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  Under the matter of new business, Joshua officially welcomed Maddy Washburn into the business community. Maddy thanked the council members for the invitation to sit in on the regular monthly meetings.

  With the sale of the grocery and the departure of Mr. Hansen, one council position was left vacant. Hassie Knight nominated Buffalo Bob Carr to fill that position and Gage Sinclair seconded the motion. Buffalo Bob was voted in unanimously and is now an official member of the town council.

  It was voted to grant funds to the high school so that the Christmas play can be held a second year. Lindsay Sinclair will address the council next month about the school’s needs.

  Hassie Knight will place flags at the cemetery for Veterans’ Day.

  Because of the luncheon being held to welcome both Maddy Washburn and Sarah Stern to the business community, the council meeting was cut short. The meeting adjourned at twelve-fifteen.

  Respectfully submitted,

  Hassie Knight

  Dennis Urlacher studied the menu at Buffalo Bob’s far longer than necessary, seeing that he’d eaten there often enough to have memorized everything on it. The problem was, nothing sounded good.

  “Beef stew’s the special tonight,” Buffalo Bob said, standing over him, pen and pad in hand.

  Without much enthusiasm, Dennis returned the menu. “I’ll have that,” he muttered. It didn’t help that he’d eaten lunch there following the town council meeting that very afternoon. Of course the real reason for his indifference to Bob’s menu had nothing to do with the food.

  “Hey, the stew’s not bad. I had a bowl of it myself.”

  Dennis suspected Bob was right. To the community’s surprise, Buffalo Bob had turned out to be a halfway decent cook. Cook and everything else at the 3 OF A KIND. He’d rolled into Buffalo Valley on the back of a Harley-Davidson, with all his worldly possessions stuffed in his two leather saddlebags.

  The name of the hotel, bar and grill was a source of amusement, since Buffalo Bob had won the place in a poker game. Considering that poker hand the luckiest thing that had ever happened to him, Robert Carr had named the business 3 OF A KIND. However, that wasn’t the only change he’d made when he took over from Dave Ertz, the previous owner. From then on, he’d insisted on calling himself Buffalo Bob.

  Most folks didn’t know what to think when he first opened his doors. A lot of people feared Buffalo Valley would turn into a haven for “biker types,” the way Sturgis, South Dakota, did every summer.

  The only other “biker type” who’d showed up was a woman named Merrily Benson. Dennis had the impression that Merrily hadn’t known Buffalo Bob until the day she’d arrived, but those two had taken to each other right away. Soon afterward, Merrily went to work for Bob as his one and only Buffalo Gal. In the years since, she’d come and gone a dozen times, leaving without notice and returning when least expected. Buffalo Bob’s moods swung with Merrily’s comings and goings.

  Dennis might have felt sorry for Buffalo Bob if he wasn’t in the same situation himself. Whenever he thought he’d made progress with Sarah, something would happen to show him he was wasting his time. He’d been crazy about her from the age of seventeen. But the fact that she was five years older, married and with a kid, didn’t exactly make for a serious romance, especially since she was living in another state. Then one day she’d come home to Buffalo Valley, divorced, her daughter in tow.

  Dennis had let her know his feelings, and she’d practically laughed at him. Sarah had claimed to be flattered by his attention and called him “sweet.”

  Sweet? He practically burst out of his jeans every time he was near her and she called him sweet. He might have left Buffalo Valley, like so many of his friends had, if it hadn’t been for the way he felt about Sarah. The town was all but dead. He’d served Uncle Sam for a couple of years, then come back and bought out his father’s gas station with a small-business loan from the government. And he’d stood silently by as Sarah dealt with the painful issues brought on by her divorce.

  He didn’t know how long it would have taken her to accept his love if not for Jeb’s accident. Dennis had made a routine stop to fill the gas pump at the farm and been the one to find Jeb trapped under the field cultivator. For two days, Dennis had stayed at the hospital with Sarah and her father while Jeb battled for his life. It was during this time that he and Sarah had first become lovers.

