Tumbleweed Weddings (9 page)

At 6:30 that evening, Lane guided his rumbling motorcycle down the long driveway toward the Brandt farmhouse. He and Callie had agreed to leave his cycle at her house and drive her car to Lusk for dinner. Even though Lusk was a good half hour away, it was closer than any other town, and they certainly didn’t want to eat in Fort Lob, where everyone could watch them.

To be honest, he was tired of Fort Lob’s gossip. If it weren’t for Callie, he would have moved to Lusk or Pinedale by now.

Approaching the farmhouse, he noticed Jake Brandt sitting on the porch. Lane’s stomach lurched.
He’s going to grill me about dating his daughter
. After all, what did Mr. Brandt know about Lane Hutchins?

Except for taking Callie out to lunch on Monday, Lane hadn’t been on a date in years. He’d forgotten how much parents could worry about their daughters. He parked his motorcycle beside the house and dismounted.

“Howdy, Lane!” Jake called from one of the wicker chairs. “Come on up and have a seat. Callie should be out in a few minutes.”

Lane climbed the three steps to the porch. “Thanks.” He took the other wicker chair and drummed his fingers on the arms.
This is it
.

“Great weather for a Friday night, ain’t it?” Jake stretched his long legs in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. “I like to sit here most evenings and watch the sunset. Course, it doesn’t set until eight or eight thirty this time of year, but every sunset is spectacular. God’s handiwork.”

Lane relaxed. Maybe Jake wouldn’t grill him after all. “I hear you’re a sheep rancher.”

“Yep, fifth generation. My great-great-grandparents were homesteaders in the 1880s. I have a good spread here—two thousand acres and five hundred sheep.”

“Wow! That’s huge.”

Jake seemed pleased. “Aw, that’s nothing. My grandfather owned eight thousand acres with horses, sheep, and cattle. But it’s hard to care for such a large ranch. My dad sold most of the land and animals, concentrating only on sheep. I still have a few horses.”

Lane gazed at the rolling hills that stretched toward the horizon. “So, all this land is yours?”

“As far as your eye can see. I plan to pass the ranch on to my son Derek. He has a college degree in range management, you know, and he’s helped me with some new methods.”

The front door opened, and Callie stepped onto the porch.

Lane’s heartbeat quickened. She was beautiful. The summery yellow print dress she wore emphasized her soft curves and made her dark, curly hair look even darker. He hardly noticed her glasses.

Lane felt underdressed in his shirt and jeans. Good thing he hadn’t worn his I V
ISITED
D
EVIL’S
T
OWER
T-shirt, which he had considered doing. But he’d decided against it since he wanted to have a shirt pocket available… .

She closed the door behind her. “Sorry you had to wait, Lane.”

“No problem.” He stood, wanting to tell her how nice she looked, but her dad’s presence stopped him.

“Here’s the key to my car.” She handed him a set of keys, and a whiff of sweet fragrance drifted toward him. “It’s around the back.” She descended the porch stairs.

Jake got to his feet. “Have a good time, you two.”

“Thanks.” Lane smiled as he shook the older man’s hand. He liked Jake. “We will, Dad.” Callie rounded the corner of the house. “And don’t wait up for me,” she called.

Hmm
… Lane followed her to the car. The evening looked bright.

“You move to a different state every three months?” Callie’s head spun.

She sat on the passenger side of her car, secretly thrilled to see Lane behind the wheel. Since he obviously didn’t own a car, she pictured this little Honda as their family car when they got married—
if
they got married.

“But, Lane, how can you move so often? I always thought military people had it rough moving every three years. But three months?” Only fugitives did that.

Fugitives?
Callie glanced at his profile. What if he
was
a fugitive trying to escape the law? She knew so little about him.

“I love moving.” He grinned. “I’ve lived in sixteen states in the past five years, and every place was in a small town. It’s been an interesting adventure, and I enjoy the change of scenery.” He shrugged. “If I cover all fifty states, I figure it will take me another eight or nine years, at least.”

Callie’s buoyant spirit sank.
I hate moving
. “Is there a method to your madness?”

Lane’s expression turned serious. “It’s research, actually. By the time that fiftieth state is covered, I plan to write a book about my experiences. I’m going to call it
Living in Small-Town America.”
He glanced at her. “How does that title grab you?”

“Sounds interesting… .”
He sure has big dreams
. “But I’ve heard it’s really hard to get published. Of course, you have to write the book first, and that’s a lot of work.”

“Oh? Do you have personal experience?”

“Well …” She thought about that half-finished novel in the notebook on her closet shelf, languishing next to the manuscript she had started five years ago about Fort Lob’s history. “Nothing to speak of.”

They entered the town of Lusk, and Callie pointed ahead. “Turn left at that stop sign. I love the Italian restaurant on West Second Street.” She was glad to change the subject and decided she would enjoy this evening with Lane, whether she married him or not. “It’s called Mama’s Kitchen, and it has great Italian food.”

