Fried Pickles and the Fuzz Page 2

  She smiled. Few things had made her heart flutter the past few years, but the feeling she got watching Bronson clean his plate, clearly a meal enjoyed, nearly made her toes curl. No, they weren’t dating, but late at night when they were the only ones in the café, Heather liked to imagine that things were different. That they were a couple. She liked the thought of taking care of him, of belonging to him and him to her.

  Heather sighed. Maybe Beth Ann was right. Maybe she should just make a move. Friday afternoon’s picnic would be the perfect opportunity for a casual first date. Heather mentally nodded. She’d ask him tonight… after dinner… once they were alone.

  “Speaking of older than dirt, I heard that Gus got out again last night.” Beth Ann’s voice sliced through her woolgathering. “That’s the word on the street, anyway. Billy said he must have jimmied the latch.” Beth Ann hopped off the counter and peeked out into the dining room. “What are you going to do about him?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest. I guess I’ll just have to be patient until I can get everything lined up for the loan through the bank.” Heather sighed. “The poor old guy is just so lonely.”

  “I know, but he can’t keep wandering around like that. He’s liable to get hurt or cause an accident or something.” Beth Ann tugged a rubber band from her wrist and pulled her curly red hair up into a messy ponytail.

  “I’m doing the best I can.” Heather stared into the saucepan of potatoes. It was getting close to time for the parade to start, but she needed to take care of the Gus situation. Most everyone in town had pitched in to help care for him, but he held a special place in her heart, and she was the one that everyone in town looked to her to solve his special problem. She only wished that she had the space right now for him to come and live with her. It would make things a lot easier. “In the morning, I’ll run down to the hardware store and see if he can stay with Arthur for a couple days. Just until I can get another appointment with Carl at the bank. For tonight, Billy will just have to do his best to keep him home.”

  Beth Ann nodded. “No problem. I’ll tell Billy to put a lock on the door tonight. We’ll see if that keeps him from getting into mischief. I’d better run. It’s about that time, and I want a good spot this year. Last year I got stuck behind Mr. and Mrs. Oldham, and I think they must have had fried cabbage for lunch because the smells those two were letting go were strong enough to peel paint off the water tower.” She giggled as she sashayed toward the kitchen door. “I’ll save you a spot.”

  Heather stopped whipping the spuds, and turned toward her retreating friend. “Thanks. You’re a doll.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Beth Ann glanced back over her shoulder and raised a single crimson brow. “But remember, you’d better snatch that man up before somebody else does.” Giving a sassy wink, she pushed through the swinging door and left Heather staring after her.

  With a shake of her head, Heather turned back to the stove and the potatoes. Okay, fine, it was really nice that Bronson waited until right at closing time to come in. It made the visits seem intimate. Private. Something special for just the two of them.

  Their nightly conversations seemed to cover nearly every subject from the daily grind to favorite movies and funny memories. They had gotten to know each other pretty well in the two months he had been in town. Not that she would claim to be the only person in the county he had personal conversations with, but as far as she knew, he didn’t really socialize much. He had mentioned a guys’ night with the county livestock officer a couple weeks ago, but other than that, she wasn’t sure if she could recall a single instance of him talking about hanging out with anyone.

  Maybe she was special.

  Then again, maybe she was delusional. Seeing what she wanted to be there rather than what actually was.

  She shook her head again. No matter how much she wanted to take her friend’s advice, Heather just wasn’t the type of gal to make the first move. Never had been. Not in matters of the heart anyway. Yes, she would flirt to an extent and drop a hint or two, but she preferred to leave it up to the man to do the asking. Assuming that Bronson even had any interest in her other than her cooking.

  “I’m heading out.” Erma poked her head into the kitchen. “Gotta get a good spot. You coming?”

  “No, that’s alright. You go on. I still have a few things to do but I’ll catch up.” Heather quickly finished up the prep, covered everything, and headed out of the café.

  Main Street was hopping. The entire square was an undulating sea of residents, visitors, and county locals who had halted their day to make the trip into town for the yearly parade.

  Bright balloons and colorful streamers danced in the breeze from stop signs and light poles on both sides of the road. Snack vendors set up their portable stands in strategic locations around the square, offering everything from cotton candy to grilled corn on the cob and shaved ice. The gazebo in the center of the square was adorned with festive banners boasting the thirtieth annual Big Creek Days.

  Picturesque and quaint just didn’t seem to accurately describe their little town. Unlike many small towns, Big Creek’s square didn’t boast a large courthouse or county building. Instead it was a family-friendly, manicured garden of sorts, where residents were free to picnic in the shade of large oak trees or sit on any of the number of park benches scattered around. Bright flowers bloomed in the numerous maintained beds, and smack dab in the center sat a large white gazebo used for everything from the county cloggers shows to public speaking events and live music.

  It would be the center of many of the events taking place during the festival this coming week, including the boxed lunch auction, picnic, and dance on Saturday. Heather was looking forward to all of the events. It had been a few years since she’d been able to enjoy the full week of festivities, and while she wouldn’t be able to participate in all of them, she planned on at least seeing as many as she could. The parade was just the start of a fantastic week to come. She just knew it.

