Small-Town Brides (2 page)

“You don't know what he'd do.” Rene had noticed Clay and Trace sometimes sat in the café at the same time, but the two men hadn't seemed to know each other.

Clay grunted in a noncommittal fashion.

“You don't, do you? Know him, I mean?” She panicked before assuring herself she would have remembered if the two men had greeted each other with more than a nod. They were both striking people. Even when she was falling in love with Trace, she'd noticed Clay. He had a certain glint to his eyes that made her wonder sometimes. Of course, he wore his Stetson pulled so low over his face that his eyes were generally in the shadows, so she couldn't see them clearly. And he had grunted more than he spoke when she waited on him in the café.

Just then, Clay tipped his Stetson back and gave her a slow, lazy smile. “After listening to you for the better part of two days, I should hope I know what your intended is like.”

Now that his hat was out of the way, she could see a little too clearly. Golden flecks gathered in his moss-colored
eyes. He had a day's growth of dark whiskers on his strong face. That, along with an old scar along his cheek, made him look rugged. Like a warrior or a—

Rene felt a flush creep up her neck. “He isn't my intended. I never said yes.”

Clay didn't say anything else, so Rene wondered if the two men did know each other better than she thought.

“Not that there's anything wrong with him,” she added, just in case.

She didn't want Clay to think badly of her for criticizing some friend of his, but he had to see that the quality of Trace's affection had been lacking. After all, the other man had proposed to her in one breath and then, in the next, confessed that he needed a wife so he'd have someone to take care of the niece he was bringing to live with him. Any woman had a right to expect more than that from a man who wanted to marry her.

“He'd still take the burger,” Clay said.

Rene suddenly knew that was true. She was being a fool. Trace wasn't going hungry because things hadn't worked out between them. He was probably eating a double cheeseburger at the café in Mule Hollow right now—and chatting up any woman foolish enough to be sitting next to him.

Rene picked up the burger. “Just be sure you add it to your bill.”

“You can count on it,” Clay said with satisfaction in his voice. “You're going to owe me your first month's pay at the rate we're going anyway. Even with the good-customer discount I'm giving you.”

“I'm a good customer?” Rene looked to see if the teasing was back in Clay's eyes, but his hat was pulled down again. “Really?”

“You will be when you pay up.”

Ah, yes, money, Rene thought. She was not always the best provider for herself. Which reminded her. She took a quick moment to bow her head. Thanks for the burger, God. And bless us on this trip. Amen.

She didn't want to make a big production about praying. Although Clay wore a tiny gold cross pinned to his hat band, she'd never seen him pray when he ate at the café. Of course, she wasn't a poster child for prayer herself these days. Bowing her head before eating had become more habit than anything since her mother had died.

“Yum.” Rene took a bite of food. It tasted as good as it smelled. “This is wonderful. Thank you.”

“You pray a lot?” Clay asked after she swallowed.

“Some days.” Rene said. Clay didn't need to know about her crumbling relationship with God. It wasn't something she was proud of. Or even understood.

They were both silent.

“Does He do things for you? When you pray?” Clay finally asked.

He sounded skeptical and Rene could see where this was going.

“You can't blame Him. I know the smart thing for me would have been to keep working at the café until I saved enough to pay for any complications on this trip.” Rene didn't want to talk about her finances, but she wanted to talk about her relationship with God even less. “I never have been good with money.”

Clay shrugged.

“It's just—” Rene said and then paused. So many other emotions had gone wrong for her lately that she wanted to get this one right. “Have you ever felt like life was passing
you by and you needed to do something different—even
be
something different—before it was too late and you missed your one true destiny?”

Clay must have been surprised at the question, because he tilted his head up again so she could see his eyes once more. “I'm not much into destiny. But sure, I've felt a need to change. The last time I sat a bronc. That's why I quit.”

Rene had wondered why he left the rodeo, but she could see by the set to his chin that he wasn't going to say any more on the topic. He was looking at her like he expected an answer, though.

