Small-Town Brides, page 3
Muffled sounds came from the main part of the church and Clay decided they might as well find out who else had sought the warmth of this place. They hung their coats and the blanket on the high rack.
“They’re praying,” Rene whispered as they walked into the large room with pews lining each side. There was a blue flannel banner hanging in the front that had a white dove angled downward on it.
Clay figured he would have known what the people were doing without Rene announcing it to him. But it was a strange time to be praying. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t seen any cars parked in front of the church, either, so these people must have walked here.
He wondered if he’d stumbled into some kind of a cult meeting. It wasn’t natural for people to get up in the middle of the night—in a blizzard—and walk to a church and pray.
One thing was for sure. He was going to stay back here in the shadows. Just going inside a church made him nervous enough without having any unusual behavior to deal with. He didn’t want to see anyone crying hysterically. Or thinking they heard the voice of God. He saw no reason to talk to the people here, either. Any kind of religious outbursts would make him uneasy. He didn’t even like the enthusiasm of Tupperware salesmen.
He glanced down at Rene. Her face was pinking up nicely.
The warm air made Rene’s skin tingle. She hadn’t seen her aunt since her mother’s funeral, and the rich copper of Glory’s hair was a little more subdued than it had been then. Not that Rene would ever fail to recognize her, even when her aunt sat on a pew facing the front of the church with a gray wool scarf half wrapped around her bowed head.
Although she couldn’t hear the prayers, Rene bowed her head and joined with the others. Praying from the back of the church was enough for her.
A phone rang somewhere in one of the back rooms. Rene heard an “Amen” and the people in front turned around. An older man in overalls and a plaid shirt started walking down a side aisle, probably to answer the phone. A second man followed him.
Rene took a step closer to the front before her aunt turned her head and saw her.
“You made it!” Glory called out.
Rene told herself she should have come to Dry Creek sooner. Her aunt’s round face glowed with joy as she braced a hand on the end of the pew and slowly rose, holding a wooden crutch in her other hand.
“What happened?” Rene hurried down the aisle.
Clay watched as Rene ran toward the middle-aged woman who had to be her aunt. He shifted slightly. He told himself he should feel good. He’d delivered Rene to her family. She was no longer his responsibility. He watched as she greeted the others at the front of the church. Somehow the relief he expected to feel didn’t come surging up inside, though. All he could think about was that he needed to get his radio fixed before he made the long drive back to Mule Hollow.
If it wasn’t so cold outside, Clay would have turned around and left the church. He should quietly unload Rene’s car from his truck and leave it on the street. He could mail the bill once he got back to Mule Hollow. He didn’t like goodbyes and he’d just as soon slip away before he had to say one to Rene. She might get all emotional and he’d just stand there feeling awkward. Or, worse yet, he’d end up stammering out something about how much he’d liked being with her on the drive up here. Yes, it was best to avoid that. He should go.
But the warm air kept coming from heating vents on the wall behind him and he figured it wouldn’t hurt to stand in the church for little longer, at least until his toes stopped tingling. Besides, Uncle Prudy was always telling him that he needed to start doing some of the things that normal people did. Clay half-agreed with him; his days in the foster care system hadn’t done much to show him what a regular life was like.
It had taken Clay years to admit there might be more to life than riding broncs. The rodeo world had felt natural to him, probably because he was always breaking camp and moving on to the next ride. Leaving is what he did best. Back then, he had been surrounded by men who lived the same kind of life. They were all buddies, but none of them were really friends.
After Uncle Prudy tracked him down, Clay had started wondering if he hadn’t missed something by not having neighbors and friends and a place to put his socks that didn’t change with each motel room. That’s why, when his uncle mentioned the tow truck business, Clay agreed to try it. He wasn’t sure it would work, but he had to take the chance just in case there was more to life.
It would make Uncle Prudy feel good to know he had stopped in a church.
