Runaway Bride (4 page)

He could just imagine what her story
was. And he didn't want to hear it, didn't need to. Pretty obvious
the woman was escaping some poor unsuspecting snook at the altar.
God bless him. Yes, the poor sap was probably mooning over a cold
one about her now, Ben imagined. After all, even covered in grit
and grime she looked good. Her light brown hair shone even though
it looked tousled, and there was a streak of blonde in the front.
It captured his attention for a second. How a woman could have just
one streak in her hair, he didn't know. And he didn't know why this
particular streak caught his attention, either.

None of his business, and he wasn't
about to ask. He didn't need any hassles, especially from a woman.
He'd learned that lesson the hard way. Married all of two months
five years ago had taught him that marriage was not for Ben
Hogg.

Not that he was the least bit
interested in her story. No sir, he had a comfortable life and he
aimed to keep it that way. Marriage was for suckers, and he had
ceased being one.

The woman was coming straight in his
direction, just like an arrow aimed at a dartboard. Ben slouched
down into the seat and began to slightly snore. If anything would
drive a woman away fast, it was snoring, according to the town
crier of Junction.

He'd left his saddle in the seat beside
him, so surely she wouldn't plop herself down beside
him
. If anything she should read it
as an open invitation to look elsewhere for a seat. But the bus was
crowded, where could she go? The woman didn't have much choice, he
conceded with a heavy sigh.

She was going to sit down beside him,
and there wasn't a way in the world he could stop her.

Then he heard a thump, a loud,
thump.

Without looking he knew it was the
saddle landing on the floor, and none to gently. He bit his tongue
to keep from snapping at the woman. Didn't she realize how much a
saddle like that cost? Hand tooled!

But she hadn't finished making a
spectacle of herself yet. She wrestled with the tripod for several
minutes before it finally lay silently against her side of the
seat.

With one finger, and a frown bigger
than the Pecos he stared at her.

The woman peered at him beneath the
longest lashes Ben had ever seen on a human, a cow maybe, but not a
human.

"Excuse me, ma'am."

The woman fluffed her slip around her,
and finally put it down to a decent level then eyed him with all
the innocence of a teddy bear facing a rattlesnake. But even venom
couldn't stop the immediate reaction Ben had to those engaging
green eyes.

"Sorry about the saddle, but all the
seats were taken." She said sweetly.

He glanced at his saddle which had
become her instant foot prop.

Satin shoes and leather didn't mix, Ben
thought quietly to himself as he watched her fumble in that sorry
excuse for a purse for who knew what. Why would a woman carry such
a little thing, and put so much in it. It made no sense to
him.

He couldn't stop himself, he handed her
a handkerchief, without a word.

"Thank you," she smiled
quickly.

"Yes, ma'am," he said and pulled his
hat over his face again to pretend sleep. But he'd caught a glimpse
of that smile and something in his insides sprang aware. He hadn't
been this aware of a woman in years.

The woman seemed to shrug her
indifference and he watched from one corner of his vision as she
tried to clean her face. Not that he was interested, but she was
such a puzzle, he had to pay attention to what she might do
next.

It looked as though she might settle
down until all of a sudden she opened her mouth to check her teeth.
Good Lord, did she fully intend to clean her teeth, right here in
public? He squirmed.

Pulling his hat down so he couldn't see
her, that's when he noticed her feet on his saddle again. Tiny
feet, in what was once white satin slippers. The dress she wore
must have cost someone a fortune, Ben thought to himself. Just the
intricate beadwork on the bodice told him that much and the fact
that a tiny bit of it overlapped on his lap against a finger and he
felt the softness. He didn't want to feel the softness, but it was
there, and darn hard to ignore. She was impossible to
ignore.

He'd give fifty cents to hear her
story, just out of curiosity and the peculiarity of the moment. But
he wasn't about to ask. He knew better.

"I had car trouble out on the highway,
I was stranded." Her proffered explanation fell on deaf
ears.

He didn't want to start a conversation,
so he merely nodded a little and didn't look at her at
all.

He couldn't help thinking about his
quickly failed marriage. No way would he ever let himself in for
something like that again. Marriage wasn't in Ben Hogg's plans. No
matter how long her eye lashes were.

No, he didn't need trouble. And this
lady was definitely oozing with it.

Then he saw her hands and it was all he
could do not to laugh. Right in the middle of that beautiful,
dainty little hand, were three broken fingernails, marring a
perfect manicure? A manicure that probably cost more than any steak
dinner he'd ever eaten. Had she noticed yet? Probably not, and he
wasn't about to tell her. It reminded him of old man Perkins
polishing his white Cadillac when the back fender was all banged
up. He polished that car every week, rain or shine.

Thoughts of Perkins, brought Ben's mind
back to the present and how anxious he was to get back to work
after one long vacation with his family. Yeah, being a Sheriff was
a pure pleasure after that, especially in Junction. For a small
town that only boasted a couple of thousand, had one local bar, one
bank, five churches and three beauty parlors, Ben felt safe
returning to his office again, where the biggest problems were
keeping the darn air conditioner from blowing every year. He loved
his family, but sometimes it was a pure relief to get
away.

"Could you tell me what the next town
is, sir?" The woman in the wedding dress purred sweetly.

Didn't she know he was trying his best
to sleep? He didn't want a conversation. He could use some shut eye
after celebrating his younger sister's birthday half the
night.

