The Trouble With Lacy Brown (14 page)

Needless to say, Sheriff Brady and Ashby were victorious and showed no humility. They paraded their blue ribbon around proudly between the losers, goading that maybe everyone else could do better next year.

“What do you think, Lacy?” Clint asked after unraveling their legs and helping her up. “Is this going to happen again next year?”

“Are you kidding? We’re going to practice every few weeks so we can make it more than ten feet next year.”

Clint laughed and added dryly, “I meant the fair itself.”

“Oh, yes, if I have any influence, this fair will become an annual event.”

The event so far had been a raging success. Lacy hadn’t seen so many happy cowboys in all of her life. The turnout had made believers of the majority of the guys. And the women were having such a great time that many of them had expressed a desire to look into property in the area. Mule Hollow had plenty of cheap real estate. It had been left behind by the families who had been forced to leave for lack of job opportunities.

The real-estate agent from Ranger had come down for the event and she was being bombarded with ques
tions. If this frenzy continued, she’d said she might move to Mule Hollow.

Only time would tell how the town would really benefit from today, but Lacy was very optimistic.

“Are you interested in a glass of Adela’s homemade lemonade?” Clint asked as they moved out of the way for the next heat of three-legged racers.

“Sure. But then I want to play Texas Frisbee.”

“You really want to throw a cow chip?”

Lacy halted and plunked her hands to her hips. “Well, yeah. I bet I can fling one farther than you. You know,” she said, jamming a thumb at herself in jest, “in high school I was district champ at the discus.”

Clint shook his head. “You are a jack of all trades. A gymnast and discus star.” He pushed his hat off his forehead with his thumb and scratched his temple. “What did you not do?”

Lacy started walking again. “A lot. Let’s see, I wanted to play basketball but I was too small. I wanted to run hurdles but I was too small. I wanted to play volleyball but—”

Clint joined in. “You were too small.”

“Uh-huh. So when I wanted to throw the discus the coach told me I was too skinny
and
too small. So my mom bought me a discus for my birthday and told me if I really wanted to do it, to do it and not let anyone tell me I couldn’t. I practiced all summer and fall. When spring tryouts came, I told coach just to give me
a chance to show him what I could do.” Lacy slid a crooked eyebrow up and gave Clint a comical glare. “When I stepped up on that platform, everyone was laughing. And I mean laughing out loud, big-time. I didn’t weigh eighty pounds wet. But I had worked on my form—you know the discus is really all about form—and mine was perfect. Anyway, I made the team and won district…but got creamed at the next level. I didn’t care, I had proven to myself that hard work paid off.”

They had reached the refreshment stand and stopped to wait in the lengthy line. Adela’s plan had worked. Ladies waited patiently, dollars in hand, to see Andrew’s smile and Bob’s dimples up close while they passed out the lemonade.

“I bet you wish you’d never asked that question,” she said, after they’d settled in for the wait.

Clint shook his head, “Actually I liked finding out what makes you tick.”

“Oh, yeah.” Lacy wrinkled her nose up and smiled.
Are you flirting with him, Lacy?

“Oh, yeah,” he said, reaching out and tugging at a strand of her hair. “I bet you gave your mama some gray hairs growing up.”

“Yes, I can’t deny the truth. I couldn’t help myself. That was one of the reasons she put me in gymnastics early. She had to scrape the money together each month, but she said it gave my energy a positive release.”

“What did you compete in? Wait, let me guess—those two bars that the girls fly from one to the other on.”

“The uneven bars.”

“That was it, wasn’t it? I knew it had to be with the way you practically flew up into that tree the day Flossy was after your hide.”

“You got it. I also did some other things, too.” She didn’t elaborate because they had reached the head of the line and Adela was beaming at them with a megawatt smile.

“Oh, Lacy, Clint, isn’t this the most delightful day.” Anticipating what they’d come for, she held out two glasses of lemonade. Each glass had sugar on the rim and a fat red cherry floating among the ice in the cool deep yellow drink.

“What a great drink, Adela! No wonder there has been a line here all day. And, yes, today is fantastic.”

“Clint, how are you holding up with all these beautiful women running around?” Adela’s direct question had Lacy choking on her lemonade.

Clint was just as surprised. He shifted his weight from one booted foot to the other, then planted his gaze on Lacy before answering.

