Crazy For the Cowboy (12 page)

The other council members hovered around Ida, making sure she had the seat she wanted at the table, the wine she'd ordered, and some fries. Soon several baskets of fries appeared on the council table, along with glasses and two pitchers of beer. Vince had never been to a town council meeting, but Ida's wine and the pitchers of beer didn't seem right.

Apparently they were a normal part of the meeting, though, because Clyde poured a beer for each of the men. Ida finished her first glass of wine and signaled Ike for another, and the meeting hadn't even started. Georgie was the only teetotaler in the group.

Sadie's was more crowded than it had been all weekend. The residents turned out for these meetings. Every chair was filled and Ike was doing a brisk business behind the bar. Council meetings might be as lucrative as having three cowboys blow into town. Grassroots democracy was way more entertaining than Vince had expected.

But despite the beer and the relaxed attitude of everyone in the room, the meeting started exactly at seven on the dot. Vince glanced at the neon Budweiser clock behind the bar when Clyde brought the gavel down. Impressive.

Georgie had pulled a little computer out of her tote and began typing as Clyde opened the meeting. She looked capable and efficient. Vince settled in to watch her take minutes because, after all, he'd stayed partly for that purpose.

The beginning of the meeting was pretty boring. It involved approving the minutes from the last meeting, and there was some bickering between Ida and Clyde about wording. Eventually that was settled, and the treasurer's report followed. Steve was the treasurer, and his evaluation of the finances was met with moans and groans from the crowd.

Vince could understand. The town had no money and wasn't likely to get any soon. But Ida questioned several of the items in the budget. Steve treated her with great respect as he explained each issue, and she finally settled down.

A pleasant-looking couple had parked themselves at Vince's table after asking if the seats were taken. Vince leaned toward them. “Who is that woman?”

The guy lowered his voice. “Oldest person in town, at least ninety-five if she's a day. And loaded. She keeps hinting that she might give the town money, but so far, we haven't seen a dime.”

“That's frustrating.”

“Tell me about it. Not that she could solve our problems with a donation. We need more than cash. We need to create a reason for tourists to come here. I suppose she could be waiting for someone to suggest a project she's willing to underwrite.”

Vince nodded. Sounded fair to him. But no wonder everyone catered to Ida. If they ever came up with a big idea, she'd be a great source of funding. Vince considered his concept and wondered if it would work for the town. But this wasn't his rodeo. He'd probably be better off not saying anything.

Beer, wine, and mixed drinks continued to flow. Both council members and residents who'd gathered for the meeting sipped on their beverage of choice. Georgie was still the only one with a glass of water.

Vince began to wonder if grassroots democracy meant everyone getting happy. It was good for Sadie's, and people didn't seem terribly upset that the town was nearly bankrupt. Maybe handling things this way wasn't such a bad idea.

Clyde finally got around to new business and asked council members for their input regarding programs to rejuvenate the town. None of them had anything to offer, not even Georgie, and Vince knew how smart she was. In a way, he was surprised she hadn't thought of his idea.

Maybe he should have given it to her yesterday so she could have presented it if she'd been of a mind to. But he hadn't done that. So now here he sat, with what he thought was a terrific idea burning a hole in his pocket.

Ida smacked her wineglass down on the table. “I can't believe
nobody
has come up with a plan. This is a community of hard workers, of good people, of intelligent people. All we need is a plan. Won't somebody
please
come up with a brainstorm? We can't let Bickford die!”

Vince stood. He had no business saying anything, but if everybody else was drawing a blank, then he couldn't in good conscience keep quiet. “I'm not a member of this community, so I have no right to speak, but I do have an idea.” He avoided looking at Georgie, because she had the power to distract him, and he needed to keep his mind clear so he could explain this right.

Clyde glanced at him. “Ordinarily we only invite comments from those who live here, but we're desperate, Vince. If you have an idea, I, for one, would love to hear it.”

“Me, too,” Ida said. “And may I add that you're real pretty to look at, whoever you are.”

Vince felt his face grow warm. Apparently he could be embarrassed by the comments of a ninetysomething lady. “Thank you, ma'am.”

Ida smiled at him. “You're welcome, young man. Now say your piece.”

Vince swallowed. Being the life of the party was one thing. Speaking to a roomful of strangers about his idea was something else again. But he'd started this, so he might as well finish it.

