Sugar Plums for Dry Creek & At Home in Dry Creek (2 page)

J
udd Bowman was standing at the back of the hard ware store in Dry Creek counting nails. He figured he needed about fifty nails, but every time he got to thirty or so, one of the kids would interrupt him because they had to go to the bath room or they wanted a drink of water or they thought they heard a kit ten me owing. Judd sighed. Trying to take care of a six-year-old boy and a five-year-old girl was no picnic. Fortunately, the hard ware store had a heater going, and it took the edge off the cold.

“Just sit down until I finish,” Judd said when he felt Amanda's arm brush against his leg. He'd got ten to thirty-seven, and he repeated the number to him self. He knew the kids needed reassurance, so he tried to speak two sentences when one would have done him fine. “I won't be long and then we can go over to
the café and have some cocoa. You like cocoa, don't you?”

Judd felt Amanda nod against his knee. He looked over to see that Bobby was still drawing a picture on the piece of paper that the man who ran the hard ware store had given him earlier.

Amanda seemed to squeeze even closer to his knee, and Judd looked down. She was pale and clutching his pant leg in ear nest now as she stared around his leg at the men in the middle of the hardware store.

Judd looked over at them, wondering what had stirred up the old men who sat around the potbellied stove. Usually, when he came into the store, the men were dozing quietly in their chairs around the fire or playing a slow game of chess.

Today, with the cold seeping into the store, the fire was al most out. There was wood in the basket nearby, so there was no excuse for any one not to put an other log in the stove.

But the men weren't paying any attention to the cold or the fire.

Instead, they were all looking out the window of the hard ware store and across the street into the window of what had been an old abandoned store that stood next to the café. The store wasn't abandoned any longer. Judd could see the woman as she tried
to hang what looked like a sign on the in side of her window.

Judd didn't usually pay much attention to women, but he'd have remembered this one if he'd seen her be fore. She was tall and graceful, with her black hair twisted into a knot on the top of head. He could see why men would be looking at her.

“They're just talking,” Judd said as he rested his hand on Amanda's shoulder.

Judd had little use for idle conversation, but even he had heard a week ago that a new woman was moving to town. Several months ago the town had placed an ad in
The Seattle Times
inviting businesses to move to Dry Creek. The town had sweetened the deal by offering six months of free rent. Even at that, the woman was the only one to actually agree to come, so the town had given her the best of the old buildings they owned.

Judd squeezed Amanda's shoulder as Bobby walked over to stand be side them as well. The boy had be come at tuned to his sister's moods, and it never took him long to know when Amanda was frightened.

Judd spoke softly. “They're just talking about the new woman who moved here.”

“Remember I told you about her?” Bobby added as he leaned down to look his sister in the eye. “She's going to make dough nuts.”

“I'm not sure about the dough nuts,” Judd said. He worked hard to keep his voice even. Amanda picked up too easily on the emotion in men's voices, and even though Judd was angry at the man who had made her so sensitive and not at
her,
he knew she'd think he was upset with her if he let his voice be any thing but neutral.

Getting involved in the problems of Dry Creek was the last thing Judd wanted to do, but if that's what it took to help Amanda realize all anger wasn't directed at her, then that's what he'd have to do. “Let's go see what it's all about.”

Judd walked slowly enough so Amanda could keep her fingers wrapped around his leg. She had her other hand in Bobby's small hand.

“How's it going?” Judd asked when they arrived at the group around the stove.

Judd had seen these men a dozen times since he'd rented the Jenkins farm this past spring, but he'd been so busy all summer with farm work and then with the kids that this was the first time he'd done more than nod in their direction.

Fortunately, the men were all too steamed up to wonder why he chose to talk now.

“Charley here is going deaf,” Jacob muttered as he leaned back with his fingers in his suspenders.

“I am not,” Charley said as he looked up at Judd through his bifocals. “I had a bad connection on that
new fangled cell phone. Don't know what's wrong with it. Some of the words don't come through too clear.”

“That's when you ask the person to re peat themselves,” Jacob said.

The two men had obviously had this conversation be fore.

“I was being friendly,” Charley pro tested as he stood up and looked straight at Judd. “Everyone kept telling me to be friendly if any one called. Now, do you think it sounds friendly to keep asking some one to re peat what they've just said?”

“Well, I guess that depends.” Judd hesitated. He didn't want to get involved in the argument. He just wanted Amanda to hear that it wasn't about her.

“You know, I got that phone because everybody said people would be calling about the ad at all times of the night and day,” Charley complained as he sat back down. “I even carried it to bed with me. And this is the thanks I get.”

“So you're all angry because of the phone.” Judd nodded. There. That should satisfy Amanda that the argument had nothing to do with her.

“It isn't the phone,” Jacob said as he shook his head. “It's what he was supposed to do with the phone. He was supposed to make sure that businesses were suit able for Dry Creek.”

“He said she was a baker!” an other old man protested.

“I had my mouth all set for a dough nut,” Jacob admitted. “One of those long maple ones.”

“Well, she kept saying Baker,” Charley de fended him self. “How was I supposed to know that was just her name? Dry Creek could use a good bakery.”

“But she's not a baker. She runs a dance school!” Jacob pro tested.

“And that's the problem?” Judd tried again. He could feel Amanda's hold on his leg lessen. She was listening to the men.

“Of course that's the problem,” Jacob continued. “She doesn't even teach
real
dancing, like the stomp-and-holler stuff they have at the senior center up by Miles City. This here is ballet. Who around here wants to learn ballet? You have to wear tights.”

“Or a tutu,” an other old man added. “Pink fluffy stuff.”

“It isn't de cent, if you ask me,” still an other man muttered. “Don't know where she'll buy all that netting around here any way.”