“Well, mine wasn't quite that dramatic,” she said. “I mean, the one before this stuff with Trace.”

No one spoke for a minute.

“It was your mother, wasn't it?” Clay asked softly.

Rene nodded. She'd spent years postponing her life while she took care of her invalid mother. She'd told Clay all about it. “Not that I ever regretted taking care of her. It's just after she was gone, I looked around and what did I have left?”

Rene swallowed. Her mother had been bed-ridden, but she was only in her fifties. She was supposed to live for many more years. Rene had been stunned when she died. God had not only refused to answer Rene's prayers for her mother's healing, but He had turned His back on her when she needed Him the most. It's like He had just walked out of the room when her mother died.

“You have your cousin and that artist aunt of yours. That's more than some people have.” Clay said.

Rene looked up. Clay didn't talk much, so she was amazed at how often he managed to say the right thing when he did speak. “Thanks.”

She ate another bite of her hamburger and refused to dwell on how much she missed her mother. She'd be in tears again if she did.

Instead, she turned to Clay. “You never did tell me about your mother.”

“There's nothing to tell.”

If Rene had a dime for all of the questions Clay had refused to answer on the ride up here, she could have bought her own tow truck by now. “Well, you can at least tell me if she's still living or not.”

“No, I can't. I have no idea.”

“Oh, I'm—”

“Don't say you're sorry,” Clay warned. His eyes smoldered as he turned to look at her. “I'm long past the time of needing a mother.”

Rene set her hamburger down. She couldn't help herself. She reached over and touched Clay's arm. “I'm sorry anyway.”

Rene drew her hand back quickly. She wasn't altogether comfortable with this man and she wondered if she'd stepped over some invisible line. Sympathy seemed to make him nervous. Then his lips twisted in a small smile and she relaxed.

“You remind me of her, you know,” he said.

“I do?” Rene blinked back a tear. “Why that's the nicest thing anyone has said to me since—”

Clay shook his head and turned to face the front of the cab. “No, it's not. Nice, I mean. She stopped coming to see me at the foster care place when I was seven. My dad had been dead for years. The social services people couldn't even find her to ask if she'd give me up for adoption. And, believe me, they tried.”

Rene completely forgot about her own grief. The sky had grown darker as they had been sitting here so the truck was filled with shadows. She didn't need to see Clay's face, though, to know his whole body was tense. “That must have been terrible. I would
never
do something like that. I can imagine how you must have felt.”

“I felt just fine,” he said with a hard edge to his voice.

“I—” Rene began. His profile was stern.

“It's okay,” he said in a softer voice as he turned to look at her and his face relaxed. “The foster care places weren't so bad. They suited me better than a regular adoption thing anyway because I got moved around a lot. I wasn't much into families. But I always had food and a place to stay. That's all I needed. I did fine.”

“But where was your uncle?”

“My mother wasn't talking to him. He didn't know how to reach us. I didn't even know my mother had a brother until he showed up a few years ago.”

Clay was still holding the last piece of his hamburger, his hand resting against the steering wheel. Rene didn't know what else to say that would help so she stayed quiet.

“You're sure this aunt of yours is expecting you?” Clay asked.

Rene nodded.

Aunt Glory had invited her and Paisley to help paint an art mural months ago. The work even paid. The first thing Rene had done when she decided to leave Texas was to phone her aunt and ask if the offer was still good.

“My cousin has probably called her again by now,” Rene said brightly. She hadn't wanted her cousin to worry so she hadn't told her she was being towed to Dry Creek. “They'll both be wondering where I am.”

Clay nodded.

“Finish up that burger before it gets cold,” he said as he crumpled up the papers that had held his own food.

Rene took another bite. “I can't wait to get to Dry Creek.”

Clay grunted and turned the ignition in his truck. “I just hope we beat the snow there.”