“When I worked as a wrangler for the Double J, the guests were offered short trail rides on ranch property, never more than an hour at most. Otherwise they kept busy with swimming, massages, mud baths, stuff like that. In my opinion, they never got the true Western experience. They didn't see many wild animals and certainly not the Ghost and his herd. I told the ranch owners they should set up overnight rides into the canyon so people could try and spot the wild horses, but the owners weren't interested.”

He snuck a look at Georgie. She was totally focused on him, but she didn't look upset, which was good. He'd wondered how she'd react to this, considering her love of those animals.

Feeling encouraged, he went on. “I still think it's a decent idea. Folks could camp out, have a chuck-wagon meal or two, pretend they were back in the Old West, and maybe catch sight of the horses sometime during their adventure. No guarantee of that, of course. It would be like whale watching, Western-style. That's it. I'm done.” He took his seat.

The room erupted into excited conversation, and Clyde had to bang his gavel several times to restore order. “So, Vince, are you suggesting that the town could do this to increase tourism?”

“That's what I'm saying.” Vince shrugged. “It might not work for you, but I think it's worth considering.”

Ida beamed at him. “Sweetie, you're a genius. I love it.”

CHAPTER 12

O
nce again, Vince had surprised the heck out of Georgie. What he'd proposed was creative and far more likely to revive the town than anything that had been suggested so far. By contributing this idea, he'd turned his visit from a potential curse to a potential blessing.

Plus he'd looked so good doing it. She'd deliberately stayed away from Sadie's until five minutes prior to the meeting because she hadn't wanted to put herself in temptation's way. The minute she'd walked into the saloon, temptation had been sitting right there wearing a clean chambray shirt and a heart-melting smile. Vince was entirely too gorgeous for his own good.

A vivid memory of how those smiling lips had felt the night before almost made her run into a chair. She hoped nobody had noticed, especially not the man who'd wrecked her composure. She should never have kissed him in the first place, and damned if she didn't want to do it again.

Fortunately the meeting had required her to concentrate on her little laptop and take reasonable notes of the proceedings so she'd be able to produce decent minutes. But then Vince had made his excellent suggestion, and now she couldn't avoid looking at him because he was the man of the hour. Ida certainly thought so.

Not everyone agreed with Ida, though. Pandemonium followed her ringing endorsement of Vince's suggestion. Those who were in favor of his concept loudly proclaimed their enthusiasm for a plan that could save Bickford. The naysayers were equally loud as they cited the potential liability, the work involved, the lack of available horses, and most of all, the lack of qualified people to lead the trail rides.

Clyde finally got the crowd under control by whistling through his teeth. Georgie grinned. She hadn't known he could do that. Apparently no one else had, either. They stared in shock at their eightysomething mayor.

He shrugged. “Learned how to do that when I was a kid growing up in St. Louis.”

“You sound like one of those guys on
Rawhide
,” somebody called out. “You could be the trail boss!”

“No, I couldn't. I'd love to think I was up to it, but I'm not. Finding the right people to supervise the ride is critical.”

The racket from the audience started up again, but this time Clyde's gavel was enough to silence it. “Either this stops or we'll clear the room. We need to discuss this in an orderly fashion.” He surveyed the room with a piercing gaze. “Understood?”

When several people nodded in agreement, Clyde glanced at Ed. “You're qualified to be a trail boss, but you have a business to run.”

“And when my arthritis acts up, I can't sit a horse for very long.” Ed looked down the table at Georgie. “You could do it, but you also have a business to run, and besides, we'd need at least two people. I could maybe be the second person, but not the main person. We need someone younger than me for that.”

When Frank Bryson stood and asked permission to speak, Georgie expected him to bring up legal issues. His many years as a lawyer made him a great resource, but she worried that in this case he'd throw a wet blanket over this promising idea.

Sure enough, he did. “An experienced trail boss is a must. I can't stress that enough, and I don't think we have who we need living here in Bickford. Georgie, you're an accomplished horsewoman, but you've never been responsible for a group of riders, some of whom might be first-timers. Much as I love you, you're not qualified for the job.”

“You're right, Frank.” She didn't take offense. Frank and Sue were like loving grandparents who wouldn't want her to bite off more than she could chew.

