taking note of the signs of chronic strain and worry molding her features these days, especially the dark circles under those “sapphire-blue eyes.” The smudges betrayed the days of endless fretting and the sleepless nights.
“Well, c’mon, city slicker,” Hazel said, taking Lyndie’s free hand and pulling her toward the parking lot. “I’m parked right out front. You’ll find no chauffeur-driven Jaguars around here. Just my dusty old Caddy with tumbleweeds stuck in the grill and longhorns for a hood ornament.”
“Chauffeur-driven Jaguars?” Lyndie repeated, gasping. “Aunt Hazel, I’m not doing that well.”
“Oh, cowplop! Your mom tells me you’re getting ready to open your second store. That lingerie empire of yours is practically now a conglomerate. I’m proud of you, sweetie. I guess there’s two sharp business tycoons in this family. So don’t you let those cowhands of mine tease you mercilessly about those underwear shops.”
“‘All for Milady,’” Lyndie replied, hamming it up for her favorite relative and quoting from the advertising copy Lyndie had written herself, “‘offers a complete line of women’s intimate apparel, the latest in fit and luxury for the discriminating woman.’”
Hazel rolled her eyes. “Oh, brother! Intimate apparel? All my cowboys know about a ‘teddy’ is that he was once the president.”
They emerged into the sun-drenched late afternoon, a gorgeous June day. Lyndie was amazed that Hazel had meant it literally when she said she was parked right out front. Her cinnamon-and-black Fleetwood sat only about ten feet from the front doors. The small parking lot was almost empty.
“The only reason they call this paved pasture an airport,” Hazel informed her niece as they stored her luggage in the trunk, “is that we get a few flights from Helena. You’re in back of beyond now, girl. And I still say it’s just what you need. Your mom Sarah’s been telling me you’ve been working from get-up to go-to-bed, seven days a week.”
Lyndie managed a woeful smile. “I’m glad to be out west, Aunt Hazel, and to see you. But I confess I’m not so sure about this dude ranch of yours. That part is a little off-kilter right now.”
“Land sakes, why?”
“Oh, you know…I’m not really in the mood to be bonding with a bunch of tourists—”
“Oh, pouf! Besides, Bruce will keep all of you so dang busy there won’t be much time for idle jawboning.”
“Bruce?”
“You remember, I mentioned him to you on the phone? He trains and breeds horses for all us ranchers in Mystery Valley. During the summer he also runs Mystery Dude, from May to September. With some help, of course.”
Lyndie could have sworn she saw a glint of shrewdness in Hazel’s eyes as she added, “He’s also one of the most eligible hunks in the valley. ‘Bedroom eyes’ as us older gals used to say. He puts me in mind of Gregory Peck in his salad days.”
“Oh, no you don’t!”
Hazel glanced over, the very picture of faux shock. “Oh, no I don’t—what?”
“Aunt Hazel, I know good and well a scheming mind lurks behind that innocent-little-old-lady exterior of yours. I told you I wouldn’t come if I was to be one of your victims. Mom has told me all about your little matchmaking schemes, and I made it clear I’ll take no part in—”
“Schemes?” Hazel protested. “I’ve…facilitated a romance or two, perhaps, but—”
“Four weddings in one year? Mom says you even use notches now to count them.”
“Oh, you know Sarah,” Hazel said dismissively, “that niece of mine always liked to stretch the blanket a mite.”
“Uh-huh, sure. Well, please don’t try to ‘facilitate’ anything for me, okay? A little fun and diversion, well, all right, I’ll give that a whirl. But believe me, right now ‘romance’ is the last thing I need.”
“Now, you needn’t be so testy,” Hazel scolded. “I simply remarked that Bruce is good-looking, and here you go and erupt like Mount Vesuvius.”
“I’m sorry.” Lyndie sighed, wondering if she had been overreacting. She was certainly prone to it these days.
Hazel nattered on enthusiastically about Mystery Dude Ranch while Lyndie dutifully tried to pay attention. Outside, the brittle light of late afternoon was taking on the mellow richness of sunset. White gauze clouds drifted in a deep cerulean sky, with majestic mountains forming a postcard-perfect Western vista. Mystery, Montana, was downright sublime in its natural beauty.
Lyndie abruptly realized Hazel had asked her a question.
“I’m sorry, what’d you say, Aunt Hazel?”
“I said, Mystery Dude is right on the way to my place. Since you’ll be moving in there tomorrow, anyway, why don’t we swing by and leave your cowpoke duds in your room? It’s close to supper, Bruce should be back to the house now. You can meet him.”
Lyndie aimed a suspicious glance at her.
“No Cupid tricks,” Hazel assured her. “Honest. Just to give you the lay of the land, that’s all.”
“Sure,” Lyndie responded, perking up a bit. “You’re right. That way we won’t have to haul my stuff around needlessly.”
A grin divided Hazel’s weather-seamed face. “Now you’re whistlin’! Maybe we can even pick out your horse.”
Lyndie could have sworn the sly glint was back in Hazel’s eyes when she added, “If there’s one thing Bruce Everett is a good judge of, it’s horseflesh.”
As if the place were only remembered in dreams, Lyndie realized she had forgotten how breathtaking Mystery Valley was—a patchwork of verdant pastures and fields like spokes radiating from the hub of the town of Mystery, population four thousand. About ten minutes after they entered the valley through a winding mountain pass, Hazel swung the Fleetwood off onto a dirt lane. The lane led to a ranch much smaller than her own Lazy M that dominated the valley.
“Why, there’s Bruce now,” Hazel remarked, tooting the horn as she pulled up in front of a long stone watering trough.
Perhaps a dozen or so people of both sexes and various ages, most with Lyndie’s unmistakable look of “city slickers,” stood near a big pole corral watching something—or someone. The car rolled a few more feet forward, and then Lyndie spotted a tall, lean, weather-bronzed man who was evidently demonstrating how to cinch a girth, using a barrel-chested sorrel horse as his model.
“This is the second new group of the season,” Hazel explained as both women got out of the car. “Bruce takes a new group every three weeks—that way everybody’s on the same page.”
Bruce Everett smiled and waved a greeting at Hazel, excusing himself from the group and striding over to meet the new arrivals.
Even from where she was, Lyndie could see he was indeed handsome, but she felt an almost physical backlash to her attraction, and she couldn’t help but think of the old truism “Once burned, twice shy.”
“Hazel,
