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Meeting Her Match
Debra Clopton
There's No Escape From The Mule Hollow Matchmakers… And this time, their next "victim" was Sheri Marsh.Sheri had long endured the town biddies' attempts at matchmaking, even though she had no intention of ever settling down. As the pool of single women dwindled, their efforts doubled, and Sheri needed a plan that would get the meddling mavens off her back for good…. Unless You Get Hitched!Enter taciturn cowboy Pace Gentry. Playing her beau wasn't what this new Christian had expected. But the always aggravating, yet utterly adorable Sheri proved one thing to him - the Lord sure did work in mysterious ways!
Sheri Marsh stared in blank amazement at her official nightmare come a-calling—the infamous Matchmaking Posse of Mule Hollow.
“Okay,” redheaded Esther Mae Wilcox was saying. “We made a list of all the single cowboys.” She paused, as if waiting on an imaginary drumroll. “There’s still some great pickin’s out there. You needn’t worry you’re getting the runt of the litter.”
That did it! Sheri bolted up from the table so fast it shook. “You have all had your fun,” she said. “But for the last time, lay off. I am more than capable of finding my own cowboy. If and when I’m interested in finding him—”
“Well, we never said you couldn’t find a cowboy,” Esther Mae interrupted. “You just can’t seem to find the right cowboy. You know, the one…”
DEBRA CLOPTON
was a 2004 Golden Heart Award finalist in the inspirational category. She makes her home in Texas with her family.
Meeting Her Match
Debra Clopton
Says the Lord, “You will seek me and find me
when you seek me with all your heart.”
—Jeremiah 29:13
This book is dedicated with much affection and
admiration to Mitzi Poole Bridges.
Without your encouragement
I might have given up…thank you.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
Says the Lord, “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”
—Jeremiah 29:13
Sheri Marsh stared in wide-eyed amazement at the three women around the table with her at Sam’s Diner. They were her official nightmare come a-calling.
Oh yes, it was true. These deceptively innocent-looking little old ladies were the infamous “Matchmaking Posse” of Mule Hollow. And they’d just informed Sheri that they had a plan to wipe her woes away. Whether she wanted them to or not!
“Okay,” Esther Mae Wilcox was saying, her hands held out in front of her as if she were about to deliver the biggest punch line of all time. “So, are you ready? Here’s the plan.” She paused, as if waiting for an imaginary drumroll. “Me and Norma Sue made up a list last night. And Sheri, you are just going to love it!”
Well, Sheri thought, looking at the bright side, at least the truth was on the table now—no more hints, no more hemming and hawing. The posse had come clean. They’d admitted what she’d already deduced was going on behind her back.
They were setting her up!
Tamping down her escalating temper, Sheri leveled her gaze at each of the women at the table.
First she zeroed in on Esther Mae. The woman was like Lucille Ball and her sidekick, Ethel, rolled into one.
Then Sheri shot her gaze to Esther Mae’s partner in mayhem, Norma Sue Jenkins. She had a very full figure and the willpower of a steamroller. Sheri could just see herself looking like a flattened Gumby after Norma Sue got through plowing over her with her matchmaking notion.
Last but not least, Sheri settled her gaze on Adela Ledbetter, a wisp of a woman who balanced the other two out with her serenity and godly wisdom. Okay, she usually balanced them out. At the moment, to Sheri’s dismay, she wasn’t balancing anything with that soft smile and twinkling eyes! Nope, Sheri could tell that obviously Adela had more important personal things on her mind, like the cute-as-a-wrinkled-raisin Sam, owner of the only diner in the rustic town of Mule Hollow, Texas.
Yep, Adela was just sitting there letting Sam place a steaming cup of coffee in front of her, in the special china cup that Sam used only for Adela. It was no secret that there was romance in the air between the spry proprietor and the truly special lady. In fact, nobody seemed to understand what was keeping them from taking the trip to the wedding altar. Plus, unlike the way they’d latched on to Sheri, her cohorts didn’t seem in any hurry to tie Adela and Sam up in a neat little match-made-in-Mule-Hollow-heaven package. And as far as Sheri was concerned Adela and Sam needed some help. At the pace they were going they’d be batting eyes at each other forever. They’d never experience wedding bliss unless someone stepped up and lit a fire beneath them.
Sheri bit her lip. Was it too much to ask that the focus be taken off her single status and applied to Adela?
Lastly, Sheri glared at her best friend, Lacy, who was sitting on a stool at the counter and had spun to face them. She was just as intent as the senior posse on trying to find Sheri a husband. Her mischievous grin and laughing eyes proved it as she met Sheri’s glare.
“What we did,” Norma Sue continued, drawing the words out as if she were about to make a major proclamation, “was make a list of all the single cowboys. Then we listed all their truly wonderful attributes. Let me tell you, Sheri, there’s still some great pickin’s out there. You need not be worried that you’ll get the runt of the litter.”
“That’s right,” Esther Mae broke in. “After all, love is a very idiosyncratic view—”
“A what?” Norma Sue exclaimed.
The previously full-figured Esther Mae threw her recently achieved size-twelve shoulders back and looked down her nose at Norma Sue. “I-di-o-syn-cratic,” she said slowly, as if pronouncing it to a child.
“It means subjective.” She smiled proudly, ignoring Norma Sue’s frown. “I’m learning new words out of the Reader’s Digest. It’s supposed to keep my mind alert, so y’all get ready. I’m gonna be bustin’ them out on occasion. You know, when the opportunity arises.”
Sheri joined everyone in staring openmouthed at Esther Mae. It was a known fact that Esther Mae couldn’t get the words she already knew into the right context. Where she’d go with bigger, better words was anybody’s guess.
“I think that’s a grand idea,” Lacy said at last, breaking the silence. “You learn them first then teach us.”
“Are you crazy?” Norma Sue asked incredulously, finally finding her voice. “Esther Mae—”
Esther Mae harrumphed. “Now you just hush, Norma Sue Jenkins. Just because I get a word tangled up here and there is no call to get in a tizzy.”
Sheri wanted to laugh, but she didn’t dare call attention to herself. At least for the moment they weren’t focusing on her and the list of local eligible bachelors.
“That’s right, ladies,” Adela chimed in, reeling her friends back in. “Nobody’s crazy. Now back to the topic at hand…. Sheri, I’m sure that you know love is a lasting connection that God orchestrates between a man and a woman. We’re simply nudging people in the right direction. No one can actually understand the mystery that binds couples together except the two people themselves.”
Well so much for being out of the hot seat, Sheri thought drily.
“True, that brings us back to our list.” Norma Sue slapped Sheri on the back and smiled her mile-wide smile. “The best thing for a broken heart is to get back in the saddle, and so we think we’ve got the field narrowed down for you. I have to tell you that it hasn’t been an easy job. You know as well as we do that there’s not just any man out there who can keep up with you, Sheri Marsh.”
Lacy grinned. “I think most of the guys are scared of you.”
Esther Mae halted her forkful of apple pie midair. “That’s probably right. I asked Simon Putts about takin’ you out on a date—you all should have seen his face. He went pastier than Norma Sue’s dumplings.”
That did it! Sheri bolted up from the table so fast it shook. She couldn’t take Esther Mae asking somebody on a date for her. And Simon Putts of all people? Why, the name fit him like a glove. “Okay, listen up,” she said. “You all have had your fun, but for the last time lay off me. I am more than capable of finding my own cowboy. If and when I’m interested in finding him—”
“Well, we never said you couldn’t find a cowboy,” Esther Mae interrupted. “You just can’t seem to find the right cowboy. You know, the one. We know your heart was broken—”
It was Sheri’s turn to interrupt, frustrated beyond words. “Okay, okay. Yes, my heart is hurting because of J.P. I hope you’re all satisfied that I’m admitting it.” She was steadily backing toward the door, feeling as if a noose was tightening around her neck. She needed her freedom. “And since my heart was broken, that should make you realize I’m not, and I repeat once more, I am not looking for the one. I’m not looking for anything. Goodness, y’all, I’m kinda confused right now.” There, she’d admitted more than she wanted, and they were still looking at her as though she was the next star of their runaway hit, How to Marry Off a Girl in Ten Days Whether She Wants to Or Not!
