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Lindsay had minored in education and could apply for a teaching certificate in North Dakota. She had an opportunity to make a difference. A year—she’d give Buffalo Valley a year of her life. In a twelve-month period, they could locate and hire a permanent replacement for the high-school position. She’d fill in, and those twelve months would give her the distance she needed from Monte.
A chance like this didn’t happen every day. Her roots were in this dying town—her family’s heritage—and it was within her power to help. At the same time, she’d be saving herself from the agony of a dead-end relationship.
And, she thought with growing excitement, she could move into her grandparents’ home. It was pretty dilapidated—no wonder it hadn’t sold. She recalled the peeling paint, the broken porch steps and falling-down fence. But she could get it fixed up, and she’d have a free place to live if she took the job. The house would be a connection to her past, while teaching school could be her future.
She’d do it. Decision made, she dug through her purse for Hassie’s phone number. Funny, she mused as she reached for the telephone, she’d somehow known when she left Buffalo Valley that she was destined to return. She just hadn’t realized it would be this soon.
Four
The word that a high-school teacher had been found traveled faster than a dust storm through Buffalo Valley. Gage heard about it from Leta late one afternoon, two weeks after Lindsay’s visit. His day had been spent doing the second summer cutting of alfalfa. He smelled of grass and sweat and was hungrier than a bear in spring.
“You remember meeting her, don’t you?” his mother said, excitedly.
“There were two women in Hassie’s that Saturday,” he commented as he poured himself a glass of iced tea. He remembered, all right. And he knew without his mother’s telling him that it was Lindsay who was coming back.
For two weeks now, the woman had been on his mind, crowding into his thoughts when she was least welcome. In the time since her visit, he’d thought of her far too much, and he didn’t like it. He distrusted the feeling that had come after their brief introduction. It was too close to hope.
Gage didn’t want to feel anything for her. He couldn’t afford to feel anything—not for a city woman who’d be leaving after a year.
A darkening mass of clouds gathered on his horizon, a sure sign a storm was brewing. Only this storm was of his own making, and Gage wasn’t going to let himself get caught in it.
“The Snyder granddaughter’s the one who’s coming back,” Leta told him.
He nodded. “I can’t imagine why she agreed to teach here,” he said casually.
“She’s got roots in Buffalo Valley. You remember Anton and Gina Snyder, don’t you?”
Gage nodded again. Anton Snyder had sold his farm before the bottom fell out. He’d lived in an era when it was possible to make a decent living off the land. In the thirty years since the Snyders had sold, the reality of farming had changed.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” his mother asked.
Gage drank half the glass of tea in huge gulps.
“Well?”
“She won’t last.” He said it because he needed to hear it, needed to remind himself that he shouldn’t put any stock in her coming. Or her going.
“Don’t be such a pessimist.”
“She won’t last,” he said again. “Mark my words.” Lindsay Snyder had been born and raised in the South. One month of a Dakota winter, and this magnolia blossom would hightail it back to Savannah faster than he could spell blizzard.
“I don’t care what you say,” his mother chided, “we’re lucky to get her.”
If it was luck that had brought Lindsay Snyder to Buffalo Valley, then it was bad luck and he wanted no part of it. He didn’t know her, had barely even seen her, and he was already attracted to her. Attracted—to a woman who wasn’t going to stay.
Kevin stormed into the kitchen, the screen door slamming in his wake. “Calla said we got a teacher. Is it true?” His excitement rang through the room.
“Hassie phoned with the news,” Leta said. “Didn’t I tell you we’d find a teacher? Didn’t I?”
Kevin nodded as if he, too, had shared their mother’s faith from the first. The boy was all legs and arms yet, as tall as Gage and fifty pounds lighter. Gage had looked much the same at seventeen, but had filled out over time. A stint in the Army after graduation had helped firm his muscles, and given him the confidence to tackle the world. After two years at an agricultural college, he’d come home and farmed with his stepfather, intending to buy his own section of land, but then John had collapsed with a heart attack one July morning. He was dead ten minutes later, despite Gage’s frantic efforts to revive him.
