Tumbleweed Weddings (6 page)

Lane didn’t want to get off the subject. “So Lob quit scouting and built this town?”

Callie nodded. “But it wasn’t much of a town when he was living.”

Jake laughed. “It was more like a few buildings with a big fence around them to keep out the Indians.”

“Where does Henry Dorsey-Smythe come in?”

Tonya walked back into the room. “Okay, everyone. Mom is ready to cut the pies.” She looked at Lane. “Do you want cherry or apple?”

“Uh … cherry would be great.”

Tonya smiled. “Whipped cream?”

“Sure.” Lane smiled back.

Tonya gazed at him another moment before she took the other orders.

Lane drummed his fingers on the table. As soon as he ate his pie, he would make some excuse to leave. Tomorrow he could ask Callie at the library about the history of Fort Lob. He wondered if there were any books about its founder. Fort Lob seemed to be one of those overlooked towns in the United States with a fascinating history.

On a more personal note, he had to think of some way to get Callie to remove her glasses. She might be as beautiful as her sister.

And a lot less suffocating.

O
n Monday morning, Callie reached beneath the library’s checkout desk and pulled out a book to read. Business had been slow this morning. Only twelve people had entered the library, and ten had left. Of the two remaining people, Mrs. Anderson had settled in the conservatory. The other person was Cheyenne Wilkins, Callie’s best friend since first grade. Cheyenne worked at the post office, but Monday was her day off.

Removing the bookmark from
Hearts Joined Together
, Callie began reading. This was a new romance novel she had ordered from Casper, and she was already in chapter nine. In a few minutes, she was deep into the story, but every time the library’s front door opened, she looked up and noted who came in and who left. After a half hour, she had tallied seven people who had come and gone. Somehow she kept her mind on her book.

“Morning, Callie.” Lane Hutchins closed the door and walked toward her.

“Oh!” She shoved the novel under the desk, not bothering with the bookmark, and hoped Lane hadn’t noticed the title. She didn’t want him to think she was interested in romance.

The sleeves of his blue denim shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and he held two hardcover books in one hand.

“Uh, hi, Lane. I guess you’re back to finish your research on Yellowstone.”

“Yeah, I should work on that.” He laid the two volumes on the desk. “I went down to Cheyenne this morning and got a couple books for the library.”

Callie looked at them—two new copies of
A History of Gunfights in America
by Herbert Dreyfuss. “Wow! These are expensive!” He must have bought them at a bookstore, and the retail price was $27.99 each.

He grinned. “It was nothing. Since the town council put a limit on the library’s spending, I thought I’d donate these. At least the library will have two new books in its possession.”

“Thank you, this is great. I’ll have to catalog them.” She hoped Miss Penwell would show more favor to Lane for his generous donation. Hmm … maybe that was why he bought them in the first place.

Lane folded his arms on the desk and leaned forward. “I’d like to learn more about the history of Fort Lob and this library. Are there any books on the subject?”

“A few.” Callie found it hard to breathe with Lane this close. His muscled arms rested on the counter, and she stared at them. “Uh, there are some books in the Wyoming room upstairs, and we also have information on the Dorsey-Smythe family on the third floor.”

“The third floor?” Lane stood up straight. “I didn’t realize you had a reference room up there.”

“We don’t.” Callie dropped her voice. “It’s not open to the public. But if you’re interested in the history of the library, we have some old documents, letters, and photographs.”

His eyes opened wide. “I’d love to see those.”

She glanced around. “Let me make sure no one needs me.”

Cheyenne walked in from the conservatory. The green and orange broomstick skirt she wore swirled around her sandaled feet. “Are you busy, girlfriend?” She laid four books on the desk. “I want to check these out.”

Callie had always thought Cheyenne was pretty with her blond hair and blue eyes, and her round face sported two deep dimples. Her dad called her “pleasingly plump,” but Cheyenne moaned that she was fat.

“Hi, Lane.” Cheyenne’s eyes were almost level with his. “Nice to see you again.”

“Uh, hi.” His brow furrowed.

Callie motioned to her friend. “This is Cheyenne Wilkins. You met her yesterday at church. Her dad owns the grocery store.”

“Oh yeah.” Recognition dawned on his face. “I think I met the whole town yesterday. So, Cheyenne … were you named after the city?”

“Yeah, my mom liked the name. Of course, there was hippie blood in her family, so she had to name me something different.” She laughed.

“You’re looking rather
hip
yourself today.” Callie pointed to Cheyenne’s big hoop earrings and the psychedelic headband surrounding her blond hair. Topping her skirt, she wore a neon orange T-shirt.

Cheyenne laughed. “Last night I was cleaning out Mom’s old sewing room and found a whole bunch of hippie stuff.” She touched the headband. “This belonged to my aunt Vera. She was totally immersed in the hippie culture in the sixties.”

Picking up the first of Cheyenne’s books, Callie ran it under the scanner. Lane stood at the corner of the desk, perusing the cover of
A History of Gunfights in America
.

Callie picked up Cheyenne’s second book. “I’ll check these out and then take you upstairs, Lane. Today has been quiet, so I should have plenty of time to show you some things.”

As if to prove her wrong, the door burst open and two moms with a passel of kids trooped in. The noise level rose ten decibels. They greeted Callie and Cheyenne. Right behind them, five teen girls walked in and ascended the stairs.

