Wyoming Brides Read online

  A few women groaned. Muttering broke out until Doris banged the gavel again.

  “A bake sale’s always been our best money-raiser,” Janice reminded the other women. She should know because she’d been the carnival treasurer for as long as Joy had been in town.

  “Well, yes, Della’s pies sell out right away, and Florence Williams’s sourdough biscuits, too, of course.”

  “Don’t forget Sally’s chocolate cake,” Myrtle Jameson shouted out. “That’s one of the first to go. But last year, everything sold out in under two hours.”

  “Order, please,” Doris said. She held her index finger to her lips. “Myrtle, you’re right. Remember how, at the last bake sale, there was a line outside the door even before we opened? And Betty,” she said, pointing her gavel at a woman who sat in the front row. “Tell the ladies what happened to you.”

  Betty Sanders, who was well into her eighties, stood, using her cane for balance. “One of the men stopped me in the parking lot and bought all my butterhorn rolls the second I got out of my car.”

  “See what I mean?” Janice said, looking around for confirmation. “That’s why I suggested we do a bake sale. They’re very popular.”

  “I have another idea,” Letty said, leaping to her feet. The women twisted around to see who was speaking. “If the bake sale’s so popular and we sell out right away, why don’t we auction off the baked goods?”

  Letty sat back down and the room instantly erupted into discordant chatter.

  Doris pounded the gavel and Joy could see that she was keen on Letty’s idea.

  “That’s a fabulous suggestion,” Doris said. “We’d raise a lot more cash—and our treasury could sure use it.”

  “But where would we hold an auction?” someone called out. “Especially at this late date? Don’t forget, the carnival’s only two weeks away.”

  A variety of suggestions followed. Finally someone else brought forth the idea of having the auction during Friday-night bingo at the community center. Expressions of approval rippled across the room.

  “An auction’s a perfect idea.” Joy leaned close in order to whisper to her friend.

  “I don’t know why someone hasn’t thought of it before,” Letty said, shrugging off the praise.

  “Bingo is the most popular event of the week,” Lois Franklin reminded the group. “And Bill told me he always needs entertainment for intermission. I know he’ll welcome this idea.”

  “It helps that you’re married to him,” Doris said, chuckling. “So we can count on holding the auction at bingo?”

  Lois nodded. “I’ll make sure of it.” And she would, since Bill was the caller—and the man in charge of bingo in Red Springs.

  “It’s as good as done, then,” Doris said. “Thank you, Lois.”

  “When?” another woman asked. “Next Friday?”

  Doris glanced around. “Does a week give everyone enough time to get the word out?”

  There were nods of assent.

  Although she’d hoped to remain inconspicuous during this meeting, Joy didn’t feel she could keep silent. She raised her hand and stood. “That only gives us seven days—including today—to let people know.”

  They’d need to have signs made and posted around town right away.

  After another round of muttered rumblings, Doris slammed the gavel yet again. “That’s true, but there’s nothing we can do about it. The bake sale auction is set for next Friday night.”

  “We’ll tell everyone,” Betty said, leaning on her cane.

  “No problem.” Honey Sue Jameson got to her feet. “I’ll make it my business to tell the entire town about this.” Honey Sue was Myrtle’s daughter-in-law. She and her husband, Don, owned the local radio station, so she was on the radio every morning, announcing the news and reading the farm report. Honey Sue had come by her name because her voice was as sweet and smooth as honey. Although Joy had no interest in the price of beef or soybeans, she sometimes tuned in just to hear Honey Sue, who could actually make a list of prices sound almost poetic.

  “That’s terrific,” Doris said, beaming at the prospect of filling the committee’s coffers. “I’ll put out sheets of paper for sign-up lists. Ladies, please indicate what you’re bringing and how you can help publicize our bake sale.”

  “Just a minute,” Betty said, returning everyone’s attention to the front of the room. “Who’ll be the auctioneer?”

  “We could always ask Don,” Lois Franklin suggested.

  “If he won’t do it, I will,” Honey Sue volunteered.

  Once again Doris nodded her approval.