“I'm glad you agree. Because if someone gets hurt out there and they can prove we didn't have a qualified person in charge, the town could lose what's left of its shirt.”

“And at the moment we've only got a couple of sleeves and a few buttons.” Steve leaned back in his chair. “It's a cool concept, and at first glance it seems like a great idea, but we have to have the right personnel. And reliable horses. The four in your stable aren't enough, Ed.”

“No, they're not. I have room for more animals, but I don't have any extra tack.”

“Right,” Clyde said. “And unless I'm mistaken, nobody has a chuck wagon sitting in the backyard, either. This wouldn't be a simple fix. It would take a considerable investment, and we could get ourselves into more trouble than we're already in.”

“Yeah.” Ed tugged on the brim of his battered straw hat. “I carry liability, but I know every time I rent out a horse, I could get sued, no matter what disclaimer I have them sign beforehand. And that liability insurance is pricey. I probably don't have as much coverage as I should.”

Georgie felt the excitement ebbing, and she couldn't bear to have this first glimmer of hope doused so quickly. “Hang on. Let's not talk ourselves out of this. I know it sounds like a lot of details to be worked out, but let's not get discouraged about the possibility before we find out whether it's feasible.”

“Atta girl!” Ida punched her fist in the air. “I'll go you one better. I believe in this, so I'm prepared to make a business loan to the town for the purchase of a few more horses and the necessary tack. Oh, and a budget for promoting the thing.”

“That's a generous offer,” Clyde said, “but we don't want to get ahead of ourselves. No point in buying stuff until we have a trail boss.”

“I was getting to that,” Ida said. “When we find a qualified trail boss, I'll pay his or her salary for the first six months until we get this thing off the ground.” She named a generous amount to be paid every two weeks. Then she looked at Vince. “If you want my opinion . . . hell, you'll get my opinion whether you want it or not. Ladies and gentleman, we have our trail boss sitting right over there.” She pointed to Vince.

Georgie's pulse rate shot up.
Dear God, no.
But she couldn't argue with Ida's logic. Vince had dreamed up the idea so he must have a plan for how it would work. He'd been taking city slickers out on the trail for at least ten years. He was strong, healthy, and charismatic.

Plus he was currently out of a job and Ida was guaranteeing him a salary. With his preference for short-term employment, he might be all over her offer. When he rose from his chair, she wondered if he'd accept the job.

Technically he couldn't do that yet, because the council hadn't voted to adopt the plan. Still, if Vince seemed willing to be the trail boss, it might help convince the council members to vote in favor of the entire concept. She would vote that way herself, even though having him around would be a challenge for her. She held her breath.

Vince cleared his throat. “Much as I appreciate your confidence in me, ma'am, I'm not interested in taking that position.”

Georgie exhaled.

“Say it isn't so!” Ida shook her head. “You would be so perfect!” She turned to Georgie. “A little birdie told me you were kissing this good-looking cowboy yesterday evening. Can't you convince him to take the job?”

Her face grew hot and she looked at Clyde. Surely he hadn't blabbed to Ida. That wasn't like him, and yet he'd been the only one on the scene.

“I wasn't the little birdie!” Clyde said.

“No, it wasn't you, Clyde,” Ida said. “Actually it was more than one little birdie, but I never reveal my sources. This is a small town, and when two people are kissing on Main Street, it can't be considered a secret, can it?”

Georgie groaned and covered her face with her hands. Then she heard Vince speak her name and looked up.

He'd remained standing through all that. His color was high, too, and his troubled gaze was fixed on her. “It was my fault,” he said, “and I'm sorry I've embarrassed you.”

A soft sigh went up from the female members of the crowd.

“It's okay.” She was still embarrassed, but she was impressed that he was willing to shoulder the responsibility for the kiss.

“Good grief, kids!” Ida clucked her tongue. “It was a kiss, not an X-rated peep show! Personally, I was glad to hear that we had a little PDA going on in Bickford. The town's become entirely too boring. But my point is, Georgie, would you please use your influence to change this boy's mind?”

Vince stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “With all due respect, ma'am, I won't change my mind. So I don't want y'all to go blaming Georgie if I refuse the job.”

“We won't do that, son,” Clyde said. “We're all mighty fond of Georgie around here. You don't have to worry about her taking any flak.”

“Good. I'm glad to hear it.” Vince lowered himself to his chair.

