A Rich Man for Dry Creek and A Hero For Dry Creek: A Rich Man For Dry Creek / A Hero For Dry Creek

Jenny paled and she looked back at Robert. His eyes had deepened from sky blue to a midnight blue. And he was starting to grin.

“You shouldn’t have mentioned kisses,” he said.

“What’s going on?” Jenny felt as if she’d landed in a science-fiction movie. She turned around. She was suddenly surrounded by twenty, maybe thirty teenagers and they were all noisily aiming cheap disposable cameras at her.

“I suppose we should blame my mother. She bought them the cameras so they could take pictures of the wildlife in Montana.”

“But what do they want with us? We don’t even live in Montana. I grew up in Seattle. I don’t even know what the wildlife here looks like. I’ve never seen an elk, or a mountain sheep, or—”

“I think,” Robert said, as he touched her shoulders and turned her around until she was facing him again, “they want to see this.”

Robert dipped his head toward her and Jenny’s heart stopped. She knew he meant to kiss her. It was obvious. But she couldn’t move. She meant to move. Her mind assured her of that. It was her feet. Her feet had betrayed her and turned to stone.

Robert’s lips met hers and Jenny’s feet melted. She could hardly stand. She put her arms on his shoulders more for support than anything.

Ahhh. It was sweet. Very sweet.

Jenny felt like she went to a distant place where there was nothing but this man kissing her. Everything else was fuzzy. Then she saw a bright light. And heard a faint click. Then another click. This is it, she thought. Her heart was giving out. The end was always described as coming with a bright light. She wasn’t sure about the clicking. She should have paid more attention in Sunday school. She bet Mrs. Hargrove knew about the clicking. Jenny only hoped it didn’t have anything to do with that other place. Could it be fire crackling? She really should have paid more attention.

Then the light wavered and Jenny blinked.

The kiss stopped.

She glanced up and saw his face. Robert Buckwalter looked as stunned as she felt.

“It’s the cameras,” Jenny finally whispered. She wasn’t dying, after all.

“I heard bells.”

“No, it was just the clicking.” Jenny pulled away from him slightly so she could check her feet.

Her feet would work, Jenny assured herself as she pulled away farther. She suddenly needed more room. “I’ve got to see to the butter.”

“Are you going for it again?” one of the teenage boys yelled out. “I’ve still got five shots left on my camera. Might as well fill it up.”

“Yeah, me, too,” another boy added.

“I heard bells,” Robert Buckwalter repeated slowly.

“You heard clicking,” Jenny said forcefully. She took a deep breath. “To you it sounded like bells. To me it sounded like the fires of…” She took another quick breath. “Just how gullible do you think I am? I’m not doing anything about that list, so you can just forget this—this—” Jenny waved her hand, but could not finish the sentence. This what? This earthquake? This landslide? Everything seemed more something than simply this kiss.

“Besides, I have the butter to serve,” Jenny said with dignity as she pulled herself away. She congratulated herself. Her feet worked perfectly well.

The lobsters were all eaten and the butter dishes empty before Robert felt free to escape from the party and sit on the steps leading out of the barn door.

He was a mess. Some love song was filling the barn with swaying rhythm and dozens of couples were dancing together. He should be dancing. He should be in there dancing with the woman who had turned him inside out, but he wasn’t. Jenny was bustling around making sure everyone had coffee. Everyone, that is, except him. He was sure she wouldn’t offer him any even if he stood in front of her like a beggar with an empty cup.

One thing was clear—Jenny had little use for Robert Buckwalter. What wasn’t clear was if she could love Bob instead.

“Mind if I join you?”

Robert looked up to see Matthew Curtis, the minister, coming out of the barn.

“Help yourself.” Robert moved over on the steps. The steps were wooden and had been swept clean of snow even though they were still cold enough to make a man notice when he was changing spots. “There’s room for both of us on these steps.”

“I could get us chairs from inside,” Matthew offered as he turned to go back in the barn. “That’s what I should do—get us some nice folding chairs.”

“I haven’t seen anyone else use folding chairs.”

“Well, we don’t, but you’re—”

“I’m what?”

Robert wondered how much trouble he could get in if he took a swing at a minister. “Go ahead, tell me. I’m what?”

The night air was damp. Snow wasn’t falling, but the air was heavy with the promise of a blizzard later. Clouds covered most of the stars and half of the moon.

Matthew turned and stepped down next to Robert. “I’d guess right now you’re a man who’s just feeling bad. Want to talk about it?”

Robert realized he did. “You might not understand how it is with me.”

“No, probably not,” Matthew agreed as he settled onto the steps. “Can’t say I’ve ever had the problems of a rich man.”

“What makes you think it’s got to do with money?”

Matthew shrugged. “Just a guess. You’re rich. That’s got to be a burden—although I’d guess it’s a little less of a burden after tonight.”

Robert looked at him.

“All those rolls of film you bought from the kids must have set you back a pretty penny. I heard them saying you were paying one thousand dollars for each picture they got of you kissing Jenny. I heard them cameras each take twenty-four shots. One of the kids is still kicking himself for taking three shots of the decorations before you started your kissing. Can’t blame him. I almost got a camera myself and started taking pictures. That’s going to be a half-million-dollar kiss when you’ve paid off all the kids.”

“Does Jenny know about this?” Robert wasn’t so sure he wanted her to find out about this when she was carrying around a pot of hot coffee. She might be inclined to throw some of it his way without benefit of a cup.

“No. The kids are keeping quiet like you asked. They’re tiptoeing around her. But they’re so excited, they’re going to burst if they don’t tell someone. I’d guess a few of the adults know. And they’re all wondering why—”

“It seemed like a good idea.” Robert paused. The air was cold enough to make puff clouds of his breath. “It started with Bambi. I thought she should go to college someday.”

Matthew nodded. “You’re a generous man. That should make you feel good.”

“It should.”

“But it doesn’t?”

“It’s not enough. The way I see it, I’m missing something.”

Matthew nodded. “Go on.”

“I have too many friends. No, that’s not right. They’re not really friends. They’re only people who like me because I’m rich. Because I have all the toys. Each one of those kids in there has a better friend and is a better friend to someone than I am. That’s a hard realization to come to. If I died, it’s not me people would miss, it’s my toys.”