The Wyoming Kid

“Settle down,” Letty said again, “and just tell me what happened.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

To say he was upset was an understatement. He was fit to be tied, and it was Joy Fuller’s fault. Lonny liked to think of himself as an easygoing guy. Very rarely did a woman, any woman, rile him the way Joy had. Not only that, she seemed to enjoy it.

“Joy Fuller ran a stop sign,” he explained. “She claimed she didn’t see it. What kind of idiot misses a stop sign?” Lonny demanded.

“Joy crashed into you?”

“Almost. By the grace of God, I was able to avoid a collision, but in the process I hit the pole.”

“What pole?”

He wondered if his sister was doing it on purpose. “The one holding up the stop sign, of course.”

Letty just shrugged, which was not the response he was looking for.

Lonny jerked the Stetson off his head, and thrust his fingers through his hair hard enough to pull out several strands. Wincing, he went on with his story. “Then, ever so sweetly, Joy climbs out of her car, tells me she’s sorry and asks if there’s any damage.”

“Gee, I hope you slugged her for that,” Letty murmured, rolling her eyes.

Lonny decided to ignore the sarcasm. “Right away, I could see the dent, so I pointed it out to her. But that’s not the worst of it,” he said, not even trying to keep the indignation out of his voice. “She took one look at my truck and said there were so many dents she couldn’t possibly know which one our ‘minor incident’ had caused.” His voice rose as his agitation grew. “That’s what she called it—a minor incident.”

“What did you say next?” Letty asked.

Kicking the dirt with the toe of his boot, Lonny avoided her gaze. “We exchanged a few words,” he admitted reluctantly. That was Joy’s fault, too. She seemed to expect him to tell her that all was forgiven. Well, he wasn’t forgiving her anything, least of all the damage she’d caused.

When he hadn’t fallen under her spell as she’d obviously expected, their argument had quickly heated up. Within moments her true nature was revealed. “She said my truck was a pile of junk.” Even now the statement outraged him. Lonny walked around his Ford, muttering, “That’s no way for a lady to talk. Not only did Joy insult my vehicle, she insulted me.”

This schoolteacher, this city slicker, had no appreciation of country life. That was what you got when the town hired someone like Joy Fuller. You could take the woman out of the city but there was plenty of city left in her.

“Whatever happened, I’m sure Joy’s insurance will take care of it,” Letty said in that soothing way of hers.

Lonny scowled. Joy had a lot to atone for as far as he was concerned. He slapped his hat back on his head. “You know what else she did? She tried to buy me off!” Even now, the suggestion offended him. “Right there in the middle of the street, in broad daylight. I ask you, do I look like the kind of guy who can be bribed?”

At Letty’s raised eyebrows, Lonny continued. “She offered me fifty bucks.”

His sister’s mouth quivered, and if he didn’t know better, Lonny would’ve thought she was laughing. “I take it you refused,” she murmured.

“You bet I refused,” he told her. “There’s two or three hundred dollars’ damage here. Maybe more.”

Letty bent over to examine the bumper a second time. “I hate to say this, but it looks more like a fifty-dollar dent to me.”

“No way!” Lonny protested, nearly shocked into silence. He could hardly believe that his own flesh and blood didn’t recognize the seriousness of this affront to him and his vehicle.

“It seems to me you’re protesting far too loud and long over a silly dent. Joy’s managed to get your attention—again. Hasn’t she?”

Lonny decided to ignore that comment, which he considered unworthy of his sister. All right, he had some history with Joy Fuller, most of it unpleasant. But the past was the past and had nothing to do with the here and now. “I wrote down her license plate number.” He yanked a small piece of paper from his shirt pocket and gingerly unfolded it. “She’ll be lucky if I don’t report her to the police.”

“You most certainly will not!” Letty snatched the paper out of his hand. “Joy is one of my best friends and I won’t let you treat her so rudely.”

“This isn’t the woman you know.” His sister hadn’t seen the same side of the schoolteacher that he had. “This one’s tall with eyes that spit nails. There’s an evil look about her—I suspect she normally travels by broomstick.”

His sister didn’t appreciate his attempt at humor. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Joy plays the organ at church on Sundays. You know her as well as I do, so don’t try to pretend that you don’t.”

“I don’t know this woman,” he announced flatly.

“You have unfinished business with Joy, and that’s the reason you’re blowing this incident out of all proportion.”

Lonny thought it best to ignore that comment, too. He’d finished with Joy a long time ago—and she with him—which suited him just fine. “From the look she gave me, I’d say she’s one scary woman. Mean as a rattlesnake.” He gave an exaggerated shiver. “Probably shrinks heads as a hobby.”