Clay had become so comfortable leaning against the back wall that he wasn’t paying as much attention as he normally would. Rene and her aunt were halfway down the aisle before he realized they were coming straight at him. Rather, the aunt was coming and Rene was following behind trying to get the other woman’s attention. He looked around quick, but there was no escape. The woman looked determined and she was moving pretty fast for a woman with a crutch.
“You must be Rene’s young man,” the aunt said in a rush of words when she reached him. “I was sure there had been some misunderstanding and you’d come running after her. She’s a wonderful woman. I’m glad you see that.”
Clay listened in dismay until the woman finished. “I didn’t—I mean, I do see, but—”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Rene interrupted, with a look of horror on her face. She was out of breath and pinker than Clay had ever seen her. “He’s the tow truck driver. My car had problems and—”
“Well.” The other woman looked at Rene and then back at Clay. “Paisley didn’t tell me about a tow truck man.”
“I didn’t want her to worry,” Rene said quietly. “I’ll call her tomorrow.”
Clay was being inspected like a bug on the wall.
“I’m bonded,” Clay offered. It didn’t sound like much, but it was the best he could think to say. He was used to men taking his measure, but not the female relatives of young women he’d driven up from Texas.
“Of course,” the woman finally said as her face relaxed into a smile. “And I see you wear a cross. We’re so glad you brought our Rene to us.”
Even though she leaned on a crutch, the older woman stretched one arm out like she planned to step forward and hug him.
Clay ducked his head and took off his hat. He should have taken the thing off earlier. “No need to thank me. And, the cross is not—”
“He’s just doing his job,” Rene whispered fiercely to her aunt. It didn’t seem to matter, though.
Clay wished he could drop his hat to the floor and step on it so the tiny decoration was hidden. It was too late, though, because Rene’s aunt was done studying him and was making that last step toward him.
In all the years that he’d ridden rodeo, Clay had never once closed his eyes during a ride, not even when he knew he’d soon be lying in the dust and aching all over. But he couldn’t help himself; he closed his eyes when he felt the older woman’s arms reach around and hug him.
Clay’s hat fell out of his hand and he felt the crutch pressing into his ribs. He didn’t think a hug should last this long. He hadn’t saved someone’s life or anything. It was just a tow truck job. He was even going to charge; maybe not the whole amount, but enough so it wouldn’t be charity.
“I can’t thank you enough,” the woman said when she finally released him.
Clay took a deep breath.
“No problem,” he managed to say, and then he tried to smile.
He got his lips to cooperate until he saw the older woman’s face. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him with such an expression of kindness, and he wasn’t sure what to do. All he could think was that, if this was a cult, they sure did brainwash their people well. Rene’s aunt looked delighted to see him.
Clay bent down to get his Stetson. The cross on his hat band was a beat-up old tie tack that had belonged to his father. Clay had worn it on his hats for so long, he’d almost forgotten it was there.
“Those roads are so bad out there, I thought Rene would be staying someplace waiting for the blizzard to be over,” the older woman said quietly when he straightened back up. He shifted his hat in his hand so the cross was to the back. If he didn’t think it would provoke more discussion, he would have taken the tie tack off and put it in his pocket.
“Clay’s got a great tow truck.” Rene was standing beside her aunt and talking with more energy than the subject warranted. “Some kind of special make for off-road driving. Has lots of horsepower.”
“It gets me where I need to go.” He wondered when he could make his move to leave. He didn’t want Rene to feel she had to defend him or, worse yet, boost his ego.
Just then a man walked past Rene and looked at Clay. “Did I overhear that you’re a tow truck driver?”
The man’s voice was low and raspy; it almost sounded like he was sick.
Clay nodded cautiously. Middle-aged and sturdy, this was the man who had been leading the prayers earlier, so he must be Rene’s uncle. The minister. Clay had never talked to a minister before. He was surprised that the guy looked so ordinary. Wearing a worn flannel shirt and jeans, he could almost be a rodeo rider. He did smell of menthol, though, and his face was flushed.
