

The redhead slapped the table again. “I knew it. That was a funny commercial. Why, the way you sort of flipped and dived out of that basket…” She was overcome with chuckles, and began to wave her hand in front of her face as she tried to get ahold of herself. “I still nearly split a gut, thinking about the way you looked. Your face was stretched back by the wind, sort of flapping—”

“That was you?” Norma Sue shrieked.

Sugar nodded. She hated that insurance commercial. Hated knowing that was all anyone knew her from. That after all of her hard work, it was her most memorable moment. At least in the coffee commercial she'd done some real acting, and not just physical comedy. It was depressing. But that was going to change. It was. And besides, actors got their start in commercials—even stupid commercials—every day.

“I've seen that ad. You were funny,” Adela said, as Sam returned with a tray of drinks.

“So tell us about your plans,” Norma Sue urged. “Haley said you want to start an actual acting troupe. A theater of some sort.”

“Yes.” Sugar sat up, energy surging through her just from thinking about it. “I want to do a summer stock–type production. I think it would be great to have both acting and singing in it. Have you ever been to Branson, Missouri? I'm thinking more along the lines of a play, but those shows inspire me to think some singing cowboys would be great. Haley told me about the wonderful community center you have, and I thought it would be the perfect place to start a show. I want something that runs week after week. One that could draw attention to the town and to me. I need some great reviews that Hollywood will pay attention to. You know, so I can get that breakout part I so desperately need in order to succeed.”

Norma Sue looked thoughtful.

“You came to the right spot. We have some
very
talented cowboys in our town!” Esther Mae exclaimed. “Bob Jacobs, Molly's husband, sounds like Tim McGraw. He's just fabulous. And there's more, too.”

Norma Sue and Adela shot a look at each other. “Is something bothering you?” Sugar asked.

“We have some folks here who don't want anything to do with getting on stage,” Norma stated. “We leave them alone.”

Okay,
Sugar thought, wondering about the odd statement. Suddenly, Haley set her tea down, drawing all eyes to her. “I just realized we might have a problem. This show would run every weekend, right?”

Sugar nodded. “To get a buzz going that could draw some major attention, I need to do at least three shows a weekend. If I could get it together by the first week of August and carry it on through October or maybe November, that would be a good run.”

Norma Sue frowned. “This
is
a problem.”

“Oh, dear,” Esther Mae said. “It certainly is.”

Okay, they'd successfully put a fireball in the pit of her stomach. Sugar looked at Haley, then back at the ladies, waiting for someone to tell her what this problem was.

“You see, dear—” Adela looked at her kindly “—our community center is used for much more than just plays. We have wedding receptions there and various other town activities. For instance, Pete's Feed and Seed hosted a one-day seminar there last Saturday for all the ranchers. One of the big feed companies was introducing a new grain or something. So if we have your show going on there every weekend, it would displace all the activities we might otherwise schedule.”

Talk about a kink in a good plan. “I hadn't thought about that.” Sugar's mind whirled as she contemplated this obstacle. “I
should
have, though. I just got so carried away with the idea,” she groaned.

“Now, now, don't give up.” Esther Mae turned serious. “There has to be a way.”

Think, Sugar. Think
. “A barn!” she exclaimed, instantly pushing the gloom back into the shadows. “They called summer stock ‘strawhat' because most of them were performed in adapted barns. So all I need is a barn. And
then
some cowboys.”

The table erupted with rapid-fire exclamations of relief and agreement. Discussion ensued about what attributes this barn should have. Everyone agreed it needed to be big and close to town. And most important, it couldn't be one that the owner was using.

“Plus the rent would have to be dirt cheap,” Sugar added. She had to be frugal. “At least until we see how it takes off.” She was going for broke, praying that God was going to work this out for her. She was stepping out in faith, trusting that this was where she was supposed to be. “Better yet maybe I could talk the owner into some kind of partnership.”

Norma Sue frowned. “There aren't that many barns close to town. The only one I can think of not being used is Ross Denton's. And that's not good.”

Esther Mae's smile faded. “It sure isn't.”

“Why not? If he's not using it, then what's the problem?” Despite their frowns, Sugar felt providence kicking in again. It had to be, because Ross was the only cowboy she'd met so far and just look how he was working into her plan. That couldn't be a coincidence. It was amazing, actually. But even Haley appeared hesitant. “What?”

“Ross doesn't want anything to do with entertainment,” Esther Mae said.

“And we let him be.”