Rene shrugged. “I don't think we need to worry too much about what the clerk said about the weather forecast.”

“He got the information right off the television in the back room.” Clay turned to look at her. “It sounded pretty solid to me.”

“But it's almost April,” Rene protested. “It can't snow like that now. Spring should be here soon.”

Rene figured the weather, at least, needed to act like it was supposed to act. The rest of her world was tilting. Some things needed to stay steady on their axes.

Just then she saw a snowflake fall on the windshield. It appeared as though God wasn't going to give them any breaks on this trip. But then that shouldn't surprise her. That's how her life had been going lately.

“I
can't believe it's still snowing like this,” Rene whispered. They were parked in the middle of the one street in Dry Creek, Montana. It was past midnight and thick wet flakes filled the black night, landing softly on the windshield of the truck. “My aunt said to just ask anyone for directions to her house, but—”

Rene hadn't realized the town was so very tiny. Because her mother couldn't travel, Aunt Glory had always visited them at their home in Rosemead, California, instead of inviting them to Dry Creek.

The snow was falling so fast Rene could barely see the buildings on either side of the one street. The lone streetlight glowed in the darkness, but all it showed were some parked cars half-buried in the snow. She'd seen abandoned buildings in Los Angeles that showed more signs of life than this little town.

“There must be other houses somewhere,” Rene said as she looked around in bewilderment. “I count—what—seventeen? And that looks like a café. And that one's a store of some kind. Can this even add up to a town?”

“It does in this part of Montana,” Clay said. He was glad to see Rene's face lit up with interest as she looked around. “I've seen towns with less in the Dakotas.”

“Well, at least we shouldn't have any trouble finding my aunt,” Rene said. She could see the white puffs she and Clay made with each breath. “If we don't freeze to death first.”

“A blizzard always looks worse in the night,” Clay said. “We could just knock on one of the doors and ask where your aunt is. Everyone would know in a town like this.”

They'd driven straight through from their stop at the fast-food place. The roads had gotten worse with each hour that passed.

“I suppose.” Rene crossed her arms in an effort to get warmer. Neither one of them made any move to open the doors of the tow truck. Rene knew it was more than just figuring out which house to go to that was holding her back. She was puzzled by something. After she'd eaten that hamburger, the night had become enchanted.

It almost felt like she and Clay were in the middle of a snow globe that someone had turned upside down. She'd even felt faint a time or two when she looked over at Clay as he drove. His profile intrigued her in the night. Before her lesson with Trace, she might have thought that meant she and Clay had the beginnings of a grand love affair.

Now, she had to conclude that it was just the natural effects of the cold and her lack of sleep. Granted, there had been something cozy about traveling north with this man in his tow truck, but he was just doing his job. He didn't even talk like he believed in love.

Rene might be disappointed in love, but she still knew it existed for other people. She looked over at Clay.

“I'll send you the first money I get—” she swallowed. It suddenly occurred to her that no one would be working on the mural in this kind of weather. She hadn't mentioned to Clay that the mural was going to be painted on the outside of a barn. “It might take a little bit. I can sign an IOU or something for the bill.”

“I haven't had a chance to figure it up yet.”

Frost was starting to build a thin film on the windows of the cab.

“Well, when you do—” Rene stopped and leaned forward. “Is that a light over there?”

It was hard to see through the falling snow, but it did look to Rene like a beacon shone in the window of the small church down the street. That must be where her aunt's husband was the pastor. “I bet there's someone inside who can tell me where my aunt lives.”

“Even if no one's there, it's probably warm. Maybe they put the lights on so anyone who needed to would feel welcome to go inside out of the storm.”

Rene nodded. She didn't know much about blizzards, but she and Clay had driven over a few sections of highway that were covered with so much snow that a regular car wouldn't make it through. There might be other people out there who didn't have four-wheel drive or extra traction and they might need temporary shelter.