Just in the nick of time she bumped into the door.
“What’s your hurry, Sheri? You don’t have a pedicure for another hour,” Lucy said.
Sheri glared at her soon-to-be former best friend Lacy, pushed the swinging door open and spun through it. Lacy’s chuckles followed her out to the sidewalk.
They were out of control! Really. This was just not right. Happy single people ought to have the right to walk the streets of Mule Hollow just like everyone else. That’s right, without the worry that they were going to be unduly set upon by the matchmaking posse. Somebody should do something about it. People could get hurt…like her!
Why, it just wasn’t right for them to think that everyone in Mule Hollow was their own special puppet, to be led here and there as they saw fit. Sheri marched down the sidewalk indignantly. How would they like it if the tables were turned on them? They wouldn’t like it one bit if a person manipulated them! Oh, no, they wouldn’t. It would serve them all right if someone pretended to fall in love because of their scheming. Just when the posse began to pat each other on the back they would find out the joke was on them.
That’s it!
Sheri stopped dead in her tracks. Her anger dissipated as she thought about what just flashed through her thoughts.
It was a brilliant plan.
A way-past-time-for-it kind of plan.
But it seemed deceitful. The thought dimmed her initial pleasure. Then again, she told herself, this was a lesson the ladies needed to learn. And it seemed that they would only learn it through something as drastic as her budding plan…since they certainly weren’t hearing what she had to say.
It was true. Sheri stood in the center of Mule Hollow’s Main Street, gazing down the colorfully painted buildings lining both sides of the street. She had to admit…there hadn’t been a shake-up like this could be since Lacy came to town and painted the two-story beauty salon flamingo-pink, then followed it by talking everyone into painting the rest of town all colors of the rainbow.
It had been the lonesome town’s single cowboys who’d been shook up on that day. But this, this plan would shake up the matchmaking posse so they would leave her alone and quit plotting the demise of her single status.
Getting back in the saddle was how Norma Sue had put it. Well, for a girl who’d loved being in the saddle until J.P. threw her off, she was struggling on new terrain here and they weren’t helping.
She’d tried to beg off, hadn’t she? She tried asking them nicely and she’d tried demanding them to leave it be. But nooo, that little group of happy do-gooders just closed their ears as though she’d said nothing and gone on with their plans.
It was past time for talking, Sheri realized. It was time for action, and she was all over that like a bee to a honeycomb. It would be a much-needed distraction for her while providing a greatly-needed service for the small group of happy singles of Mule Hollow.
All she had to do now was find exactly the right man for the job.
That’s right. She needed a man, and not just any man. She needed a man with as little desire for marriage as she had. She thought about her idea for a moment, letting it settle in and get comfortable. She would do this.
She certainly would.
She would find the perfect man to help with her little charade—a man whose name was not Simon Putts. No, this would be a man the ladies could picture Sheri with. He must be a man who valued his freedom and his freedom of choice with as much regard as she did.
All she needed to do now was figure out which of the cowboys in Mule Hollow would fit that specification. The two of them could teach the posse that when it came to running her life, Sheri was the one in control.
And she wasn’t giving that up for anyone.
Ever.
Pace Gentry watched the scenery pass as he drove the last leg of the trip from Idaho to Texas. He’d crossed the border a couple of hours back and should have been feeling his mood brighten. After all, the long drive would come to an end within the hour. But it wasn’t that simple. The end of the drive would also mark the end of the only life he’d ever known. The only life he’d ever wanted. And with that in mind, his mood had slipped lower with each passing mile.
Until a short few months ago when he’d realized God had different plans for him, he’d been about as content with his life as a man could be. He lived a simple life, for the most part alone but free on some of the most beautiful, untouched land God ever created. But that part of his life was done.
He blamed his surly mood on the fact that he was road weary. But he knew that wasn’t it.
He’d signed on for this new life. He’d trusted the Lord to lead the way, to open doors that would put him where he was supposed to be. But in order to live life on God’s terms he’d had to give up a simple life that hadn’t ever required him to step too far out of his comfort zone.
That was about to change.
And truth be told, that made him uneasy.
Sheri changed into her running clothes the moment she got home from work. She needed a run in the worst way. More than the run, she needed to vent.
“Boy, did she ever need to vent,” she mumbled, yanking the lace of her running shoe into a tight bow, then attacking the other one just as violently.
If she’d thought walking out of Sam’s was going to deter the posse, she’d been oh so wrong. Those ladies were nothing if not tenacious. That’s right, they’d just followed her down to the salon she and Lacy owned and spent the rest of the afternoon badgering her. It had taken everything she had to ward them off. Did they care that she was elbow-deep in pedicure water and didn’t have time to be dealing with them?
Nope, they could have cared less. They were truly out of control. Rolling downhill and picking up speed in their attempt to manipulate her life.
They’d continued to ignore her every word of protest. Oh, it was enough to make a girl pull her hair out! Sheri yanked the shoelace instead, then stomped her foot for good measure. Couldn’t they understand that just because her former boyfriend, J.P., had fallen in love with someone else, that didn’t mean her heart had gotten stomped in the process? She was just fine.
Really, it wasn’t a lie.
Well, not exactly. Yes, it hurt, much more than she wanted to admit. But Sheri wasn’t about to throw fuel on that little secret fire.
No. They didn’t need to know that for the first time in her life she’d thought she might be in love. Might being the operative word.
At first she told herself her heart was just aching because her pride had taken a kick in the gut. After all, she’d dared to open up to J.P. more than anyone before him. She’d even been on the verge of telling him she might be open to the idea of marriage. Might be, even almost on the verge of, was a major, major breakthrough for her. In all of her twenty-six years, she’d never before thought she’d make such an almost commitment. J.P. understood her feelings completely. They’d both had their reasons to shy away from commitment.
Poor J.P.
It wasn’t as if he’d been planning to fall in love, either. He’d been blindsided by it just as much as she’d been.
Still, it had happened. Everyone who’d been at that wedding reception saw that love at first sight had struck him like a bolt of lightning. Only it wasn’t with Sheri.
Sheri still felt slightly light-headed thinking about it. They’d been attending a wedding reception together, and she’d asked J.P. to get her a cup of punch. Just an innocent cup of punch. He’d been his sweet self, strutting off toward the punch bowl. Bam! Just like that, it had happened.
Love at the punch bowl.
Bizarre but true. Tara, the bride’s friend from Houston, had come up for the wedding and was serving punch. When Tara and J.P. locked eyes with each other, that was it. They were goners.
“Goners for sure,” Applegate Thornton had put it.
It was old news now. Really, really old news. It had been two months ago that the bolt of lightning had struck. However, their wedding had been yesterday, and instead of closing the book on Poor Little Jilted Sheri, it had only amplified the matchmaking posse’s pity party for her. Actually, the entire town still felt sorry for her. Why, old Applegate and Stanley Orr were even giving her the sorrowful eye this morning.
Mule Hollow’s resident grumpy old men, Applegate and Stanley, played checkers at the table by the front window of Sam’s diner most mornings and lately some afternoons. When they looked at her as if she was some poor pathetic soul, it was almost more than she could take.