Callie’s heart sank. “I’d better stick around the desk for a while, Lane. I’m the only librarian, so—”

“I’ll watch the desk for you.” Cheyenne turned to Lane. “I used to work here during high school. It’ll be fun to check out books again.”

Callie cocked her head toward the noisy children’s section. “Do you think you can handle all the ragamuffins? Sometimes they check out lots of books.”

“Sure.” Cheyenne walked behind the desk. “Piece of cake.”

“Okay, I’ll try to hurry.” Callie looked at Lane. “Follow me.”

Lane trailed behind Callie, his heart picking up its pace.
Herbert Dreyfuss might get a book out of this research
.

She led him up to the second floor then unlocked a door that held a sign reading E
MPLOYEES
O
NLY
. Another set of stairs took them to the third floor, where Callie opened a door into a small room with a slanted ceiling.

“It’s warm up here.” Lane walked to the window and looked out over the town of Fort Lob. “What a great view!”

“You can see for miles.” Callie walked around old furniture, covered with sheets, and stopped in front of a cabinet with glass doors. She took a set of keys from her jeans pocket and unlocked it. Pulling out a large box, she set it on a nearby table. “These are old town documents and photos.” She took another box from the cabinet and glanced at a label on the top. “These are letters written by the Lobs and Dorsey-Smythes.”

“True history.” A thrill ran through him as he opened the lid of the first box. Neatly packed inside were thick envelopes, yellowed with age, and old sepia photographs of Fort Lob in the early 1900s. “Wow, what a gold mine.”

Callie went back to the cabinet, and Lane wondered what else that cabinet held. His gaze swung around, and he pointed to three trunks sitting on the floor. “What’s in those trunks, Callie?”

“Those belonged to Mildred Dorsey-Smythe. She was the granddaughter of James Thomas Lob.”

“And who was Henry Dorsey-Smythe?”

“Mildred’s father. She turned the house into a library and named it after him. She felt her father never got any recognition in this town since her grandfather was so famous.”

Lane nodded. When Callie left, he would take a look in those trunks. They might hold some valuable stuff. “When did Mildred die?”

“Almost fifty years ago. And let me tell you, Lane, this house is falling apart. I wish the town council would do something about it.”

“Don’t they have money to repair it?”

“They have money.” She pulled another box from the cabinet then locked it and faced him. “But they
want
it to fall apart. Mildred willed the house to the town to use as a library, and according to her will, it must remain a library unless the town can’t keep it in repair.” She huffed out a breath. “I think the town council wants to condemn this place.”

Fascinating
. Lane watched Callie’s mouth move as she talked, hardly hearing a word she said. But he heard enough. “This is a great library. I don’t know why they want to get rid of it.”

“They don’t want to get rid of the library itself, but some of the townspeople think the mansion is an eyesore. They want to tear it down and build a modern building.”

He nodded. “Progress, I suppose. Some people have no use for living history.”

“I know. I’ve always loved this old house, and I love history.”

“Me, too.” He gazed at Callie, wishing he could see what was under that pair of glasses. What if she had a beautiful face like her sister? He liked her personality.

With a sigh, he turned to the table. “Is there a chair around here? I’d like to read these documents.”

Callie checked out Mrs. Anderson’s books and watched as she walked out the door. “We sure have been busy for a Monday.”

“I’m glad I was here to help.” Cheyenne perched on the stool behind the desk, pulling the edge of her orange T-shirt over her skirt. “You need more librarians, girl. Why doesn’t the town council hire more people?”

“That’s Miss Penwell’s fault. She wants to be in control.” Callie sighed. “I do wish I could get away sometimes. I love this place, but I live here for eight hours every day. Even though I get a lunch break, Miss Penwell makes me stay in the library. Sometimes I feel chained to this job.”

“Well, I’m going to help you—at least on Mondays. You should get out of the building for an hour.”

Lane walked up to the checkout counter. “I agree.”

“Oh! Uh, hi, Lane.” Callie felt her face heat up. How much had he overheard? “Are you finished on the third floor?”

“No, but I needed a break.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s twelve thirty, and I feel … chained to the library.” He grinned. “Why don’t I take you out to lunch, Callie? We can visit that diner on Main Street.”

Is he asking me out?
A quiet excitement filled Callie, but at the same time, she knew she couldn’t leave the premises. “I’d love to go with you, Lane, but I have to watch the desk here. My lunch break doesn’t start until two, when Miss Penwell arrives.”

Cheyenne studied Lane for a moment before her eyes cut to Callie. “Cool idea.” She turned her back to Lane and winked at Callie. “You definitely need a break.”

Callie opened her mouth, but Cheyenne turned toward Lane and continued. “But you shouldn’t take her to the Cattlemen’s Diner, Lane—or anywhere else on Main Street, for that matter—unless you want all the locals to listen to your conversation and gossip about you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That bad, huh?”

Cheyenne flipped her blond hair behind her shoulder. “Oh, the gossips in this town are notorious. I could name several in our Main Street eating establishments, but I wouldn’t want it to get back to them.” She grinned.

“Okay, then. Where could we go for lunch?”

“I’ve got it!” Cheyenne slapped her hand on the desk. “Why don’t you two go to Ray’s?”

“Is that a restaurant?” Lane asked.

“Yep. Ray’s Burger Retreat. It’s a little hamburger place on Rattlesnake Road.”

His lips parted. “Rattlesnake?”

Cheyenne laughed. “I never thought of it being located on Rattlesnake—that doesn’t sound too appetizing, does it? But Ray has the best burgers around.”