  Dennis still remembered the jubilation he’d felt, the excitement, as clearly as if it had been yesterday. He’d been crazy about Sarah for years, steadfast in the hope that once she’d dealt with the disappointment of her marriage, she’d realize she loved him, too. During those weeks after her brother’s accident, they’d shared the most incredible intimacy of his life. If they weren’t in bed together, they were at the hospital with Jeb.

  Dennis waited until Jeb was home and on the road to recovery before he asked Sarah to marry him, confident now that she no longer looked on him as a kid, “sweet” or otherwise.

  Even now, four years later, his heart reeled at the force of her rejection. Without explanation, she’d simply said no. No. At first, he’d assumed it was a joke. She couldn’t possibly mean it. It didn’t make sense to him; they loved each other so intensely and yet she’d rejected his marriage proposal.

  Following those two weeks of lovemaking—and his proposal—she’d abruptly cut him off. For no discernible reason, no reason he could understand. All she’d said was that it wouldn’t be a good idea for them to continue as lovers. The frustrations of the next three months had nearly been his undoing. If it hadn’t been for Jeb and their lifelong friendship, Dennis would have sold out and left BuffaloValley right then and there. In retrospect, he almost wished he had.

  Then, one day when he least expected it, Sarah had phoned and asked to see him. They’d met at Jeb’s farmhouse, while he was in Grand Forks undergoing physical therapy. Two minutes after Dennis arrived they were in bed together, so hungry for each other they barely took time to undress. Sarah had wept afterward, and said this wasn’t what she’d intended to happen. He’d kissed her and held her and asked her once more to marry him. Again, she’d rejected him, rhyming off a list of reasons. Not reasons, excuses. He countered every one—until Sarah mentioned her daughter. Calla was having trouble adjusting and needed all the love and attention Sarah could give her. She couldn’t, wouldn’t put her own wishes above those of her daughter. Dennis had no argument for that.

  That afternoon set the pattern. Every few months Sarah would phone and without hesitation, he went to her. Nothing could have kept him away. She knew how he felt, knew he loved her and wanted to marry her. She also knew he was losing patience. All he needed now was to find the courage and the strength to cut his losses and leave Buffalo Valley.

  “You’re looking down in the mouth,” Buffalo Bob said when he brought his meal. Steam rose from the hot bowl of stew and he recognized the scent of sage. It reminded him of home and family and Thanksgiving—reminded him that, once again, he’d spend these special days without the woman he loved.

  “A man gets to recognize that look,” Buffalo Bob continued, lowering his voice. “Woman problems, right?” He didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Sarah?”

  Dennis nodded, not wanting to talk about it. Their meeting that morning had left him feeling sick at heart. At the luncheon to welcome Maddy into the community, they’d avoided each other completely.

  Dennis was thirty and wanted a wife and children. He’d given Sarah four years and she hadn’t changed her mind, and after all this time, it wasn’t likely she would.

  “I want to get married,” he said. “She doesn’t.” Sarah’s excuses had disappeared but the real reason hadn’t changed. Calla. It was always Calla. The kid had been a real pain. Calla had gone out of her way to let Dennis know she didn’t want anything to do with him. She resented the fact that her mother was obviously interested in him.

  “You talk to Calla much?” Bob asked.

  He shook his head. The teenage
r lashed out at him every single time he made an effort. She clearly considered him a threat and refused to accept him, no matter what he said or did.

  “Hmm.” Buffalo Bob rubbed the side of his face. “You find a way to smooth things over with Calla, and my guess is Sarah will marry you.”

  As God was his witness, Dennis had tried. Tiredly, he pointed that out.

  Instead of leaving Dennis to eat his meal in peace, Buffalo Bob swung a chair around and straddled it. “If that’s the case, then why aren’t you doing more? It took you quite a while to get Sarah’s attention, didn’t it? What makes you think it’s going to be any easier with her daughter?”

  “I guess you’re right…She’s not a bad kid, you know,” Dennis muttered, thinking out loud.

  “I do know,” Buffalo Bob said, grinning. “I’ve talked to her a few times.”