More than a little confused, Sugar glanced at Norma Sue. “I don't understand. He seemed more than pleasant today when I met him.” She thought about the cowboy's flirting. “Besides, he told me that if there was anything he could do for me, to just call.”

The ladies didn't seem convinced.

“Haley, what's up?” Sugar asked.

“I really don't know everything. He didn't live here when I was a child. I'd actually forgotten all about his ties to Branson.”

“Ties to Branson!” Sugar exclaimed. “This is just getting better and better.” Why, if he had ties to Branson, he might be able to help her with more than just letting her use his barn.

“But he came here because he was burned out from being in the spotlight,” Adela said, immediately getting Sugar's attention. “His family on his mother's side still has a successful show there. Ross was part of that. But you see, he gave it all up six years ago and came here to the ranch his father's family left him.”

Norma Sue nodded. “He came here wanting nothing to do with singing or performing. All that boy wants to do is ranch, and find a good woman to build a quiet life with here in Mule Hollow. We've respected his wishes all these years.”

“That's right,” Esther Mae interjected. “We feel kind of protective of him.”

Despite what they were saying, Sugar's adrenaline had started pumping. Two weeks ago, she'd received a rejection for a role in a movie that her agent had thought she was a shoo-in for. It had been the worst day of her life. All the optimism that kept her going had gone up in smoke. The horrible self-defeating voice in the back of her head that she'd been trying to ignore had started up again telling her to lay her dreams down. Lay them down? How could she? And then Haley had called and asked her to take a break and come out to Mule Hollow. At that very moment Sugar had been drowning her sorrows in a bucket of ice cream and watching Paul Newman's story on the Biography Channel. He'd got noticed by Hollywood while he was in a summer-stock production. Inspiration had hit, and Sugar realized that the tiny Texas town might be just the place God was leading her to go. That it wasn't God's voice in her head telling her to forget her dreams. And now here she was, with even more proof that providence had led her here. She smiled from her heart. “Ladies, don't worry about anything. Just tell me where this perfect barn is and I'll take care of the rest.”

First thing tomorrow, she'd go out there and see the place. Then she'd give Ross Denton a call. Yes, indeed, things were looking good.

T
he sun hadn't come up yet when Ross walked toward Sam's Diner the morning after meeting Sugar Rae Lenox. He glanced at the second-story apartment a couple of doors down and wondered if the sliver of light he could see through the curtain meant she was awake. He liked her. Pure and simple. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had caught his interest so completely, and he wasn't planning to waste any time before getting to know her better.

Of course, it was too early to go knocking on her door, so he headed on into Sam's for breakfast. Unsurprisingly, he wasn't the first customer. Applegate Thornton and Stanley Orr were, as usual, Sam's first clients of the morning. The two old men were already deep into their morning checkers match. Haley was Applegate's granddaughter, and Ross didn't think there had ever been a prouder grandpop. He wondered if App knew Sugar.

“Mornin', fellas,” he said, heading toward the counter.

“What's good about it?” Applegate grunted, staring at the board.

“Don't pay no mind to him,” Stanley told Ross. “He jest has a burr in his saddle this mornin'. 'Cause he's plain loco.” The last few words were said louder, obviously as a footnote to some conversation they'd been having before Ross walked in.

Both men usually spoke louder than needed, since they both wore hearing aids. There was an ongoing debate among the local cowboys whether either of them really needed a hearing aid, or whether they were using them as an excuse to talk loud whenever they wanted, and listen in on everyone else's conversations by pretending they couldn't hear. That lack of hearing sure seemed convenient at times.

Applegate frowned, his thin face drooping into its perpetual cascade of wrinkles. “I'm tellin' ya it works. I saw this woman on one of them late shows last night, and she was tellin' all kinds of stuff about body language. It made good sense.”

“It's all crazy,” Stanley grunted. “You can't tell me you know just from watchin' a man pull up his socks that he's smitten with a gal.”

“This here highfalutin' woman said it was true. That and some other stuff.” Applegate looked up as Ross sat down at the counter. “Ross, like I done told Stanley and Sam, this body-language expert said that if a man is talkin' to a woman and he reaches down to pull up his socks—well, that right thar is a sure 'nuff sign that he's smitten.”

“Ross,” Stanley said, pausing to spit a sunflower husk into the spittoon. “You ever reach fer yor socks when you was talkin' to a female?
I
never did.”

Ross wasn't too sure he wanted to be in the middle of this conversation. “Well, no sir, not that I can remember.”

Stanley nodded. “See thar? Hogwash. That's what that is.”

