A Bride for a Blue-Ribbon Cowboy

Of course, Blake was the one man she’d most like to have fall for her. But only a fool would bother drooling over the impossible, while the possible sat ready for the taking.

Blake reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Listen to me, Sprout. You’ve got a heart as big as Texas, and you’re loyal, too. A man would be lucky to have you in his life.”

Deep in her Lone Star heart, she knew that. But getting a man to take that first look? Now that was the problem.

He ran his knuckles along her cheek, causing her heart to thump and jump and do all kinds of crazy things. “I mean that, honey.”

“Thanks.” A lump formed in her throat, and she had to blink back the tears. Darn him for being so sweet.

“So tell me more about Robby.”

Huh? How had Robby sidled into the conversation? “What about him?”

“For starters, what does he look like?”

She shrugged. He was about the same height as Blake—just under six feet. But he wasn’t nearly as solid. And he was pretty fair-complexioned. Of course, that was to be expected. Robby probably had to study day and night. When would he get a chance to go outdoors in the sunshine or work out?

“I guess he’s kind of cute,” she said.

“You guess?”

She blew out a sigh. “He’s got blond hair and brown eyes. A nice smile.”

“Is he good to you?”

“Well darn it, Blake. How the heck am I supposed to know that? He’s so shy we’ve barely even talked.”

“I’m not trying to give you a hard time.”

She knew he wasn’t. But it just didn’t feel right talking about Robby in front of Blake. Not when simply sitting next to the good-looking cowboy made her want to compare the two.

And poor Robby couldn’t hold a candle to Blake.

Nope. It wasn’t right. If anyone understood how unfair comparisons felt, it was Cindy.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “We’ll go into town tomorrow and stop at the Cut N Curl and the Mercantile. And before the sun sets, you’ll be a new woman.”

Blake made it sound so easy, and she hoped he was right.

Cindy wasn’t sure when it began to matter what men thought of her, but she suspected it had started long before she’d spotted Robby fishing at the lake.

Either way, she was ready for some changes in her life. And tomorrow wasn’t going to be a day too soon.

Chapter Two

“You know, I’ve missed those guys.”

Cindy glanced at the handsome cowboy at her side, then followed his gaze to the front of the courthouse, where Dutch and Buster sat. The two crusty old men spent the daylight hours parked on that green-wood-and-wrought-iron bench and watched the world go by.

“You never used to like this town,” she said. “Or too many of the residents.”

“It’s funny what a few years’ perspective will give a man. Dutch and Buster are a hoot. Haven’t you ever taken time to talk to them?”

Dutch, the tall, lanky one of the two, chose that very moment to spit a stream of tobacco into the rusted coffee can that sat on the sidewalk and served as a joint spittoon.

His aim wasn’t very good, and Cindy could have sworn he hit Buster’s boot.

“I’ve never really chatted with them, although Grandpa does. They seem kind of crotchety, if you ask me.”

“Only if they don’t like you.” Blake chuckled. “Those two don’t miss much. And they’ve got an interesting philosophy of life, especially when it comes to the people who live in Blossom.”

Cindy had her own opinion about some of the townspeople, too. And she wondered if that came from sitting on the outside looking in, much like the two old men did.

“Come on,” Blake said. “I want to say hello to them.”

As she and Blake approached, Dutch remained seated while Buster stood.

The short, heavyset man wore a stained white shirt, green suspenders, a dusty red baseball cap and a smile. He reached out a gnarly hand to Blake. “Well, now. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Blake accepted Buster’s shake, then reached out to Dutch. “It’s good to see you guys. Looks like you’re just as ornery as ever.”

“And we’re gonna get a whole lot ornerier,” Dutch said as he leaned forward in his seat to spit into the can. “That dad-burn bunch of moral misfits aim to run us off our bench.”

Buster crossed his arms over a belly that put a real strain on his suspenders. “But they’ll have a fight on their hands. Nobody’s going to tell us where we can sit. Or where we can spit.”

Dutch leaned back in the bench and stretched out his long legs. “A couple of revenuers tried to run my daddy off the farm once. And they got a load of buckshot in the side of that fancy black car they drove.”

Buster took his seat beside his longtime friend. “This is a public bench. And just because we’ve got a little silver in our hair and gold in our teeth doesn’t mean we got metal in our brains. We’re not going to let those uppity moral morons tell us what to do.”

“By the way,” Dutch said to Blake. “I wanna congratulate you. Heard you went eight seconds with ol’ Flame Thrower. Ain’t no one done that, yet.”

Blake smiled. “It was a good day. And a good ride.”

“Folks are talking about the Blossom County rodeo and how happy they are that you’re going to compete. Why, Buster and I might even leave our bench and come watch.”

“I hope you do.”

“How’s Tuck doing?” Buster asked Cindy. “We heard he was down at the clinic last week.”

Cindy’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She didn’t know anything about her grandfather’s visit to the doctor. “He doesn’t appear to be sick.”

“Well, it ain’t nothin’ a little romancin’ won’t cure,” Dutch said with a chuckle. “We heard there’s a pretty nurse who works there. We been meanin’ to go have us a look-see ourselves.”

Grandpa was interested in a woman? She supposed that was better than him having medical problems and needing to see the doctor. But Cindy couldn’t imagine the old cowboy having a romantic streak. He was still pining over the loss of his wife. Dutch and Buster must be mistaken.

“I hate to run,” Blake told the men, “but it’s burning daylight and we still have a few errands to run. I hope to see you both at the rodeo.”

“We’ll be there,” Buster said.