Small-Town Brides (3 page)

“You must be Rene's young man,” the aunt said in a rush of words when she reached him. “I was sure there had been some misunderstanding and you'd come running after her. She's a wonderful woman. I'm glad you see that.”

Clay listened in dismay until the woman finished. “I didn't—I mean, I do see, but—”

“He's not my boyfriend,” Rene interrupted, with a look of horror on her face. She was out of breath and pinker than Clay had ever seen her. “He's the tow truck driver. My car had problems and—”

“Well.” The other woman looked at Rene and then back at Clay. “Paisley didn't tell me about a tow truck man.”

“I didn't want her to worry,” Rene said quietly. “I'll call her tomorrow.”

Clay was being inspected like a bug on the wall.

“I'm bonded,” Clay offered. It didn't sound like much, but it was the best he could think to say. He was used to men taking his measure, but not the female relatives of young women he'd driven up from Texas.

“Of course,” the woman finally said as her face relaxed into a smile. “And I see you wear a cross. We're so glad you brought our Rene to us.”

Even though she leaned on a crutch, the older woman stretched one arm out like she planned to step forward and hug him.

Clay ducked his head and took off his hat. He should have taken the thing off earlier. “No need to thank me. And, the cross is not—”

“He's just doing his job,” Rene whispered fiercely to her aunt. It didn't seem to matter, though.

Clay wished he could drop his hat to the floor and step on it so the tiny decoration was hidden. It was too late, though, because Rene's aunt was done studying him and was making that last step toward him.

In all the years that he'd ridden rodeo, Clay had never once closed his eyes during a ride, not even when he knew he'd soon be lying in the dust and aching all over. But he couldn't help himself; he closed his eyes when he felt the older woman's arms reach around and hug him.

Clay's hat fell out of his hand and he felt the crutch pressing into his ribs. He didn't think a hug should last this long. He hadn't saved someone's life or anything. It was just a tow truck job. He was even going to charge; maybe not the whole amount, but enough so it wouldn't be charity.

“I can't thank you enough,” the woman said when she finally released him.

Clay took a deep breath.

“No problem,” he managed to say, and then he tried to smile.

He got his lips to cooperate until he saw the older woman's face. He couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at him with such an expression of kindness, and he wasn't sure what to do. All he could think was that, if this was a cult, they sure did brainwash their people well. Rene's aunt looked delighted to see him.

Clay bent down to get his Stetson. The cross on his hat band was a beat-up old tie tack that had belonged to his father. Clay had worn it on his hats for so long, he'd almost forgotten it was there.

“Those roads are so bad out there, I thought Rene would be staying someplace waiting for the blizzard to be over,” the older woman said quietly when he straightened back up. He shifted his hat in his hand so the cross was to the back. If he didn't think it would provoke more discussion, he would have taken the tie tack off and put it in his pocket.

“Clay's got a great tow truck.” Rene was standing beside her aunt and talking with more energy than the subject warranted. “Some kind of special make for off-road driving. Has lots of horsepower.”

“It gets me where I need to go.” He wondered when he could make his move to leave. He didn't want Rene to feel she had to defend him or, worse yet, boost his ego.

Just then a man walked past Rene and looked at Clay. “Did I overhear that you're a tow truck driver?”

The man's voice was low and raspy; it almost sounded like he was sick.

Clay nodded cautiously. Middle-aged and sturdy, this was the man who had been leading the prayers earlier, so
he must be Rene's uncle. The minister. Clay had never talked to a minister before. He was surprised that the guy looked so ordinary. Wearing a worn flannel shirt and jeans, he could almost be a rodeo rider. He did smell of menthol, though, and his face was flushed.

“What a relief,” the man said as he held out his hand to Clay. “I'm not contagious, by the way. The doctor says I have an infection, so no one else should get it.”

“I'm not worried.” Clay put his hat back on his head before he reached out and shook the minister's hand. He figured that got him one step closer to leaving.

“I'm Matthew Curtis. Rene's uncle.”

“Clay Preston.”

The handshake was over and Clay glanced over at the door. “I—ah—”

Matthew coughed. “Don't leave yet. I just got a call and we have a car stuck east of here.”

Rene's aunt leaned forward on her crutch. “But the snowplow's working the road to the west.”