What was wrong with being a single gal, a happy single gal, thank you very much? Why were married women and old men convinced that marriage was the only way to happiness? She’d lived through more than her share of marriages with her parents. Nine, to be exact, and none of them had led to happiness.
As her mother was always saying, “Some people just aren’t good at being tied down.” How many times had Sheri heard that phrase? It was so true. Before J.P., she’d always grown bored and moved on after a few months. Sheri recognized that she was like her parents. This sudden ache in her heart only meant that she’d foolishly thought she might want more. That she’d changed, that her past didn’t matter… She’d prayed about it a few times even though she hadn’t expected an answer. She’d realized early on in her life that God spoke to some and she wasn’t one of them. She hadn’t let it get to her before, but lately that, too, was starting to bother her more and more.
As her footsteps pounded on the gravel road, Sheri felt as if she could burst with frustration. There had been times over the last two months jogging down this road that she had wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. She’d actually done it a couple of times—almost scared the cows to death. Still, there had been a certain freedom in letting loose.
As she rounded the bend in the road her mind locked on the matchmaking posse’s unwanted plans for her life. Now, she thought with a grunt, might be a really good time to feel some of that freedom.
She opened her mouth to let a holler rip—and thankfully, spotted the truck before she screamed and embarrassed herself.
She slowed her pace. The dusty truck was parked off the road between the ancient roping pen and the shack that had always reminded her of something the first settlers had built when they’d come to the West. She slowed more, her gaze locking on the cowboy standing at the tailgate. She was more than glad she hadn’t screamed. By the looks of this cowboy, if she’d startled him he’d probably have come running, guns ablaze. Of course, on closer inspection he wasn’t wearing a holster, but that didn’t take anything away from the impression he made.
She squinted but didn’t recognize him. She headed his way. It never hurt to keep tabs on who was out here in the boonies of Mule Hollow.
He was unloading gear from the back of his truck, which was odd given that this was an access road to the interior of Lacy and her husband Clint’s ranch. Lacy hadn’t mentioned to her that anyone was moving in.
Actually relieved to have something new to take her mind off her own dilemma, Sheri jogged up the drive.
“So, how’s it going, cowboy?” she called before she reached him. “Looks like you’re moving in.” She came to a halt a few feet behind him and placed her hands on her hips, awaiting a reply. None came.
Instead, as if he hadn’t heard her, he reached for a coil of rope that lay on the tailgate beside a duffel bag and saddle. He slid the rope to his shoulder, then finally turned toward her.
If she’d been wearing four-inch heels, she’d have fallen straight off them. The man was gorgeous! The rugged, black-haired cowboy cocked his head toward her and met her startled gaze straight on with eyes the color of a stormy night sky.
Oh, my, my, my, looking at this handsome stranger confirmed what she’d known all her life. What she was trying to get the posse to realize about her.
She was not marriage material.
And that was not with a capital N.
Honestly, if all it took was one look into some stranger’s eyes to remind her of the main reason she didn’t make commitments—then there ya go. It was a done deal.
As her mom always said, “Some people just aren’t good at being tied down”—but it wasn’t only the echo of her mom.
Sheri just liked dating. There, her secret was out.
This was exactly the reminder she needed that the matchmakers were on a mission that would ultimately fail. And why she shouldn’t feel bummed about it because really she enjoyed dating. She absolutely loved this. There simply wasn’t anything as exciting as the initial spark of interest between a man and a woman. Like now, it was breathtaking. Then again, Sheri realized suddenly that the cowboy seemed to be breathing just fine.
Sheri reined in her runaway exhilaration and put her feet back on the ground. Her reaction to this handsome stranger had been so strong that it took a second to see that he didn’t appear to have been bitten by the same bug.
Drat.
Instead, his steel-gray eyes skimmed over her with disdain—as if he were looking at the latest order of pesticide.
Sheri’s eyes widened as he adjusted the rope on his shoulder, then without uttering a word slung the saddle to his back and strode away.
Sheri realized suddenly that a little caution mighta been in order.
She hadn’t lived in the city in a while, and obviously her guard was down. His cold look yanked her straight out of her imaginings and slam-dunked her right back into reality. She was standing in the middle of nowhere, alone, with a man who looked as though he could stare down a wildcat and never blink.
Who was she kidding? He looked as though he could shoot it, skin it and eat it for supper. Raw!
At last, she reacted like a smart woman and took a step back. But that dismissive glance…it bothered her. Sheri had come a long way from being the once shy little girl who expected to be ignored, so this just didn’t sit well with her.
Oh yeah, baby. Danger or no danger, Sheri Marsh refused to be ignored by anybody, anywhere, anytime. She could excuse a guy for almost anything, even for falling in love with someone else, but she would not excuse a guy for ignoring her. Her hard-won “I’m here, I matter” personality demanded more.
“Hey, cowboy,” she snapped and glared at his back.
“I don’t know where you come from, but around here cowboys have manners. When someone speaks, an answer is generally appropriate.”
That got his attention, and he glanced over his shoulder at her. She met his stare with her own. That’s right, locked her spine, threw her shoulders back and dared him to ignore her again.
“Pace Gentry,” he said without halting. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
Okay, as if that made her feel any better. Sheri’s eyes narrowed to slits. The man hadn’t even broken step as he disappeared inside the shack. Of all the unmitigated gall. She felt like the lid of a pressure cooker barely hanging on as she waited for him to reappear.
In an instant he returned and strode back to his truck…swaggered was more like it. Passed her by without so much as a glance. It struck her then that this wasn’t any kind of cowboy she’d ever encountered. He was different in actions and in dress. It was subtle, but there were distinct differences.
Besides his collar-length hair, he had a strong jawline shadowed by a flat-rimmed, black Stetson devoid of the more traditional crease. Around his neck he wore a large checked bandanna tied loosely, as if he might pull it up at any moment to protect him from the trail dust of a hard cattle drive—
Or, with the dangerous glint in his eyes, maybe to rob a bank!
Then there were the spurs sticking out from beneath his chaps. They were more ornate than any Sheri had seen on the cowboys around Mule Hollow. These spurs were either for show or for intense business. From the look on his face, Sheri couldn’t envision anything about him being for show.
Nope, this man was all business, easily mistaken for a cowboy fresh off the trail a hundred years ago. Still, it was his intense gray eyes that told the story…this cowboy was one hundred percent authentic you-don’t-want-to-mess-with-me cowboy.
Again, good sense mandated she turn around and get out of there immediately.
Yeah, right!
“Look, this is my friend’s property, and I’m just making sure they know you’re setting up camp out here.”
She felt a sense of achievement when he stopped mid-swagger to glare at her. Suddenly, it felt as though he’d just weighed and measured her, and she’d come up lacking.
“Like I said,” he drawled, his eyes cool. “Not that it’s any more your business now than two minutes ago, but Clint knows I’m here.”
The gravel in his drawl sent a shiver up Sheri’s spine that had nothing to do with fright. “Lacy would have told me if someone was moving onto the ranch around the bend from me.”
Hoisting a duffel bag to his shoulder he slammed the tailgate closed. His spurs sang a little ditty with every step he took away from her.
He’d dismissed her again!
“Hey, mister, the macho man thing’s not really working for me.”
He scowled down at her from the rickety porch. “Look, lady, I’m here to break horses. If you’ve got a problem with that, then take it up with Clint Matlock.”
Before she could react, he disappeared into the tiny cabin and closed the door. Slammed the door was more like it. In her face, practically.
“Of all the rude, unmannered—” She halted mid-rant. He was probably inside the cabin watching through the window. No doubt laughing at the sight she must make standing in the middle of his drive with her mouth hanging open, her fists clinched at her sides. If only she had a mirror; she was no doubt fire-engine red with indignation.
