Tumbleweed Weddings (5 page)

While he was musing, the ushers came forward to collect the offering. As they passed the plates down each row, piano music began—a rendition of “Onward, Christian Soldiers.”

Lane glanced at the piano player and drew in a sharp breath. What a beautiful girl!

With dark hair that was fashionably messy, the girl looked to be in her early twenties. She had an oval face with perfect skin and full lips.

She played with passion, concentrating on the music, weaving about on the piano bench. One moment she leaned into the piano, her eyes never leaving the music. The next moment she leaned away, her eyes still glued to the notes. After striking a chord, she would lift her left hand—with manicured red nails—in the air and crash it back down, amazingly, on the right keys. Despite all her theatrics and the fact that the music sounded difficult, she played the piece to perfection.

At the end, the audience gave her an enthusiastic round of applause. Lane joined in.

The girl smiled and nodded at the audience. Her beautiful dark-blue eyes glanced around and then stopped at Lane’s. She locked her gaze with his until he looked away.

As the pastor came back to the podium, Lane leaned over to whisper to Callie. “That piano player’s really good.”

Callie stared straight ahead. “That’s my sister, Tonya.”

After the service, Callie introduced Lane to Mom and Dad, and Mom invited him over for lunch. For the next twenty minutes, the church people surrounded him, introducing themselves. He shook hands with them, one by one, until his smile began to falter. Callie felt sorry for him.

“Come on, Lane.” She pulled him away from old Edna Beazer. That woman would be talking nonstop on her deathbed. “We’ll see you later, Edna. Mom invited Lane over for dinner, so we’d better get going.”

“Well, my goodness!” The older woman stopped to suck in her dentures. “I was going to invite him myself, but I know your mother is a good cook. She always brings something wonderful to our church potlucks.”

Callie nodded, wiping a drop of Mrs. Beazer’s spit from her arm. “Maybe some other time.” She pulled Lane toward the door.

The church building was empty, and most of the cars had left. But several people were still talking in the parking lot, including Callie’s brother, Derek.

She walked down the steps with Lane. “I noticed you were riding a motorcycle.”

The church door slammed shut behind them. “Callie! Wait for me!”

Oh no!
Callie pivoted at her sister’s voice.

Tonya, in her tight knee-length skirt, gracefully descended the stairs. She looked at Lane. “Hi there! I didn’t get to meet you earlier. I had to attend a meeting after the service.”

Lane smiled and stuck out his hand. “Lane Hutchins.”

Callie sighed. He looked entirely too interested.

“I’m Tonya Brandt.” She shook his hand, moving closer to him. “I’ve heard all about you, Lane. You just can’t keep a secret in a small town like Fort Lob.” She twittered her signature laugh—the one she used for impressing guys.

He grinned. “Great to meet you, Tonya.”

Callie noticed they were still shaking hands.

Lane continued. “I enjoyed your piano playing. Not many people can play that well. It sounded like a difficult piece.”

“Thank you so much!” Tonya finally released his hand. “I love playing the piano for our church services. It’s such a joy.”

Such a joy?
Callie wanted to throw up. Instead she jumped into the conversation. “We’d better get going. Mom invited Lane for dinner.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Tonya batted her thick, dark lashes. “Why don’t I ride over with you, Lane?”

“Well …” He glanced down at her skirt.

“He has a motorcycle.” Callie turned to Lane. “You can follow our pickup truck. We’re riding home with Derek—our brother.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

Tonya pouted. “Oh, I wish I could ride over with you. We live seven miles east of Fort Lob on Antelope Road. My dad’s a sheep rancher.”

Lane raised his eyebrows. “Sounds interesting.”

Tonya laid her hand on his arm. “I’m glad you’re coming over. We’ll have all afternoon to get to know each other.”

Callie grabbed her by the elbow. “See you there, Lane.” She walked with Tonya to Derek’s truck while Lane strode to his motorcycle. Tonya climbed into the cab. Callie followed and settled beside her sister. As she closed the passenger door, she felt her opportunity with Lane slamming shut as well.

The thing she feared had come to pass.

