Tumbleweed Weddings (12 page)

“That’s right!” Chance shouted. “I didn’t have money to fix nothing. No wonder the building is condemned.”

A murmur ran through the crowd as Bruce stood. “Callie has the floor right now, Mr. Bixby. Please wait your turn.” He sat down and nodded for her to continue.

“Here’s my point.” She took a deep breath. “I believe the council decided several months ago to close down the library, and—”

Vern jumped up. “Now just a doggone minute!” His face tinged red as he glanced at Bruce and then sat down. “I’ll refute that when you’re finished.”

Callie rushed on. “They have also wanted Miss Penwell to retire, but she has refused to step down from her position as head librarian.”

The councilmen exchanged wary glances.

Callie caught Lane’s eye. He grinned and raised his thumb in the air. She continued, more confident. “So, I believe the council’s decision to tear down our library and not build a new one stems from two reasons. First, they claim this will save the town money, but they really want to raise their own salaries.”

A buzz of conversation went through the lodge. Callie glanced at Vern, who folded his arms and glared at her.

“Second, they’ll be able to get rid of Miss Penwell.”

“Just fire her!” someone shouted. “We want our library!”

A chorus of voices broke out with similar sentiments, and several people stood to shout out their convictions. Callie replaced the mic and stepped off the platform.

Murray strode to the platform and grabbed the mic stand. “We will not have this meeting erupt into a riot! All of you—sit down!” The microphone responded with a loud high-pitched whine.

Amid the noise, Callie made her way to the back, where Lane stood beside Cheyenne.

He smiled and placed his arm around Callie’s shoulders, giving her a quick friendly squeeze. “Great job, Callie.”

She expelled a happy sigh. “Thanks.”

Cheyenne gave her a high five. “What a speech, girl. I can’t believe how calm you were. You really told them like it is.”

Callie shrugged. “I hope it did some good.”

The three of them stood in the back as one townsperson after another came forward to add their support for the library. After each speech, one of the councilmen took the mic and refuted what had just been said.

After a particularly scathing rebuke from Vern Snyder, Callie gave a frustrated sigh. “The council won’t budge,” she whispered to Lane. “They have their minds made up, and it doesn’t matter what the people want.”

He folded his arms. “That’s the danger of power. Sometimes it goes to people’s heads.”

Cheyenne tapped Lane on the shoulder. “You should give a speech.”

“Me?” He looked startled.

Callie smiled. “That’s a great idea.”

He shook his head. “I’m not good at that kind of thing.”

“But, Lane …” Callie placed her hand on his arm. “You told me this was one of the best libraries in the country. Most of our people have never been to another library. We need your input.”

“I don’t like speaking in public, Callie.” He kept his voice low. “Besides, I don’t think it would do any good.”

“I think it would.” She moved a little closer and stared up at him. “Won’t you do it for your new hometown? Or maybe, for me?” She whispered the last two words and realized she was acting just like Tonya. But she stood still, waiting for his response.

Lane returned her stare then reached over and slid her glasses down her nose. His face went out of focus, but Callie stared at his eyes and blinked a few times.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Okay, Callie, I’ll do it for you.” He straightened and winked.

A little thrill ran through her.

The microphone whined again. “Is there anyone else?” Bruce scanned the crowd.

Most of the people looked worn down. Several children had fallen asleep in their mothers’ arms. Many older citizens fanned themselves with pieces of paper.

Callie gave Lane a little push, and he took off toward the front of the room. She adjusted her glasses so she could watch him.

The crowd stirred as he walked forward. Bruce handed him the mic and sat down.

Lane took a deep breath. “Uh, I’m new in town. The name is Lane Hutchins.”

He paused, seemingly surveying the crowd, but Callie thought he looked nervous—like he was about to bolt off the stage. She gave him a thumbs-up, just as he had for her.

Clearing his throat, he nodded. “I’ve lived in a number of states during the past few years, all in small towns. Every one of those towns had its own library, but none of them were as good as the Dorsey-Smythe.”

A murmur ran through the crowd.