The man nodded. “That was the Miles City sheriff on the phone. He got a call about a family with a baby in some car. The connection didn't hold for long. Anyway, the sheriff wants us to send someone out right away. It's where County Road J crosses over. A little baby can get cold mighty fast, and we're a lot closer than Miles City.”

Clay felt his muscles relax. He had an excuse to leave. “I'll go get them. My truck cuts through snow almost as good as a plow does.”

The minister started beaming. “You're an answer to our prayers.”

Clay felt his breath catch in his chest. He looked over at Rene. He couldn't tell what she thought, but she looked
surprised. Well, so was he. People had called him some strange things in his day, but no one had ever called him an answer to prayer before, not even when they saw his hat.

“It's nothing. Anyone would do the same,” Clay said. He hoped no one was going to hug him again.

“Maybe so, but none of us have a vehicle that can get through on a night like this. That's why we met here. We were trying to figure out what we would do if we did get a call and needed to send someone out.”

“Well, I'll be happy to help,” Clay told the man. He'd be able to slip away after he brought those people back from the cold. When he thought about it, he was glad he was here. Right now, those people needed his help a whole lot more than they needed God's.

Of course, it would not be respectful to tell the minister that. Clay didn't share the pastor's belief in a God who actually listened to people, but, like Rene's foolishness about love, he could understand how people would want these things to be true. Emotions, he'd noticed in his forty-one years, led people to believe some strange things. Look at him.

He believed that cross he pinned to his hat made him closer to the father he'd never met. His mother had given him the tie tack one day, almost throwing the thing at him while muttering that she didn't want anything that reminded her of the complete failure his father had been. Clay knew he himself was also a disappointment to his mother, so he held on to the tie tack as though it might someday show him what his father had done that was so wrong.

C
lay pulled his Stetson low on his face. If he had more time, he'd unload Rene's car before he left. But bringing in that family came first. Everything should be ready to go in a few minutes.

Midnight showed through the church windows, and low-wattage bulbs on the ceiling lit up Rene's face as she stood beside a pew sorting through a cardboard box of stray mittens. Some of the gloves were red. Some blue. Others were a rainbow of colors.

Apparently, people lost their belongings in churches just as often as they did at rodeos, Clay mused. There were more children's mittens in the box than he usually saw, but that was the only difference.

Rene had already apologized three times for the misunderstanding about him being her boyfriend. He could have avoided the last two apologies if her aunt and uncle hadn't decided they needed to find some food for the stranded family. The older couple had gone into the church kitchen and the two other men had gone into one of the
rooms to draw a map showing the gravel road to the east where the car was supposed to be. No one said Clay had to wait inside for everyone to finish, though. He had a perfectly good heater in his truck.

Clay felt like he should say something to Rene before he left the church, but he hesitated. The sight of her sorting through all of those little mittens made him want to stay. Which was completely foolish since, in her mind, he was only the tow truck guy. The fact that he was bothered by that is why he knew he needed to leave and wait outside. By the time he got back with the family, Rene should be in bed at her aunt's house.

“Look at these.” Rene held up two tiny mittens with delight on her face. She put the pink mittens on her thumbs like puppets and wiggled them.

“I didn't know babies wore mittens,” Clay said and then he swallowed. Rene hadn't smiled like this since she left Mule Hollow. She glowed. His butterfly woman was back. He had to admit it made him feel good to see it until he realized it was mittens that had made her smile and not him.

“I'll set them aside for the baby,” Rene said as she slipped the tiny mittens off her thumbs and put them in the pocket of the heavy coat she had borrowed from her aunt. “The poor thing. What a night to be out there stuck.”

Rene's blond hair swirled around her when she moved. Clay could almost imagine sliding his hands down the smooth locks of her hair and then dipping her head back a little so he could—

“You might want to get some blankets ready, too,” Clay interrupted himself. Those kinds of thoughts did no one any good, least of all him. “It wouldn't hurt to warm the blankets in the oven after I leave, either, so they'll be ready.”

Clay ran his hand over his chin and felt the stubble on his face. He wished he'd pulled off the road yesterday and shaved. Just because he was here doing a job, it didn't mean he couldn't look better.

“I'll let my aunt know,” Rene said and looked back down into the box. “I need a scarf, too. Your truck is warm enough inside, but we'll probably need to go out when we get to the car that's stuck.”