  Moving carefully, Heather wove her way through the throngs of folks all settling into position for the parade, toward the feed store at the end of the block. Beth Ann would no doubt already have their spot secured and would either be snuggled up to Billy or chomping at the bit for him to run the last customer out of the store and join her by the light pole.

  Another ten feet confirmed her first suspicion. Beth Ann and Billy were standing arm in arm on the corner, a group of small children from town right in front of them sitting on the curb. They both waved as they saw her approaching. “We were starting to wonder if you’d changed your mind and decided to hole up in The Pickle.” Billy tugged her braid.

  “And miss the opening event? No way.” Heather had waited a long time to get back to Big Creek, and she didn’t want to miss a single minute of this festival.

  “This will be your first festival in what, three years?” Beth Ann picked a dab of fluffy cotton candy from the mound on the cardboard cone she held and popped it into her mouth.

  “Yep, and I’ve really missed them.” Scanning the crowd across the street on the square lawn, Heather looked for Bronson.

  “Who ya lookin’ for?”

  Heather glanced at Billy. With his dingy ball cap cocked slightly to the side and his crooked smile, it was easy to see why Beth Ann was so smitten. Blond hair and green eyes only seemed to add to the rugged appeal that Billy exuded. Years spent working in his family’s feed store and grain mill had chiseled his muscles into works of art. His biceps and forearms bulged beneath his deeply tanned skin, toned and rock hard from lifting and toting fifty-pound sacks of grain and feed for nearly fifteen years. “I’m just trying to see who all made it this year.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Beth Ann offered Billy a bite of her spun sugar. “You’re not foolin’ anybody, hon. Tall, dark, and studly came by about five minutes ago, heading down to the parade start to make sure everyone is all ready.”

  Billy swallowed his cotton candy and looked down at Beth Ann. “Studly, huh?”


  The redhead giggled, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed the tip of his nose. “Doesn’t hold a candle to you, baby.”

  “You two are positively nauseating.” Heather began scanning the crowd again. While most of the faces were locals, there were a number of visitors and tourists who had popped into town for the festivities this year. Big Creek Days had really grown in popularity during the past three years, it seemed. Beth Ann had told her that the Friday night rodeo was now one of the biggest in West Texas, bringing in competitors and spectators from all over the country.

  For a small Texas town that balked at change, Big Creek and its business owners collectively couldn’t argue that visitors brought money into the community. Money that ultimately worked its way around the town and county, breathing new life into the economy and helping to sustain a way of life they all treasured.

  Music and clapping from the other end of the block drew their attention. As with tradition, the parade would start on the corner of Main and First, circle the square, and end at the corner of First and Second. The horseshoe pattern made it perfect for crowds lining the streets to see everything, and those on the square lawn could still enjoy. Plus it put the end of the parade near the beginning so they could easily head right back into the school parking lot to dismantle floats, load horses, and end the merriment with ease.

  The high school band marched by, followed closely by the flag twirlers. Next came Mayor Higgins in his classic convertible, then the Historical Society Matrons. Many of the local businesses and community groups had created colorful floats along with most of the school clubs. Each one a varying degree of whimsy and town pride, but all were works of art and a testament to what kids and boosters could do with a flatbed trailer, two-by-fours, chicken wire, and tissue paper.

  The crowd cheered as the local rodeo queen and princesses, all decked out in their finery, pranced down the road atop their equally gussied-up mounts. The Shriners in their little cars came next, whirling and tossing candy to all the giggling children who lined the streets. Several of the local rodeo clowns had agreed to join in the event, and they came next, spreading their joy with free passes for the kiddos to Friday night’s rodeo.

  Heather knew the end was near. Next it would be the local rodeo club and then the police department and sheriff’s cars. She swallowed hard and fought desperately to tamp down the butterflies swooping in her tummy. Bronson. He would be bringing up the rear of the parade… all studly in his uniform and cruiser. She sighed. Oy, she had it bad.

  “Oh my word.” Beth Ann poked her hard in the ribs, jerking Heather from her Bronson-induced fog. “Heather, look!”

  Heather followed the direction of her friend’s pointing finger to the Rodeo Club, currently making their way down the street. Laughter swelled in the crowd until the din was almost deafening. Right there in the middle of the parade, strutting his stuff like he belonged there, was…

  “Gus!”

  So much for a fantastic start to the week.

  Tuesday

  Bronson worked his way around the wall of hay bales, which lined both sides of the square and acted as the protective barrier and racetrack boundary for the upcoming lawnmower race. Day two of the festival was shaping up to be incident-free and all was running smoothly… so far.

  A disturbance of some sort had thrown a wrench in the parade, but for the life of him, he couldn’t get a straight answer out of anyone about what had happened. He’d heard a few different versions but no solid, reliable account. The witnesses claimed everything from rampant livestock to an old man running through the middle of the Rodeo Club and then disappearing into the alley behind the feed store. Since nothing could be confirmed, he’d put it on the back burner to investigate later.