“I’m holding up pretty good, considering I’ve had the prettiest gal of all tied to my leg half the day.”

Lacy tried hard to keep from letting his good-natured banter plunge through her melting barriers.
But the butterflies nose-diving in her stomach were hard to ignore.

Adela handed them both a homemade cookie. “I’m glad to know you are an observant and smart man, Clint Matlock. You two enjoy the cookie and the rest of the day. You should go try out the three-handed egg race.”

Lacy couldn’t help laughing at the not-so-smooth attempt at matchmaking. “Thanks for the advice, Adela, but there are a couple of big fat cow chips across town with our names on them.”

Clint tipped his hat at Adela as they started to leave. “This ought to be good, Adela. Maybe you should come over and watch. I think Lacy has the makings of a champion.”

Lacy turned back to Clint and, linking her arm in his, pulled him away. “Come on with me, funny guy. I’m about to make a believer out of you. After all, I’m not just a pretty face.”

“
That
is something I figured out a long time ago,” he said, and pulled her into the laughing, swirling crowd.

“Y
ou know what we should do,” Lacy exclaimed, causing everyone sitting in Sam’s to look her way. “We need to come up with a business big enough to employ a lot of women.”

Everyone who had been involved in masterminding the fair day was settled into chairs at Sam’s place. They were exhausted, tired and
more
exhausted. The day had been an unbelievable success. Adela’s place was packed, and if there had been a fifty-room hotel, it would probably have been full. Now it was about midnight, and everyone had gathered at Sam’s to discuss the day. They were far too keyed-up to sleep.

Lacy was nearly bouncing off the walls and was afraid she was making everyone nervous. But she knew her idea was good.

“Hey, Lacy girl, that might be a good idea,” boomed Esther Mae.

“There’s a town not too far from here,” added Norma Sue. “It has a huge furniture store that takes up half the old town. They just knocked out walls and connected the buildings. I heard they ship that furniture all over the place.”

“Lacy—” Sheri yawned “—you know that town not too far from Dallas that has those baskets…oh, and the one not too far from there that makes those fruit-cakes. They ship those things all over the world.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.” She started pacing.

“What we need to do,” Adela said, “is start thinking of everything that might be a profitable endeavor.”

“The way I see it,” Lacy said, her mind humming with ideas, “we had a great response from the women from surrounding towns, but they need income in order to move here. I hadn’t even thought of that until today. There are more people than just the teachers who might consider moving here if there were jobs for them.”

Clint raised his hand and an eyebrow while looking at Lacy for acknowledgment. She smiled broadly at his schoolboy impersonation and pointed at him. “Clint, you may have the floor.”

“I was thinking maybe I could hire a truckload of them. I need somebody to patrol for rustlers that I don’t seem able to track myself.”

Everyone, including Clint, roared with laughter.

Lacy shook her head, enjoying his playful side, and at the same time feeling kind of sorry for him because she knew he really did need to catch the rustlers.

Adela stood and smoothed the front of her cotton paisley dress. It barely had any wrinkles, and one would never have guessed she’d worn it all day and night.

“I guess what we should do is call it a night, and pray that the Lord will lead us in this endeavor. He’s done a wonderful job so far by sending us Lacy and Sheri first, and then giving us this great day.”

Everyone stood in agreement and, after hugs and good-nights, agreed to pray diligently.

Lacy had enjoyed her day at the fair more than anything she’d done in her life. And that was because of Clint. They had spent the entire day together without ever really planning to. It had simply seemed right. For Lacy, the lines between why she had come to Mule Hollow and why she couldn’t fall in love with Clint were blurring.

Fall in love with Clint
—her thoughts were running away with themselves. She’d meant why she couldn’t
date
Clint.

She was about to climb into her Caddy, when the subject of her confusion strode over, dropped his arm over her shoulders and gave her a friendly squeeze.

“I had a great time today.”

“Me, too,” she said, realizing how much she enjoyed the gesture.

“Sorry I doubted all of this early on; I believe from here on out I’m going to have a lot more faith.” He released her and headed toward his truck.

Watching him walk away, Lacy’s heart was pounding and her entire wonderful day was replaying before her eyes.

“See you at church in the morning,” he called. Looking back at her, he paused while opening his truck door.

