Dakota Born

Gage didn’t feel he had a choice since he’d missed the last one. “Yes.” He didn’t need to attend the meeting to know what it was about; Leta and Kevin had already told him. The entire town was going to turn itself inside out to welcome a woman who wouldn’t last three months.

When he’d finished talking to Heath, Gage took a quick shower and changed his clothes.

“Dinner’s ready,” his mother told him when he came downstairs.

The three of them sat down at the table, and after his mother had said grace she passed him the platter of fried chicken, one of his favorites. He hadn’t taken his first bite before Kevin began to talk about school.

“Did you repair the chicken coop like I asked?” Gage broke in before the entire meal was ruined with talk of Lindsay Snyder.

“I did it this morning.” Kevin immediately returned to the subject of school. “Jessica and her friends are going to ask Miss Snyder about holding a dance. It’s been years since the last one.”

Gage started to tell his brother exactly what he thought of that, when his mother interrupted him.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea, Kevin.”

The boy glanced at Gage. “Before you ask, I mucked out Ranger’s stall, too. And I’ve already fed the dogs.”

Gage nodded.

“Speaking of dogs, I heard the new teacher’s got two of ‘em.”

Gage nearly groaned. It didn’t matter what the subject, his brother and mother would find a way to turn it back to Lindsay.

“What’s for dessert?” Gage asked in one final attempt to talk about something else.

“Peach pie.”

Another of Gage’s favorites. “Is this my birthday and someone forgot to tell me?” he asked. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and peach pie were what his mother generally made for special occasions.

“Not your birthday.” His mother blushed with happiness. “But certainly a day for celebration. Oh, Gage, why can’t you be happy? We have a teacher, and she’s going to bring a breath of fresh air to this community!”

Buffalo Bob Carr knew his luck had changed when he won the 3 OF A KIND in a poker game two years ago. He’d inherited five thousand dollars from his mother’s estate; he’d been looking for a way to invest it and prove to himself, and his father, that he was more than a bum on a motorcycle. Then he’d won the entire business.

He’d been rolling through Buffalo Valley on his secondhand Harley when he met Dave Ertz, who was trying to sell the hotel, bar and restaurant, at that time known as The Prairie Palace. With no buyers in sight, Dave had held a poker game, charging a one-thousand-dollar entry fee. Winner take all. Four men had played, and Bob had won with three of a kind, hence the new name of the establishment.

The way Bob figured it, his momma would be real pleased to see him as a businessman. His old man had always claimed he’d never amount to much, and up to this point, he’d been right. But not anymore. Buffalo Bob, as he’d taken to calling himself, was a dignified entrepreneur.

Bob had taken the four thousand bucks left of his inheritance, ordered a brand-new neon sign, reupholstered the restaurant chairs, spruced up a few of the hotel rooms and opened his doors for business. It didn’t take him long to discover why Dave Ertz had wanted out. Money was tight in the farming community, and folks didn’t have a lot to spare. A night in town was considered a luxury. The truth was, he sold more beer than anything else. Thus far he was making ends meet, but only because he knew how to pinch his pennies. If nothing else, his years on the road had taught him frugality.

He didn’t need a master’s degree from a fancy business college to figure out that if the high school closed because they lacked a teacher, he might as well board up the place and ride out of town the same way he’d rolled in.

Then, the day before, the word had come. One of the women who’d been his guests two weeks ago had decided to take the job. God bless her!

Jokingly, Buffalo Bob had said he deserved the credit for Lindsay’s decision to return to Buffalo Valley. Well, he figured he was partially responsible for this sudden reversal in the town’s fortunes. He’d put the two women up in his best room and served them his special all-you-can-eat spaghetti dinner.

That Saturday night had been one of his best financially. He’d recently picked up the karaoke machine from a restaurant in Cando that was going out of business. With Joshua McKenna’s help, he’d managed to get it working. That was the day Joanie Wyatt had stopped in and gotten things started with a song from the Beatles’ “Sgt. Pepper” album. Bob had sold more beer that one afternoon than the entire previous week. He’d sell more this coming weekend, too, now that folks around town had a reason to celebrate.

“What’s the special tonight?” Merrily Benson asked, breaking into his thoughts. She was his one and only Buffalo Gal. He’d considered that a nice touch, calling his waitresses “Buffalo Gals.” Granted, Merrily was it, as far as staff went.

