Wyoming Brides Page 20

  The one thing she did miss, however, was her family and friends. She talked to her parents every week, and regularly e-mailed her brother and her closest friends. At Christmas or during the summer, she visited Seattle to see everyone. Several of her college classmates were married now. Three years after receiving her master’s in education, Joy was still single. While she was in no rush, she did long for a husband and family of her own one day. Red Springs was full of eligible men; unfortunately, most of them were at least fifty. The pickings were slim, as Letty was eager to remind her. She’d dated, but none of the men had interested her the way Lonny once had.

  Since there was no avoiding it, Joy left the school and watched as the children formed neat rows and boarded the buses. She folded her arms and stood straight and as tall as her five-foot-ten-inch frame would allow. Thankfully she’d chosen her nicest jumper that morning, a denim one with a white turtleneck. She felt she needed any advantage she could get if she had to face Lonny Ellison. The jumper had buckle snaps and crisscrossed her shoulders, helping to disguise her slight build.

  “Ms. Fuller, Ms. Fuller,” six-year-old Cricket Brown shouted, racing across the playground to her side. The little girl’s long braids bounced as she skipped over to Joy. Her cherub face was flushed with excitement.

  “Hello, Cricket,” Joy said, smiling down at the youngster. She’d witnessed a remarkable change in the little girl since Letty’s marriage to Chase Brown. Despite her friendship with Letty, Joy wasn’t aware of all the details, but she knew there was a lengthy romantic history between her and Chase, one that had taken place ten years earlier. Letty had moved away and when she’d returned, she had a daughter and no husband.

  Letty was gentle, kind, thoughtful, the exact opposite of her brother. Out of the corner of her eye, Joy noticed he was striding toward her.

  Cricket wasn’t in the lineup for the bus, which explained Lonny’s presence. He’d apparently come to pick up his niece. Preferring to ignore him altogether, Joy turned her back to avoid looking in Lonny’s direction. The students were all aboard the waiting buses. One had already pulled out of the yard and was headed down the street.

  “My uncle Lonny’s here.” Cricket grinned ecstatically.

  “I know.” Joy couldn’t very well say she hadn’t seen him, because she had. The hair on the back of her neck had stood on end the minute he’d parked outside the school. The radar-like reaction her body continued to have whenever he made an appearance confused and annoyed her.

  “Look! He’s coming now,” Cricket cried, waving furiously at her uncle.

  Lonny joined the two of them and held Joy’s look for a long moment. Chills ran down her spine. It was too much to hope that Lonny would simply collect Cricket and then be on his way, too much to hope he wouldn’t mention the stop sign incident. The second stop sign incident. Oh, no, this man wouldn’t permit an opportunity like that to pass him by.

  “Mr. Ellison,” she said, unwilling to blink. She kept her face as expressionless as possible.

  “Ms. Fuller.” He touched the brim of his Stetson with his index finger.

  “Yes?” Crossing her arms, she boldly met his gaze, preferring to let him do the talking. She refused to be intimidated by this ill-tempered rancher. She’d made one small mistake and run a stop sign, causing a minor near-accident. The stop sign at Grove and Logan was new and she’d been so accustomed to not stopping that she’d sailed through the intersection.

  She’d driven at the legal speed limit, forgetting about the newly installed stop sign. She’d noticed it at the last possible second; it was already too late to stop but she’d immediately slowed down. Unfortunately, Lonny Ellison had entered the same intersection at the same time and they’d experienced a trivial mishap. Once again, Joy had been more than willing to admit that she was the one at fault, and she would gladly have accepted full responsibility if he hadn’t behaved like an escaped lunatic. In fact, Lonny had carried this incident far beyond anything sane or reasonable. Not that—based on past experience—this was surprising.

  It didn’t help that he was a good five inches taller than she was and about as lean and mean as a wolverine. Staring up at him now, she changed her mind about his being the slightest bit attractive. Well, he could be if not for his dark, beady eyes. Even when Joy and Lonny had dated he hadn’t smiled all that often, and only at his own jokes, which were usually about city slickers and absurd rodeo exploits. Since then, he seemed to wear a perpetual frown, glaring at her as if she were a stinkbug he wanted to stomp.