The worst part about the entire situation was he was right. Boy, did that ever just annoy the thunder out of her. Well, not exactly right, she consoled herself. Fact was Clint and Lacy were her friends and she’d just wanted to make certain no funny business was going on out here on their property.
But since this Neanderthal was actually here for a reason then she had no right to continue questioning him. Spinning on her running shoes she raked a hand through her ponytail then jogged back to the road and headed home.
She’d only just begun her run, but she suddenly wasn’t in the mood for jogging. Nope. She was in the mood to make a phone call and find out why Lacy hadn’t seen fit to let her know she was about to have a neighbor.
If neighbor was what you could call the fierce-looking man she’d just met.
Chapter Two
Pace Gentry placed a few more pieces of wood on the campfire and watched the embers flutter as he settled into his bedroll for the night. Clasping his hands over his chest he relaxed and gazed up at the canopy of stars glittering above him. He could have slept inside the cabin, but tonight he needed to be outdoors.
He needed the connection to what he’d left behind.
He needed to feel the breeze whispering across the pastures to the north of him, hear the lonesome song of the coyotes and the occasional bawling of the cattle that grazed in the dark pastures surrounding him.
The sounds that made him feel at home.
The sounds that made him think for a moment he was back in the Great Basin, lost in the high desert of the Idaho range. Alone, with nothing but himself, God, his herd…
And his horses.
He loved his horses. It was in his blood. Nothing would make him happier than to die an old man as his dad had, atop a good ride. His dad had lived and died on his terms. Like his father, Pace understood bronc breaking was a tough way to make a living. He’d chosen it anyway.
Lived and breathed it.
With his dad’s nomadic way of living, Pace hadn’t ever really known any other life, but it hadn’t mattered. Even if he’d turned out to be the worst cowboy around, he figured he’d have found a way to keep at it.
Pace watched a shooting star travel across the sky—something he’d have missed if he’d been inside. The howl of the coyote rippled into a full-blown serenade. Pace was forever grateful for the life he lived. Or had lived, he reminded himself, his gut shifting momentarily with doubt. He was on a new path. Like a surly bronc, for the first time in his life he felt the bit in his mouth and was fighting hard to get used to the feel of it.
If his earlier encounter was a measuring stick of how his transition was going to go…things weren’t looking so good. Pace was the first to admit that he had some rough edges. Animals he could deal with, but people—he had little patience with interfering people. Meeting his pushy neighbor had proven those edges hadn’t smoothed out on the long haul from Idaho to Texas.
He’d been his usual blunt self, a reaction he was going to be hard put to change.
Pulling his Stetson down over his eyes, he crossed his booted feet and settled in for the night. He figured the Lord had his work cut out for Him when it came to smoothing this rover’s edges. But then, God was God, and if He could create the universe Pace figured, He could whip an ornery two-bit buckaroo into shape, too.
Pace just had a streak of buck left in him, and like the mustangs he was about to tame, that natural wildness was an instinct strong and deep in his soul.
Despite Pace’s new commitment to change, more than likely this transition promised to be a rough ride.
“Rise and shine, Sheri,” Lacy sang. “The mustangs are coming!”
Sheri bolted up from a dead sleep and squinted at the figure of Lacy standing in the stark light she’d flicked on as a wake-up call. Blinking and having murderous thoughts she peered at the red lights of her alarm clock. “Lacy! It’s five o’clock in the morning. Are you insane?”
“Aww, now don’t be that way,” Lacy laughed.
Slamming her eyes shut, Sheri plopped back onto the bed with a thud and covered her face with her pillow. She didn’t do early morning…and predawn—well, that wasn’t even a time frame she acknowledged.
A fact Lacy was well aware of, but obviously ignored.
“C’mon, girlfriend. Up and at ’em. The mustangs are coming, and I want you to be there when they arrive. Here we go—”
Sheri yelped when her pillow and covers were abruptly yanked away, leaving no barrier against the hundred-watt bulb glaring at her from above. She needed to change that light, pronto.
Like a turtle without a shell, Sheri glared accusingly up at Lacy. Her pale blond hair stuck out from beneath her orange ball cap like pie meringue gone bad. A picture Sheri could easily visualize since right then and there she would love nothing more than to splatter a cream pie right smack in the dead center of her beaming face.
Of course, she wouldn’t. “It’s too early,” she groaned instead.
“Get out of that bed, woman!”
Okay, maybe she would like to toss a pie, she thought, popping an eye open, watching Lacy drop the covers to the floor. When Lacy spun and reached for her hand, Sheri scowled at her as the fluffy cream pie sailed across her mind’s eye.
“C’mon, Lacy, give a girl a break,” she groaned again but couldn’t help chuckling at the look Lacy gave her. The I’ve-heard-that-before look.
Nowadays, no one would realize that Sheri had been an extremely shy child until Lacy had befriended her. After being tugged along on Lacy’s escapades, Sheri, the shy girl who’d learned to blend into the wall and not be seen, had slowly come out of her shell. It had totally been an act of survival.
But there were times, like now, that Sheri had to remind herself how grateful she was that Lacy had come along and changed her life for the better. Sheri dug her feet in at the bathroom doorway and stared at Lacy. “You know, I’m going to get you for this,” she yawned.
“Trust me, Sheri. I have a hunch you’re going to thank me once you down some coffee and see exactly what’s waiting at the horse pens. Now get on in there, and I’ll have you some coffee made when you get out. But you have to hurry, hurry, hurry!”
Before Sheri could make a comeback, Lacy gave one last shove and yanked the door closed between them. “Just think, Sheri. Wild mustangs! Real, live American heritage at our ranch. It’s the coolest thing.”
“Yippy yiyay and yada, yada, yada,” Sheri said softly as Lacy’s chattering and the clunk of her boots retreated across the hardwood floor.
Peace and quiet at last. Sheri sighed. Slumping against the door, she raked her fingers through her hair, yawned, and thought about coffee.
Lacy made good coffee….
After a quick shower, she headed toward the kitchen feeling a bit more human. Although she wasn’t sure she looked more human. For the sake of time and the early hour, she’d opted to yank her hair into a ponytail and slap her pink ball cap over it. And forget makeup. She and Lacy would just be a mess together, because no matter what—it was way too early in the morning to worry about appearances.
“Okay, girlfriend,” she said, entering the kitchen. “Why did you drive all the way over here to wake me up and drag me all the way back over to your ranch? Especially when you know how grumpy I am at this hour.” She latched on to the steaming mug Lacy held out to her, held it beneath her nose and let the rich aroma seep into her senses.
“Because with all the talk focused on you and J.P., I didn’t have a chance to tell you about Pace and the horses. They’re going to be in the pens around the corner from your house.”
Sheri took a sip of coffee, only to wince at the reminder of the cowboy. “Speaking of which, I tried to call you about that last night. How could you not tell me someone was moving in over there? Is that place even fit for someone to move into?”
“Hey, I was goin’ to tell you.”
“Goin’ to don’t cut the mustard, sister.”
Lacy made a face at her. “I can’t help it. The girls came in and started up about all that J.P. business, and I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. I did tell you that Clint’s friend was moving to town to start a horse-breaking business. It was a while back, though, and believe me, from what Clint says that shack is a palace compared to what Pace was used to living in back in Idaho. Why, the man practically lived like a caveman.”
“That I would believe.”
Lacy smiled. “You met him, huh?”
Sheri did not smile. “Affirmative. The guy is definitely a Neanderthal. He’s like, like…angry.”
“He’s not angry.”
“So says you. The man is a grizzly. An angry grizzly.”
“Sheri, he’s just used to being alone. And he, well, he is here under duress, but he’s willing, so he’s not angry. He’s just a fish out of water, so to speak.”
