was on his way out when he paused. “Will you be here tonight?”
Travis had to think about that. “Probably.”
“I hope you are,” the boy said. “It’s nice having another man around the place.” And with that, he flew out the door.
Travis rinsed his mug and set it beside the kitchen sink. He met Nell as he left the house. “Do you mind if I plug my computer into an outlet in the bunkhouse? I want to get some work done while I’m here.”
“Not at all,” she said, her smile congenial.
Whistling, Travis returned to the bunkhouse and retrieved his portable computer from his bag. With a minimum of fuss, he located an outlet and set up shop. The computer hummed its usual greeting as the screen saver reminded him that he was one hell of a good writer—a message he’d programmed in to battle the deluge of self-doubts all writers faced.
The note was just the boost his ego needed before he dug into his latest project. He’d achieved indisputable success with his series of Western stories for preadolescents and young teens. The book he planned to write next might possibly be his best; he could feel that even before he wrote the first word. A mainstream novel set in a Western ghost town—his editor had been ecstatic over the idea.
Travis never did the actual writing while he was on the road, but he wanted to document facts about the storm from the night before. One of his characters was sure to lose his socks to a hungry goat, too. He prided himself on the authenticity of his details, although in his past books, most of that background had come from research.
Rarely did anything happen to him that didn’t show up in a book sometime, one way or another. He used to think he kept his personal life out of his work, but that was a fallacy. Anyone who really knew him could follow his life by reading his books. The connections weren’t always direct. Take the end of his marriage, for example. Of the two books he’d written the year of his divorce, one took place in Death Valley and the other on the River of No Return. Those locations had corresponded to his emotional state at the time.
He didn’t want to stop and analyze why a ghost town appealed to him now. Maybe because his life felt empty and he struggled with loneliness. Travis realized without surprise that he envied Nell her children.
He entered notes about Texas, the drive from San Antonio, his impressions of the landscape and the people. The storm was described in plenty of detail. He made notes about Nell and her children. Ruth, too.
The next time he glanced up, he was shocked to discover it was midmorning. He stored the information onto a computer file and headed for the kitchen, hoping Nell kept a pot of coffee brewing during the day. He didn’t expect to see her, since she had stalls to muck out and plenty of other chores, many of which he knew next to nothing about.
He was pleasantly surprised to find her in the kitchen.
“Hello again,” he said.
“Hi.”
The spicy aroma of whatever she was cooking made him instantly hungry, despite the fact that he’d enjoyed one of the finest breakfasts he’d eaten in years.
“What are you making?” he asked. He noticed a can of beer sitting by the stove at—he glanced at his watch—10:35 a.m.! He wondered with some concern if she was a drinker...but then he saw her add it to whatever was in the large cast-iron pot.
“It’s chili,” she said. “Would you like a taste?”
“I’d love it.”
Nell dished up a small bowl and brought it to the table where Travis sat. “This might sound like a silly question, but did you happen to mention to Ruth how many nights you intend to stay?”
He delayed his first sample, wondering if Nell was looking for a way to get rid of him. He’d be keenly disappointed if that was the case. He happened to like Twin Canyons Ranch. His visit would add texture and realism to his novel. And being here was so much more interesting than staying at a hotel, or even at a bed and breakfast.
“I’m not sure yet,” Travis said in answer to her question.
He tried the chili. The instant his mouth closed over the spoon he realized this was the best-tasting chili he’d ever eaten, bar none. The flavors somersaulted across his tongue.
“What do you think?” she asked, her big brown eyes hopeful.
“If you don’t win that prize, I’ll want to know why.” He scooped up a second spoonful.
“You’re not just saying that, are you?” Her eyes went from hopeful to relieved.
“If I was the judge I’d award you the prize money without needing to taste anyone else’s. This is fabulous.”
Nell’s freshly scrubbed face glowed with a smile. Travis had seen his share of beautiful women, but he felt few would compare with Nell Bishop and her unspoiled beauty. The kind she possessed didn’t require makeup to enhance it. She was as real as a person could get.
“I made a terrible mistake when I saw you on the road yesterday,” she said, suddenly frowning a little.
“How’s that?”
“I implied you were...not too bright..” She pulled out a chair and sat across the table from him. “I was wrong. You’re obviously very bright, indeed!”
Three
“How come you were asked to be one of the judges for the chili cook-off?” Glen asked Ellie as they walked toward the rodeo grounds. The air was charged with excitement.
“Just clean living,” his wife replied, and did her best to disguise a smile. Actually it had more to do with her participation in the Chamber of Commerce. But her husband had done nothing but complain from the moment he learned she’d been asked to judge the chili. It was a task he would have relished.
“I’m the one who happens to love chili,” he lamented—not for the first time.
Unable to help herself, Ellie laughed out loud. “If you want, I’ll put your name in as a judge for next year,” she said, hoping that would appease him.
“You’d do that?” They strolled hand in hand toward the grandstand. Luckily the ground had dried out after the recent rain. The rodeo was one of the most popular events of the year, along with the big summer dance and the Willie Nelson Fourth of July picnic. The town council always invited Willie to the picnic, but he had yet to accept. With or without him, it was held in his honor, and his music was piped through the park all day.
“Sure will. I’ll let Dovie know you want to be a judge next year,” Ellie promised. “Consider it just one of the many benefits of marrying a local businesswoman.”
Glen wrapped his arm about her waist and gave her a squeeze. “I know all about those benefits,” he said, and kissed the top of her head.
He raised his hand so that it rested just beneath her breast. “Glen,” she warned under her breath.
He sighed and lowered his hand to her waist.
Ellie