  “Will the name of whoever contributed the baked item be mentioned?” someone else wanted to know.

  Doris frowned. “I…” She looked to Honey Sue for advice. “What do you think?”

  Honey Sue smiled. “I don’t suppose it could hurt.”

  “The name of the donor will be announced at the time the baked item is brought up for auction,” Doris stated decisively.

  “That might generate even higher bids,” Letty murmured. “Chase is crazy for Betty’s butterhorn rolls. He doesn’t know it, but Betty gave me the recipe. I just haven’t gotten around to baking them yet.”

  Joy whispered in Letty’s ear. “So it was Chase who stopped her in the parking lot?”

  “I’m not sure, but knowing Chase, it probably was.”

  Several sheets of paper were set up on the front table, and the women stepped forward to write down their donations.

  Joy and Letty joined the line. “What are you going to bake?” Joy asked her friend.

  “Pecan pie,” Letty said without hesitation. “What about you?”

  Several ideas ran through Joy’s mind. No doubt Lonny thought she purchased frozen entrées because she didn’t know how to cook. Well, that wasn’t the case. She should arrive with Cherries Jubilee, toss on the brandy and light it up. She could just imagine Lonny Ellison’s expression when he saw flames leaping into the air. Or perhaps Baked Alaska. That would make a point, too.

  “I haven’t decided yet,” she murmured.

  “Remember the last time you watched Cricket for me?” Letty said. “The two of you baked peanut butter cookies. They were wonderful.”

  “You think so?” Joy didn’t mean to sound so insecure. The cookies were fine, but they didn’t provide the dramatic statement she was hoping to make. She shouldn’t worry about impressing anyone, least of all Lonny. Still, the thought flitted through her mind. She would derive great satisfaction from seeing his face when she presented Crêpes Suzette.

  Joy didn’t have a single thing to prove to Lonny, or anyone else for that matter, and yet she wanted to impress him. It was all about pride. This…this cowpoke was taking up far too much of her time and energy. She didn’t want to be attracted to him. Josh was coming back into her life and he was someone she knew, someone she felt comfortable with. Lonny made her angry every time she thought about him, he’d embarrassed her publicly more than once, and they had absolutely nothing in common.

  “Peanut butter cookies are so…” Joy paused, searching for the right word. “Ordinary,” she finished.

  Letty grinned. “In case you haven’t noticed, most everyone around these parts prefers ordinary. We’re a meat-and-potatoes kind of community. You won’t see anyone signing up to bring Crêpes Suzette.”

  “Ah…” So much for that idea.

  “It’s a lesson I learned when I came back after living in California all those years,” Letty went on. “I didn’t need to impress anyone. All I had to do was be myself.”

  Even though Joy longed to see the look on Lonny’s face when the auctioneer brought forth her fabulously exclusive dessert and read her name, she realized she’d only embarrass herself. No one would bid on it; no doubt they’d feel sorry for her, the city girl who’d tried to show off her superior baking skills.

  “Peanut butter cookies it is,” she said with a sigh.

  Letty reached the front of the line and wrote down pecan pi
e. Joy added her cookies to the list, noticing that only one other woman had offered to bake them.

  Letty waited for her, and together they walked to the parking lot. Several other cars were pulling out.

  “Is something going on between my brother and you?” Letty asked unexpectedly.

  Joy almost couldn’t swallow her gasp of alarm. “W-what do you mean?”

  “Well, you did ask about him,” Letty said. “You wanted to know if I’d talked to my brother recently.”

  “Oh, that.” Joy brushed off the question. “No reason.” It was the same response she’d made earlier, but she couldn’t come up with a more inventive excuse on the spur of the moment.

  Letty regarded her as if she knew there was a reason. “Well, regardless, we’ll see him soon enough.”

  “We will?” Joy widened her eyes. She’d sincerely hoped to avoid him.

  “Of course,” Letty said matter-of-factly. “You can bet he’ll be at the auction.” And with that simple statement, she both confirmed Joy’s fears and ignited her hopes.