“When I first visited the library here at Fort Lob, I couldn’t believe the excellent reference section. Here was a library that had books about Wyoming in its own room. And I heard that Miss Penwell, who was on the town council for eight years—” He nodded to the men in the front row. “Evidently Miss Penwell was instrumental in buying the books in that room.” He smiled, seeming to relax a bit. “The history of Wyoming is fascinating, and you have a great collection at your fingertips. It’s a wealth of information. Don’t let it go! We need to fight to keep the Dorsey-Smythe Library open.”

The crowd broke out in applause. Lane replaced the mic and stepped off the platform. The applause accompanied him all the way to the back of the room, with a few whistles and shouts of “Bravo!” thrown in.

Bruce took the microphone. “It is now ten o’clock, and we will dismiss the meeting. Be assured that the town council will convene to discuss this, um, problem.”

Conversation filled the room as the crowd rose and began flowing toward the exits.

Callie shared a smile with Lane. “I’m glad you spoke, Lane. You did a great job.”

“Thanks.” He gazed at her.

Agatha Collingsworth strode toward Callie. “Oh, Callie, sugar! I must speak to ya’ll. Got a minute?” Not waiting for an answer, Aggie pulled her to a corner of the room, away from Lane and the milling crowd. “I don’t like the way this meeting went tonight. Do you?” Her dark eyes, usually dancing with fun, were serious for once.

Callie shrugged. “It’s hard to say how it affected the council.”

“Hard to say?” Aggie lightly smoothed back her hair. “Those stubborn men are going to do
nothing
about keeping our library open. But I got an idea.” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “We need a petition, ya know? If we get enough townspeople to sign a petition to keep the library open, the town council will have to honor it.”

“But what are the laws about presenting a petition?”

Aggie cackled. “I’m one step ahead of ya, girl! I talked to Bertram Lilly this morning over at the county courthouse, and he told me exactly how to get that council to sit up and take notice.” She pulled a piece of paper from her purse. “I already made a mock-up to collect names and addresses. Look it over and see what ya’ll think.”

After some discussion, they agreed on a plan. Finally Aggie left the Elks lodge, which was empty now except for five people clustered near the platform, deep in conversation. Cheyenne sat by herself in the second row from the back of the room.

Callie realized she’d been standing for more than three hours. She sank into a chair in the row behind Cheyenne. “Where’s Lane?”

Cheyenne swiveled around. “He didn’t stay long.”

“He left?” Callie sighed, tired from the emotional roller-coaster ride she’d taken in the past few days. “I don’t know what to do about him, Cheyenne.”

“What do you mean?”

“I really like him, but I don’t think we’re meant for each other.”

“Don’t say that. He likes you. Why, just look at the way he acted toward you tonight—staring in your eyes and whispering in your ear. I bet he’ll be at the library tomorrow morning when you open.”

“The library’s closed on Wednesdays.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

Callie removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “He’s so reclusive, and I still don’t know what kind of agent he is. Sometimes I wonder if it’s God’s will for us to get together.”

“Oh, Callie.” Cheyenne placed her hand on Callie’s arm. “I have a strong feeling about you and Lane.”

“I don’t. I don’t have any peace at all. He hasn’t called or tried to see me.” Callie shrugged. “Maybe I should just forget him.”

Cheyenne’s blue eyes widened. “Don’t do that! I thought you wanted to marry him.”

“Well, yeah …” Lane’s handsome face popped into Callie’s mind, and she thought how easy he was to talk to. “But he’s so bitter toward God. And besides that, something is going on in his life that he doesn’t want me to know about.”

Cheyenne shrugged. “If that’s the case, God knows what it is. Personally, I think the Lord brought him to Fort Lob just for you.” The dimples in her cheeks deepened with her smile. “You have to trust the Lord, not worry about the future. Take your burden to the Lord and leave it there.”

“You’re right.” Callie sighed. “I’ll pray and let the Lord take care of it.” She put her arms around her friend and hugged her, which was difficult with a chair between them. “Thanks for your advice. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You keep owing me more and more, but I know how the debt can be paid.”

Callie raised her eyebrows. “How?”

Cheyenne grinned. “Make me a bridesmaid in your wedding.”

I
’m checking this book out, Callie.” Vern Snyder laid a slim volume on the checkout desk and slapped his library card on top of it.

