At Home In Dry Creek

It wasn't against the law for her to catch the bridal bouquet, Barbara Strong told herself as she cupped her hands to catch the flowers that had been thrown so expertly at her. Besides, if the bride didn't care that the bouquet went to someone who wouldn't fulfill the prediction of being the next to marry, what did Sheriff Wall care? The sheriff was standing across the room from Barbara and scowling at her as if she'd just lifted the silverware. There was enough music and chatter all around that Barbara doubted anyone else noticed the sheriff's frown--especially not now that everyone was looking ather. Great, she thought, as she forced herself to smile. The whole town of Dry Creek, Montana; all two hundred people, had seen her catch Lizette's bridal bouquet, and now they had one more story to tell each other about her. For months, Barbara had thought that the interest people here showed in her and her two young children had been because their arrival was the only thing that had happened in this small town for a long time. The days had been cold and people hadn't been able to make the trip into Billings very often. Some days there had been so much snow on the roads no one went anywhere. Added to that, everyone had complained that the television reception had been worse than usual for some reason this past winter. People had been bored. Barbara had understood why they would be looking for something new to entertain them. But she and her children had been here almost five months now. In television terms, they were last year's reruns. Nobody should be watching them with such keen interest, especially not the sheriff. The chatter increased as people came up to Barbara and congratulated her. It was dark outside, but inside the large community center, strings of tiny white lights glowed along the rustic wood walls. A circle of people stayed around Barbara after the initial flurry of congratulations had died down. There was a full minute of awkward silence as everyone seemed to stare at their shoes or boots and wait for something. Now that they had her surrounded, Barbara realized, they didn't quite know what to do with her. Charley, a white-haired man, was the first one to clear his throat. "I don't expect you've had a chance to meet my nephew. He lives in Billings," Charley said as he stepped closer to Barbara and lowered his voice. Charley was one of the first people Barbara had met when she'd arrived in Dry Creek last fall. "I don't mind saying he's a fine man. Single and he loves kids. Works as a mechanic in a shop, too, so he could provide for a family--even now he might be able to fix you up with a car so you'd have one. Sort of a courting present, you know--like flowers. He's good with cars." Charley and some other old men spent their days around the woodstove in the hardware store and they seemed to know more than most people about what was going on in this small town. Barbara respected Charley. He had been a rancher all his life and still had a tan line on his forehead that marked where the brim of a straw hat would normally sit. He knew about hard work. He was also one of the leaders of this community. His roots went deep here. That was one reason why Barbara wasn't as annoyed as she could have been with his matchmaking. "You know I can't accept a--" Barbara started to say. She'd begin with the obvious protests and work her way up to all the reasons she wasn't ever going to get married again. "Oh, it'd be his pleasure, don't worry about that. He'd love to help out a pretty young woman like yourself." Charley smiled at her. Barbara thought he looked relieved to have his piece said. Jacob, one of the other old men who regularly sat by the woodstove, shook his head in disgust. Jacob was the one who had invited Lizette, who had just married Barbara's cousin Judd, to come to Dry Creek and open up her dance studio. "She's young all right!" Jacob proTronstad, Janet is the author of 'At Home In Dry Creek', published 2006 under ISBN 9780373874033 and ISBN 0373874030.