  Seven

  L onny had plenty to do around the ranch. Early in the afternoon, after he got back from town, he rode out to the herd, seeking any cattle that showed signs of sickness. Chase had found one heifer with a runny nose and isolated her for the time being.

  Lonny felt a sense of pride as his gaze fell on the rows of wheat, stretching as far as the eye could see. The stalks were still slender and light green. He and Chase had planted three hundred acres, another three hundred in soybeans and nearly that much in natural grasses. The wheat was grown for grazing and for seed. They grew everything their cattle ate. The herd now numbered about four hundred, and their goal was to eventually increase it to fifteen hundred head.

  A herd that size would take years to develop, depending on the public’s response to natural beef. He had to believe that once health-conscious consumers realized they had a choice, they’d prefer a product devoid of potentially harmful chemicals. Both Chase and Lonny had staked their financial future on this hope.

  Thinking about their plans for the herd distracted him from Joy Fuller—but not for long. Following that scene this morning, he was half-afraid his sister might be right. He was attracted to Joy. He had been earlier, too, when they’d first dated, only it had all blown up in his face. The woman was opinionated and argumentative—but then, so was he. Together, they were like a match striking tinder. Saturday’s kiss had shown him how quickly that could lead to combustion.

  He understood now why he’d reacted so irrationally at the time of the accident. He knew why he’d insisted she take responsibility for the damage to his truck. The truth had hit him squarely between the eyes when he kissed her. It shook him, mainly because he didn’t want to be attracted to Joy. They’d already tried a relationship and he’d decided it wasn’t going to work. It wouldn’t this time, either, and now…now, he thought, looking over the cattle scattered across the green land, he had other considerations, other worries.

  Tom came into view on Dolly, the brown-and-white mare he preferred to ride. He was unusually mature for nineteen and, to Lonny’s relief, didn’t require much supervision. He gave Tom a few instructions, then rode back to the barn. He should check the fence line, which needed continual attention. Yet whenever he started a task, he had to struggle not to get sidetracked by thoughts of Joy…and that kiss.

  Twice he’d actually climbed inside his truck, intending to go into town so he could talk to her. He didn’t know what he could possibly say that would make a shred of difference. He was convinced that she’d enjoyed their kiss as much as he had, but she’d insisted she didn’t want him touching her.

  For a moment there, for one of the most wonderful interludes of his life, she’d kissed him back. Then she’d suddenly broken it off.

  Once he’d finished rubbing down his horse, Lonny walked resolutely toward the truck. He would go to Joy, he decided, take his hat off and ask if they could talk man to man—no, that wouldn’t work. Man to woman, then. They’d clear up past misunderstandings and perhaps they could start fresh.

  He’d apologize, too, for the way he’d behaved after the accident, and tell her she didn’t need to pay him a dime to repair that dent. It added character to his truck, he’d say. He wouldn’t mention their kiss, though. If he apologized, he’d be lying and she’d see right through him.

  Determined now, even though it was already late afternoon, he got into his pickup. It was at this point that he’d changed his mind twice before. But based on his frustrating inability to forget about Joy for more than a few minutes, he could only conclude that it wouldn’t do any good to stick around the ranch. In his current emotional state, he wasn’t worth a plugged nickel, anyway.

  The twenty-minute drive into town seemed to pass in five. Before he had a chance to think about what he intended to say, he’d reached Joy’s house. At least he assumed she still lived in the same place she’d rented when she moved to town. He parked outside and clutched the steering wheel for probably three minutes before he found the gumption to walk to the front door. Checking the contents of the mailbox confirmed that this was, indeed, her home.

  Lonny wasn’t fond of eating crow and he was about to swallow a sizable portion. He was willing to do it, though, if that would set things straight between him and Joy.

  Squaring his shoulders, he cleared his throat and removed his Stetson. He shook his head in case his hair was flat, took a deep breath and braced his feet apart. Then he rang her doorbell.

  Nothing.

  He pressed it again, harder and longer this time.

  Still nothing.

  Lonny peeked in the front window. There didn’t appear to be anyone home. Now that he thought about it, her little green PT Cruiser was nowhere in sight.