“A bunch of us kids are going over to clean up the school.” Kevin looked toward Gage. “We’re gonna need help.”
The implication was clear. Kevin wanted Gage to volunteer his services.
“Everyone’s doing something,” Leta put in.
Gage ignored the dig. “Where’s the new teacher going to live?” He avoided saying her name because he found he liked the sound of it too much.
“Hassie told her a house came with the teaching contract, but Miss Snyder says she wants to live in her grandparents’ old place,” Leta answered, frowning a little. “The house is going to need work—but I suppose she already knows that, since she looked it over while she was here. Still, she probably doesn’t realize how much work….”
His brother and mother were watching Gage as if preparing the house and the school was entirely up to him. “What are you looking at me for?” he demanded.
Kevin’s gaze widened. “Someone’s got to get the place ready for her to move in.”
“You’re a member of the council, aren’t you?” his mother added.
“Yes.” Gage rolled his eyes. For the sake of his sanity, he planned to keep his distance from this Southern belle. Worse, a Southern belle who was all keen to discover her “roots.” A woman who probably had sentimental ideas and foolish illusions about this place and these people. Nope, he thought again, she wouldn’t last until Christmas.
He’d had a perfectly good day and wasn’t about to let his family ruin it by loading unwanted obligations on his overburdened shoulders. He’d just opened his mouth to say that when the phone rang.
Kevin raced for it as if someone might beat him to it. “Hello.” A moment later, he turned and thrust the receiver at Gage. “It’s for you.”
“Who is it?”
“Heath Quantrill.”
Gage wasn’t excessively fond of the banker, but then his aversion was toward all bankers and not just Quantrill. In truth, he—along with just about everyone else in town—owed a great deal to Heath’s grandparents, who’d founded Buffalo County Bank. The original bank had been in Buffalo Valley, and by the end of the sixties, there were branches in ten other towns and cities. While the other branches appeared to be thriving, the one in Buffalo Valley had to be operating at a loss. Gage suspected Lily Quantrill kept it open for nostalgic reasons. Her grandson had been managing it since last year, driving in from Grand Forks three days a week.
Rumor had it that Heath Quantrill wasn’t happy in the banking business. It was his brother, Max, who’d been slated to take over the operation. Until recently Heath, the younger of the Quantrill grandsons, had spent his time gallivanting around the world, rushing from one thrill to the next. Heath had the reputation of a daredevil who took crazy chances with his life, but it was his brother, his staid older brother, who’d died.
“Hello, Heath,” Gage said.
“Glad I caught you,” Heath said, sounding anything but. “Did you hear about the teacher?”
“I heard. When does she arrive?”
“Three weeks.”
So soon? Gage could feel his gut tightening. It wouldn’t be long before every unattached male within a fifty-mile radius would find an excuse to drop by the high school, hoping for a chance with the new teacher.
Let them, Gage decided abruptly. He wasn’t interested. He had better things to do.
“Hassie asked me to contact the members of the council for an emergency meeting.”
“When?”
“Tonight at seven. Can you be there?”
Gage didn’t feel he had a choice since he’d missed the last one. “Yes.” He didn’t need to attend the meeting to know what it was about; Leta and Kevin had already told him. The entire town was going to turn itself inside out to welcome a woman who wouldn’t last three months.
When he’d finished talking to Heath, Gage took a quick shower and changed his clothes.
“Dinner’s ready,” his mother told him when he came downstairs.
The three of them sat down at the table, and after his mother had said grace she passed him the platter of fried chicken, one of his favorites. He hadn’t taken his first bite before Kevin began to talk about school.
“Did you repair the chicken coop like I asked?” Gage broke in before the entire meal was ruined with talk of Lindsay Snyder.