  “I got the estimate on the damage to my truck,” he announced, handing her a folded sheet.

  Damage? What damage? The dent in his fender was barely visible. Joy concluded it was better not to ask. “I’ll take a look at it,” she said, struggling not to reveal how utterly irritating she found him. As far as she could see, his precious truck was on its way to the scrap yard.

  “You’ll want to pay particular attention to the cost of repairing that section of the fender,” he added.

  She might as well pay him off and be done with it.

  Unfolding the yellow sheet, she glanced down. Despite her best efforts to refrain from any emotion, she gasped. “This is a joke, right?”

  “No. You’ll see I’m not asking you to replace the whole bumper.”

  “They don’t replace half a bumper or even a small section. This…this two hundred and fifty dollars seems way out of line.”

  “A new bumper, plus installation, costs over five hundred dollars. Two hundred and fifty is half of that.”

  Joy swallowed hard. Yes, she’d been at fault, and yes, it wasn’t the first time, but even dividing the cost of the bumper, that amount was ridiculous. She certainly hadn’t done five hundred dollars’ worth of damage—or even fifty dollars, in her opinion.

  To his credit, Lonny had done an admirable job of preventing any serious repercussions. She’d been badly shaken by the incident, which could easily have been much worse, and so had Lonny. She’d tried to apologize, sincerely tried, but Lonny had leaped out of his pickup in a rage.

  Because he’d been such a jerk about it, Joy had responded in anger, too. From that moment on, they’d had trouble even being civil to each other. Joy was convinced his anger wasn’t so much about this so-called accident as it was about their former relationship. He was the one who’d broken it off, not her. Well, okay, it’d been a mutual decision.

  Now he was insisting that a mere scratch would cost hundreds of dollars to repair. It was hard to tell which dent the collision had even caused. His truck had at least ten others just like it, including the one from last year’s incident, and most of them were much worse. She suspected he was punishing her for not falling under the spell of the Great Rodeo Rider. That was the real story here.

  Joy marched over to where Lonny had parked his vehicle. “You can’t expect me to pay that kind of money for one tiny dent.” She gestured at the scratched and battered truck. “That’s highway robbery.” She stood her ground—easy to do because she didn’t have an extra two hundred and fifty dollars. “What about all the other dents? They don’t seem to bother you, but this one does. And why is that, I wonder?”

  Anger flashed from his eyes. “That tiny dent does bother me. So does the other tiny dent you caused. But what bothers me more is unsafe drivers. In my view, you should have your driver’s license revoked.”

  “I forgot about the stop sign,” Joy admitted. “And I’ve apologized a dozen times. I don’t mean to be difficult here, but this just seems wrong to me. You’re angry about something else entirely and we both know what that is.”

  “You’re wrong. This has nothing to do with you and me. This is about my truck.”

  “Who do you think you’re kidding?” she burst out. “You’re angry because I’m a woman with opinions that didn’t happen to agree with yours. You didn’t want a relationship, you wanted someone to flatter your ego and I didn’t fall into line the way other women have.” She’d never met any of those women
, but she’d certainly heard about them….

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re just a city girl. I’m surprised you stuck around this long. If you figure that arguing will convince me to forget what you did to my truck, you’re dead wrong.” He shook his head as if she’d insulted him.

  Joy couldn’t believe he was going to pursue this.

  “You owe me for the damage to my vehicle,” he insisted.

  “You…you…” she sputtered at the unfairness of it all. “I’m not paying you a dime.” If he wanted to be unreasonable, then she could be, too.

  “Would you rather I had my insurance company contact yours?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then I’d appreciate a check in the amount of two hundred and fifty dollars.”

  “That’s practically blackmail!”

  “Blackmail?” Lonny spat out the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. “I went to a lot of time and effort to get this estimate. I wanted to be as fair and amicable as possible and this is what I get?” He threw his arms up as if completely disgusted. “You’re lucky I was willing to share the cost with you, which I didn’t have to do.”