Buffalo Bob looked up from his desk and smiled at her. He’d come into his tiny, makeshift office first thing this morning to pay bills; now it was almost noon. Paying bills usually meant juggling bills—his suppliers, electricity, water. Taxes. And maintenance. He’d had Joshua over to fix the refrigerator unit the day before and the repair had eaten up most of the profit he’d made in the last couple of weeks. But he’d get by; he had before and he would again.

Dressed in her uniform with the rawhide fringe skirt and matching vest, Merrily looked like the real thing. Yup, his one and only Buffalo Gal—in every sense. Merrily and Bob were soul mates. He’d recognized it the minute she’d come into town and approached him about a job. He hadn’t been any better off then. He was barely making ends meet, but he found he couldn’t refuse Merrily. Even if it meant tightening his already uncomfortably tight belt.

“What’s with the smile?” Merrily asked. “I thought you were all bent out of shape about the refrigerator going on the blink?”

“Joshua McKenna came by to tell me a teacher’s been hired.”

Merrily’s eyes lit up, and she threw her arms around his neck. Her kisses were the sweetest Bob had ever tasted, but he knew better than to let himself get accustomed to their flavor.

Merrily had a bad habit of disappearing.

He was finally beginning to see a pattern with her. Just when they started to get emotionally as well as physically involved, his Buffalo Gal would pack her bags and quietly vanish.

The first time it’d happened, he’d been devastated. He’d awakened one morning and been shocked to find her gone. She’d hit the road without so much as a note goodbye. The only reason he’d known she’d left of her own free will was that she’d told Hassie Knight.

On her way out of town, Merrily had dropped in at Dennis Urlacher’s gas station to fill up her old wreck of a car. While she was there, she’d casually announced that it was time for her to move on. Just that abruptly, she’d left him, bewildered and sick at heart.

Three months later, she was back.

Buffalo Bob never knew from one day to the next if Merrily would be staying, but he’d grown to accept the uncertainty. He didn’t know if she’d always return to him, but he realized there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. Merrily had her own rules. The fact was, he loved her.

She knew he was good for a job, a room and a small salary. But she’d only let him so close to her heart, and no closer. The moment it looked like she was in danger of falling in love with him, she’d take off, like a canary fleeing its cage. Only this pretty little canary always flew back. So far, anyway. Bob had learned to keep the door open for her.

“A teacher. That’s great news.” Merrily continued to hug him, then broke away. “I need to know what the special is,” she said and stepped back, tucking her fingertips in the waist of her skirt.

Buffalo Bob shuffled through the pages on his desk. He planned the menus two weeks in advance, but couldn’t recall what was scheduled for that night. To his surprise, Bob had discovered he was a reasonably talented cook, but folks around here weren’t looking for anything fancy. He served meat and potatoes with an occasional venture into the unusual. Well, unusual for Buffalo Valley. His spaghetti on Saturday nights sold well, chicken Caesar salad had done okay, but his Polynesian sweet and sour meatballs had been a dismal failure. And his Thai noodles—forget it.

“How about pot roast?” Merrily suggested. “With mashed potatoes and gravy.”

“Pot roast?”

“That’s what my mother always served the first day of school.”

Merrily had never mentioned her mother before. That was interesting, but he wasn’t entirely sure he followed her line of thinking. “It’s weeks before school starts.”

“Yeah, I know, but you got a teacher so school is going to start. It’d be kind of a celebration.”

“Sounds good to me.” Just about anything she suggested would get a favorable response from him. He had a couple of roasts in the freezer, lots of potatoes … Why not?

Merrily sat down on the chair beside his desk and fingered the edges of a book, riffling the pages with her thumb. “Bob,” she said, not looking at him.

He glanced up. Generally Merrily didn’t hang around the office much. If she wasn’t tending bar or filling in as a waitress, she stayed in her room. Some days he barely saw her.

“I …” She didn’t meet his eyes. “Listen, I know you aren’t exactly rolling in dough.”

She wanted a loan. He could feel it coming even before she said the words. Because of the refrigerator unit, money was tight, but he didn’t have the heart to refuse Merrily.

“How much?” he murmured, saving her the trouble of asking.