  “You have?” This was news to Dennis.

  “Yeah. Remember that Sweetheart Dance the high-school kids put on last February? Calla was in charge of selecting the music, and her and me got on real well.”

  Buffalo Bob’s news didn’t encourage Dennis. He’d tried to win over Calla, but every attempt had been met with attitude, all of it bad. She made it plain she wanted nothing to do with him. The fact that she’d been friendly to Buffalo Bob cut deeper than Dennis wanted to analyze.

  It was dark by the time he returned to his home on the outskirts of town. Still feeling discouraged, he pulled into the yard. Through the narrow beam of his headlights he thought he saw a shadowed figure standing beneath the willow tree in front. His heart raced with the hope that it might be Sarah, but she rarely came to the house, and never on her own.

  He parked, then looked again and saw nothing. A figment of his imagination, he decided. He’d just stepped inside the house and flicked on the lights when he remembered he’d left his mail in the truck. He turned back, opening the door. To his amazement he discovered Sarah standing on the porch.

  “Sarah.” Her whispered name caught in his throat.

  She flattened her palm against the screen door, and he saw tears glistening in her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching for her, urging her inside.

  She shook her head and stepped back.

  Dennis moved onto the porch with her.

  Wiping her cheeks, she stood on the top step, as if ready to take flight. “I shouldn’t be here,” she murmured.

  He longed to tell her this was where she belonged, where she’d always belonged, but realized that if he did, she would simply walk away. “What happened?” he asked, coming to stand at her side, not touching her.

  She shook her head again. Then she raised her eyes and looked directly at him. She seemed about to make some statement, but when their eyes met, hers softened and she lowered her lashes and bit her lower lip.

  “Don’t love me, Dennis. Please…don’t love me.”

  He almost laughed. “Do you think I can stop?”

  “Yes…”

  He did laugh then, but quietly. “I’ve loved you for so long, I wouldn’t know how not to.” He’d hardly ever seen Sarah weep, and her tears unnerved him. He desperately wanted to comfort her, pull her into his arms and assure her he could fix whatever was wrong, but he knew she wouldn’t allow that.

  Taking her hand, he wrapped his fingers around hers and drew her inside the house. At first she resisted, but then, sighing, she followed him. No sooner had they walked in than he turned her into his arms. They kissed, and as his mouth worked on hers, he unfastened the buttons of her blouse until he’d opened it enough to reveal her breasts.

  “Dennis…” she objected, her voice trembling.

  “Shh,” he whispered huskily.

  She buried her face in his shoulder, her own hands busy unbuttoning his shirt. “I didn’t come here to make love.”

  Once again, he knew better than to argue; he also understood, even if she didn’t, that making love was exactly why she’d come. Dennis didn’t care. He loved Sarah, and if all she sought was a few moments of shared passion, then fine. He’d swallow his pride and offer her a small part of his soul, as well as his body.

  Thursday morning, as Maddy Washburn was sweeping the grocery store, she found a slip of paper that had apparently been someone’s shopping list. She stared at the sheet and decided that whoever had written it was probably a man. The handwriting was brusque, impatient, and the items listed were without detail or description.

  Maddy grinned. A few months ago she hadn’t been sweeping floors; she’d been cleaning up the messes people made of their lives—and their children’s. As a social worker for the state of Georgia, she’d worked long, difficult hours until she’d finally reached a point of emotional collapse.

  Meeting the Hansens at Lindsay and Gage’s wedding had felt like fate, and even if buying the grocery store was the biggest risk she’d taken in her life, it seemed right to her. Never mind that her mother considered the move too drastic, too outlandish.

  The wedding was actually Maddy’s second visit to BuffaloValley. A year earlier, she had accompanied Lindsay, who’d come to Buffalo Valley to see her grandparents’ house. Like her friend, Maddy had been drawn to the town and she liked to think her encouragement had contributed to Lindsay’s decision to accept the teaching job. Over the next twelve months, Lindsay had kept her updated in an exchange of newsy letters and e-mail messages. Long before she met them at the wedding, Maddy knew many of the townspeople from Lindsay’s descriptions and anecdotes.