  “You think you’re being fair?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “I only want to be fair,” he said in self-righteous tones.

  Joy relaxed. “Then fifty dollars should do it.”

  Lonny’s eyes widened. “Fifty dollars won’t even begin to cover the damage.”

  “I don’t see you rushing out for estimates on any of the other damage to your truck.” She pointed at a couple of deep gouges on the driver’s door. “And they had nothing to do with me.”

  “I admit I was responsible for those,” he said. “I’ll get around to taking care of them someday.”

  “Apparently someday has arrived and you’re trying to rip me off.”

  They were almost nose-to-nose now and tall as he was, Joy didn’t even flinch. This man was a Neanderthal, a knuckle-dragging throwback who didn’t know the first thing about civility or common decency.

  “Ms. Fuller? Uncle Lonny?”

  The small voice of a child drifted through the fog of Joy’s anger. To her horror, she’d been so upset, she’d forgotten all about Cricket.

  “You’re yelling,” the little girl said, staring up at them. Her expression was one of uncertainty.

  Joy immediately crouched down so she was level with the six-year-old. “Your Uncle Lonny and I let our emotions get the better of us,” she said and laughed as if it was all a joke.

  Frowning, Cricket glanced from Joy to her uncle. “Uncle Lonny says when you aren’t teaching school you shrink heads. When I asked Mommy about it, she said Uncle Lonny didn’t mean that. You don’t really shrink heads, do you?”

  Lonny cleared his throat. “Ah, perhaps it’s time we left, Cricket.” He reached for the little girl’s hand but Cricket resisted.

  “Of course I don’t shrink heads,” Joy said, standing upright. Her irritation continued to simmer as she met Lonny’s gaze. “Your uncle was only teasing.”

  “No, I wasn’t,” Lonny muttered under his breath.

  Joy sighed. “That was mature.”

  “I don’t care what you think of me. All I want from you is two hundred and fifty dollars to pay for the damage you did to my truck.”

  “My fifty-dollar offer stands anytime you’re willing to accept it.”

  His fierce glare told her the offer was, and would remain, unacceptable.

  “If you don’t cooperate, I’ll go to your insurance company,” he warned.

  If it came to that, then so be it. Surely a claims adjustor would agree with her. “You can threaten me all you want. Fifty dollars is my best offer—take it or leave it.”

  “I’ll leave it.” This was said emphatically, conviction behind each syllable.

  Joy handed him back the written estimate. “That’s perfectly fine by me. You can contact me when you’re prepared to be reasonable.”

  “You think I’m the one who’s being unreasonable?” he asked, sounding shocked and hurt.

  She rolled her eyes. Lonny should’ve had a career as a B-movie actor, not a bull-rider or whatever he’d been. Bull something, anyway.

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” she said calmly.

  Lonny had the audacity to scowl.

  This man was the most outrageous human being she’d ever had the misfortune to meet. Remembering the child’s presence, Joy bit her tongue in an effort to restrain herself from arguing further.

  “You haven’t heard the last of me,” he threatened.

  “Oh, say it isn’t so,” Joy murmured ever so sweetly. If she never saw Lonny Ellison again, it would be too soon.

  Lonny whirled around and opened the door on the passenger side for his niece.

  “Be careful not to scratch this priceless antique,” Joy called out to the little girl.

  After helping Cricket inside, Lonny closed the door. “Very funny,” he said. “You won’t be nearly as amused once your insurance people hear from mine.”

  Joy was no longer concerned about that. Her agent would take one look at Lonny Ellison’s beaten-up vehicle and might, if the cowpoke was lucky, offer him fifty bucks.

  Whatever happened, he wasn’t getting a penny more out of her. She’d rather go to jail.

  Three

  “Y ou’ve got a thing for Ms. Fuller, don’t you?” Cricket asked as she sat beside Lonny in the cab of his truck. “That’s what my mommy says.”