“What a relief,” the man said as he held out his hand to Clay. “I’m not contagious, by the way. The doctor says I have an infection, so no one else should get it.”
“I’m not worried.” Clay put his hat back on his head before he reached out and shook the minister’s hand. He figured that got him one step closer to leaving.
“I’m Matthew Curtis. Rene’s uncle.”
“Clay Preston.”
The handshake was over and Clay glanced over at the door. “I—ah—”
Matthew coughed. “Don’t leave yet. I just got a call and we have a car stuck east of here.”
Rene’s aunt leaned forward on her crutch. “But the snowplow’s working the road to the west.”
The man nodded. “That was the Miles City sheriff on the phone. He got a call about a family with a baby in some car. The connection didn’t hold for long. Anyway, the sheriff wants us to send someone out right away. It’s where County Road J crosses over. A little baby can get cold mighty fast, and we’re a lot closer than Miles City.”
Clay felt his muscles relax. He had an excuse to leave. “I’ll go get them. My truck cuts through snow almost as good as a plow does.”
The minister started beaming. “You’re an answer to our prayers.”
Clay felt his breath catch in his chest. He looked over at Rene. He couldn’t tell what she thought, but she looked surprised. Well, so was he. People had called him some strange things in his day, but no one had ever called him an answer to prayer before, not even when they saw his hat.
“It’s nothing. Anyone would do the same,” Clay said. He hoped no one was going to hug him again.
“Maybe so, but none of us have a vehicle that can get through on a night like this. That’s why we met here. We were trying to figure out what we would do if we did get a call and needed to send someone out.”
“Well, I’ll be happy to help,” Clay told the man. He’d be able to slip away after he brought those people back from the cold. When he thought about it, he was glad he was here. Right now, those people needed his help a whole lot more than they needed God’s.
Of course, it would not be respectful to tell the minister that. Clay didn’t share the pastor’s belief in a God who actually listened to people, but, like Rene’s foolishness about love, he could understand how people would want these things to be true. Emotions, he’d noticed in his forty-one years, led people to believe some strange things. Look at him.
He believed that cross he pinned to his hat made him closer to the father he’d never met. His mother had given him the tie tack one day, almost throwing the thing at him while muttering that she didn’t want anything that reminded her of the complete failure his father had been. Clay knew he himself was also a disappointment to his mother, so he held on to the tie tack as though it might someday show him what his father had done that was so wrong.
Chapter Three
Clay pulled his Stetson low on his face. If he had more time, he’d unload Rene’s car before he left. But bringing in that family came first. Everything should be ready to go in a few minutes.
Midnight showed through the church windows, and low-wattage bulbs on the ceiling lit up Rene’s face as she stood beside a pew sorting through a cardboard box of stray mittens. Some of the gloves were red. Some blue. Others were a rainbow of colors.
Apparently, people lost their belongings in churches just as often as they did at rodeos, Clay mused. There were more children’s mittens in the box than he usually saw, but that was the only difference.
Rene had already apologized three times for the misunderstanding about him being her boyfriend. He could have avoided the last two apologies if her aunt and uncle hadn’t decided they needed to find some food for the stranded family. The older couple had gone into the church kitchen and the two other men had gone into one of the rooms to draw a map showing the gravel road to the east where the car was supposed to be. No one said Clay had to wait inside for everyone to finish, though. He had a perfectly good heater in his truck.
Clay felt like he should say something to Rene before he left the church, but he hesitated. The sight of her sorting through all of those little mittens made him want to stay. Which was completely foolish since, in her mind, he was only the tow truck guy. The fact that he was bothered by that is why he knew he needed to leave and wait outside. By the time he got back with the family, Rene should be in bed at her aunt’s house.
“Look at these.” Rene held up two tiny mittens with delight on her face. She put the pink mittens on her thumbs like puppets and wiggled them.
