Free Tumbleweed Weddings by Donna Robinson

sheep.”
    “Wow! That’s huge.”
    Jake seemed pleased. “Aw, that’s nothing. My grandfather owned eight thousand acres with horses, sheep, and cattle. But it’s hard to care for such a large ranch. My dad sold most of the land and animals, concentrating only on sheep. I still have a few horses.”
    Lane gazed at the rolling hills that stretched toward the horizon. “So, all this land is yours?”
    “As far as your eye can see. I plan to pass the ranch on to my son Derek. He has a college degree in range management, you know, and he’s helped me with some new methods.”
    The front door opened, and Callie stepped onto the porch.
    Lane’s heartbeat quickened. She was beautiful. The summery yellow print dress she wore emphasized her soft curves and made her dark, curly hair look even darker. He hardly noticed her glasses.
    Lane felt underdressed in his shirt and jeans. Good thing he hadn’t worn his I V ISITED D EVIL’S T OWER T-shirt, which he had considered doing. But he’d decided against it since he wanted to have a shirt pocket available… .
    She closed the door behind her. “Sorry you had to wait, Lane.”
    “No problem.” He stood, wanting to tell her how nice she looked, but her dad’s presence stopped him.
    “Here’s the key to my car.” She handed him a set of keys, and a whiff of sweet fragrance drifted toward him. “It’s around the back.” She descended the porch stairs.
    Jake got to his feet. “Have a good time, you two.”
    “Thanks.” Lane smiled as he shook the older man’s hand. He liked Jake. “We will, Dad.” Callie rounded the corner of the house. “And don’t wait up for me,” she called.
    Hmm
… Lane followed her to the car. The evening looked bright.

    “You move to a different state every three months?” Callie’s head spun.
    She sat on the passenger side of her car, secretly thrilled to see Lane behind the wheel. Since he obviously didn’t own a car, she pictured this little Honda as their family car when they got married—
if
they got married.
    “But, Lane, how can you move so often? I always thought military people had it rough moving every three years. But three months?” Only fugitives did that.
    Fugitives?
Callie glanced at his profile. What if he
was
a fugitive trying to escape the law? She knew so little about him.
    “I love moving.” He grinned. “I’ve lived in sixteen states in the past five years, and every place was in a small town. It’s been an interesting adventure, and I enjoy the change of scenery.” He shrugged. “If I cover all fifty states, I figure it will take me another eight or nine years, at least.”
    Callie’s buoyant spirit sank.
I hate moving
. “Is there a method to your madness?”
    Lane’s expression turned serious. “It’s research, actually. By the time that fiftieth state is covered, I plan to write a book about my experiences. I’m going to call it
Living in Small-Town America.”
He glanced at her. “How does that title grab you?”
    “Sounds interesting… .”
He sure has big dreams
. “But I’ve heard it’s really hard to get published. Of course, you have to write the book first, and that’s a lot of work.”
    “Oh? Do you have personal experience?”
    “Well …” She thought about that half-finished novel in the notebook on her closet shelf, languishing next to the manuscript she had started five years ago about Fort Lob’s history. “Nothing to speak of.”
    They entered the town of Lusk, and Callie pointed ahead. “Turn left at that stop sign. I love the Italian restaurant on West Second Street.” She was glad to change the subject and decided she would enjoy this evening with Lane, whether she married him or not. “It’s called Mama’s Kitchen, and it has great Italian food.”

    “You know what? This restaurant has great Italian food.” Lane took another bite. He had never tasted such good lasagna in his life.
    A mural of Italy’s wine country covered the wall beside their