Letty had the grace to smile. “Would you stop it? Joy’s probably the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

“Sweet?” Lonny hadn’t seen any evidence of a gentle disposition. “Do the people of Red Springs realize the kind of woman they’re exposing their children to? Someone should tell the school board.”

Hands on her hips, Letty shook her head sadly. “I think you’ve been standing in the sun too long. Come inside and have some iced tea.”

“I’m too mad to drink something nonalcoholic. You go on without me.” With that, he stalked off toward the barn. Joy Fuller was his sister’s friend. One of her best friends. That meant he had to seriously question Letty’s taste—and good sense. Years ago, when he was young and foolish, Lonny had ridden broncos and bulls and been known as The Wyoming Kid. He darn near got himself killed a time or two. But he’d rather sit on one of those beasts again than tangle with the likes of Joy Fuller.

Chapter Two

Joy Fuller glanced out the window of her combination third-and-fourth-grade classroom and did a quick double take. It couldn’t be! But it was—Lonny Ellison. She should’ve known he wouldn’t just let things be. The real problem was that they’d started off on the wrong foot two years ago. She’d been new to the community, still learning about life in Red Springs, Wyoming, when she’d met Lonny through a mutual acquaintance.

At first they’d gotten along well. He’d been a rodeo cowboy and had an ego even bigger than that ridiculously big belt buckle he’d shown her. Apparently, she hadn’t paid him the homage he felt was his due. After a month or two of laughing, with decreasing sincerity, at his comments about city slickers, the joke had worn thin. She’d made it clear that she wasn’t willing to be another of his buckle bunnies and soon after, they’d agreed not to see each other anymore. Not that their relationship was serious, of course; they’d gone out for dinner and dancing a few times—that was about it. So she hadn’t thought their disagreement was a big deal, but apparently it had been to Lonny. It seemed no woman had ever spoken her mind to the great and mighty Wyoming Kid before.

Lonny had said he appreciated her honesty, and that was the last she’d heard from him. To be honest, Joy had been surprised by his reaction. However, if that was how he felt, then it was fine with her. He hadn’t asked her out again and she hadn’t contacted him, either. She saw him around town now and then, but aside from a polite nod or a cool “hello,” they’d ignored each other. It was a rather disappointing end to what had begun as a promising relationship. But that was nearly two years ago and she was long past feeling any regrets.

Then she’d had to miss that stop sign and naturally he had to be the one who slammed into the post. The shock of their minor accident—no, incident—still upset her. Worse, Joy hadn’t recovered yet from their verbal exchange. Lonny was completely and totally unreasonable, and he’d made some extremely unpleasant accusations. All right, in an effort to be fair, she’d admit that Lonny Ellison was easy to look at—tall and rangy with wide, muscular shoulders. He had strikingly rich, dark eyes and a solid jaw, and he reminded her a little of a young Clint Eastwood. However, appearances weren’t everything.

Letty, who was a romantic, had wanted to match Joy with her brother. Letty had only moved to the area this past year and at first she hadn’t realized that they’d already dated for a brief time. Joy had done her best to explain why a relationship with Lonny just wouldn’t work. He was too stubborn and she was…well, a woman had her pride. They simply weren’t compatible. And if she hadn’t known that before, their near-collision had proven it.

She peeked surreptitiously out the window again. Lonny was leaning against his rattletrap truck, ankles crossed to highlight his dusty boots. Chase Brown, Letty’s husband, and Lonny owned adjoining ranches and shared a large herd of cattle. One would think a working rancher had better things to do than hang around outside a schoolyard. He was there to pester her; she was convinced of it. His lanky arms were crossed and his head bowed, with his Stetson riding low on his forehead, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His posture resembled that neon sign of a cowpoke in downtown Vegas, she thought.

She knew exactly why Lonny had come to the school. He was planning to cause her trouble. Joy rued the day she’d ever met the man. He was rude, unreasonable, juvenile, plus a dozen other adjectives she didn’t even want to think about in front of a classroom full of young children.

Children.

Sucking in a deep breath, Joy returned her attention to her class, only to discover that all the kids were watching her expectantly. Seeing Lonny standing outside her window had thrown her so badly that she’d forgotten she was in the middle of a spelling test. Her students were waiting for the next word.

“Arrogant,” she muttered.

A dozen hands shot into the air.

“Eric,” Joy said, calling on the boy sitting at the front desk in the second row.

“Arrogant isn’t one of our spelling words,” he said, and several protests followed.

“This is an extra-credit word,” she said. Squinting, she glared out the window again.

No sooner had the test papers been handed in than the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Her students dashed out the door a lot faster than they’d entered, and within minutes, the entire schoolyard was filled with youngsters. As luck would have it, she had playground duty that afternoon. This meant she was required to step out of the shelter of the school building and into the vicinity of Lonny Ellison.