even been a Girl Scout. I wouldn’t know the most basic—”
“Oh, all your objections are just pee doodles,” Hazel scoffed, her eyes cutting to an ormolu clock on the mantel. “Because you’re going to have the perfect guide for this little trek.”
“Guide?” Jacquelyn repeated, immediately feeling like a parrot.
“I should say! None other than Mystery’s own world-champion saddle-bronc rider, A. J. Clayburn.”
Hazel opened up a photo album lying on the pedestal table and passed it over to her visitor. “This is A. J. at the rodeo at the Calgary Stampede, accepting his World Cup. One of the proudest days in Mystery’s recent memory.”
Jacquelyn took in gunmetal-blue eyes as direct as a Remington, an unruly thatch of thick, brown hair that touched his collar. The scornful twist to the mouth irritated her immediately. The handsome man in this photo radiated the easy calm and confidence, bordering on arrogance, of men who were good at handling animals—and thought the talent translated to women, as well.
“You’ve seen him around town, no doubt?” Hazel inquired.
Jacquelyn nodded, still too numb and confused by all this to speak. She had seen him around town, all right. How could anyone miss those metallic eyes and his wide-shouldered, slim-hipped frame? A. J. Clayburn was straight off the cover of a Western novel—but whether the hero or the bad guy, she wasn’t sure. Still, there was no mistaking the living, breathing personification of a great American myth.
But there was no way Hazel could expect her to travel McCallum’s Trace with this man. It was like putting a duck in the desert. He was utterly foreign to Jacquelyn’s genteel, urban world, and vice versa.
Hazel seemed to read some of these thoughts in her visitor’s stunned face.
“Believe me, honey,” she assured, taking the photo album back from her. “You’ll quickly learn to appreciate A.J.’s qualities. He’s what we Western gals like to call an ‘unflighty’ man. Nowadays, of course, that’s not what it once was. I don’t recall any flighty men who took Omaha Beach.”
“Hazel, I just don’t think—”
“Generally,” Hazel nattered on blithely, cutting her off, “when he’s not on the rodeo circuit, you’ll find A.J. perched on the top board of a corral somewhere in the valley.”
“Hazel, honestly, I can’t see me—”
“But he’s not riding this season, you understand. At the year’s first rodeo in Miles City, A.J. caught his spur in a cinch. The horse went over on his leg and crushed it. Now he’s knitting, but it was a bad fall. It’s not clear if the doctors will certify him for the circuit again. Leaves A.J. with some free time to take on guide jobs for me.”
“I’m sorry he’s had an accident. But—”
“Not that he’s pining away and burning any daylight,” Hazel charged on. “Lands no! A.J. stays busy—a little too busy, if you catch my meaning.” She winked. “He’s left a mighty long trail of broken hearts, but still I remember his ma and pa. They were something fierce in love. The kind you don’t see nowadays. A love like the kind I had.” Hazel smiled at her. “Oh, he’ll have a love like that one day. It’s just taken him a while to come around. In the meantime, while his leg’s been healing, he’s helping out his old partner Cas Davis. Cas runs a popular rodeo-riding school in Thompson Falls.”
Hazel finally paused to take a breath.
“I can’t do this,” Jacquelyn blurted out. “I’m sorry. Not only am I unprepared for the ride, but A. J. Clayburn is a stranger to me. I can’t just go camping in the wilderness—”
“He won’t be a stranger in a few minutes,” Hazel assured her, again glancing at the clock. “A.J. will be here any moment now to meet you.”
For a short, panicked moment, Jacquelyn felt her breath catch.
“Meet me?” she repeated foolishly, stunned at this massive loss of control in her very controlled life. Am I a mail-order bride? she almost asked in disbelief.
“Since you’ll be spending so much time alone with A.J.,” Hazel added, “I suppose I should also mention that he has a recently acquired police record.”
Jacquelyn could feel the blood drain from her cheeks. Hazel laughed.
“Steady, dear. He can be rehabilitated. I’m quite sure of it. You’ve heard of Red Lodge, Montana?”
Still shell-shocked, Jacquelyn answered woodenly. “The town where cowboys and rodeo types rendezvous every Fourth of July for a party, right?”
“I suppose you could call that annual riot a party. Anyhow, this year A.J. was arrested for riding his horse into the Snag Bar saloon. Evidently, a deputy or two ‘accidentally ran their jaws into my fist,’ as A.J. put it in court.”
Oh, great, Jacquelyn thought, her stomach sinking. So he’s a drunken brawler, too? How lucky can one woman get?
“If you really want the true feel of being with Jake McCallum and along on his ride,” Hazel told the reporter, “you couldn’t be with a more similar man. Just as Jake was, A.J. is fast out of the gate.”
Hazel laughed at the alarm that must have flickered in Jacquelyn’s eyes.
“Dear, relax. It’s just an old saying. Means a man is clear about what he wants and how to get it. Tell me…is it your skin you’re fretting about?”
“My…skin?”
“I’ve always been told you Southern women take special pride in your beautiful complexions. You’re living proof of that.”
“Thank you,” she said politely, but it was obvious that Hazel was only jabbering like this to head off any more objections about her wild idea.
She was on the verge of demanding why it was so important that she make this mountain trek. But just then a two-tone chime sounded within the parlor. Nervous fear made her heart speed up for the next few beats.
“That will be A.J.,” Hazel announced with evident satisfaction. “Donna will let him in.”
The tap of solid boot heels reached their ears as the new arrival moved through the kitchen and dining room. Jacquelyn’s trapped-deer desperation didn’t seem to escape Hazel’s notice—or her sympathy.
“Everything will be just fine, dear, I promise. I won’t sugarcoat the dangers of those mountains. But with a guide like A. J. Clayburn, you’ll be fine.”
“But I really don’t understand why this is necessary. You said you liked my articles—that they were authentic,” Jacquelyn whispered in a rush to beat the footsteps. “Why is this so important? Why?”
Something secret and mysterious glinted in Hazel’s eyes—something born of great ambition, great determination and great love. But her evasive answer only further frustrated Jacquelyn.
“Be patient. Making this journey will change your life, I assure you. Very few have taken it. Well, would you look who’s here, Jacquelyn! Timely, yet! Well, my land, A.J., don’t