  Disappointed, Lonny went back to his own vehicle. It seemed important to let her know he’d made an effort to contact her. Digging around in his glove compartment, he found a slip of paper—an old gas station receipt—and a pencil stub. He spent a moment thinking about what to say. After careful consideration, he wrote: I came to talk. I think we should, don’t you? Call me. Lonny J. Ellison. Then he wrote down his phone number.

  He’d added his middle initial so she’d realize he was serious. His father had chosen Jethro as his middle name, and he usually avoided any reminder of it. For Joy, he’d reveal his embarrassing secret—because if she asked what the J stood for, he’d tell her.

  As he pulled away from the curb and turned the corner, he glanced in his rearview mirror and saw her green car coming from the opposite direction.

  Lonny made a quick U-turn and parked just out of sight. Leaning over his steering wheel, he managed to get a glimpse of Joy’s front porch. Sure enough, it was her.

  His best course of action, he decided, was to wait and see what happened when she found his note.

  Lonny watched Joy walk slowly toward the house. He noticed that her shoulders were hunched as if she wasn’t feeling well. She opened the screen door and the slip of paper he’d tucked there dropped to the porch.

  Lonny almost called out, afraid she hadn’t seen it. She had, though. Bending down, she picked up the note he’d folded in half. He held his breath as she read it. Then he saw her take his heartfelt message, crumple it with both hands and shove it inside her pocket. After that, she unlocked the front door, slammed it shut and drew her drapes.

  Lonny sighed. Perhaps now wasn’t a good time to approach her, after all.

  On the drive back to his ranch, Lonny wondered how his plan could have gone so wrong. Joy’s reaction to his note made it clear that she wasn’t interested in anything he had to say. He could take a hint. But in his opinion, she wasn’t being honest with herself; otherwise, she would’ve acknowledged how much she’d liked that kiss. Fine. He could deal with it.

  The rest of the day was shot, so Lonny stopped at Chase and Letty’s. As soon as his truck rolled into the yard, Cricket came running out of the house, bouncing down the porch steps.


  Lonny was out of his vehicle just in time to catch her in his arms and swing her around. Now, this was a gratifying reception—exactly the type he’d hoped to get from Joy. That, however, was not to be.

  “Mom’s baking pecan pie,” Cricket announced.

  “For dinner?” he asked, setting his niece down on the ground.

  Cricket frowned. “I don’t think so.”

  “Your mommy makes the best pecan pie I ever tasted.” If he hung around a while, she might offer him a piece.

  Chase stepped out of the barn, wiping his brow with his forearm. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought you were going to finish the worming.”

  “Good to see you, too,” Lonny teased. They’d been best friends their entire lives. Friends, partners, neighbors—and now, brothers-in-law. “Tom and I finished the worming early.” Early enough to race into town and make an idiot of himself over Joy. But that was information he planned to keep private.

  “Aren’t you and Tom driving the herd to the lower pasture this weekend?”

  “I decided against it,” Lonny said. “There’s still plenty of grass in the upper pasture. I meant to tell you….”

  Letty came out onto the back porch and waved when she saw him. “Hi, Lonny,” she said. She didn’t look as if she’d been baking.

  “What’s this I hear about a pecan pie?” he asked, moving closer. If he was lucky, she’d offer him a piece and invite him to dinner. In that case, he’d casually bring up the subject of Joy and get his sister’s opinion. Maybe he needed a woman’s perspective.

  “I’m not baking the pie until later in the week. It’s for an auction. Want to stay for dinner? I’m just setting the table.”

  “What’re you making?”

  “Roast chicken, scalloped potatoes, green bean casserole.”

  He grinned. “It’d be my pleasure.” Letty’s cooking was downright inspired, and this meal reminded him of one their mother might have made. Toward the end of her life, though, she’d taken more interest in quilting than in the culinary arts. Letty had inherited their mother’s abilities in the kitchen, and she could do artistic stuff, too—singing and knitting and other things, like the dried herb wreath that hung on the kitchen door.