“What?” Clay frowned. Had he heard right? This wasn't part of the plan. “I thought you were staying here with your aunt. Where it's warm.”

Clay didn't mind doing a rescue mission in a snowstorm, but he sure didn't want to take Rene with him. He knew women were strong and capable, but they might need to dig the car out of a snowbank, and he didn't want Rene outside shivering in a blizzard. Not when he could spare her that.

Just then Rene's aunt and uncle came back from the kitchen.

“We've got blankets and some warm milk,” Rene's aunt said as she pointed to the thermos her husband was setting on the pew next to the mitten box. “Hopefully, the mother has an empty bottle for the baby.”

Rene was still staring at Clay. “You can't go after them alone.”

“Alone?” The minister straightened up and looked at Clay, too. “Of course, you can't go alone. I don't know what we were thinking. I'll just take a double dose of my medicine and—”

“You'll do no such thing,” his wife interrupted him. “The doctor said you needed to take care of yourself. You shouldn't even be over here tonight. I'll just wrap my ankle a little better and—”

“Neither one of you are going,” Rene said firmly. “I'm all dressed for the cold. I'm the logical one to go. I'm happy to go.”

“But I don't need anyone to come,” Clay protested as he slid a step closer to the door.

“That's not—” The minister turned at a sound from the hallway. “Here come Charlie and Elmer now. We'll all pray over the two of you before you go.”

“I don't think we need—” Clay began.

Rene shot him a look as the two older men entered the room, and then she said, “We'd be grateful for all the prayers we can get.”

Rene reached over and put her hand on Clay's arm.

“I'm going,” she said. “If you're worried about having enough room, I'll sit in the backseat after you pick up the family. But you're not going alone.”

Clay was speechless. He gave up. Prayer. No prayer. Company. No company. It didn't matter. He would take the whole bunch of them if they wanted. He needed to hurry. He told himself it was because of the baby out in that car, but he knew it was as much for his own sake.

No one had ever cared if he went someplace alone before. He'd never had anyone pray over him, either. It made him feel a little uncomfortable. He'd had his leg broken from a fall on his first bronc, and no one had offered to pray over him back then or keep him company at the doctor's office. He supposed a prayer couldn't hurt a person, though, even if these old men were putting their hands on his shoulder.

Clay noticed Rene had closed her eyes and didn't look worried.

“Father, protect our friends here as they get that family
out of the snow.” One of the older men was speaking. “We know You control the weather and that You watch over each of us. We put Clay and Rene in Your hands and we ask for Your mercy on our worried friends out there in the storm. Keep them safe. Amen.”

Clay opened his eyes. He hadn't been planning to close them all of the way, but midway through the prayer he started to feel peaceful. This praying business did seem to have some psychological effect. Maybe that's how the church got people to join up with them. Maybe they sedated them with prayer and then got them to say okay.

“Well, we best get going,” Clay said. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that that peaceful feeling must be a delayed reaction to the snow. That made more sense than the prayers. It was bitter cold outside and it was still affecting him.

Clay picked up the thermos and the blankets and the minister opened the church door for him. He drew his breath in. The wind bit more sharply than it had earlier. And the snow was deeper on the ground. All of the footsteps they had made coming to the church were now covered with snow.

Rene walked behind Clay on the way back to his truck so she could step in the tracks he made. She wasn't sure, but she thought he was taking shorter steps so he would match her stride better.

“I can keep up,” she said. The wind blew her words back in her face, though, and she didn't think Clay even heard what she said. “You don't need to slow down for me.”

She had listened to enough blizzard stories from Aunt Glory to know that people could die when it was twenty degrees below zero outside. She trusted Clay to be able to bring the people in safely. But she knew she could help, too.

Rene was glad she had her mittens when Clay opened the passenger door and she steadied herself on the side of the truck so she could climb up into the seat. Even with the mittens, the cold steel of the metal chilled her skin. The dim overhead light gave a white glow to the inside of the cab. Snow had covered the windshield when they had been inside the church.

Clay stopped to wipe off the snow after he closed her door. Even with the snow gone, she could barely see him as he walked around to the driver's door.

“You okay?” Clay asked as he climbed up into the seat and closed his door.