“Well, let's go see.” Clay pushed his hat down farther on his head before he reached into the glove compartment and pulled out one of the flashlights. Rene pulled her windbreaker around her and reached for her own door handle.

“Let me come around before you leave the cab,” Clay said as he opened his door.

If it wasn't for the glow of the flashlight, Rene would have lost sight of Clay in the darkness as he walked around the front of the truck.

“Wow,” Rene said when Clay opened her door. The weak light from inside the cab partially lit up the outside. She could see that the snow was already two feet deep on the ground. The flakes sparkled like tiny diamonds. The light made Clay's face look softer, too. He stood outside her door for a second as though he, too, were caught up in the enchantment.

Then he swallowed and stopped looking at her.

“Here.” Clay reached around to the small bench that formed the backseat of his truck. Then he pulled out a pair of tall rubber boots. “I use these for fishing, but they should keep your feet dry.” Clay reached into the boots. “There should be some wool socks in here, too.”

Clay pulled out a pair of long gray socks. There was a hole in the heel of one sock, but they both looked warm to Rene. It had been almost seventy degrees when she left Mule Hollow. She had some flimsy flats on her feet and no socks at all.

“Thank you,” Rene said as she slipped her shoes off.

Clay had to clear his throat. He was having a hard time concentrating. Rene had delicate toes painted in a soft pink. The sight of them made his knees weak. Or maybe it was the cold that was affecting him. Her feet were beautiful, though; she even had a silver ring twisted around one toe.

He couldn't even remember if the socks were clean. He usually just threw the socks in the boots after a fishing trip and then washed them when he got a chance. He wasn't sure that chance had come since his last fishing trip. He couldn't ask her to put her bare feet in those boots, though. The rubber would be bitter cold against the snow.

Clay took off his gloves so he wouldn't accidentally touch her feet with the snow that had already fallen on the gloves. He could feel her shiver slightly as he held her bare feet in his hands. He knew he should put the socks on as quickly as he could, but he didn't. He allowed all of the warmth to leave his hands and go into her feet. Only then did he pull on the socks.

The temperature outside the truck must have been zero. It wasn't only her feet that would be cold. Clay reached behind the truck seat and pulled out a blanket. “Wrap this around yourself. That jacket of yours won't do much good.”

Clay resisted the urge to kiss Rene on the forehead when she finally stepped down from the cab. She looked like a refugee with the blanket wrapped around her head and the rubber boots on her feet.

“Here. Careful that you don't slip,” Clay said. After all of this, he hoped the church was not locked. He wasn't sure what churches did about locks in a small town like this. He'd never had much reason to go to church, so the rules were a mystery to him.

Clay dipped his hat so the snow wouldn't collect on top of it. “Walk in my footsteps as much as you can.”

Rene slid down to the ground and Clay pulled the blanket tighter around her head.

“My hair—”

“Forget your hair. Here, take my gloves.”

Clay slipped the gloves on Rene's hands before turning around and starting to walk toward the church.

Rene's blanket was white when they got to the steps of the church and Clay knew he must be covered with snow, too. His fingers were cold when he gripped the icy door handle and gave it a push.

“It's open.” Rene's relief was obvious as she stepped through the door he held for her.

Clay felt the warm air as he stepped into the church. They were in a small entry hall and a couple of coats were hanging on the rack to their left. There was still snow on one of the coats so he figured whoever was inside the church hadn't been there for long. He was comforted to see a couple of well-worn Stetsons on the shelf above the coat rack. One of them even looked like it had been knocked to the ground as often as his. Which meant there must be some working ranchers inside here. Maybe even some horsemen. He trusted men like that.

Rene's cheeks were still pale from the cold, but she lowered the blanket and slipped her feet out of the rubber boots. The socks covered her feet.

Muffled sounds came from the main part of the church and Clay decided they might as well find out who else had sought the warmth of this place. They hung their coats and the blanket on the high rack.

“They're praying,” Rene whispered as they walked into the large room with pews lining each side. There was a blue flannel banner hanging in the front that had a white dove angled downward on it.