“I did it this morning.” Kevin immediately returned to the subject of school. “Jessica and her friends are going to ask Miss Snyder about holding a dance. It’s been years since the last one.”
Gage started to tell his brother exactly what he thought of that, when his mother interrupted him.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea, Kevin.”
The boy glanced at Gage. “Before you ask, I mucked out Ranger’s stall, too. And I’ve already fed the dogs.”
Gage nodded.
“Speaking of dogs, I heard the new teacher’s got two of ‘em.”
Gage nearly groaned. It didn’t matter what the subject, his brother and mother would find a way to turn it back to Lindsay.
“What’s for dessert?” Gage asked in one final attempt to talk about something else.
“Peach pie.”
Another of Gage’s favorites. “Is this my birthday and someone forgot to tell me?” he asked. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and peach pie were what his mother generally made for special occasions.
“Not your birthday.” His mother blushed with happiness. “But certainly a day for celebration. Oh, Gage, why can’t you be happy? We have a teacher, and she’s going to bring a breath of fresh air to this community!”
Buffalo Bob Carr knew his luck had changed when he won the 3 OF A KIND in a poker game two years ago. He’d inherited five thousand dollars from his mother’s estate; he’d been looking for a way to invest it and prove to himself, and his father, that he was more than a bum on a motorcycle. Then he’d won the entire business.
He’d been rolling through Buffalo Valley on his secondhand Harley when he met Dave Ertz, who was trying to sell the hotel, bar and restaurant, at that time known as The Prairie Palace. With no buyers in sight, Dave had held a poker game, charging a one-thousand-dollar entry fee. Winner take all. Four men had played, and Bob had won with three of a kind, hence the new name of the establishment.
The way Bob figured it, his momma would be real pleased to see him as a businessman. His old man had always claimed he’d never amount to much, and up to this point, he’d been right. But not anymore. Buffalo Bob, as he’d taken to calling himself, was a dignified entrepreneur.
Bob had taken the four thousand bucks left of his inheritance, ordered a brand-new neon sign, reupholstered the restaurant chairs, spruced up a few of the hotel rooms and opened his doors for business. It didn’t take him long to discover why Dave Ertz had wanted out. Money was tight in the farming community, and folks didn’t have a lot to spare. A night in town was considered a luxury. The truth was, he sold more beer than anything else. Thus far he was making ends meet, but only because he knew how to pinch his pennies. If nothing else, his years on the road had taught him frugality.
He didn’t need a master’s degree from a fancy business college to figure out that if the high school closed because they lacked a teacher, he might as well board up the place and ride out of town the same way he’d rolled in.
Then, the day before, the word had come. One of the women who’d been his guests two weeks ago had decided to take the job. God bless her!
Jokingly, Buffalo Bob had said he deserved the credit for Lindsay’s decision to return to Buffalo Valley. Well, he figured he was partially responsible for this sudden reversal in the town’s fortunes. He’d put the two women up in his best room and served them his special all-you-can-eat spaghetti dinner.
That Saturday night had been one of his best financially. He’d recently picked up the karaoke machine from a restaurant in Cando that was going out of business. With Joshua McKenna’s help, he’d managed to get it working. That was the day Joanie Wyatt had stopped in and gotten things started with a song from the Beatles’ “Sgt. Pepper” album. Bob had sold more beer that one afternoon than the entire previous week. He’d sell more this coming weekend, too, now that folks around town had a reason to celebrate.
“What’s the special tonight?” Merrily Benson asked, breaking into his thoughts. She was his one and only Buffalo Gal. He’d considered that a nice touch, calling his waitresses “Buffalo Gals.” Granted, Merrily was it, as far as staff went.
Buffalo Bob looked up from his desk and smiled at her. He’d come into his tiny, makeshift office first thing this morning to pay bills; now it was almost noon. Paying bills usually meant juggling bills—his suppliers, electricity, water. Taxes. And maintenance. He’d had Joshua over to fix the refrigerator unit the day before and the repair had eaten up most of the profit he’d made in the last couple of weeks. But he’d get by; he had before and he would again.