Applegate scowled and turned red. “You had to see it. That woman made it all sound perfectly legitimate.”

Ross couldn't imagine he'd ever feel the need to pull up his socks while talking to a woman, not even yesterday, when he'd been talking to Sugar Rae Lenox. And if ever there was someone who had him “sure 'nuff smitten,” she more than fit the bill.

Sam came out of the back, snagged a cup and set it down in front of Ross. “Mornin' to ya, Ross.”

“Mornin', Sam.”

“Those beavers still chawin' down your trees and damming up your creek?”

Ross shook his head in disgust. “They can cut down trees faster than a logging crew. I'm heading back out there in a few minutes and I'm afraid to see what else they've done. Not only that, I had tractor trouble again yesterday and I didn't get my hay cut.”

“That ain't no good.”

“No sir, it sure isn't.”

The door swung open and Clint Matlock walked in, followed by a handful of other wranglers. Sam snagged five mugs, one on each finger, slapping the first down on the counter as the rancher took a seat beside Ross.

“How's it going, Clint?” Sam asked, filling the cup.

He yawned. “Late night. Thanks for this, Sam. I already drank half a pot at home. But nothing has a kick like your coffee.”

“That's my special blend. I stick my ornery finger in the water before I brew it.” Sam arched a bushy brow and grinned, then headed around the counter toward the booth of cowboys.

Clint chuckled and took a slow swallow and looked sideways at Ross. “Hear you helped our newest resident move in yesterday. Thought I'd warn you that Lacy came home very inspired by the way you were looking at Haley's new office manager.”

“I didn't make any pretense of hiding my interest.”

“That so?”

Ross took a drink of his coffee. “Mmm-hmm. I've got to go check on those worrisome beavers that are trying to turn my pasture into a lake, then I'm coming back to town to stake my claim on that one.”

His friend gave him a speculative look. “That sounds promising. You need any help?”

Ross grinned. “I think I can handle asking a girl out on a date all by myself. But thanks for the support, buddy.”

Clint shook his head. “I meant do you need any help with the beavers? I'll let you do your own romancing. Whether Lacy and the other women of Mule Hollow let you alone is a whole other ball game.”

Ross wasn't worried. “I don't plan to give them enough time to get an organized matchmaking plan in order. I'm sure once they see I'm already matching myself up, they'll sit back and let me alone. They've never tried to fix me up before.”

Clint cupped his coffee and breathed in the aroma, looking at Ross over the brim. “They only leave couples alone when they don't really see anything special between them. If, however, they see lasting possibilities they will watch carefully and tweak as necessary.”

“Did you just say ‘tweak'?”

Clint grimaced. “'Fraid so. Obviously, up to this point, my friend, you haven't had ‘tweak potential.' But Lacy saw something yesterday, and all that may be about to change.”

“Hey,” Stanley called, looking up from his checkers. “Maybe she saw him reach fer his socks! App here thinks that'd be the way to knowin' who's smitten and who ain't.”

Applegate scowled. “I'm tellin' ya that woman last night on Leno made sense. She had more degrees tagged onto the end of her name than Liz Taylor's got ex-husbands, so she should know.”

Stanley jumped two of his checkers and grinned impishly, making Ross wonder if he was picking on App to distract him from the game.

“Don't ask,” Ross said, shaking his head when Clint looked at him. “App watched something on TV about body language, and he figures he's got it all figured out.”

“So did you reach for your socks?” Clint asked with a chuckle.

“Might as well have, from what we heard,” App said.

“You two need to take your act on the road,” Ross teased.

“You think yor family would take us on?” Stanley asked.

“Are you kidding? They'd snap you two up in a minute. Y'all could give ole Homer Lee a run for his money.”

Applegate grunted. “I'm bored stiff sittin' here lookin' at Stanley every day, but you couldn't pay me enough ta git up on a performin' stage.”

Ross took a drink of his coffee, remembering all the years he'd spent on stage. “I couldn't agree more. I just thought I'd offer. A good comedic act can always find an audience.”

Stanley spat a sunflower husk into the spittoon. “I'd pay good money fer App ta stay off the stage.”

That got a laugh from everyone.

Sam topped off Ross's and Clint's coffee. “Do you ever miss it, Ross?”

“Nope.” He took a drink, feeling the burn. “Twenty years in the spotlight was more than enough for me. But I could still put in a good word for you two if you want me to,” he said, laying money on the counter and standing. It was time to go to work.

“We might be bored,” Applegate said, “but wild horses couldn't get us ta leave Mule Hollow.”