Rene nodded. She didn't want to say anything because she thought her teeth might chatter. Clay had a fine layer of snow on his hat and she could feel the snow in her hair.

Clay turned the ignition and the heater started up at the same time.

“It'll take a minute before the air will blow warm,” Clay said as he put the truck into reverse and started to back up. “Unfortunately, we don't have time to wait.”

“Of course, we can't wait,” Rene agreed. She lifted the mittens to her face and blew warm air on them before sliding them along her cheeks. “I would never expect someone to spend time warming the cab up for me when a family is stuck in a blizzard.”

What kind of a person did he think she was? Was that why he hadn't wanted her to come with him? She knew she'd been a little preoccupied with her own problems on the ride up here, but when it came to life and death—“I'm good in emergencies.”

Clay shifted into four-wheel drive and headed east. He'd
taken his gloves off before he started his truck and he felt the cold of the steering wheel in his hands. He could hear the hurt in Rene's voice and he was sorry he'd put it there.

“I'm sure you are,” he said, hoping he had enough encouragement in his voice. “You remembered the milk. That's going to be a big help.”

“My aunt is the one who thought of heating up some milk.”

“But you carried it out here,” Clay said. He sounded like an idiot. If he needed any more proof that he shouldn't even be talking to an emotional woman, this was it. He was the proverbial bull in a china shop. Fortunately, Rene seemed willing to let the whole thing be.

Which was good because he needed to concentrate on what little bit of the road he could see. The old men had drawn him a map and it was lying on top of the blankets next to him. There wasn't much to the map, though. Mostly it was a curved line going east with a couple of local ranches marked. If it wasn't for the barbed wire fences on both sides of the road he wouldn't even know where he should be driving. It was dark and the snowdrifts were already up to the bottom wire on the fences.

“I thought my aunt said there were ditches along the road,” Rene said after they'd been driving for a bit.

Clay nodded. “They're there, all right. We just can't see them because the snow has filled them in.”

What he left unsaid was causing him to grip the steering wheel and peer into the darkness on either side of his truck's high beams. Because he couldn't see these side ditches, it increased the chance that he'd drive off course and end up in one of them. When he'd said his tow truck would go anywhere in a blizzard, he'd forgotten how much of Montana
was covered with narrow gravel roads lined with wide ditches.

The night was silent. Everything that could scurry in this countryside had already squeezed into its burrow or was huddled behind some bush. Also, the winds had died down and, while the snow still fell quietly, it came down thick and wet, muffling any other sounds.

“I think I see a light,” Rene said as she leaned forward in her seat. “Off to the left—no—” Rene looked for another minute and then fell back to her seat. “I guess it was nothing.”

“It's easy to see things that aren't here in this kind of weather,” Clay said.

“Wishful thinking, I guess,” Rene said.

“Or maybe the clouds parted and it's the moon reflecting off of something,” Clay said. “The important thing is to look at the map and go by what it says. It's not good to trust anything but a map in these kinds of conditions.”

“I usually don't use a map,” Rene admitted.

“Tonight's no time for guessing,” Clay said.

Clay saw Rene pick up the paper map from the seat beside him.

“If you need a flashlight, there's one in the glove compartment,” he told her. “Use the little one. The big one will be too bright. I keep that for distances.”

Rene took out the small flashlight and shined it on the map. “It doesn't look like there are any ranch houses off to that side.”

Clay saw a cluster of trees near a crossroads ahead.

“This should be on the map,” Clay said, nodded his head toward the road that intersected the one they were on.

“It is,” Rene said as she pointed to a spot on the map.
“It says it's County Road J. That's the road they mentioned. And the car is supposed to be stuck on the other side of it.”

Rene let the map fall to her lap and she leaned forward. “I don't see anything yet, though. Do you?”

Clay shook his head. “Not yet.”

Rene kept looking for a minute and then she turned to him. “You don't think there's any chance we'll miss them, do you?”

Clay had hoped that possibility wouldn't occur to her. He tried to keep the worry out of his voice. “We should be fine if the map is accurate. And the sheriff got it right when he talked to them.”

Fortunately, Rene didn't ask any more questions. It had occurred to Clay earlier that they were relying heavily on a cell phone conversation that hadn't been clear and the assumptions of a man in the sheriff's office who might have his directions scrambled, given the number of cars that were stuck to the west of Dry Creek.