“You know what? This restaurant has great Italian food.” Lane took another bite. He had never tasted such good lasagna in his life.

A mural of Italy’s wine country covered the wall beside their two-person table, and a tiny lamp, set on the edge, shed a circle of yellow light on the white linen tablecloth.

“I guess ‘Mama’ is a good cook.” Callie adjusted her glasses. “They always give their customers such big portions. I have enough Eggplant Parmigiana on my plate for three people, and we
have
to save room for dessert. Mama’s Kitchen has the most delicious desserts.”

“Ice cream cones?”

A blush spread over her face. “Much better than that, but please don’t throw a spoonful of tiramisu at my left lens.”

He grinned. “If you recall, I don’t use that ploy anymore.” He reached across the table and snatched off her glasses.

“Lane!” She covered her face with both hands and peeked at him through her fingers.

He dropped her glasses in his shirt pocket. “Much better.” He gazed into her eyes, startled again by how pretty she was.
I have to get her that laser eye surgery
.

She sighed as she dropped her hands back to the table, and he could tell she was trying not to smile. “What am I going to do with you?”

Kiss me?
“Uh, I don’t know … I’ll think of something.”

Callie felt completely lost without her glasses. Everything was a blur, even her food.

She swallowed a bite of her eggplant. “Could I ask you a personal question?” She glanced up and blinked a couple times, unsuccessfully trying to bring his face into focus.

He gazed a moment at her eyes. “Anything.”

Callie hesitated.
The power of a woman’s eyelashes
—one of her sister’s pet phrases. No wonder Tonya batted her eyes at every new guy she met. “Um, first of all, could I have my glasses back? I really can’t see anything.”

“Oh.” He dipped into his pocket and pulled them out. “Sorry to tease you. Guess I’m just an insensitive cad.”

She smiled as she took her glasses. “No, you’re not.” Noticing a smudge, she wiped the lenses with the hem of her dress.

Lane leaned forward. “So, what’s the personal question?”

“I was wondering about your job. What do you do for a living?” There, she asked him. His job status had bothered her since she’d met him. “When you first came to the library, Miss Penwell asked what you did, and you told her you were an insurance salesman.”

He frowned. “I did?”

“That’s what she told me.” Callie put her glasses back on, thankful Lane was in focus once again.

He pushed a bite of lasagna around on his plate. “Oh, I remember now. I told her I was an
agent.”
He laid his fork down. “But an agent can be anything—a manager, an investment broker, a real estate person, an insurance man, a book agent, a spy… .” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll let you guess which one I am.”

“You’re definitely a spy.”

He threw back his head and laughed so loud that other diners turned to look at him. “Right you are, Callie.”

“Oh sure.” She couldn’t help but smile. “But really, Lane, tell me about yourself. You know so much about me. I’ve told you about my family, my church, my job, and even my dreams, but I hardly know anything about you.” She touched his hand, which was resting on the table across from her own. “Tell me all about Lane Hutchins.”

He shrugged, and his smile faded to a frown. “I have no family, no friends. I’m just a drifter, Callie.” He looked down, picked up her hand, and cradled it in both of his own. “When my parents died, my aunt and uncle raised me.” He looked up. “I’ve already told you that.”

She nodded. “How did the accident happen?”

“My dad owned a Cessna, a small airplane. He had a pilot’s license, and he was always jetting my mom around the country. They took a lot of vacations—without me.”

Callie pictured the young couple, too busy with their own lives to take care of the little boy who needed them. She squeezed his hand. “That’s sad.”

“It would have been, except for Aunt Betty and Uncle Herb. I stayed with them so often, they might as well have been my parents. When the plane crashed, I was actually excited I could live with them permanently.” He paused. “I’ve often wondered what would have happened to me if my parents had lived.”

“What do you mean?”

“Uncle Herb, my mother’s brother, married Aunt Betty late in his life, so they were too old to have kids. But Aunt Betty was so motherly. She loved children, and whenever I was with her, I was her son.”

Callie smiled, nodding for him to continue.

“The most important thing was that she was a Christian, and she led Uncle Herb to the Lord before they married. Then, when I was nine years old, Uncle Herb led me to the Lord.”

Relief flooded through her. “That’s wonderful!”

Lane squeezed her hand. “I still remember him sitting on my bed that night. I was scared for some reason, scared to die. He told me about Jesus, who died in my place so I could go to heaven. And I believed.”

“I’m so glad, Lane.” Callie bit her bottom lip, willing the tears not to come.

“Me, too.” He gazed at her. “But if I had grown up with my parents, I doubt if I would be saved today.” He sighed. “Not that it’s made much of a difference lately.”

Callie widened her eyes. “How can you say that? Being saved makes all the difference in the world. It’s going from death to life.”

“I know.” He looked down at their hands. “I used to be on fire for God. Back in high school, I was the student leader of our youth group, and I led a prayer meeting after school. But when Aunt Betty got cancer, I started cooling off toward spiritual things.”

It looked like he would say more, but he stopped.