it happen? Here at the park?”
“No, thank goodness.” She rolled her eyes. “Can you imagine the publicity we’d get about it after already having a horse stampede during the soft opening? But from what I heard, he might have sprained his ankle. And I can’t see him resuming Rusty’s role if he’s sporting a modern splint. Don’t worry,” she added quickly, seeming to recognize Galen’s alarm, “the casting department will be able to find someone to replace him. Right now, I’m concerned with getting us through today.”
“Hold on.” He closed the script and tossed it on the picnic table. “I remember something about this taking ten minutes of my time.” The authenticity-consultant business was temporary and only took up part of his day. He might not have been a real fan when the park first opened, but even a man like him could recognize that the park’s success meant success for Horseback Hollow as well.
He hated change, but he loved his hometown more. So he was willing to do his part. And the fact that Moore Entertainment was willing to pump some serious money into the town contributed to that willingness.
Nevertheless, he still had his own ranch to run, and even at the best of times, that was a 24/7 job.
“That’s all I agreed to,” he said. “Once I embarrass myself in the noon show, your—” what had she called it? “—casting department better be finding someone else in the two hours before the next show.”
“I’m sure they will,” she soothed. She slipped a tube out of some mysterious pocket hidden in the side of her skirt and ran it quickly over her lower lip, leaving it pinker than it ordinarily was and intriguingly shiny. “In the meantime, we’ve got a crowd to entertain. Okay?”
He dragged his eyes away.
What the hell was wrong with him? A corner of the McElroys’ spread had butted up next to his folks’ property his whole life. He wasn’t all that sure that his little brother Jude hadn’t dated Aurora once upon a time. Before Jude fell for Gabriella Mendoza last year, he’d changed girlfriends more often than Galen changed shirts.
“Yo, yo, yo,” Frank hailed, joining them. He dropped a proprietary arm around Aurora’s shoulders and squeezed. With his free hand, he twirled one side of his fake mustache and leered at her. “Ready to become my wifey, my dear?”
Aurora’s smile thinned a little. She unhooked Frank’s arm from her shoulders and stepped away from him. “Save it for the crowd, Frank.” She sent Galen a smile and marched ahead of them to climb into a buckboard that would carry them down the center of Main Street while the guests were safely held back from the action with ropes carried by security guards dressed as old-time railroad workers.
As he watched, she worked a small headset into her riotous curls and he felt a fresh wave of misgivings. That headset was a microphone. She followed up the headset with a lacy veil held onto her head by a band of white roses.
“Rory likes playing hard to get,” Frank was telling Galen in a man-to-man tone that set Galen’s teeth on edge. “Makes the gettin’ all that much more fun.”
Galen eyed Frank, realizing he wore a tiny microphone, as well. “Am I gonna have to wear one of those?”
“Nah. Your important lines are picked up by the stage mics. Just remember they don’t kill the audio until right before you kiss Lila.” He clapped Galen on the shoulder. “Break a leg,” he said before sauntering ahead to climb up beside Aurora. She had her head tilted back, seeming to be looking up at the sky.
Another young man whom Galen didn’t know handed Frank the reins for the horse’s harness, then moved up to the front to lead the horse around toward a wide gate that he swung open.
Over the loudspeaker, a deep-voiced announcer was telling all comers to hold on to their chaps ’cause they were in for a hog-tying good time down on Main Street.
On cue, Aurora looked back at Galen and gave him an encouraging thumbs-up. Then Frank flicked the reins and the buckboard rattled out of the gate just as adventurous music blasted over the loudspeakers. A moment later, Galen could hear Aurora’s and Frank’s voices as the show began in earnest.
“Good grief,” he muttered, feeling a strong urge to sit on the picnic bench and stick his head between his knees. What the hell had he agreed to do?
But there was no time for second thoughts. Over the speakers, he could hear “Lila” proclaiming her faith in her beloved “Rusty.”
“You’re the new Rusty?” A vaguely familiar-looking skinny guy wearing a ten-gallon hat and a bright, shining sheriff’s star on the chest of his blue shirt got his attention.
“Only for this show,” Galen allowed.
“Come on, then. I’m Sal the Sheriff.” He shoved a bedraggled-looking scroll into Galen’s hand. “That’s the deed you need to wave in Frank’s face before you knock him out and kiss Lila. Try not to drop it like Joey keeps doing when we’re riding down Main Street.”
Galen started, but Sal was already hurrying him to another gate farther along than the one the buckboard had gone through. There were ten horses waiting, eight of them already mounted with riders. Some were dressed like Frank. Some like Sal.
He tucked the deed inside his shirt and swung easily up into the saddle.
But his thoughts were nowhere near so calm.
He should have paid more attention to the end of the script. He’d gotten to the punching Frank part. But he’d clean missed seeing that he got to kiss the fair Lila at the end.
Galen had never gone to school to study acting the way Aurora had. As far as he was concerned, kissing Lila would be as good as kissing her.
And even though he was rapidly realizing that wasn’t an entirely unappealing notion, it wasn’t something he necessarily wanted to do in front of an audience!
Aurora didn’t have to work too hard to look dismayed as she fended off Frank’s advances when he pulled her unwillingly toward the wooden stage at the end of Main Street, where a preacher paced back and forth in front of the old west building facade of a bank, a boardinghouse and a feed store. Frank had been making advances toward her for the past two weeks—ever since he’d joined the cast—and didn’t seem to take the hint that she wasn’t interested.
“I don’t want to marry you,” she cried out loudly for the crowd who’d been following them along Main Street as her trials and tribulations were extolled. “I love Rusty. He’d never desert me like you claim!”
Frank pulled her close, his leer exaggerated for the audience. “He’s gone off to Dodge City, my dear.” He twirled his mustache for added effect. “He’s never going to come back. Your only hope to save your departed daddy’s land from the railroad—”
The crowd booed on cue.
“—is to marry me!” He swept her off her feet, carrying her, kicking and struggling, up the steps and onto the stage. “That’s it, Preacher Man,” he boomed and set her on her feet. “Get us wedded and hurry up about it.”
Behind them, the onlookers sent up a cheer