“Maybe a barracuda.” Sheri took another drink of coffee, ignoring the memory of those serious gray eyes.
“But he’s cute, huh?”
Sheri rolled her eyes as she headed toward the door.
“Come on. Admit it, Sheri girl. He’s, like, a hunk, and since when have you not noticed a hunk within a ten-mile radius?”
Since I very nearly got my heart trampled, that’s when.
Sheri pushed away the thought and walked out onto her porch, shocked all over again by the darkness and the fact that it was, by all appearances, still snoozing time. “Lacy, we’re up before the roosters. Do you realize that?”
“Hey, it’s good for you.”
“Hay is for cows. And daybreak is for roosters,” Sheri grumbled, opening the passenger door of Lacy’s beloved 1958 pink Caddy. Not wanting to lose a precious drop of her coffee, she waited while Lacy sprang over to the driver’s door in her usual Bo Duke style. Once she’d landed with a happy thud, then and only then did Sheri sit down beside her—a routine learned after many cups of sloshed coffee and speckled shirts.
“I can’t believe you’re trying to deny Pace Gentry is a hunk,” Lacy continued as she backed the big car around and headed out of the driveway.
Sheri had learned over the years that it was best to keep some things to herself, or she would hang herself with incriminating evidence. With the matchmakers on red alert, now was not the time to admit that, despite his lack of manners, Pace Neanderthal Gentry was about the hunkiest hunk she’d ever seen. Even if that did sound childish and immature, it was the truth.
A thin, glowing line marked the horizon as they raced the hundred yards down the gravel road and around the corner to the cattle pens. She realized she’d been sleeping like a rock earlier because she hadn’t heard any trucks passing by her house, and there had obviously been a parade of them.
There were cowboys milling around all over the place as Lacy guided the big car over every rut she could find. Grinning mischievously, she watched Sheri fight to keep her coffee in her cup.
Sheri chuckled. “Like I said earlier, I’m going to get you back for this. You know that, don’t you?”
“Wouldn’t be fun if you didn’t. At least you’re looking a little perkier.”
“Thanks to the coffee, I might make it,” Sheri said as the car came to a jolting halt.
“Hey, Sheri,” several cowboys shouted in greeting as she slammed the car door shut.
“Mornin’, boys,” she called while waving, always happy to acknowledge a good-natured cowboy, even if the posse had practically put a Husband Wanted poster out on her behalf.
“How many horses are coming?” she asked, her gaze snagging on the one cowboy who might be a hunk, but could never in a million years be classified as a good-natured anything. He was standing beside the wooden corral talking to Clint. Grudgingly, Sheri admired them. Together they made a formidable picture of pure strength and manliness. Both were well over six feet, lean at the hips, wide at the shoulders. Extraordinarily handsome. But it was Pace her eyes fixed on, noting his steely gaze following her as she moved to stand beside Lacy. Sheri had to admit, she hadn’t ever seen a better-looking man. But there was more to a good man than his looks, and this one—well, something was missing in the good-man category. That was for sure.
This morning he had on jeans and shorter chaps that came just below the knees with a wide band of fringe and silver conchos running up the sides. Oddly, Sheri thought they were cute. They added a little flash to his otherwise rugged outfit. Feeling defiant, she lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers at him. He might have dismissed her the day before, but he had another think coming if he thought slamming a door on her meant she was done.
He tilted his head, acknowledging her wave, but that was it. There was no smile. Not that she’d expected one, but there was not even a hint of a change in Pace’s facial expression. What was his problem? The man was certainly peculiar.
“Clint said about twelve mustangs,” Lacy was saying. “You can only adopt four mustangs a year but Clint and Pace got special permission from the Bureau of Land Management to get a few extra, though they won’t get papers on all of them this year. The government is very protective of the mustangs. Pace has plenty of horses to train. People are lining up waiting on him to work with their horses because he’s so good. Sheri, are you listening to me?”
“Ah—yes, sure.” She yanked her gaze away from Pace, hoping Lacy hadn’t noticed her staring at him. Then she wondered why she cared. She could stare if she wanted to.
The distinct sound of an 18-wheeler could be heard growling around the bend. Lacy, along with everyone else, turned toward the sound.
“Speaking of Pace, what’s this guy’s full story?” Sheri asked. Her gaze skipped back to the cowboy who was now watching the truck’s approach. Despite his bad manners there was no denying that he intrigued her. When she looked back toward the truck, she met Lacy’s gaze. Drat, she’d been caught. The last thing she needed was Lacy getting any ideas. But Lacy wasn’t smiling. Instead, a thoughtful gleam shone in her eyes.
“I don’t really know much,” Lacy said, shaking off her serious look, “except what I already told you. How he lived in that cabin in Idaho alone for months is a mystery to me. I’d climb the walls. Can you imagine—no telephone, or water? He washes his clothes in the nearby river. The ice-encrusted river. He’s really like a mountain man. But we’re talking huge ranches here. Like five hundred square miles or more, not acres. Miles of barren, lonesome land. That’s why he lived in the little shack like that. They need men spread out watching over smaller sections over the winters. Even in the summers he doesn’t see much more than a handful of people. Not me, I couldn’t handle that. I’ve got to talk to people.”
Sheri knew that was right. She could live alone much easier than Lacy. Lacy would talk the bark off a tree if she didn’t have people around to absorb her chatter. If Lacy were to live like Pace—oh, boy, the cows snowed in with her alone over a long winter would probably know the English language come springtime. Sheri smiled thinking about it.
The big truck and its huge trailer pulled to a halt, the sound drowning out their voices; Sheri leaned in close so Lacy could hear her question. “So he’s going to lease the land and break horses?” She was curious. She told herself it was only because he was going to be living beside her. But she knew it was because, despite everything, there was something about the guy that she found appealing.
Lacy nudged her in the ribs, and Sheri realized she’d been staring at Pace again. So shoot her, she liked to look at him. Not only was he easy on the eyes, but also his stance was that of a man who was very comfortable in his skin. That was a major attraction to Sheri.
“It’s like this, Sheri. Clint says Pace is one of the best there is at breaking horses. So when he called Clint and said he’d decided to go into business for himself but needed a place to start, Clint jumped at the chance to get him to Mule Hollow. He offered the lease in trade for Pace breaking some colts for him. They’ve worked something out. Plus, according to Clint, they go way back. His dad used to break horses some summers for Clint’s dad.”
Sheri found herself watching Pace again; she couldn’t help herself. He strode across the lot to the big truck, his hat was pulled low over his eyes, and there was this little hitch in his stride that made the fringe of his chaps dance and the spurs on his boots sing.
Okay, so the man was fascinating.
So was a porcupine. Both could sting a person if they weren’t careful.
The horses in the huge trailer were whinnying and cutting up something fierce. Sheri wasn’t thinking about the mustangs, however, as Pace untied his horse from the trailer and stepped up into the stirrup. In one graceful move, he was seated in the saddle.
Sheri lost her breath at the sight. It just whooshed right out of her. If ever there was a man meant for the saddle, it was this one. Wow. Tall and straight as a rod, he sat with a command that took Sheri straight back to the heroes of the Old West. She just couldn’t shake that image of him. She swallowed and fought off the sigh that tried to escape her lips. Get a grip, girl.
“Come on, Sheri, let’s get up to the fence so we can watch them unload.”
“Um, right,” she said, blinking. Following Lacy to the corral, she climbed up onto the second rung and hung on to the top board with one hand. She drank the last of her now-cold coffee as she watched the action.
The air crackled with energy as Pace rode his horse into the corral, then moved to the side as the truck doors were pulled open. When the first black mustang exploded into the pen, Sheri was immediately struck by what she was seeing. This was a part of history. Majestic and wild the proud horses galloped out of the interior of the transport trailer. Heads held high and manes flying, the horses were utterly beautiful as they trotted down the ramp and loped around the circle of the large pen. It was awesome. Awesome!
