Hot Cowboy Nights (Lucky Penny Ranch #2)(44)

“And how did your evening go, Mama?” Lizzy asked.

“Absolutely wonderful. We ate at this amazing little Italian place, went back to Trudy’s for coffee, and wound up talking until after midnight. The three of us have a friendship that endures time, separation, and life. We’ve been apart for years and years, but when we are together, it’s like we just saw each other yesterday. And to make the whole evening even better, I went by and saw Mama, and she was lucid,” Katy said. “Pass me those green beans. I sent them on without putting any on my plate.”

Lizzy picked up a chicken leg and bit into it. It was every bit as good as always, but as wonderful as it tasted, it didn’t compare to the fullness in her heart right then with her family around her. This was what she wanted and she was not settling for anything less.





Chapter Twelve



On Monday morning, Toby restacked the feed sacks that had been shoved to the side so the last customer could get at the chicken scratch while he waited on the barbed wire and fence post deliveryman to arrive. It wouldn’t be long until all of these supplies would be moved back to the feed store, but for now, Toby was determined to keep things neat and in order. Blue chased a squirrel out the back door and trotted back with a smile on his face. Shooter glanced over at him as if telling him not to waste his energy on squirrels on a hot day like this.

“Good boy.” Toby patted his head. “I know you and Shooter will take good care of this barn and keep those pesky squirrels away from the feed sacks. I’m glad y’all are good friends. Dogs and cowboys, they need friends in this world.”

His phone buzzed and he fished it out of his shirt pocket. The text, from Lizzy, said that two different customers were on the way to pick up merchandise. The first one had paid for three rolls of barbed wire and twenty fence posts. The second one would be picking up chicken feed. She sent over copies of the sales so he would know exactly how much and what to let them have.

Three trucks rolled up at the same time and Blue scrambled to his feet to go welcome them. Something about the way he ambled outside, eager to make new friends, gave Toby an idea. Later, he would wonder what circular path had taken him from the dog going out to meet the visitors to the end of the road that put the smile on his face.

“There is more than one way to diffuse a bomb,” Toby said.

“Hey, Toby,” Wallace Jones said, waving. “I’m here for three bags of chicken scratch. Lizzy said she’d send you a message. I heard y’all got stuck in a ditch and had to spend the night out there.”

“It’s all the women in Dry Creek have talked about,” Lester Wilson said. “I swear they’ve talked it damn near to death. I heard that you had a devil of a time haulin’ your truck up out of the ditch. Is it going to be fixable?”

“It’s totaled for sure. The insurance company will come out and make the final decision but I’m not holding out a bit of hope,” Toby said. “I’ll help you load up the bags, Wallace, and then we’ll get to the barbed wire and posts, Lester. Looks like you’re going to have to wait until the delivery guy unloads to get your full order. Lots of folks puttin’ in new fence this time of year and stock got down low this week, but give this feller a few minutes and we’ll get you fixed right up.”

“No problem.” Lester sat down in a rusty old metal chair. “I heard that Henrietta wouldn’t help y’all because the way the church women has set their heels against Allie and Lizzy Logan bein’ in their club thing. Crazy old farts. Ain’t a one of them wearin’ halos.”

“Well”—Toby winked at Lester—“Henrietta said she wouldn’t make a phone call for us, but Blake and Allie showed up pretty quick after she left. Don’t go spreadin’ that around, because I wouldn’t want to get her in trouble with the ladies’ group. We were so happy that someone called Blake that we sure wouldn’t want to stir anything up. I hear that she and Irene Miller, Lizzy’s grandma, were real good friends back before Granny got dementia. Maybe she felt beholden to Lizzy because of that.”



Constant scraping noise combined with the loud music playing on the roof of the store made Lizzy nervous as a hooker in a church revival. Stormy curled around her four kittens in her new laundry basket bed behind the checkout counter as if she had no fears at all. Nothing bothered the cat, but then she’d carried her babies to safety in the midst of a hell of a storm. Shingles coming down off the roof and Conway Twitty singing so loud that the folks down at Nadine’s could hear it wouldn’t faze Stormy.

Lizzy was busy moving all the sales merchandise onto a smaller rack and marking them down to eighty percent off, when Dora June and Ruby pushed their way into the store. Up on the roof Conway was belting out “Goodbye Time.” Lizzy wished that she could wave at the two old gals and tell them good-bye without having to talk to them.

Rumors had covered the town worse than all that paper stuck to the trees, but Lizzy pasted on her best smile and pointed at the rack of sweatshirts, western shirts, and hoodies. “Y’all should take a look at this. It’ll go fast at this price.”

Ruby hitched up her jeans and sniffed the air dramatically. “We’re not here to shop.”

Had Stormy passed gas again? It sure looked like Ruby had smelled something horrible. Maybe the cat food caused flatulence. She made a mental note to check the effects of the stuff. It could be that, after a diet of mice and whatever she could scrounge up in the alleys, the cat couldn’t tolerate that high-dollar canned food.