Kevin’s gaze widened. “Someone’s got to get the place ready for her to move in.”
“You’re a member of the council, aren’t you?” his mother added.
“Yes.” Gage rolled his eyes. For the sake of his sanity, he planned to keep his distance from this Southern belle. Worse, a Southern belle who was all keen to discover her “roots.” A woman who probably had sentimental ideas and foolish illusions about this place and these people. Nope, he thought again, she wouldn’t last until Christmas.
He’d had a perfectly good day and wasn’t about to let his family ruin it by loading unwanted obligations on his overburdened shoulders. He’d just opened his mouth to say that when the phone rang.
Kevin raced for it as if someone might beat him to it. “Hello.” A moment later, he turned and thrust the receiver at Gage. “It’s for you.”
“Who is it?”
“Heath Quantrill.”
Gage wasn’t excessively fond of the banker, but then his aversion was toward all bankers and not just Quantrill. In truth, he—along with just about everyone else in town—owed a great deal to Heath’s grandparents, who’d founded Buffalo County Bank. The original bank had been in Buffalo Valley, and by the end of the sixties, there were branches in ten other towns and cities. While the other branches appeared to be thriving, the one in Buffalo Valley had to be operating at a loss. Gage suspected Lily Quantrill kept it open for nostalgic reasons. Her grandson had been managing it since last year, driving in from Grand Forks three days a week.
Rumor had it that Heath Quantrill wasn’t happy in the banking business. It was his brother, Max, who’d been slated to take over the operation. Until recently Heath, the younger of the Quantrill grandsons, had spent his time gallivanting around the world, rushing from one thrill to the next. Heath had the reputation of a daredevil who took crazy chances with his life, but it was his brother, his staid older brother, who’d died.
“Hello, Heath,” Gage said.
“Glad I caught you,” Heath said, sounding anything but. “Did you hear about the teacher?”
“I heard. When does she arrive?”
“Three weeks.”
So soon? Gage could feel his gut tightening. It wouldn’t be long before every unattached male within a fifty-mile radius would find an excuse to drop by the high school, hoping for a chance with the new teacher.
Let them, Gage decided abruptly. He wasn’t interested. He had better things to do.
“Hassie asked me to contact the members of the council for an emergency meeting.”
“When?”
“Tonight at seven. Can you be there?”
Gage didn’t feel he had a choice since he’d missed the last one. “Yes.” He didn’t need to attend the meeting to know what it was about; Leta and Kevin had already told him. The entire town was going to turn itself inside out to welcome a woman who wouldn’t last three months.
When he’d finished talking to Heath, Gage took a quick shower and changed his clothes.
“Dinner’s ready,” his mother told him when he came downstairs.
The three of them sat down at the table, and after his mother had said grace she passed him the platter of fried chicken, one of his favorites. He hadn’t taken his first bite before Kevin began to talk about school.
“Did you repair the chicken coop like I asked?” Gage broke in before the entire meal was ruined with talk of Lindsay Snyder.
“I did it this morning.” Kevin immediately returned to the subject of school. “Jessica and her friends are going to ask Miss Snyder about holding a dance. It’s been years since the last one.”
Gage started to tell his brother exactly what he thought of that, when his mother interrupted him.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea, Kevin.”
The boy glanced at Gage. “Before you ask, I mucked out Ranger’s stall, too. And I’ve already fed the dogs.”
Gage nodded.
“Speaking of dogs, I heard the new teacher’s got two of ‘em.”
Gage nearly groaned. It didn’t matter what the subject, his brother and mother would find a way to turn it back to Lindsay.
“What’s for dessert?” Gage asked in one final attempt to talk about something else.
“Peach pie.”
Another of Gage’s favorites. “Is this my birthday and someone forgot to tell me?” he asked. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and peach pie were what his mother generally made for special occasions.
“Not your birthday.” His mother blushed with happiness. “But certainly a day for celebration. Oh, Gage, why can’t you be happy? We have a teacher, and she’s going to bring a breath of fresh air to this community!”
Buffalo Bob Carr knew his luck had changed when he won the 3 OF A KIND in a poker game two years ago. He’d inherited five thousand dollars from his mother’s estate; he’d been looking for a way to invest it and prove to himself, and his father, that he was more than a bum on a motorcycle. Then he’d won the entire business.
He’d been rolling through Buffalo Valley on his secondhand Harley when he met Dave Ertz, who was trying to sell the hotel, bar and restaurant, at that time known as The Prairie Palace. With no buyers in sight, Dave had held a poker game, charging a one-thousand-dollar entry fee. Winner take all. Four men had played, and Bob had won with three of a kind, hence the new name of the establishment.
The way Bob figured it, his momma would be real pleased to see him as a businessman. His old man had always claimed he’d never amount to much, and up to this point, he’d been right. But not anymore. Buffalo Bob, as he’d taken to calling himself, was a dignified entrepreneur.
Bob had taken the four thousand bucks left of his inheritance, ordered a brand-new neon sign, reupholstered the restaurant chairs, spruced up a few of the hotel rooms and opened his doors for business. It didn’t take him long to discover why Dave Ertz had wanted out. Money was tight in the farming community, and folks didn’t have a lot to spare. A night in town was considered a luxury. The truth was, he sold more beer than anything else. Thus far he was making ends meet, but only because he knew how to pinch his pennies. If nothing else, his years on the road had taught him frugality.
He didn’t need a master’s degree from a fancy business college to figure out that if the high school closed because they lacked a teacher, he might as well board up the place and ride out of town the same way he’d rolled in.
Then, the day before, the word had come. One of the women who’d been his guests two weeks ago had decided to take the job. God bless her!
Jokingly, Buffalo Bob had said he deserved the credit for Lindsay’s decision to return to Buffalo Valley. Well, he figured he was partially responsible for this sudden reversal in the town’s fortunes. He’d put the two women up in his best room and served them his special all-you-can-eat spaghetti dinner.
That Saturday night had been one of his best financially. He’d recently picked up the karaoke machine from a restaurant in Cando that was going out of business. With Joshua McKenna’s help, he’d managed to get it working. That was the day Joanie Wyatt had stopped in and gotten things started with a song from the Beatles’ “Sgt. Pepper” album. Bob had sold more beer that one afternoon than the entire previous week. He’d sell more this coming weekend, too, now that folks around town had a reason to celebrate.
“What’s the special tonight?” Merrily Benson asked, breaking