“Pace, he’s going to break these horses?” she gasped. Suddenly, it seemed a shame to tame something so untouched. The word break just held a connotation that seemed almost criminal when used in reference to these proud animals. They were supposed to be wild and free—
“Clint says no one can do what Pace can do. He’s the best there is at giving a horse manners while still letting it retain its dignity and character.”
“So that’s his excuse,” she said softly.
“What’s does that mean?” Lacy asked, looking at her funny. Only then did Sheri realize she’d spoken out loud.
She smiled. “He’s been reading the wrong book.”
“Huh?”
Sheri laughed. “From the way he was acting yesterday it’s obvious that Cowboy Pace has been spending too much time reading the book on horse manners and hasn’t even cracked open the one on cowboy manners.”
Lacy looked from her to Pace and back again, a sparkle in her eye. “Well, Sheri, maybe he needs someone to open the book for him.”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Sheri stepped down from the fence shaking her head. “I know trouble when I see it. That man might be easy on the eyes, but he’s a heartbreaker.”
Lacy followed her as she walked away from the pen. “I don’t think so.”
“Come on, Lacy, it’s written all over him. That guy would shy away from commitment quicker than…” Sheri paused and thought about what she’d just said.
“You?” Lacy finished, grinning as if she’d just won the cow chip toss. She always won the cow chip toss.
“Yeah,” Sheri admitted, turning back to look at her neighbor with an entirely new perspective.
Sheri wasn’t one to think that the Lord paid much attention to her needs. In all fairness, she’d stopped trying to get any special attention from Him a long time ago. Lacy was the one with the direct line to Him. For years Sheri had coasted on her coattails when it came to all that. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit that it bothered her some. Maybe at one point a lot. But it wasn’t as if she was going to beg anybody for attention and certainly not God.
Anyway, she understood that when it came to trying to please the Lord, Lacy had that wrapped up. Lacy lived to please Him, and Sheri couldn’t really blame the Lord for giving Lacy more attention. Sheri loved Lacy like a sister and knew she could never have the heart that Lacy had. Why pretend? Some people were good enough to have priority in the Lord’s eyes, and some weren’t. No matter what people might say, that was the way it worked.
Still, if she’d said a prayer for the Lord to send her someone to get the posse off her back—well, she figured Pace Gentry might be the answer to that prayer.
But since she hadn’t asked the Lord for His help and Pace had turned up anyway, she knew it was only a coincidence. Still, she was no dummy. She wouldn’t throw away a golden opportunity when it rode right up to her. Look out, Mule Hollow Matchmakers, the game was on.
Chapter Three
Pace looked over each mustang, assessing them as he guided his mare through their ranks. They looked healthy despite the long trip from the Oklahoma Field Station. A bit ragged, but healthy. They were scared and wary though, congregating in a tight knot and moving about the pen as one unit.
Because they’d made such a long trip and now were in unfamiliar territory, he wanted to make certain their transition was as easy as possible. His own transition gave him even more empathy for these poor creatures. He herded the first six into the second pen then waited on the next group to be released from the second compartment of the trailer. Once he was satisfied that they, too, had made the trip without being injured in the crowded trailer, he rode to the gate and nodded at the young cowhand to let him pass.
“Mr. Gentry,” he said as Pace rode his horse through the gate he held open. “I’d like to come out and watch you work if you’d let me. I mean, sir, Clint said he’d let me help you anytime you needed help.”
Pace dismounted and studied the younger man. He recognized the familiar light in his eyes. “You can come out some—we’ll see about helping me. First, you have to call me Pace. My dad was Mr. Gentry. What’s your name?” Pace held out his hand.
“Jake, sir.”
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 through the Bible.” Clint grinned. “The thing is, God doesn’t need any of us. We need Him.”
“Yeah, my dad said something similar right before he died.” Pace felt the familiar tug on his heartstrings thinking about the last days with his dad. An extremely quiet man, he’d raised Pace all alone after his mother died giving birth to him. He’d taught Pace to be the man he’d become. He’d been overjoyed when Pace had finally come to love the Lord. Pace thanked God his dad lived long enough to see him accept Christ. It blessed Pace every time he remembered the hug his dad had wrapped him in when Pace told him.
“If only I’d inherited Dad’s patience.”
Clint laughed hard at that as Pace knew he would.
“If only, if only.”
“I’m serious, Clint. Did I tell you how I just about bit the head off my new neighbor?”
“Sheri?” Clint’s eyes widened. “All I can say is watch out. That gal can bite back.”
“Tell me about it.”
Sam came out carrying two large plates and a bottle of ketchup. He placed them on the table then turned to leave.
“Sam,” Clint said, drawing him back. “Did you hear Adela’s daughter is after her to move to Abilene?”
Sam stiffened.
“A’ course he heard,” Stanley called.
“But do you think it’s spurred him on to pop the question?” Applegate boomed. “Nope. He’s still keepin’ his lips buttoned up like an old fool.”
An almost wistful look passed over Sam’s face before he glared at his two friends. “Can’t a proprietor get any peace in his own place of business? What happened to the two of you getting out of here by nine?”
“It’s called re-tar-ment,” Applegate snapped. “And it’s fer the birds.”
“Yeah,” Stanley sighed. “These here golden years ain’t exactly what we expected.”
“Well, if that’s why y’all keep stayin’ in my business then I wish you’d go back to work,” Sam growled.
“We’re stayin’ in yer business ’cause we’re yer friends,” Applegate snapped. “You love that sweet woman and need to ask her to marry ya, and I aim ta bother ya ’til ya do.”
Sam grumbled his way back into the kitchen.
“What’s up?”
Clint shrugged. “Honestly, we don’t know. He’s loved Adela forever. Her husband’s been dead around sixteen years, but Sam won’t ask her to marry him. Everyone knows if he did she’d say yes. It’s baffling, especially because we know he wants to. But from what he’s told a few of the guys over the past few months, he can’t get over the fact that she loved her first husband so much.”
“You think that’s all there is to it?”
“I don’t know, Pace, it just doesn’t make sense. I think there’s something more, but you know Sam. He won’t talk unless he’s good and ready.”
Pace could relate to that.
“The only thing that worries me is if Adela were to leave, I think it would break his heart. He’s been real moody for the last few months, and I think it’s wearing on him. That, or something else is wrong with him and he’s not letting on.”
“Maybe you should talk to him.”
“Don’t think I haven’t tried.”
Pace was driving home an hour later and kept thinking about Sam. The man had lived basically seventy years a bachelor. Maybe he just couldn’t see changing his situation after all this time. It seemed that the town had a preoccupation with weddings, and he could see why. He remembered the first time he and his dad lived here. That had been when the oil was flowing freely and there seemed to be as many oil wells dotting the pastures as mesquite trees. It took men to run the wells, and the town was busting at the seams with families. Not the case when they’d come the last time to break some horses for Clint’s dad. The wells had been locked up and the families gone, leaving behind only the ranches and a town that seemed like a ghost of what it had been. He’d been eighteen, but he’d noticed it. It was nice to see it coming to life again.
He just had to hope nobody got any ideas about fixing him up. He drove past the little white house where his neighbor lived. The woman had all kinds of stuff in her yard. There were strange sparkling things hanging out of the trees, made from what looked like triangles cut from mirrors and copper sheeting. One large tree was so sparkly, it looked as if it had earrings on it. In the flower beds there were spikes of copper tubing and what looked to be cups and saucers stuck on top of them like whimsical bird feeders. Her yard seemed alive with sound and movement as the summer breeze wove its way through the obstacle course.
