Free Plain Jane & The Hotshot by Meagan McKinney Page B

he might not have it together emotionally—lots of guys in rugged, macho jobs were too emotionally bottled up inside,one reason they sought jobs that were conducive to the loner and his need to avoid too much society. She’d seen it in many of the cowboys she’d hired over the years.
    Jo needed a man, sure, but one who was mature and responsible. There were plenty of men with strong backs and weak characters.
    For Jo’s sake, and for the sake of Mystery Valley’s future, Hazel would take the gamble.

Nine
    S upper was cooking by the time Hazel returned to the cabins, and the girls were busy playing doubles badminton.
    Jo, however, had missed several easy shots, forcing her partner, Bonnie, to take most of the swings at the shuttlecock.
    â€œJeez oh Pete, Lofton!” Bonnie scolded her good-naturedly. “I’ve seen better form toppling a windmill! Building castles in our mind, are we?”
    â€œCastles? A honeymoon suite, more likely,” Kayla suggested. “Or maybe just a double sleeping bag that smells of wood smoke and the last girl’s cheap perfume.”
    â€œCool it, mighty mouth,” Stella admonished.“You’d know something about cheap perfume, since you’ve got our camp smelling like Eau de Biker.”
    Ignoring the fracas, Jo gave the shuttlecock a mighty swat, spiking it, and Kayla had to leap aside, almost tripping over her own feet.
    â€œSweetheart,” Kayla said coolly, “you might want to put your glasses on. I know Miss Montana can’t wear glasses, but then again, you’re not Miss Montana, are you?”
    Jo had been eating Kayla’s snide comments, off and on, all day long. This time, however, the “Texas tart” had gone too far.
    She threw down her racket and placed her fists on her hips, ready to unload on Kayla.
    Stella quickly intervened. “Oh, who are you trying to kid, Kayla? You’re ragging on Jo because Nick Kramer obviously prefers her over you.”
    By this time their voices had risen high enough to engage the attention of the other women.
    â€œQuit the catfighting,” Dottie called over to them.
    But she spoke absently.
    Like Hazel, she was distracted by something going on over at the adjacent ridge.
    Jo followed their gazes and saw a new pall of gray-black smoke rising into the sky. Flames licked upward, fueled by the brisk breeze.
    â€œThat’s a new fire,” Bonnie said behind her. “It wasn’t burning earlier today.”
    â€œYeah, same thing I was thinking.”
    Even as they watched, a twin-engine transportplane swept overhead. Smoke jumpers hurled out of the fuselage, their parachutes opening gauze-white against the sky.
    Jo couldn’t help admiring the men’s obvious skill, for their drop zone was tiny and the wind was picking up. Nonetheless, they landed with precision on a lower slope and quickly began moving up to intercept and contain the outbreak.
    What a way to pay the bills, she thought.
    â€œIs that Nick Kramer’s team?” Bonnie wondered out loud. “They sure haven’t got much room to operate on that steep ridge.”
    Hazel, also busy watching the firefighters in action, turned to tell them that Nick’s team had the day off. But spying the sudden look of concern on Jo’s face, Hazel decided to keep mum.
    After all, she reasoned, holding something back wasn’t the same as telling a fib.
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    Supper was finished, the sun had finally gone down in a copper blaze, and the women were waiting for the moon and stars to glow a little more brightly before they set out for their various drop points. Hazel had tuned the radio to the local station out of Bighorn Creek for the evening news broadcast.
    â€œTurning to fire news in the Bitterroot country,” said the announcer, “we have a late report, just in, that two smoke jumpers were injured, one seriously, while escaping from a sudden firewall on Bent’s