Ross grabbed his hat and snugged it down on his head. “You've got that right. This is the place to be.”

And it was. He was happy with his life.

He'd started performing on stage at age four, singing with his grandpop. It hadn't taken long for him to be listed on the marquee as a box-office draw. Even for a little kid, seeing his name up on that sign had been a thrill. He'd been twenty-four when he'd realized he couldn't do it anymore.

Didn't want to do it anymore.

His grandpop had been dead for a couple of years, and living his life around two shows a day, six days a week, had started to give Ross ulcers. Living someone else's dream would do that to a body.

After stepping out on the sidewalk, he strode toward his truck and climbed in. This was his dream. Overseeing the land, the legacy he'd inherited from his dad's family. Running cattle, building up his ranch, even with broken tractors and irritating beavers included. God had blessed him with great family on both sides of the tree. He'd had a choice of two separate ways of life, but this was the one he wanted to cultivate. This was the one he wanted to raise his kids in.

Backing the truck out, he glanced up toward the apartment where Sugar Rae Lenox now resided. He was living his dream, but he was ready for the good Lord to send him a soul mate. Truth was, he'd had his name up in lights, but the only place he wanted to see it these days was on a wedding certificate.

He just had to find the right woman to sign on with him.

 

Sugar couldn't wait to see the barn.

She knew she should ask beforehand, but she couldn't help herself. The ladies had said it was on the outskirts of town, and she had to view it. Had to know if this would be a place where she might be able to set up her show.

The very idea of putting on a strawhat production of some sort in a real barn excited her more than even the thought of having it in the community center. An honest-to-goodness barn theater added an entirely new element to the project, making her excitement level jump to unforeseen heights.

“Thank you, Lord,” she gasped when she saw the big old barn come into view. The thing was huge. And ancient. And lovely. Simply lovely. For a gal who'd been doubting herself, her dream, her faith, this felt like a sign that God was still on her side. So far everything about coming to Mule Hollow was proving to her that the voice of doubt she'd begun to hear was unfounded. God wasn't the one whispering in her ear, telling her to abandon her dreams.

Smiling, she studied the building. The rambling place drew her as she yanked the car to the side of the road and switched off the ignition. Feeling as giddy as a child, she scrambled out and hurried across the cattle guard. She was so engrossed in getting a closer look that the fact she was trespassing didn't cross her mind as she walked down the rutted dirt road. Okay, so it did flit through her head for a second, but she didn't give it any serious consideration. Ross didn't look to be the kind of guy who would mind, and besides, she was on a mission.

It was a looming two-story structure with a pitched metal roof. The boards were weathered, the red paint faded to a charming patina that gave it character, like wrinkles on a face. The double doors at the front were at least twelve feet high, if not fifteen. They were also slightly ajar. Sugar hadn't come this far to stop now. Couldn't even if she'd felt like it. She slipped inside. And stopped.

As a kid with a weak heart, relegated to a life of sitting on a couch, or in bed between hospital visits and surgeries, she'd become a dreamer out of necessity. She'd lived because of her dreams, because of her optimistic outlook. God had given her life, but he'd sustained her with her dreams. Standing inside the door of Ross Denton's old barn, she knew this was where those dreams were at long last going to flourish.

If there was such a thing as love at first sight, Sugar had found it. There was a huge space inside. Stalls off to one side stood below a loft that ran across the first third of the building, leaving the rest of the barn open all the way to the rafters. Morning sunlight filtered through windows, letting in a soft glow and making Sugar feel as if she was actually walking into her dream.

Heart pounding, she moved to the center of the barn floor, turning an old five-gallon bucket upside down to sit on. Totally in awe, she placed her elbow on her knee and her chin on her fist as her mind flew free, filling with ideas. This was it. This was the place. No longer was this just a dream.

Oh no, this was a full-fledged done deal. She could picture it all. People laughing, kids clapping.

Reviewers raving…Oh yeah, this was perfect. And Ross Denton was the key to it all. He was the guy that was going to help her make her dream come true.

 

The last thing Ross expected to see as he drove out from the back pasture was Sugar Rae disappearing inside his barn. For a minute he thought he'd imagined her, but the sight of her unmistakable vehicle by the road proved that his imagination wasn't playing tricks on him.

Shutting off his truck, he crossed the pasture, more than a little curious to find out what Mule Hollow's newest resident was up to. Maybe her car had broken down? But why would she be driving around out here at nine o'clock, when her apartment was right above her office, and she'd come to Mule Hollow to work?