Dressed in her uniform with the rawhide fringe skirt and matching vest, Merrily looked like the real thing. Yup, his one and only Buffalo Gal—in every sense. Merrily and Bob were soul mates. He’d recognized it the minute she’d come into town and approached him about a job. He hadn’t been any better off then. He was barely making ends meet, but he found he couldn’t refuse Merrily. Even if it meant tightening his already uncomfortably tight belt.
“What’s with the smile?” Merrily asked. “I thought you were all bent out of shape about the refrigerator going on the blink?”
“Joshua McKenna came by to tell me a teacher’s been hired.”
Merrily’s eyes lit up, and she threw her arms around his neck. Her kisses were the sweetest Bob had ever tasted, but he knew better than to let himself get accustomed to their flavor.
Merrily had a bad habit of disappearing.
He was finally beginning to see a pattern with her. Just when they started to get emotionally as well as physically involved, his Buffalo Gal would pack her bags and quietly vanish.
The first time it’d happened, he’d been devastated. He’d awakened one morning and been shocked to find her gone. She’d hit the road without so much as a note goodbye. The only reason he’d known she’d left of her own free will was that she’d told Hassie Knight.
On her way out of town, Merrily had dropped in at Dennis Urlacher’s gas station to fill up her old wreck of a car. While she was there, she’d casually announced that it was time for her to move on. Just that abruptly, she’d left him, bewildered and sick at heart.
Three months later, she was back.
Buffalo Bob never knew from one day to the next if Merrily would be staying, but he’d grown to accept the uncertainty. He didn’t know if she’d always return to him, but he realized there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. Merrily had her own rules. The fact was, he loved her.
She knew he was good for a job, a room and a small salary. But she’d only let him so close to her heart, and no closer. The moment it looked like she was in danger of falling in love with him, she’d take off, like a canary fleeing its cage. Only this pretty little canary always flew back. So far, anyway. Bob had learned to keep the door open for her.
“A teacher. That’s great news.” Merrily continued to hug him, then broke away. “I need to know what the special is,” she said and stepped back, tucking her fingertips in the waist of her skirt.
Buffalo Bob shuffled through the pages on his desk. He planned the menus two weeks in advance, but couldn’t recall what was scheduled for that night. To his surprise, Bob had discovered he was a reasonably talented cook, but folks around here weren’t looking for anything fancy. He served meat and potatoes with an occasional venture into the unusual. Well, unusual for Buffalo Valley. His spaghetti on Saturday nights sold well, chicken Caesar salad had done okay, but his Polynesian sweet and sour meatballs had been a dismal failure. And his Thai noodles—forget it.
“How about pot roast?” Merrily suggested. “With mashed potatoes and gravy.”
“Pot roast?”
“That’s what my mother always served the first day of school.”
Merrily had never mentioned her mother before. That was interesting, but he wasn’t entirely sure he followed her line of thinking. “It’s weeks before school starts.”
“Yeah, I know, but you got a teacher so school is going to start. It’d be kind of a celebration.”
“Sounds good to me.” Just about anything she suggested would get a favorable response from him. He had a couple of roasts in the freezer, lots of potatoes … Why not?
Merrily sat down on the chair beside his desk and fingered the edges of a book, riffling the pages with her thumb. “Bob,” she said, not looking at him.
He glanced up. Generally Merrily didn’t hang around the office much. If she wasn’t tending bar or filling in as a waitress, she stayed in her room. Some days he barely saw her.
“I …” She didn’t meet his eyes. “Listen, I know you aren’t exactly rolling in dough.”
She wanted a loan. He could feel it coming even before she said the words. Because of the refrigerator unit, money was tight, but he didn’t have the heart to refuse Merrily.
“How much?” he murmured, saving her the trouble of asking.