Good manners forced him to tip his hat
back and cast her a curious glance. But when he did he nearly bust
a gut trying to stop the laughter. The woman had used his
handkerchief alright, but instead of cleaning up, she only managed
to smear the dust and grit over her face. It had dried in a slur
across a dainty little nose, and determined looking chin. Obviously
she thought she had cleared it away, but it had managed to dry and
was caked in places. She looked as if she'd been playing in the
mud.

Ben tried not to notice things about
her, but it didn't work. Messed up as she was, she was still nice
to look at, a little
too
nice.

She had a pleasant little face, her
mouth was kissable, and her eyes looked too big to be on her heart
shaped face. The long lashes covered a set of dancing gray-green
eyes. Her hair was fairly long, and framed her face. It was hair
that attracted him first, the way it dangled about her shoulders
and face, all shiny and curled and there was that one little blond
streak.

"Next town is Junction." He answered
gazing out the window so he didn't have to see those sparkling eyes
dance with a smile. This woman irritated him from the moment he
laid eyes on her and usually he was an agreeable fella.

"So I've finally come to
Junction?"

He whipped about to look at her sincere
gaze. She looked mesmerized.

Junction wasn't her kind of town, he
assumed too quickly.

"That's it."

She did smile just a little and he was
flabbergasted at how beautiful her smile was. She radiated a warmth
like sunshine with that smile and Ben was quickly appalled at
himself for noticing.

"I'll bet you're from there, aren't
you?"

"Yes ma'am."

Maybe if he didn't offer conversation
she'd hush and he could go back to pleasantly dreaming of a fishing
trip he aimed to take real soon.

"I could tell."

His mind began to explode with reasons
he shouldn't continue this conversation with the lady. However, Ben
prided himself on being a gentleman, all part of being the town
Sheriff.

He crossed a leg over and leaned back.
He had no intention of carrying the conversation any further, but
suddenly found his mouth didn't belong to him. "What gave me
away?"

"Maybe the way you're trying so hard to
sleep on this bus that manages to hit every bump in the
road."

"I guess I'm about as laid back as a
man can get at the moment, that's true. Are you stopping in
Junction, ma'am?"

He could have bit his own tongue out
for asking such a question, but it just slipped out. What did he
care whether she stopped or not? Still, she had a way of bringing
out the conversation in Ben like no other.

"Oh yes. I'll have to have my car towed
and fixed."

"What's wrong with it?" He should have
ignored her conversation but somehow she'd got the best of his
curiosity.

"Well for one, a busted radiator hose
and a flat tire. At least I think that's what it is. Steam was
shooting out from the hood. I recall my brother saying something
about a busted radiator hose once when it happened to
him."

It shocked Ben that she actually knew
what was wrong with the car. He figured her for nothing short of an
air head. She was just the kind of woman he liked to have a romp in
the hay with and send her on her way.

"I guess you were late for the wedding,
huh?" Ben couldn't catch his mouth in time. Here he was minding his
own business when this runaway bride came waltzing up the aisle and
now he was talking more to her than he did to his younger sister,
Dana during his visit home.

"Wedding?" she shrieked enough to get
the attention of the woman in the seat in front of her, and then
glanced down at her clothes. "Well...as a matter of fact, yes. I
guess you could say that."

But it was too late to explain, because
the bus was pulling into the small station. Ben sighed comfortably
as he moved to get up. He needed to get as far away from this woman
as possible, obviously. He'd already asked too many questions, and
gotten too many answers.

"We're here?" she gasped and looked
about her.

"Yes ma'am."

***

So much for flirting with strange men,
Savannah shrugged. If this one was any measure she had her work cut
out for her. Not that she was one bit interested but losing a man
to another man had damaged her ego a bit. This man
was
rather handsome, if he wouldn't
frown so much. His dark sandy hair was cut short and well trained.
But the beard didn't fit him.

She crept down the bus steps and stared
at the vacant station.

"Where is everyone?" She blurted out
when she saw the cowboy heading in the opposite
direction.

The cowboy that sat by her on the bus
was moving deliberately away from her at a fast pace. On hearing
her question he stopped dead in his tracks and turned about to look
at her again. By his actions she could have sworn he really didn't
want to turn around and answer her at all.

"It's Sunday afternoon, everyone's
either in church or home. Not much goes on, on Sundays."

Boy had she stumbled into a country
town or what? It was like a fairy tale to her. Just the kind of
place she wanted to be. A place where people took time to listen,
to care, a Junction little town she could surely learn to do
something in. This was her dream of heaven, away from the hectic
schedules of modern day life.

"Is there a restaurant around here?"
she asked the cowboy who was now hauling that beautiful tooled
saddle she had straddled on the bus. She hadn't paid much attention
to it on the bus, but now she could see it was very expensively
crafted, and so was its owner.

"Yes, about a block down the street,
Mary's Kitchen." He nodded the direction.

"Thanks," she said and hauled a small
bag on one arm, her camera and tripod on the other and started for
what looked like the town of Junction, Texas. But his next words
stopped her cold.

"But they aren't open till tomorrow,"
he added his voice filled with some irritation. It was like he
didn't want to give her any information, and it had been dragged
from him.

"Tomorrow?" she whirled around and
turned a startled glance on him. "You're kidding."

She'd spent the entire day without
eating and her stomach roared.

But the stranger was doing his best to
ignore her, it seemed. He stood there leaning against his jeep as
though he was waiting for her to do something.

He shook his head. "'Fraid not. It's
Sunday. Little towns have a habit of foldin' up early on Sunday's
ma'am." He adjusted his Stetson again.