Free A Rich Man for Dry Creek / a Hero for Dry Creek by Janet Tronstad Page A

territory, not even when anyone could see the two of you are from different worlds. Guess you’re free then.”
    Jenny started to protest, but the man didn’t stop to draw a breath.
    â€œMy name’s Chester, by the way. The boys call me Harry on account of Chest. You know, Chest, Hairy—”
    â€œI’m sorry, but—”
    â€œNot that there’s any problem. With my chest, I mean. I got just the right amount of hair. You got nothing to worry about with me. I got me n-o-o defects. Just a regular kind of guy. That’s me.”
    â€œI’m sure you’re a fine man,” Jenny moved a platter of toast squares to the back of the table. She’d take those over to the kitchen and make some new ones. She looked up at Chester. “But I’m too busy right now to visit.”
    â€œMaybe later?”
    â€œThere’ll be cleanup later. Dishes.”
    The rancher looked dismayed. “I suppose I could help, even though with the touch of arthritis I get in my joints—well, I’m likely to be more trouble than good to you.”
    Jenny looked up and smiled. “I’ll do fine with the dishes. Thanks anyway.”
    The barn door opened this time to a loud grumbling noise. A steady stream of frigid air blew into the barn making the pink streamers hanging from the beams start to sway.
    The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees, but no one complained about the cold. Everyone was looking at the three unkempt men who reluctantly stomped into the barn, swearing as they were forced by their captors to come inside.
    Jenny recognized two of the three men who were holding the shoulders of the prisoners. Garth Elkton was one. His top ranch hand was another. The third man, a stranger who obviously hadn’t been to the dance because he wasn’t in a suit, seemed to be in charge.
    Jenny looked past all those men and saw nothing but the snow falling in the black night outside. The teenage boys had come inside minutes ago. The ranch hands all seemed to be back. Men and women were giving each other quick hugs of relief. A dusting of snow had settled on the walkway outside the barn and it was covered with a score or more of large boot prints. There were no other figures standing in the doorway waiting to come inside.
    â€œThat Buckwalter fella must be still parking the bus—if that’s who you’re looking for,” the rancher who had stood at the table offered quietly. “He was the only one who knew how to drive the bus after the kids stripped the gears. Guess it’s on account of him flying planes. We would have had to walk back if it weren’t for him. He nursed the bus all the way back. He’s not a bad guy for a rich man.”
    Then a final man appeared in the doorway and Jenny relaxed. Robert. I mean, she corrected herself, Mr. Buckwalter, was back safe. “No, he’s not a bad guy.”
    â€œI wish you luck with him,” the rancher offered quietly.
    â€œOh, no, I’m not—I mean there’s no need—”
    Just then Jenny heard the cell phone ring. The ring was faint and hard to hear over the talking of the ranchers and teenagers. She remembered Mrs. Buckwalter making a call so she assumed the older woman still had the phone and she was right.
    â€œThis is for you,” Mrs. Buckwalter shouted to Jenny as she moved through the couples who were now brushing snow off of each other. The older woman was weaving between couples and getting closer to the refreshment table but she continued to yell, “Something about a pudding order that’s late—”
    Jenny winced. She was a full ten yards away from Robert. But she could hear his low chuckle over the murmured conversation of everyone else.
    â€œTell your sister hi,” Robert called over to her. “And tell her I want a case of chocolate pudding with sprinkles if they have such a thing.”
    â€œYour sister sells pudding, dear?” Mrs.