He was gorgeous.
“Oh, yes. Bright and early.” She watched him get in the truck then before she climbed into her Caddy she checked the time on her watch. It was one o’clock in the morning. Church started at ten o’clock. Which meant…

Only nine more hours until she could see Clint Matlock again.

“Okay, now you roll the dough like this.” Lacy took her rolling pin, dusted it with a little flour and then began rolling out the thick ball of blackberry cobbler dough. Beside her, Clint stood watching as if this were the most important bit of instruction he would ever get. He was making her nervous. She’d been surprised when he’d told her he had something he wanted to bring by her house after church, if she were going to be there. After she had assured him that she would be,
he’d come by bearing a bag of frozen blackberries, blackberries he’d obtained from Norma Sue’s freezer since the season had ended at the beginning of the summer.

Lacy had been tickled by his presumption that she would drop everything and show him how to make
The Best Cobbler in the World.
Which she did, not that she had anything else to do. She was actually thrilled to be spending another Sunday afternoon with Clint, which she had decided could become habit forming.

And dangerous. Her kitchen was a small space with a low ceiling and the minute Clint had entered it he’d seemed to surround Lacy. Her senses were on overload.

“So now we have it rolled out.” She paused and used the back of her wrist to scratch the top of her nose. “Now we get to cut it in strips.”

Clint relaxed against the counter as he watched what she was doing beside him. His arms were crossed over his broad chest; his position had him facing Lacy. She reached for the knife she would use to cut the pastry and paused before cutting.

“You sure you know how to use that thing?” he asked playfully, leaning his shoulder into hers.

Lacy frowned and pointed the tip of the knife at him. “You would be surprised at what I can do, Buster.”

“Actually, Lacy, there isn’t anything you could do that would surprise me.”

Feeling a touch of pride at his words, Lacy started slicing the dough.

“Although, finding out you could cook is a stretch of my imagination.” He nodded toward the pastry and the hot berry mixture waiting for the pastry, to finish it off.

Lacy gave him a mock look of disgust. “And just why is that?”

“I don’t know.” He sobered. “You don’t come across as the homemaker type.”

Lacy’s pride plummeted. Once before he had insinuated that she was like his mother, and now she wondered… “Clint,” she ventured. Uncertain how to broach the subject she faltered as she placed the pastry into the bubbling berries. “Do I remind you of your mother?” Well, that was being subtle! Way to go, Lacy.

Beside her he stiffened, then reached out and touched her nose.

“You had a little…uh, flour, um there.” Their eyes met and held.

Lacy refused to relinquish her question to his diversion tactic. “Do I?” Please say no.

He shrugged. “Some.”

Some. Lacy wanted to cry. Her nose started to burn and her eyes started to sting but she refused to let her lip quiver. She stared at him and fought the insult down
with every ounce of self-control that she possessed. Her eyes would not dampen. “I see,” she said after she could. “I believe this is ready to go into the oven.” She picked up the pan of cobbler and carried it to the oven. Clint followed her. Drat the man.

She had not come to Mule Hollow to fall in love. She had come to prove to the Lord that He was King of her life by giving His vision her total concentration for a while.

But she hadn’t been able to do that. She felt like a failure, because before she could be a witness for Christ to even one person in her new salon, she had fallen in love.

And she had fallen in love with a guy whom she reminded of the lowest of the low. A woman who would desert her child.

It was all too much for even Lacy to comprehend. The room had become very quiet. She closed the oven door, then leaned her head against the cabinet.
Dear Lord, help me.

Clint touched her shoulder. “Lacy.” He was standing behind her and his voice was gentle.

No!
“Clint, I don’t feel so good. I think you should go.”

“Lace—”

“Really, Clint.” She turned to face him, then brushed past him before he could stop her. “I’m tired from yesterday and last night and I want to lie down.”

“Lacy, I—”

She cut him off. Spinning around, she glared at him. “Clint, I want to lie down and
you
need to leave.
Now.
”

She didn’t want to hear any more. She had been a fool anyway falling in love with the first guy who came along. How fickle was that!

To make things worse, finding out the type of person she came across as proved her greatest fears. It was as if the cock had crowed three times. Her uncontrolled personality, her mouth, caused the world to see a bum package. Her fickle heart caused Lacy to see the same.

“Maybe you’re right,” Clint said, backing to the door. “Get some rest. I need to get back to work anyway.” He tipped his hat, spun on his heel and walked out the door.