Clay figured he would have known what the people were doing without Rene announcing it to him. But it was a strange time to be praying. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't seen any cars parked in front of the church, either, so these people must have walked here.

He wondered if he'd stumbled into some kind of a cult meeting. It wasn't natural for people to get up in the middle of the night—in a blizzard—and walk to a church and pray.

One thing was for sure. He was going to stay back here
in the shadows. Just going inside a church made him nervous enough without having any unusual behavior to deal with. He didn't want to see anyone crying hysterically. Or thinking they heard the voice of God. He saw no reason to talk to the people here, either. Any kind of religious outbursts would make him uneasy. He didn't even like the enthusiasm of Tupperware salesmen.

He glanced down at Rene. Her face was pinking up nicely.

The warm air made Rene's skin tingle. She hadn't seen her aunt since her mother's funeral, and the rich copper of Glory's hair was a little more subdued than it had been then. Not that Rene would ever fail to recognize her, even when her aunt sat on a pew facing the front of the church with a gray wool scarf half wrapped around her bowed head.

Although she couldn't hear the prayers, Rene bowed her head and joined with the others. Praying from the back of the church was enough for her.

A phone rang somewhere in one of the back rooms. Rene heard an “Amen” and the people in front turned around. An older man in overalls and a plaid shirt started walking down a side aisle, probably to answer the phone. A second man followed him.

Rene took a step closer to the front before her aunt turned her head and saw her.

“You made it!” Glory called out.

Rene told herself she should have come to Dry Creek sooner. Her aunt's round face glowed with joy as she braced a hand on the end of the pew and slowly rose, holding a wooden crutch in her other hand.

“What happened?” Rene hurried down the aisle.

Clay watched as Rene ran toward the middle-aged woman who had to be her aunt. He shifted slightly. He told
himself he should feel good. He'd delivered Rene to her family. She was no longer his responsibility. He watched as she greeted the others at the front of the church. Somehow the relief he expected to feel didn't come surging up inside, though. All he could think about was that he needed to get his radio fixed before he made the long drive back to Mule Hollow.

If it wasn't so cold outside, Clay would have turned around and left the church. He should quietly unload Rene's car from his truck and leave it on the street. He could mail the bill once he got back to Mule Hollow. He didn't like goodbyes and he'd just as soon slip away before he had to say one to Rene. She might get all emotional and he'd just stand there feeling awkward. Or, worse yet, he'd end up stammering out something about how much he'd liked being with her on the drive up here. Yes, it was best to avoid that. He should go.

But the warm air kept coming from heating vents on the wall behind him and he figured it wouldn't hurt to stand in the church for little longer, at least until his toes stopped tingling. Besides, Uncle Prudy was always telling him that he needed to start doing some of the things that normal people did. Clay half-agreed with him; his days in the foster care system hadn't done much to show him what a regular life was like.

It had taken Clay years to admit there might be more to life than riding broncs. The rodeo world had felt natural to him, probably because he was always breaking camp and moving on to the next ride. Leaving is what he did best. Back then, he had been surrounded by men who lived the same kind of life. They were all buddies, but none of them were really friends.

After Uncle Prudy tracked him down, Clay had started wondering if he hadn't missed something by not having neighbors and friends and a place to put his socks that didn't change with each motel room. That's why, when his uncle mentioned the tow truck business, Clay agreed to try it. He wasn't sure it would work, but he had to take the chance just in case there was more to life.

It would make Uncle Prudy feel good to know he had stopped in a church.

Clay had become so comfortable leaning against the back wall that he wasn't paying as much attention as he normally would. Rene and her aunt were halfway down the aisle before he realized they were coming straight at him. Rather, the aunt was coming and Rene was following behind trying to get the other woman's attention. He looked around quick, but there was no escape. The woman looked determined and she was moving pretty fast for a woman with a crutch.