Small-Town Brides Read Online Free PDF Page A

tomorrow.”
    Clay was being inspected like a bug on the wall.
    â€œI’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.
    â€œOf 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—”
    â€œHe’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.
    â€œI can’t thank you enough,” the woman said when she finally released him.
    Clay took a deep breath.
    â€œNo 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.
    â€œThose 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.
    â€œClay’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.”
    â€œIt 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, sohe 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.
    â€œWhat 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.”
    â€œI’m not worried.”