“I didn’t know babies wore mittens,” Clay said and then he swallowed. Rene hadn’t smiled like this since she left Mule Hollow. She glowed. His butterfly woman was back. He had to admit it made him feel good to see it until he realized it was mittens that had made her smile and not him.
“I’ll set them aside for the baby,” Rene said as she slipped the tiny mittens off her thumbs and put them in the pocket of the heavy coat she had borrowed from her aunt. “The poor thing. What a night to be out there stuck.”
Rene’s blond hair swirled around her when she moved. Clay could almost imagine sliding his hands down the smooth locks of her hair and then dipping her head back a little so he could—
“You might want to get some blankets ready, too,” Clay interrupted himself. Those kinds of thoughts did no one any good, least of all him. “It wouldn’t hurt to warm the blankets in the oven after I leave, either, so they’ll be ready.”
Clay ran his hand over his chin and felt the stubble on his face. He wished he’d pulled off the road yesterday and shaved. Just because he was here doing a job, it didn’t mean he couldn’t look better.
“I’ll let my aunt know,” Rene said and looked back down into the box. “I need a scarf, too. Your truck is warm enough inside, but we’ll probably need to go out when we get to the car that’s stuck.”
“What?” Clay frowned. Had he heard right? This wasn’t part of the plan. “I thought you were staying here with your aunt. Where it’s warm.”
Clay didn’t mind doing a rescue mission in a snowstorm, but he sure didn’t want to take Rene with him. He knew women were strong and capable, but they might need to dig the car out of a snowbank, and he didn’t want Rene outside shivering in a blizzard. Not when he could spare her that.
Just then Rene’s aunt and uncle came back from the kitchen.
“We’ve got blankets and some warm milk,” Rene’s aunt said as she pointed to the thermos her husband was setting on the pew next to the mitten box. “Hopefully, the mother has an empty bottle for the baby.”
Rene was still staring at Clay. “You can’t go after them alone.”
“Alone?” The minister straightened up and looked at Clay, too. “Of course, you can’t go alone. I don’t know what we were thinking. I’ll just take a double dose of my medicine and—”
“You’ll do no such thing,” his wife interrupted him. “The doctor said you needed to take care of yourself. You shouldn’t even be over here tonight. I’ll just wrap my ankle a little better and—”
“Neither one of you are going,” Rene said firmly. “I’m all dressed for the cold. I’m the logical one to go. I’m happy to go.”
“But I don’t need anyone to come,” Clay protested as he slid a step closer to the door.
“That’s not—” The minister turned at a sound from the hallway. “Here come Charlie and Elmer now. We’ll all pray over the two of you before you go.”
“I don’t think we need—” Clay began.
Rene shot him a look as the two older men entered the room, and then she said, “We’d be grateful for all the prayers we can get.”
Rene reached over and put her hand on Clay’s arm.
“I’m going,” she said. “If you’re worried about having enough room, I’ll sit in the backseat after you pick up the family. But you’re not going alone.”
Clay was speechless. He gave up. Prayer. No prayer. Company. No company. It didn’t matter. He would take the whole bunch of them if they wanted. He needed to hurry. He told himself it was because of the baby out in that car, but he knew it was as much for his own sake.
No one had ever cared if he went someplace alone before. He’d never had anyone pray over him, either. It made him feel a little uncomfortable. He’d had his leg broken from a fall on his first bronc, and no one had offered to pray over him back then or keep him company at the doctor’s office. He supposed a prayer couldn’t hurt a person, though, even if these old men were putting their hands on his shoulder.
Clay noticed Rene had closed her eyes and didn’t look worried.
“Father, protect our friends here as they get that family out of the snow.” One of the older men was speaking. “We know You control the weather and that You watch over each of us. We put Clay and Rene in Your hands and we ask for Your mercy on our worried friends out there in the storm. Keep them safe. Amen.”