There were bright painted birdhouses along the fence line, and her mailbox was painted bright purple with yellow daisies all over it. Then there was an assortment of hummingbird feeders hanging from the porch.
He’d never seen anything like it. He shook his head and moved on past the house. The woman was either hobby crazy or spent all her money on flea market finds. Neither image fit the woman he’d met. Maybe all the stuff came with the house. That would seem more like it, since Sheri Marsh didn’t appear the sort to tinker with yard decorations. Then again, she didn’t seem the sort to tinker with flowers, either, and they were hanging off window boxes and overflowing from pots and beds. Even if those had come with the house she would have to tend them. She didn’t seem to be a tender, a nurturer.
His conscience pricked. How would he know, really? He’d been rude to her yesterday, but she’d reared up at him like a mamma wildcat protecting her cubs and that hadn’t set well with him.
He should apologize.
Moving on, he rounded the bend toward his place and the horses waiting there. The work, the familiar. He was not familiar with watching what he said. Back in Idaho there wouldn’t be any need to watch his words or any need for apology. He’d have been alone out there, working with the horses and taking care of his cows. Out there in the wide-open space and endless plains, he wouldn’t have to worry about neighbors popping in un-announced demanding things. It was a simpler life. The kind of life suited for a man like him—a man who’d been raised to live by his own rules….
What was he doing? Pace slammed on the brakes in front of the horse pens. He was here to learn to live life by God’s rules.
He hadn’t come here to disappear. He hadn’t come here to crave solitude and wish for things to go back to the way they’d been. But he did, and despite his determination to change, this longing for his old life wasn’t easing up as the days passed. Especially with this building conflict with his neighbor.
Pace saddled his horse Yancy and rode out onto the open range. Clint’s ranch was one of the largest in Texas, and back in the interior Pace could almost get the sense of the Great Basin. The terrain was sweeping and vast with hills and valleys rubbing up against rocks and ridges. It wasn’t Idaho, but riding anywhere always helped him relax.
He was riding along the fence line, heading back toward his cabin, when he spotted Sheri jogging along the road. She was a long way from home and didn’t look as though she was tiring at all. He had a feeling Sheri Marsh never tired out.
“Hey, cowboy,” she called the minute she spotted him.
Fighting off the urge to turn Yancy around and gallop off, he watched her jog up to the fence separating them. Standing there grinning, the sassy woman made him figure that a man with any sense would heed the warning and run. But Sheri drew him in like the most ornery filly in a herd always did. He was a sucker for a good challenge, and challenge radiated off his neighbor like flames from a burning building.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” she said.
“Always been a downfall of mine,” he said, resting his hands on the saddle horn.
She kicked a rock, watched it skitter across the dirt. “I used to be that way.”
His disbelief must have shown because her grin widened.
“It’s true,” she protested.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Oh, yes you did. I heard you loud and clear.”
“What happened?”
“Lacy Brown. Well, Matlock now. She just bullied the shyness out of me. Always dragging me around and forcing me to step up. She’s a brute, that one.”
“Did Clint know this before he married her?”
“Oh yeah. Believe me, he tried to fight it, but she’s contagious. Thank goodness. Now, I kinda like speaking my mind and getting noticed.”
“That’s more than apparent.”
They studied each other until she lifted her eyes to watch a blue jay chase a sparrow out of its territory. “Bully,” she called as they zipped by, the sparrow doing evasive maneuvers, and the blue jay squawking in loud pursuit. Pace chuckled before he could stop himself.
She shot him an indignant look. “They are. They’re always chasing something or griping about it.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Yes, you did. Don’t forget, I can hear you, Pace Gentry. So, is it true that you’re the best there ever was at bustin’ a bronc?”
“Well, I don’t know about that. I can get the job done.”
“Are you competing in the rodeo Mule Hollow is putting on at the end of the month?”
Behind him the sun emerged from a cloud and Sheri lifted a hand to shade her eyes, still squinting. She was cute, even with the awful-looking face she was making. It was easy to see why she was so popular with the cowboys.
“Are you?” he asked, causing her to double over with a laugh before springing back up, her eyes twinkling.
“Me?”
“Why’s that so funny?”
“The only thing cowgirlish about me is my love of boots. I barely know which end of that horse you’re on is which.”
Pace’s lip curved up on one side. “Yancy might take that as an insult.” He liked the way her eyes lit up mischievously. “So you live in cattle country, but you’re not a cowgirl?”
She gave a one-sided grin. “That’d be right, bud. I jog on my own two feet. I tried a horse once and fell off.”
“Were you wearing those red frog giggers?”
“Frog giggers! What’s a frog gigger? Are you callin’ my boots ugly?”
“If the shoe fits…”
She slapped her hand to her hip. “Hey, you better back up now. Calling a woman’s footwear ugly is almost as bad as telling her she has an ugly baby.”
“Wouldn’t want to do that.” He couldn’t help his grin now. He’d smiled more in the last ten minutes than he’d smiled since making the decision to leave Idaho.
“Smart man.”
Not so much, he decided, realizing he was enjoying her spunk just a little too much. He straightened in the saddle and pulled his head out of the clouds. “Well, I need to get back to work.” He tipped his hat and nudged Yancy forward, more than aware that she was surprised by his sudden departure.
He could feel her eyes on his back watching him leave. He didn’t look back. The last thing he needed was to get ideas about his neighbor. He didn’t need female complications thrown in on top of trying to build a business and figuring out what God wanted from him.
Chapter Four
Well, so much for thinking they were making progress and having a decent conversation! The man had just closed up and rode off without so much as a have a nice day.
“Hey, cowboy,” Sheri called after Pace. When he didn’t bother to glance back at her despite the almost-pleasant conversation they’d had, Sheri felt her face grow hot. “You are about the rudest man I’ve ever met,” she shouted across the distance, making certain he heard her loud and clear.
He didn’t nod his head, wave his hand or in any way acknowledge that she’d just insulted him. What a jerk.
Clamping her lips in a hard line, it took everything she had to hold back the smart crack begging to be let loose. Instead she forced herself to let him go as she resumed her jog. The man was impossible.
Maybe she needed to rethink involving Pace in her plan. Surely she could find someone else to fit the requirements. Even as she thought it she knew that—rude as he was—he was the right man for the job.
It was obvious the man would never marry—not with that mood disorder. Surely he wouldn’t want the posse trying to fix him up, and that made him perfect.
Her conscience pricked thinking about it. All night long she’d told herself she had good reasons for trying to teach the ladies a lesson…but it was complicated and she wasn’t certain even she could pull it off. She needed to believe in what she was going to do if she was going to be able to pull if off.
“I do believe,” she said aloud.
She was no math whiz, but she could add—unlike the matchmakers. If the Lord had intended for everyone to get married, then the ratio of men to women would be equal. Right?
Right. It might sound silly, but after watching her parents marry—and divorce—as many people as they could, it fit. It was disgusting.
Sheri recognized the truth. Fear of following in her parents’ footsteps factored heavily in her reasons for not wanting to fall in love. And with good reason, she rationalized. She grew bored too easily. No matter how wonderful the guy was, her restlessness always ruined it. Clearly a genetic trait, with her parents’ history and all.
It didn’t take an Einstein to figure out some people just weren’t marriage material. She’d recognized the truth about herself long ago and made peace with it. She simply wanted to go back to the way it had been. She’d always had fun dating the guys she wanted to date then moving on when the time came. Her surprise almost-commitment to J.P. had been a huge step for her. Now she recognized that it had been brought on by the happily-ever-after atmosphere of Mule Hollow. It had invaded the water system, and it was in the air, too. Love. That had to be it. The love bug was floating around, and she’d caught it for a moment. That was the only excuse she could think of that would explain why she’d stepped over the line and found herself at the almost-commitment stage.