A
h! The open road
.

Lane enjoyed the seven-mile motorcycle ride out to the Brandt family ranch. He followed the pickup as it rattled down the paved two-lane road. They passed a few other houses that were set way back from the road and were usually surrounded by trees. Small groups of cattle munched contentedly on tufts of wild grass. Besides those few signs of civilization, the road cut a path through barren rolling hills dotted with sagebrush.

He could see the three Brandt siblings through the back window of the truck’s cab. Tonya sat in the middle, talking nonstop to her brother. Lane had been impressed with Derek Brandt. Taller than Lane, Derek looked to be in his midtwenties, with dark hair the same color as his sisters’. And that Tonya—what a beauty! She reminded Lane of a Hollywood actress, with her perfect facial features and flawless skin.

Derek slowed and turned left onto a narrow blacktopped drive. Lane followed on his cycle, passing under a wrought-iron archway with the words T
HE
R
OCKING
B R
ANCH
in the middle. The driveway was long, possibly five hundred feet, with a row of evergreen trees marching up the left side. Over a small hill, a farmhouse came into view down in the valley. The front porch ran the entire width of the place, with a swing suspended on the left side near the door. Several wicker chairs sat on the opposite side of the porch. It would be nice to sit there in the shade, sipping a tall glass of lemonade.

The pickup stopped beside the house, and Lane parked his motorcycle behind it. He had barely dismounted before Tonya appeared at his side.

“Come into the house, Lane. I’m sure Mom has the meal all ready. She’s made a beef roast today. I know it will be great, and her mashed potatoes are to die for.”

“Sounds good.” He gazed into her eyes—those dark-blue eyes surrounded by thick black lashes. Definitely Hollywood material.

They ascended the porch steps together. Jake Brandt, Tonya’s father, held the door open for them. Like his son, he was tall. He wore glasses, but unlike Callie’s, the glasses didn’t magnify his eyes.

“Welcome to The Rocking B!” Jake shook his hand. “Come on in.”

“Thanks.” Lane motioned for Tonya to precede him into the house. As he walked in, the savory aroma of roast beef surrounded him. “Boy! That smells delicious.”

“Doesn’t it, though?” Tonya agreed. “I’m starving.”

Lane followed her into a spacious living room. They passed a pink-flowered sofa sprinkled with pillows, and an upright piano with framed pictures on the top. In the dining room, a large oak table was set with six green and tan place settings. Several steaming bowls of food made his mouth water.

Mrs. Brandt came out from the kitchen. “We’re all ready to eat. Hi, Lane. Welcome to our home.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, trying to remember her first name. “The food smells great.” He could see where Tonya got her beauty. Even though Mrs. Brandt looked in her midfifties, she still had a beautiful face. Just like Tonya’s, her eyes were dark blue with thick, dark lashes.

“Have a seat, Lane.” Jake motioned to the chair on his left as he took the seat at the head of the table.

Tonya slipped into the chair across from Lane. “It’s going to taste as good as it smells. This is a feast fit for a king.” She twittered a little laugh.

He smiled. This promised to be an enjoyable meal just because he could drink in her beauty. A saying from Uncle Herb popped into his mind.
“Marry a pretty gal, Lane. You’ll have to look at her across the table every morning.”

Mrs. Brandt took a seat at the other end of the table while Derek sat down next to Tonya. Callie slid into the seat beside Lane. Jake asked the blessing, and they passed the food. The next twenty minutes were filled with pleasant conversation and fine dining.

It had been years since Lane had enjoyed such a good home-cooked meal, probably not since he had eaten Aunt Betty’s cooking. And she had died ten years ago, when Lane was nineteen. He took second helpings of everything and was actually full. That hadn’t happened in a long time, either.

He glanced at his hostess. “That was a delicious meal, Mrs. Brandt.”

“Thank you, Lane, but please call me Yvette. Everyone does.”

He nodded. “Yvette.”

Across the table, Tonya leaned forward. “I hope you liked the homemade rolls.”

“Homemade?” He raised his eyebrows. “They were fantastic. I’ve never tasted such good dinner rolls.”