Clyde surveyed his council members. “Here's what I propose. We can approve a motion to move forward with this project contingent on finding a qualified trail boss. Do I have such a motion?”

Georgie made the motion and Steve seconded it. There was no discussion and the motion passed unanimously.

“Georgie, I'd like you to be in charge of finding us a trail boss. If Vince isn't interested, he might be able to recommend someone who is. And under the circumstances, we can't wait another month to hash this out. We'll need to meet again next Monday. I hope by then you'll have found someone.”

“I hope so, too.” At least it wouldn't be Vince. She had that much to be thankful for.

*   *   *

As soon as the meeting adjourned, Vince expected Georgie to make a beeline for the door, but instead she walked over to his table. He stood.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure.” The couple who'd shared his table during the meeting had left. “Here?”

“Here's fine.”

“Drink?”

“Love one.”

He grinned. “I guess now you can allow yourself, huh?”

“I don't know how everybody else does it. My critical- thinking skills go down the drain after a glass or two of wine, a fact I clearly demonstrated last night.”

He winced as he remembered how she'd covered her face during the meeting. “I'm sorry about that, Georgie. Well, that's not entirely true. I'm not sorry I kissed you, but that I made it so public. I should know better. I've lived in a lot of small towns.”

“I'll bet. Vince, the travelin' man.”

“That's me.” He held out a chair for her. “Have a seat and I'll get you that drink. Ike's too busy to wait tables tonight.” As he walked over to the bar, he thought about her comment that he was a travelin' man. She hadn't said it like it was a bad thing. Maybe that was because in this case, his tendency to move around had worked to her advantage.

She hadn't wanted him to take the job. He'd seen it in her face. He wouldn't have taken it, anyway, but he'd caught the quick flash of horror in her eyes before she'd composed herself. That had clinched it for him. No way in hell would he be the trail boss for this project, even if it had been his idea.

Just because he'd thought of it didn't mean he wanted to be in charge. Taking folks out on an overnight trail ride wouldn't be a problem. He'd done that before at other ranches, but only when he'd been backed up by people who knew as much about the process as he did. He'd never run the whole show.

He probably understood more than anyone here, with the exception of Ed, what this undertaking involved. They'd want to purchase calm horses suitable for beginners and more spirited ones for those with riding skills. All four of the horses in Ed's stable were too high-strung for a beginner rider.

Ed had the expertise to pick out the tack, but he might not know how to plan a trail route if he wasn't in the habit of taking people out. An overnight campsite would have to be prepared in advance, complete with a fire circle and wood. Somebody with camping knowledge would need to organize the chuck wagon, the bedrolls, and the tents.

Vince could do those things if necessary. That wasn't really the part that bothered him. Being responsible for the success or failure of the whole shootin' match—that was what bothered him. He'd be a key man, someone everyone looked to for answers, someone difficult to replace. That was so not his style.

Moments later he carried his bottle of beer and Georgie's red wine back to the table. She'd fired up her laptop and was looking over her notes.

“Think you got everything that went on?” He set her wine down next to her and took a seat across the table from her. All things considered, he'd play it safe and not get too close.

“I think so, at least the gist of it. Myra summarizes instead of trying to capture every little detail, so that's what I'm doing.”

“It's generous of you to give your time this way.”

“I'm glad to do it. Everyone on the council is giving their time, too.”

“Yeah, but I doubt any of them are as busy as you are. It looks to me as if you run that store pretty much by yourself.”

“Anastasia helps me.”

“I know, but she told us during lunch on Sunday that she's more of a liability than an asset. After she described a few of her accidents, I have to say she might be right about that.”

Georgie smiled. “She's supportive, though. I don't know what I'd do without her. And if this trail-ride thing could work out and we get some tourist business in Bickford, Anastasia could sell her art. I know she could.”

“I know she could, too.” He felt a little guilty taking a free portrait. He actually did like it, but he wasn't sure what to do with it. Tacking it to the wall of whatever bunkhouse he landed in would not be smart. He'd never live that down.

Closing her laptop, Georgie picked up her wine. “Here's to you for offering us that idea. Ida's right. It's pure genius.”

He shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with that level of praise. “I wouldn't say that.”

“I would. I wanted to talk to you so I could get Mac and Travis's phone numbers.”