A Randall Thanksgiving

“There’s this knockout looking for a dance partner. I told her I’d find her one.”

Josh broke into a smile. “Lead the way. I haven’t met a real knockout in a while.” He put down his beer and followed Harry across the room. “Where is she?”

“Right there,” Harry said, pointing toward the center table.

Josh came to an abrupt halt. “Wait a minute. You don’t mean that siren sitting by herself, do you?”

Harry let himself look at the woman. “Who else? She’s something, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she’s something, all right, but I won’t be dancing with her.”

Harry stared at his friend as if he’d lost his mind. “Why not?”

“’Cause I don’t dance with my cousins, Harry.”

“Cousin?”

“People would think I was crazy…or weird.”

“She’s a Randall?” Harry stared at the woman. “No, she can’t be. I know all the Randalls!”

“She’s been living in France since before you came to Rawhide. She’s Uncle Griff’s daughter.”

“What are we going to do? I promised to find her a partner.”

Josh surveyed the room. “There’s Dwight Barnes. He’s a dancer.”

“Yeah, but…” Barnes wouldn’t be Harry’s first choice but he’d do. “Okay, you go get him while I tell her he’s coming.”

Harry walked back to the table where the young lady sat sipping a beer. “I didn’t know you were a Randall.”

“Aren’t Randalls allowed to dance?” she asked, her eyes teasing.

He bit back Josh’s retort, saying instead, “Your cousin Josh went to get a guy to dance with you—Dwight Barnes. I just wanted to tell you not to go outside alone with him.” When she seemed taken aback by his warning, he hurriedly said, “Dwight’s a good dancer, but… Well, you don’t know him, so I thought I should say something.”

“Thanks for the warning, Deputy,” she said sweetly, “but I do know how to handle men.”

“Then my apologies,” Harry said, and tipped his hat, prepared to walk away.

“Wait,” she said at once. “You haven’t told me your name.” She fluttered her thick lashes at him.

“I’m Harry Gowan, deputy sheriff.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry Gowan, deputy sheriff.” She flashed him a brilliant white smile, momentarily stunning him. He was about to ask her name when Josh strode up, the dancer cowboy following.

“Hey, Melissa, this is Dwight Barnes.”

“How nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes,” Melissa said.

Harry watched her flutter those same lashes at Barnes and was pleased to see that he wasn’t the only man who melted at her feet.

He guessed Ms. Randall was telling the truth. She did know how to handle men.

MELISSA RANDALL RETURNED to her parents’ house at 11:00 p.m., an incredibly early hour if she were still in Paris. It was even early in Rawhide, Wyoming, on the weekend.

Her parents were waiting up for her, making her feel more like an eighteen-year-old than a twenty-six-year-old who had lived abroad for six years.

“Hello, dear,” her mother said with a smile. “Did you have fun?”

Melissa debated how to answer that question. She loved her mother dearly and didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but Paris was so much more exciting than Rawhide. “Uh, yeah, it was all right.”

Griff Randall eyed his daughter a bit sharply. “Did you meet anyone new?”

“Dwight Barnes.”

“Dwight Barnes?” he blustered. “You need to keep away from him!”

“I know,” Melissa said.

Her mother frowned. “What do you mean by that? Did he do something he shouldn’t have?”

“No, but the deputy sheriff warned me about him.”

“Which deputy sheriff?” her father demanded.

“You mean Rawhide has more than one?” Melissa asked in mock awe.

“That’s enough of that, young lady,” he retorted. “Now tell me his name.”

“Harry Gooden, I think.”

“And I think that would be Harry Gowan.”

“Oh. Well, I was close.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that,” her father said, letting his sarcasm show.

“Dad!” Melissa protested, dragging the word out as a teenager would do.

“And here I thought our daughter had grown up.”

“Griff, you’re being too hard on her. She just got back the other night. She probably still has jet lag,” her mother protested.

“That’s her own damn fault, Camille. She lives too far away from home. This is her first visit in six years!”

“But you and Mom came to see me. Wasn’t that fun?”

“It was for me, sweetheart,” her mother immediately said. “But these past four years have seemed like forever.”