Belligerently, Lacy glared after him. She would not cry. She would get back to doing what she came to Mule Hollow for in the first place. She would ask God for forgiveness and she would resume her original plan.

And she would ignore the ripping, wrenching agony exploding in her heart.

His mother wanted his forgiveness.

Clint sat at his desk, the letter, neatly typed and to the point, lay open before him…an answered prayer gone bad. After days of struggling with how he’d hurt
Lacy’s feelings, he’d finally set his backbone straight and faced the facts. He needed to open the letter and try and face the past that threatened any future he might have with Lacy.

So he’d opened the letter.

And for the life of him, he didn’t know what to do now. He was a man used to making hard, quick decisions. He made them all day long. And now he felt like a lost little kid.

But he wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a full-grown man who needed to act like one.

But forgiveness… He stared out the window, across the open range his mother had left behind so easily. She’d walked away from him just as casually as she’d left the land. And she’d never looked back. Until now.

Clint rubbed his temple; the dull throb of a headache was setting in. He was a man. A churchgoing Christian man. A man who took pride in the fact that he’d overcome years of hurt and endless nights of boyhood tears, because God, ever the comforter, had wrapped him in His sheltering arms when he’d hurt the worst.

But forgive her.

Clint pushed away from his desk and stood. The knot in the pit of his stomach wasn’t from hunger, and the stinging around his eyes wasn’t from allergies. He was a man, all right, a man who hadn’t needed God’s comfort in a very long time.

Picking up his hat, he strode from the room and headed for the barn and a hard ride on a horse that didn’t want to be broken any more than Clint wanted to think about forgiving the woman he’d spent the better part of his life trying to forget.

He knew it would take more than a few nice words to break that colt, and one lousy letter wasn’t doing anything for Clint except opening old wounds.

“So what do you think about giving me some highlights?” Molly Popp asked Lacy.

It was Tuesday and they were looking at each other in the mirror. Molly had stayed on for a week while she finished her column about the town and the fair day. Lacy had been pleased when she’d walked in this morning. Clients would be sparse for the first few months, and for a person like herself, sitting was not a virtue she took to with alacrity.

“Highlights would look great on your chestnut hair.” She hoped she didn’t sound too anxious.

“Then go to it.”

Lacy grabbed a tray with all of her foils and went about setting everything up for the color process. She and Molly chatted rapidly about the fair and the ongoing plans to encourage women to establish themselves in Mule Hollow. Lacy was pleased that Molly had such a positive outlook on the idea. She had informed Adela that morning that she would be going back to Hous
ton, closing out her small apartment there, and at the end of the month she would be back. She would then become the third new citizen of Mule Hollow since the newspaper ad had been placed, Lacy and Sheri being first and second.

Molly was a beauty. She had a mane of hair the color of burnt umber that flowed in waves of lively movement every time she talked or turned her head. She was very easy to talk to, which was probably a good thing since she was a reporter. Her eyes were an alert, vivid green. Her hands moved as she spoke and she had a habit of inclining her head to the right when she listened to what you were saying. She was a beautiful, warm and intelligent woman and she didn’t know the Lord at all.

“So you came all the way out here because
God
told you to.”

Molly’s inflection was proof enough that she couldn’t know God, or she would have known that what Lacy had done wasn’t all that unusual. People listened to God’s voice every day. Because she followed His direction, a few hundred miles wasn’t a big deal. She hadn’t had to sacrifice anything. She was no martyr and certainly no saint. Of course, depending on who you asked, she might be considered crazy. And from the look on Molly’s face, this is what Molly thought of Lacy.

“What’s the difference in my following Christ out here and you following your heart?”

“Well, hold on. Let me think this out.” Molly was different than Lacy in that she tended to think before she spoke. Lacy wondered if she hung out with Molly long enough, some of that habit would rub off on her.

“I guess the big difference is I came here first before committing to it. You on the other hand had already committed yourself, sight unseen. How could you do that?”

“Easy. It’s called faith. I trust my heavenly Father and am willing to go where He leads me. Now, because I did this doesn’t mean that I’m a saint or anything. I’m still plugging along, botching things up as I go. But I’m hoping and praying that I’m getting something right as I go.”

She had really been wondering about that for the past four days. With Clint, she hadn’t gotten anything right. Not so much in what she said but by her actions. And obviously she’d bungled that up hopelessly with her mouth and her heart.