  His gut told him it was Gus, but without hard evidence or someone willing to actually point the finger, there was little he could do. Everyone in town loved the old guy, and Heather had kind of taken him under her wing and was trying desperately to find a permanent living situation for him. For now, he just stayed with whoever was willing to take him for a spell. Unfortunately, the list of good Samaritans was quickly running low as townsfolk were starting to run short on patience where his shenanigans were concerned.

  Passing in front of the bank, Bronson caught a glimpse of Heather seated in the branch manager’s office. Even though she was smiling, it wasn’t the radiant, light-up-her-face smile she usually wore. This particular smile seemed to be only for show, not quite forced or strained but not genuine either. True, her lips turned up at the corners, her eyes crinkled a little, and the occasional flash of teeth would lead someone to believe that the action was heart-felt… save for one single thing. There was no twinkle in her eyes, and that itself was enough to tip Bronson off to the fact that whatever she and the manager, Carl, were speaking about had not been quite what Heather wanted to hear.

  With a gentle nod she stood, shook Carl’s hand, and headed toward the door. Bronson lingered just long enough to ensure they would reach the main door at the same time. Maybe it wasn’t the smoothest way to engineer a casual meeting, but he was willing to do almost anything to spend time with her outside the walls of the café, and since his nerves seemed to fail him every time he attempted to ask her out… well, this would have to do. At least for now.

  “Hey there,” he said as she pushed through the front door of the bank.

  Heather started, her left hand flying to her chest as she whirled around to face him. “Bronson, you scared the tar out of me.”

  The bright summer sun lit her blonde hair, making it shimmer. Her blue eyes danced as she smiled at him. His heart thudded in his chest. There was the sparkle that had been missing just moments ago. “Sorry. You heading back to the café?”

  She nodded. “Where else would I be going? It’s about time to get started prepping for dinner.” She swept her hand toward the makeshift track. “I’ll get flooded when this is over tonight.”

  Curious but not really wanting to pry, Bronson took the opportunity to make a vague poke about her recent visit with Carl. “Yeah, but good business is nice for the bank account.”

  A light blush tinted Heather’s cheeks. “Yes, it is.”

  Hmm, interesting. Everyone in town knew she didn’t have a note on The Pickle. Granny Joy had paid off the loan long before her passing, and with the small apartment above the café, Heather had no need to pay rent or a mortgage.

  Bronson shook himself mentally. Heather’s business in the bank was none of his concern. He had decided when he accepted the position in such a small town that he wasn’t going to get into the habit of nosing around in other people’s affairs. Now that he’d lived here awhile, he saw how easily it could happen. Everyone knew everyone in a town the size of Big Creek. Personal business often ended up as front-page fodder for the sewing circles and the morning coffee crowds, but Bronson was determined not to join in on the trend if it killed him… and it likely would where Heather was concerned.

  Call him a lovesick calf, but he wanted to know everything she did, from the mundane to the extreme. Not that she participated in anything extreme, unless one considered being a participant in the upcoming boxed lunch auction racy.

  Speaking of auction… “So, I was over at the community center this morning and saw your name down for the auction.” Bronson tipped his felt hat back slightly and gazed down at Heather.

  She released a small breathy laugh and nodded. “I used to participate every year, and now that I’m back in town I wanted to get involved again.”

  “Better be careful, you might start a bidding war.”

  “You’ve discovered my devious plan.” Heather winked at him.

  Bronson laughed and folded his arms across his chest. “Yes, my astute powers of observation and all those years at the academy have finally paid off. It took me hours and hours to deduce that the woman who’s been deemed the best cook in the county might cause a brawl to ensue during the bidding for her super-secret boxed lunch.”

  “Sheriff, are you t
easing me?” She reached out and playfully swatted his forearm.

  “Why, yes. Yes, I am. So what are you cooking for the auction?”

  She waggled a finger at him. “I’m not telling. If you wanna know, you’ll have to win the auction.”

  The muscles in his cheeks twitched as he tried to contain his laughter. During the day it was so easy to tease and flirt a little, but when they were alone, he choked. Bronson dragged in a deep breath. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he needed to ask her out in the daylight, when the playful banter seemed to come easier for him. He cleared his throat and watched her face soften. She seemed to be gazing at him almost expectantly. Like she could read his mind and knew what he wanted to do. Maybe she wanted him to. “So, I was wondering—”

  “Dispatch to Sheriff.”

  Bronson closed his eyes. Seriously? Did Martin have some sort of sixth sense when it came to interfering with a man’s plan? He reached up to his shoulder and pressed the button on his mic. “Go ahead, Martin.”

  “Just got a call that a couple of the racers were spotted boozing it up over at the Burro and are now en route to the track.”

  “Ten-four. Did the caller give you a description of the vehicle they were driving?”

  “Umm, yeah.”

  Bronson sighed. “And?”

  “Caller reports that two men are driving what appear to be souped-up lawn tractors down Second Street toward the square.”

  Heather burst out laughing. Bronson opened his eyes and stared at her.

  She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  “And the day started off so well.” He tilted his head back and gazed at the cloudless blue sky. “Are all Big Creek Days like this?”