A Rich Man for Dry Creek / a Hero for Dry Creek Read Online Free PDF Page A

small.
    â€œElvis,” the girl named softly.
    â€œElvis is dead.”
    â€œI thought maybe you had known him. When you were young.”
    Robert wondered if he’d fallen down a time warp. “How old do you think I am?”
    The girl shrugged. “He’s my favorite is all.”
    â€œHe’ll always be the King,” Robert agreed gently. Maybe this girl wasn’t the one, after all. Her eyes reminded him of Bambi. He didn’t want to see the confusion in them that would surely come if a man as old as Elvis kissed her.
    â€œYou got a camera?” he asked instead.
    â€œA disposable one.”
    â€œDo me a favor and take a few pictures of me tonight. I’ll tell you when.”
    â€œSure.”
    Robert nodded his thanks. Tabloids loved pictures like that and even sweet-eyed Bambis needed a college fund. Somebody might as well get some good out of tonight.
    The lights in the barn were subdued and the whole place seemed to smell of butter and steam. Long tables were set up in the back of the barn and covered with white cotton tablecloths. Stacks of heavy plates, the kind found in truck stops, stood at the end of each table.
    Several teams of ranch hands were holding big trays with a towel draped over steaming lobsters. Robert frowned at the men. Why hadn’t Jenny asked him to help? He’d had to practically demand a knife and some carrots earlier.
    Jenny put a dozen silver tongs down on the head table and blessed Mrs. Buckwalter for requesting that they be brought to Dry Creek along with dozens of tiny silver lobster picks. Even Jenny wasn’t sure she’d tackle the lobster dinner with plastic forks and no tongs. “Can someone go back and get the last pan of butter?”
    â€œI’ll do it.”
    Jenny stopped arranging the tongs and looked up in panic. It was Robert Buckwalter. “But you can’t—I mean you don’t need to—”
    â€œWell, someone needs to.”
    â€œI can do it myself,” Jenny said. She could at least try to remember the difference in their social standing. He was, after all, her employer’s son. “You don’t want to spill butter on that suit. It looks expensive.” Jenny took a deep breath and smiled. Her sister owed her for this one. “I mean, it’s a tuxedo, isn’t it? Good enough to wear to a wedding.”
    â€œTonight’s a special occasion.”
    â€œAren’t they all?” She struggled upstream. “These receptions—nothing brings out the good suits like a reception or a wedding.”
    Robert nodded. “Or a funeral.”
    Jenny started to sweat. Being a news source was more difficult than one would think. “Funerals and weddings. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.”
    Robert looked at her like she’d lost her mind.
    â€œI mean sometimes weddings get off to a rocky start.” Boy, did her sister owe her.
    Robert nodded. “I suppose so.”
    â€œBeen to any weddings lately?”
    Robert shrugged. “Not for a while. I’ve been away from the social scene.”
    â€œOh?” Jenny looked up brightly. Now they were getting somewhere.
    â€œHaven’t missed it.” Robert looked toward the barn door. “It won’t take me a minute to run back to the café and get that butter.”
    Jenny nodded in defeat. “It’s on the back of the stove. Be sure and use a pot holder.” She suddenly remembered to whom she was talking. “That’s a padded square of cloth. It’ll be on the counter.”
    â€œI know what a pot holder is.” Robert didn’t add that he hadn’t known until five months ago.
    Jenny stood with her back to the tables and watched Robert walk out of the barn. He was limping. Now she wondered why a man who had spent five months resting would be limping.
    â€œHandsome, isn’t he?”
    Jenny turned to look at the woman standing next to her. Mrs.