“The store here started carrying bug net ting since the mosquitoes were so bad over the summer. They still have some left. Maybe she could use that,” the first old man offered.

“She can't use bug net ting,” Charley said. “Not
for ballet. Besides, she probably wants it to be pink, and that bug net ting is black.”

“Well, of course it's black,” an other old man said. “Mosquitoes don't care if it's some fancy color.”

“Netting is the least of her worries. She isn't going to have any students, so she won't need any net ting,” Jacob finally said.

There was a moment's silence.

“Maybe she
will
take up baking—to keep herself busy if she doesn't have any students,” Charley offered. “I heard she was trying to make some kind of cookies.”

“They burnt,” an other man said mourn fully. “The smoke came clear over here. I went over and asked if maybe a pie would be easier to bake.”

“She's not going to be making pies. She's going to go around trying to change the people of Dry Creek into something we're not. It's like trying to turn a pig into a silk purse. I say just let a pig be a pig—the way God intended,” Jacob said.

Judd looked down at Amanda. She'd stopped holding on to his pants leg and was listening intently to the men. He was glad she was listening even if she wasn't talking yet. In the three months that Judd had been taking care of the two kids, Amanda occasionally whispered something to her brother, but she never said any thing to any one else, not even Judd.

Amanda leaned over to whisper in Bobby's ear now.

The boy smiled and nodded. “Yeah, she
is
aw fully pretty.”

Bobby looked up at the men. “Amanda thinks the woman looks like our mama.”

Judd's breath caught. Both kids had stopped talking about their mother a month ago. Barbara was his second cousin, but Judd hadn't known her until she showed up on his door step one morning. She'd paid an agency to find him because she wanted to ask him to take care of her kids while she got settled in a place. She was on the run from an abusive husband and had the court papers to prove it.

Judd had re fused Barbara's re quest at first. Sheer disbelief had cleared his mind of any thing else. Judd had never known his mother, and the uncle who had raised him had been more interested in having a hired hand that he didn't need to pay than in parenting an orphan. The stray dog Judd had taken in earlier in the summer probably knew more about family life than Judd did. Judd wasn't some one any one had ever thought to leave kids with be fore this. And one look at the kids showed him that they were still in the nap ping years.

“You must have taken care of little ones be fore—” Barbara had said.

“Not un less they had four feet and a tail,” Judd
told her firmly. He'd nursed calves and stray dogs and even a pony or two. But kids? Never.

No, Judd wasn't the one his cousin needed. “You'll need to find some one else. Believe me, it's best.”

“But—” Barbara said and then swallowed.

Judd didn't like the look of desperation he saw in her eyes.

“You're our only family,” she finally finished.

Judd figured she probably had that about right. The Bowman family tree had al ways been more of a stump than any thing. Ever since his uncle had died, Judd had thought he was the last of the line.

Still, he hesitated.

He thought of suggesting she turn to the state for help, but he knew what kind of trouble that could get her into. Once children were in the state system, it wasn't all that easy to get them out again, and he could see by the way she kept looking at the kids that she loved them.

He might not know much about a mother's love him self, but he could at least recognize it when he saw it.

“Maybe you could get a babysitter,” Judd finally offered. “Some nice grand mother or something.”

“You know some one like that?”

Judd had to admit he didn't. He'd only moved to Dry Creek this past spring. He'd been working long and hard plowing and then seeding the alfalfa and
wheat crops. He hadn't taken time to get to know any of his neighbors yet.

He wished now that he had accepted one of the invitations to church he'd received since he'd been here. An older woman, Mrs. Hargrove, had even driven out to the ranch one day and invited him. She'd looked so friendly he'd almost promised to go, but he didn't.

What would a man like him do in church any way? He wouldn't know when to kneel or when to sing or when to bow his head. No, church wasn't for him.

Now he wished he had gone to church any way, even if he'd made a fool of him self doing so. Mrs. Hargrove would probably help some one who went to her church. She wasn't likely to help a stranger though. Who would be?

“Maybe we could put an ad in the paper.”

Barbara just looked at him. “We don't have time for that.”

Judd had to admit she was right.

“Besides, this is something big—the kind of thing family members do to help each other,” Barbara said with such conviction that Judd believed her.

Not that he was an expert on what family members did to help each other. He couldn't remember his uncle ever doing him a kind ness, and the man was the only family Judd had ever known. His uncle had
lost all contact with his cousin who was Barbara's father.

He had to admit he had been excited at first when Barbara had come to his door step. It was nice to think he had family some where in this world.

He looked over at the kids and saw that they were sitting still as stones. Kids shouldn't be so quiet.

“Are they trained?” he asked.

Barbara looked at him blankly for a moment. “You mean potty-trained?”

He nodded.

“Of course! Amanda here is five years old. And Bobby is six. They practically take care of themselves.”

Barbara didn't pause be fore she continued. “And it might only be for a few days. Just enough time for me to drive down to Denver and check out that women's shelter. I want to be sure they'll take us be fore I drag the kids all that way.”

Barbara had arrived in an old car that had seen better days, but it had got ten her here, so Judd figured it would get her to Denver.

Still, if she had car trouble, he knew it would be hard to take care of the kids while she saw to get ting the thing fixed. He supposed—maybe—

“I guess things will be slow for the next few days,” Judd said. He'd finished put ting up the hay, and he had enough of the fence built so his thirty head of cat
tle could graze in the pasture by the creek. He meant to spend the next few days working on the in side of the house any way be fore he turned back to building the rest of the fence. He supposed two trained kids wouldn't be too much trouble.

Judd didn't exactly say he'd keep the kids, but he guessed Barbara could tell he'd lowered his resistance, because she turned her attention to the kids, telling them they were going to stay with Cousin Judd and she'd be back in a few days. That was at the end of August. It was mid-November now.