  The Hansens had been eager to sell and the terms they’d offered were ideal. She’d spent two weeks with them, learned the ins and outs of the business—ordering and stocking shelves, bookkeeping, inventory control. She absorbed as much as she could. Then, while the Hansens packed up nearly forty years of memories, Maddy unpacked and began her new life.

  The community had welcomed her, and she’d noticed none of the reserve Lindsay had originally experienced. Just about everyone she’d met seemed friendly. Gradually she was putting faces to names. But she had to admit the most interesting person she’d come across in the past few weeks was Jeb McKenna. In fact, looking at the discarded grocery list, she realized it could very well have been his.

  What an intriguing person Jeb McKenna had turned out to be. People called him a recluse, and the description seemed accurate, since Calla had informed her it’d been nearly ten months since his last visit to town. Others referred to Jeb as a loner, a man with a chip on his shoulder, a cripple. Maddy could see that he most likely was a loner, and he did maintain a certain emotional distance. She’d met people like him before and didn’t take offense, although she could understand how others might. But despite what she’d heard, she couldn’t think of Jeb as a cripple.

  She recalled their brief meeting. He’d been cordial enough although he’d obviously been thrown by her presence. Maddy had no idea what to think of him—except that he wasn’t what she’d expected. Rumor had led her to believe he was a small, thin man, but quite the opposite was true. He was a good six feet, with a robust build and wide muscular shoulders. He resembled his sister somewhat, since they both had dark hair and deep-brown eyes. At first, Maddy and Jeb seemed capable only of staring at each other.

  Oh, yes, finding her at the store had definitely unsettled him, and after he’d gone she’d found herself smiling at the haste with which he’d made his purchases and left. Almost as if he was afraid she might actually want to talk to him—or ask something of him that he was unwilling to give.

  Crumpling the list, she was about to toss it in the waste-basket when she noticed the sharply slanted words. TOILET PAPER. Maddy didn’t recall ringing up any toilet paper for Jeb McKenna. Now, that was a household item no one should be without. Since she was making a trial run out toward Juniper Creek, anyway, she decided to stop by the ranch. She’d bring a package or two of a premium brand, and if Jeb was available, she’d ask him about it.

  Earlier that month, Maddy had hired Larry Loomis to work for her part-time during
the afternoons. The burly high-school senior was a bit awkward around her, but she was grateful for his help. He’d been around the store often enough for her to feel confident that he could assist customers and handle the cash register for three or four hours. Eventually he’d be stepping in for her when she made her Thursday rounds. In fact, he’d volunteered to deliver groceries himself, if she wanted. Maddy had refused, welcoming the opportunity to get to know people in the surrounding areas.

  Jeb McKenna’s was one of the last houses on her route. The day was lovely, with just a hint of cooler weather to come. The huge sky was blue and cloudless. This was a true Indian summer, she thought, something she’d only read about before. Despite the warmth and mellow sunlight, Maddy sensed the weather was about to turn. It was October, after all and she could feel autumn in the wind, slight but constant. It shifted the long, browning grass on either side of the road as she drove by.

  Autumn meant winter would make its appearance all too soon. So many people had happily described the horrors of endless days of blizzards and fierce cold, but it was difficult to think about the approach of winter on such a beautiful afternoon.

  Maddy carefully checked the directions Jeb had given her to his ranch. She followed the road until she saw Highway Post Three, marking the miles. After a dip in the road, there was a road sign indicating a sharp curve ahead, with a speed limit of twenty-five miles per hour. His driveway was exactly two-tenths of a mile from that sign. His mailbox was on the opposite side of the road.

  Maddy reached the entrance to his place and drove down a long dirt driveway, leaving a track of churned up dust behind her. She’d gone almost a mile before the house and barn came into view. The barn was massive and startlingly red against the blue, blue sky. To her disappointment, she didn’t see any bison in the pasture beyond, where large dusty wallows dotted the landscape.