She sat back. “I made them—from scratch, of course.”

“So, you have cooking talent as well as musical talent.”

Her beautiful eyes widened. “Oh, I have a lot of talents. Not only can I cook and play the piano, but I’m also artistic, I love to sew, I’m athletic, and I’m a hairstylist, too. I work at the Beauty Spot over on Elk Road.”

“Really?” He grinned, teasing. “Is there anything you can’t do?” Lane expected her to lower her beautiful eyes in modesty.

Instead, she looked thoughtful. “Not really. I can do almost anything.”

Derek folded his arms. “She’s especially good at boasting.”

“I am not!” Tonya frowned at her brother.

Derek shrugged. “Then what do you call it?”

Yvette scooted her chair back. “Now, you two. Don’t get into an argument. We have company today.” She stood. “Girls, help me clear the table, and then we’ll have dessert.”

Callie stood, and a sigh escaped her lips.

Lane wondered if she was living in Tonya’s beautiful shadow. “Do you only have two siblings, Callie?”

She turned toward him. “Actually there are six of us, and I’m in the middle.”

“Yep.” Jake laid his napkin beside his plate. “We have two married children. Ryan lives in Denver with his wife and sons, and Melissa lives in Colorado Springs with her husband.”

Tonya picked up Derek’s plate. “Melissa just got married last summer. I fixed her hair, and she looked absolutely gorgeous at her wedding. Molly is her identical twin, and she’s a nurse. She works at the Pine River Nursing Home in Douglas.”

Lane leaned back as Callie took his plate. “So Ryan is the oldest sibling?” He looked at Jake, but Tonya answered.

“Yes, he’s thirty-one.” She set down her dishes and counted off her fingers. “It’s Ryan, Molly and Melissa, Callie, Derek, and me. I just turned twenty-three last week.” She shrugged slightly as she gave Lane a little smile. “I’m the baby of the family.”

Jake adjusted his glasses. “I wish my three oldest hadn’t moved away. Seems all the young people leave Fort Lob sooner or later, and I don’t understand it.”

“Well, duh!” Tonya picked up her stack of dishes again. “Fort Lob, Wyoming, is not exactly the hot spot of America, Dad.”

He grinned at his daughter. “It gets pretty hot in the summer. Near a hundred degrees most days in July.”

She looked at Lane and then rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I mean.” She giggled as she grabbed some silverware. “I like Fort Lob. I’ll probably spend my life here, married to a wonderful man someday.” She paused to give Lane a significant look. “But if my husband wants to leave, I’d have to leave, too.” She glanced at her dad. “That’s just the way it is.”

Callie came back from the kitchen and picked up several more dishes.

Lane glanced at her as she took the potato dish from the table. “How long have you worked at the Dorsey-Smythe Library?”

“I got the job right after college graduation four years ago.”

“Do you like working there?”

Callie nodded. “I love it. I’ve always loved to read and—”

“Which is why she wears glasses,” Tonya put in. “When the rest of us kids were playing, Callie was sitting in some secluded corner with a book. Absolutely ruined her eyes.” Toting her dirty dishes, she walked to the kitchen.

Lane was glad she was gone. His infatuation with Tonya faded the more she talked. “Tell me about the library, Callie. With a name like the Henry Dorsey-Smythe Memorial Library, it must have quite a history behind it.”

“It does.” Setting the dishes down, she took her seat beside him. “The history goes back to James Thomas Lob, the founder of our town. For several years in the 1800s, he was a scout for settlers who moved west. But scouting was dangerous work.”

Derek leaned back in his chair. “But James Lob wasn’t of the same caliber as Kit Carson or Buffalo Bill or Jim Bridger. He never made a name for himself like those other guys.”

“I always admired Buffalo Bill Cody,” Jake put in. “He was a fascinating man. When the U.S. Army was fighting the Indians, he’d hunt buffalo so they’d have something to eat. That’s how he got his nickname.”

“Not the army, Dad,” Callie said. “He supplied buffalo meat for the men who were building the transcontinental railroad.”