  Lonny made a noncommittal reply. If he announced his true feelings for the teacher, he’d singe his niece’s ears. Joy was right about something, though. His anger was connected to their earlier relationship, if he could even call it that. The first few dates had gone well, and he’d felt encouraged. He’d been impressed with her intelligence and adventuresome spirit. For a time—more than once, actually—he’d even thought Joy might be the one. But it became apparent soon enough that she couldn’t take a joke. That was when her uppity, know-it-all, schoolmarm side had come out. She seemed to think his ego was the problem. Not so! He was a kidder and she had no sense of humor. He’d been glad to end it right then and there.

  His sister had tried to play the role of matchmaker after she returned to Red Springs and became friends with Joy. Lonny wasn’t interested, since he’d had a private look into the real Joy Fuller, behind all her sweetness and charm.

  “Mom says sometimes people who really like each other pretend they don’t, ’cause they’re afraid of their feelings,” Cricket continued, sounding wise beyond her years. He could hear the echo of Letty’s opinions in her daughter’s words.

  Leave it to a female to come up with a nonsensical notion like that.

  “Do you like Ms. Fuller the way Mom said?” Cricket asked again.

  Lonny shrugged. That was as much of a comment as he cared to make. He was well aware of his sister’s opinions. Letty hoped to marry him off. He was thirty-five now, and the pool of eligible women in Red Springs was quickly evaporating. His romantic sister had set her sights on him and Joy, but as far as he was concerned, hell would freeze over first.

  Lonny figured he’d had his share of women on the rodeo circuit and he had no desire for that kind of complication again. Most of those girlfriends had been what you’d call short-term—some of them very short-term. They’d treated him like a hero, which was gratifying, but he’d grown bored with their demands, and even their adulation had become tiresome after a while. Since he’d retired eight years earlier, he’d lived alone and frankly, that was how he liked it.

  Just recently he’d hired Tom, a young man who’d drifted onto his ranch. That seemed to be working out all right. Tom had a room in the barn and kept mostly to himself. Lonny didn’t want to pry into his business, but he had checked the boy’s identification. To his relief, Tom was of age; still, he seemed young to be completely on his own. Lonny had talked to the local sheriff and learned that Tom wasn’t wanted for any crimes. Lonny hoped that, given time, the boy would trust him enough to shar
e what had prompted him to leave his family. For now, he was safer living and working with Lonny than making his own way in the world.

  Despite his sister’s claims, Lonny was convinced that bringing a woman into his life would cause nothing but trouble. First thing a wife would want to do was update his kitchen and the appliances. That stove had been around as long as he could remember—his mother had cooked on it—and he didn’t see any need to buy another. Same with the refrigerator. Then, as soon as a wife had sweet-talked him into redoing the kitchen, sure as hell she’d insist on all new furniture. It wouldn’t end there, either. He’d be forking out for paint and wallpaper and who knows what. After a few months he wouldn’t even recognize his own house—or his bank account. No, sir, he couldn’t afford a wife, not with the financial risk he and Chase were taking by raising their cattle without growth hormones.

  A heifer took five years to reach twelve hundred pounds on the open range, eating a natural diet of grass. By contrast, commercial steers, who were routinely given hormones, reached that weight in eighteen to twenty months. That meant he and Chase were feeding and caring for a single head of beef nearly three years longer than the average cattleman. Penned cattle were corn-fed and given a diet that featured protein supplements. Lonny had seen some of those so-called supplements, and they included chicken feathers and rot like that. Furthermore, penned steers were on a regimen of antibiotics to protect them from the various diseases that ran rampant in such close quarters.

  Yup, they were taking a risk, he and Chase, raising natural beef, and the truth was that Lonny was on a tight budget. But he could manage, living on his own, even with Tom’s wages and the room and board he provided. Lonny was proud of their cattle-ranching venture; not only were they producing a higher quality beef, for which the market was growing, but their methods were far more humane.

  Cricket sang softly to herself during the rest of the ride. Lonny pulled into the long dirt drive that led to Chase and Letty’s place, leaving a plume of dust in his wake.