It was eleven o’clock on Friday morning, and Callie hadn’t seen Lane since Tuesday night at the meeting. But she’d seen plenty of Vern.

She picked up his card. “Seems like you’re spending a lot of time at the library, even though you want the building to be demolished.” She glanced at the title of his book—
How to Become a Millionaire in Twelve Weeks
.

“Yeah, well, you know.” Vern shrugged. “It’s a place to hang out. Once the library closes, I aim to spend my time at the Trailblazer Café.”

She ran the book under the scanner. “Has the town council met to discuss the protests about tearing down the library?”

“Nah, we don’t need to do that. This building will be gone in two months.”

“Aggie Collingsworth still thinks we can keep the library open. She’s circulating a petition for a revote.”

“A petition?” Vern’s bushy eyebrows met between his eyes. “That woman don’t know when to stop. How does she know what’s good for this town? Well, she don’t. That’s why we have a town council.” He picked up the book. “This library has got to go, Callie. It’s for the good of Fort Lob. Remember that.”

Callie sighed as he left. Why were they bothering to petition?

The door opened to admit Cheyenne, dressed in her US Postal uniform, a mailbag slung over her shoulder. “Here’s the mail for the library.” She placed a letter, several magazines, and a newspaper on the checkout desk.

Callie smiled. “You’re delivering the mail today, Cheyenne?”

“Yeah, Bernie’s sick. But I like doing delivery. Gets me out of the building. It gets so hot in there without air-conditioning.” She tapped the newspaper. “You should read today’s article by Herbert Dreyfuss.”

Callie picked up
The Scout
. “What’s the subject?”

“The danger of power in city halls.” Cheyenne smirked. “It was awfully quiet over at the Trailblazer Café—you know all those men who meet there for breakfast every morning? Most of them are on the council, and I don’t think they appreciated Mr. Dreyfuss’s opinion.”

Callie found the column on page eight beside the familiar picture of Dreyfuss—a handsome man in his sixties with graying temples. She spread the paper on the desk. The article was called “City Hall and the Dangers of a Political Machine.” Silently she read the first few sentences. “But Cheyenne, this is about New York City and the history of Tammany Hall.”

Cheyenne leaned over and pointed to a paragraph near the bottom of the page. “Read this—out loud.”

Callie focused on the words. “ ‘The political machine that wields power doesn’t have to be in a big city. Sometimes small towns have a group with great influence over their citizens. A town council often runs the town, making decisions without any input from the populace. In effect, it’s the old problem of taxation without representation.’ ” She looked up. “Wow, he put his finger on Fort Lob’s problem.”

“Isn’t that an amazing coincidence?” Cheyenne hefted her mailbag over her shoulder. “You’d think old Herbert knew what had happened Tuesday night.” She turned to the door. “Gotta run. Later, girlfriend.”

“Bye.” Callie perched on the stool behind her and read the entire article. Except for that one paragraph, the article didn’t have a remote resemblance to Fort Lob, but the mention of the town council was certainly a strong coincidence.

Just like the Yellowstone article.

Turning to the computer, she pressed a few keys. Lane’s name popped up with a list of books he had recently checked out.

Callie’s jaw dropped. “I can’t believe this,” she muttered.

Two children brought their books to the desk, interrupting her. She checked them out then helped a young mother find some books on child rearing. Ten minutes later, she got back to Lane’s name on the computer, hoping no one else would need her.

She remembered calling Lane on Tuesday afternoon about the protest meeting. She called around four o’clock, but then he was late to the meeting, not arriving until eight thirty. According to the computer, he had checked out two books at 7:15. She stared at the titles.

William Tweed: Boss of Tammany Hall
.

New York City and the Political Machine
.

She took a deep breath. Lane definitely had something to do with Herbert Dreyfuss. But what?

The door opened, and Aggie swept into the library. She held a clipboard in her bejeweled hand. “Oh, sugar! You wouldn’t believe all the signatures I’m collecting.”

Callie sighed. “Do you think it will do any good? Vern seems to think the library is history.”

“Of course Vern would think that! He doesn’t come up for reelection for another three years. But we’ll show him!” Her husky voice sounded confident. “I just got back from Bruce MacKinnon’s ranch. We had a good talk.”