Her Montana Cowboy. Valerie Hansen
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and hot dogs mingled with that of baked beans, making his mouth water. Cold potato salad and coleslaw finished the main course, while several men were busy in a separate area slicing watermelon and offering it to the revelers filing past the dessert table.
Not one to hang out with only rodeo contestants the way most of his friends did, he freely mingled, chatting amiably as he filled a foam plate. Because he was concentrating on the food, Ryan failed to notice who happened to be dishing up coleslaw.
When his server’s hand stopped in midmotion, he looked up—and into the widest, bluest eyes he’d seen since he’d noticed the same young woman watching the parade.
He grinned at her. “Yes.”
“Um, yes what?” she asked, remaining immobile.
“Yes, I’d like some slaw and yes, I’d also like to know your name.”
She would have plopped the spoonful of cabbage into his hot beans if Ryan had not hurriedly turned his plate.
“Easy, there. Don’t make me spill the beans.”
“What?” Her cheeks flamed. “Oh, sorry.”
“Okay. Now, what’s your name?”
“Julie.”
“Pleased to meet you, Julie. I’m Ryan. Ryan Travers.”
From behind him came a testy “Hey, quit holdin’ up the line. Other folks are hungry.”
Ryan nodded politely, balancing his plate on his palm and touching the brim of his hat with his free hand. “Guess I’d better move along. I’ll be sittin’ right over there by the watermelons, Miss Julie, in case you want to join me later.”
“Aren’t you going to eat with the other cowboys? Dad reserved a couple of tables for all of you.”
“I’d just as soon make myself comfortable where I don’t have to worry about impressing anybody. It’s so crowded over there nobody will miss me.”
Although she didn’t comment, didn’t even smile, he got the feeling she’d do her best to at least stop by before he was done eating. Why he’d invited her was almost as much a puzzle to him as her obvious personal interest. He’d chosen the life of a traveler a long time ago and, although he was no longer a rookie, he was far from ready to retire at twenty-seven. Given the ages of many of his fellow riders, he probably had ten more good years in him, provided he didn’t suffer any bad injuries.
That was the main drawback with earning a living as a rodeo rider. Every time the chute opened, he stood a chance of being hurt. Maybe even crippled. Or killed. He never allowed himself to dwell on worst-case scenarios, but they lurked in the back of his mind just the same.
Which was one of the reasons he avoided romantic entanglements. That, and the conviction he didn’t deserve the kind of lasting happiness he’d seen some of his buddies find along the way. There were too many dark shadows in his past, too many sins for which he’d never forgive himself, let alone share with a naive, innocent woman like Julie Shaw. Her daddy was the town mayor. That pretty much said it all.
Ryan sighed, unwrapped his plastic fork and dug into his food. Sure, it was a boost to his ego to have a pretty girl notice him, but that didn’t mean he intended to take her interest seriously. He’d tell her about his rodeo career, impress her properly, then bid her goodbye the way he always did when he met someone interesting on the road.
That was one of the perks of traveling from rodeo to rodeo. Nobody expected him to hang around, so there were no hurt feelings when he left town. His life was simple. Fun. Rewarding when he won and tolerable if he happened to finish out of the money, which, thankfully, didn’t happen too often.
If the time ever came when he wasn’t winning regularly and building up his bank account enough to make everything worthwhile, maybe he’d hang up his spurs and invest in property where he could raise good bucking stock. Until then, he’d keep riding and choosing his venues to turn the best profit. That was one of the benefits of belonging to the PRCA. Their organization provided plenty of opportunities all over the country to compete for high stakes.
Ryan sensed a presence behind him and gave the front brim of his Stetson a poke with one finger to raise it so he could look up more easily. It was her! Julie. And she was obviously planning to stay because she was balancing a laden plate of her own.
He smiled and rose as best he could in the confines of the attached bench. “Ma’am. Can I fetch you a drink? The lemonade’s real good.”
“Yes, please. If you don’t mind.”
“No problem. Just keep an eye on my food for me. I’ll be back in two shakes.”
“Of a lamb’s tail,” Julie added, blushing and averting her gaze. “I raise sheep for their wool.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Her head snapped around and she stared at him. “You have?”
“Uh-huh. Stay put. I’ll be right back and you can tell me more about it.”
It was all Ryan could do to keep from laughing as he turned and headed for the lemonade. Clearly, Julie was used to being disparaged for her choice of livestock. Little wonder, since she lived in cattle country. If his vested interests had been in ranching, he might feel the same. However, because he was only passing through, it made no difference what kind of damage her flock did to the grazing lands thereabouts. After all, her daddy was a cattleman as well as a local politician. Chances were, he had enough influence to keep Jasper Gulch ranchers from running her out of town on a rail.
Ryan’s grin broadened as he made his way back to his table with a plastic cup of cold lemonade. Julie’s story was likely to be interesting. And she was certainly easy on the eyes. This promised to be a really nice afternoon. One he was looking forward to.
* * *
If someone had asked Julie how long she’d been sitting there, talking to the fascinating rodeo cowboy, she’d have said it had only been a short time. That was why, when the PA system sounded off, inviting revelers to gather at an old wooden bandstand at the edge of the main picnic area, she was astounded. One glance at her watch confirmed that she’d lost track of time.
“Uh-oh. I’m supposed to be with my family when my father makes his speech.”
“About the celebration, you mean?”
“That’s part of it. There’s also a time capsule buried behind the stage. It was put there during the christening of Jasper Gulch a hundred years ago and everybody’s pretty excited about digging it up and seeing what’s in it.”
“Surely you must already know. I mean, didn’t the town’s founding fathers write it all down back then?”
Julie shrugged. “Beats me. I suppose they must have, but there’s no telling what happened to that record. A lot of artifacts were ruined back in the fifties when a sprinkler system in city hall malfunctioned and everything in storage molded.”
“What a shame.” Ryan got to his feet and began to gather up their trash. “You go join your family. I’ll take care of this.”
“Nonsense,” she said, reaching for her plate. “I can clean up my own mess.”
“I’m sure you can. But you have somewhere to go and I don’t. I’m in no hurry.”
“Aren’t you riding today?”
“Not until after three. I have plenty of time.” He patted his flat stomach. “I ate too much anyway. Need to go walk some of this off.”
“You said you compete in rough-stock events, right?”
“Yup. Bareback and saddle bronc first, then bulls last, right before the fireworks.”
“I’ll try to be there to watch you.”
“Good. Maybe your good vibes will help me win.”