These feelings she was experiencing were a good lesson in why she’d been so cautious. Heartache. Not heartbreak, exactly, thank goodness. Still, she shouldn’t have let her guard down. Really, from now on the joy she got from dating might be diminished for fear that she might be tempted to cross that line again. Arrgggh! It was frustrating. She was content with her life the way it was. She was.
And she would be again. There was life after J.P. She had her head on straight again, and she would choose not to ever live the way her parents had lived. She’d never bring a kid into a potential time bomb. That was her motivation, the fear that she had her parents’ genes of discontent. Her mother’s words rang through her head once more…. Some people just aren’t good at being tied down. That might be true, but knowledge was power, and Sheri would use that power to control her life.
This sudden fascination with Pace so closely after thinking she might have been in love with J.P. was a sure sign of things to come. There was only one way for someone like herself to avoid a string of divorces: avoid marriage like the plague.
That was the reason she was going through with this plan.
The posse needed someone to show them that they should respect people’s choices. It hurt too badly as a kid to be yanked from Mom’s to Dad’s and back again, and it hurt too much almost letting her heart think it could have the fairy-tale happy ending.
She was going to make the ladies realize that pushing a person into something that wasn’t right for them could get a person hurt. Moody Pace Gentry was just the guy to help her.
That’s right. Whirling around, she jogged after him. He was perfect for this, and she was going to convince him to help her. No more misgivings about it. This was the right thing to do.
Plan halfway in place, Sheri jogged up Pace’s driveway and went in search of him. She found him behind the house inside a round pen that sat off by itself. It was lined with thin, split tree trunks.
Hearing the sound of Pace talking, she moved toward the structure, found a crack to peek through and made like a statue. Pace stood about thirty feet from her. He was standing in front of a chestnut-colored horse.
She hadn’t meant to spy on the guy, but couldn’t very well interrupt him now that she could see he was working. She also couldn’t stop her curiosity from getting the better of her. She was interested in how he worked. He was, after all, supposed to be the best.
So there she stood, rooted to the crack in the fence, watching and listening as he talked softly to the wary animal. Despite his surly manners, she got a kick and a half out of looking at him, probably because he reminded her of the heroes from the movies she enjoyed watching. She was nuts about movies. Westerns in particular. Not that he looked like Gary Cooper or John Wayne, but somehow he possessed their essence….
Okay, her brain was gone. She was losing it, but she couldn’t help herself. She remained quietly hidden, steadily watching.
In Pace’s hand he held a coiled rope which he was rubbing down the torso of the horse as he spoke to it in a silky voice. She remembered this horse. It had raced off the truck first and stayed as far away from people as it could get. That Pace was able to get within ten feet of it surprised her. What a difference a few days could make. Or was it the difference Pace could make? He was so calm standing there letting the horse get used to him. The way she would treat a scared puppy.
Pace held the coil of rope up and let the horse see it. Then he touched the rope to the horse’s neck, then its shoulder. She noticed that he used the coiled rope to push on the horse, too. She knew there was a reason behind every touch he administered.
His smooth as silk voice was so contrary to the gruffness he’d shown her that it startled her. Watching him in action, Sheri could totally believe he was the best. There was a gentleness she’d certainly never seen. Sheri watched for at least an hour. She couldn’t help it. Time flew by. It was the most remarkable thing she had ever witnessed.
After a while, sanity returned, and she realized there wouldn’t be an opportunity to talk without interrupting him. She finally backed away and walked down the driveway unnoticed. As she jogged her way around the bend toward home, she was filled with a quiet sense of awe.
It was a nice reprieve after all the turmoil she’d been experiencing.
Pace Gentry. What a contradiction. For as long as she lived, she didn’t think she’d ever see anything more extraordinary than the look on his face as he worked with that horse.
It wasn’t the tight scowl he wore outside the round pen. It was an expression of total contentment. He was at home within the boundaries of that circle. He was relaxed and in control. It was clear as day that Pace had been born a bronc buster.
She paused in her driveway and walked beside the sweet-scented honeysuckle vine that wound around her mailbox and ran down the length of the fence among her brightly colored birdhouses, her own mini Mule Hollow. She smiled, listening to her wind chimes singing softly in the breeze and studied her flowers as she passed.
What Pace did was lead the horses to an understanding. Exactly! His gift was that he worked with the animals until they chose to wear a saddle. He mesmerized them until they said, “Throw that saddle on up there and hop on, cowboy.”
It seemed almost laughable, yet that was exactly what it looked like.
Now she knew his secret.
Pace Gentry was like a Dr. Dolittle when it came to horses. He could practically talk to the animals. He just couldn’t talk to people!
Or, he chose not to talk to people. Or maybe just not to her.
Hmm, the man was more perplexing and interesting than any man Sheri had ever encountered.
She kind of liked that.
The salon was busy the next day. Sheri had arrived at work distracted. She hadn’t slept well the night before, and it was her neighbor’s fault. Instead of sleeping she found herself thinking about what would make a man like him leave behind a life he loved. As she worked on Edith Musgroves’s toes, she forced herself to focus on her reasons for wanting to acquire his help in executing her plan. They weren’t personal, she reminded herself, this was business. She needed to keep that in mind. At any other time dating him for real would have been a done deal. She’d have been all about seeing what he was about.
But for the purpose of achieving her goal all these thoughts about Pace Gentry’s personal life really needed to stay out of the mix. They could only complicate things. She’d chosen him because he fit the profile. He was a man who, like her, appreciated his freedom. It was obvious. Though she didn’t have this on authority, from what she’d observed and what she’d heard of the man her assumptions made sense. Now all she had to do was convince him to help her.
As the day ended Lacy finished her haircuts first and headed home, leaving Sheri to close up shop. Intent on approaching her neighbor again, Sheri had just locked up and was climbing into her Jeep when an overall-clad Norma Sue came barreling across Main Street from Pete’s Feed and Seed, holding on to her straw hat as she ran.
“Sheri, hold up there a minute,” she called.
Sheri went ahead and climbed into her open-topped vehicle, noticing some jokester had used his finger to write the words Wash me in the dust-covered red paint.
“Cute,” she muttered, wondering which cowboy had left his mark as he’d passed by.
Dust in August was a way of life out here, especially when one lived on a dirt road as she did. Even so, she loved Texas in August. Sheri had always been infatuated with the outback of Australia, but she was afraid of heights and hated flying. Flying that far was out of the question, so the dry heat of western Texas in August was as close as she’d get to the real outback.
Enjoying the heat, she breathed in the dry air and watched Norma Sue hustle toward her, sweating as she came. Sheri got a picture in her head of the posse hog tying her and tossing her on the first plane to Australia in an attempt to fix another aspect of her life if they knew she had a fear of flying.
“Whew-ee! This heat is about to fry me whole,” Norma Sue said, fanning herself with her hat as she slid to a halt beside Sheri. “I just wanted to invite you to church tomorrow. We’ve been missing you something fierce lately.”
There you go, Sheri thought grudgingly. This was one more thing they were set on fixing about her.
“Norma Sue,” she sighed, “we’ve been through this.”
“Sheri, you haven’t come to church since you and J.P. broke up. You can’t take what happened out on the Lord.”
Sheri was not taking it out on the Lord…well maybe a little. But that was between her and Him. It wasn’t Norma Sue’s concern that she’d had about all the secondhand blessings she could take. Still, she wasn’t about to tell Norma Sue that she was feeling forgotten by God. It was childish but true, and Sheri honestly couldn’t explain her feelings. She just knew that lately when Sunday morning rolled around she didn’t have the desire to get up and go to church. After all, what had the Lord done for her lately?
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