Clayton's Made-Over Mrs.. Sandra Steffen

Jasper Gents. Unfortunately, most of them had taken one look at the dusty roads, the meager stores and the limited job prospects and had kept right on going. Only a handful had stayed, and Wyatt and Luke had snagged the two prettiest ones. More women continued to trickle in from time to time. Clayt figured it was possible that he might find one to his liking …eventually.

      Haley needed a mother now.

      His little girl was as precocious as they came. Victoria had never been mother-of-the-year material, but her latest desertion had been hard on their little girl. Things might not have been so bad if Clayt’s own mother hadn’t gone out to Oregon to care for his ailing grandmother. Left on his own with his freckle-faced daughter, Clayt had reached his wit’s end.

      He’d always known Mel had had a crush on him, just as he knew he needed help with a capital H. Marrying Mel seemed like a perfect solution. She already loved him, she was good with kids, and he’d known her all his life. And best of all, she was nothing like Victoria. Mel was neither gorgeous nor sophisticated. Hell, she was as predictable as daybreak. Until tonight the only time she’d ever stunned him was when she’d kicked him in the shins when she’d been in the first grade.

       I say get your own damn cream and sugar.

      Hitching one boot onto his truck’s running board, he rubbed the shin Mel had kicked all those years ago, but it was his ego that was smarting tonight. Cramming his hat on his head, he climbed into his muddy truck and started the engine. He’d planned to announce his and Mel’s engagement at the barbecue he was throwing on Sunday in honor of his brother’s recent betrothal. So much for things going according to plan.

      Clayt rubbed his bleary eyes. He was exhausted. A man tended to get that way after spending eighteen hours searching high and low for a girl who’d gotten it into her head to run away from home. He still thought Haley needed a mother. What an understatement. But she was safe for now, sound asleep in a four-poster bed in the house her great-grandfather had built on Carson land. Clayt needed a good night’s sleep, too. With a little luck he might just be able to come up with an alternative plan in the morning.

      

      “Clayton, look at me!” Haley called.

      Clayt’s heart made it to his feet before he did. His first impulse was to run hell-bent toward Haley. His second was to beg her to climb down from the gate she was using as a balance beam. But he was afraid any sudden noises or movements might cause her to fall into the pen with the meanest bull in the state.

      His brother, Luke, and Wyatt and Cletus McCully must have had the same idea, because all four men set off toward the corral at a clipped, though steady gait. Keeping his voice as level as possible, Clayt called, “That’s good, Haley. How about hopping down from there and helping Is-abell Pruitt with the decorations for Uncle Luke’s engagement party?”

      Clayt hoped old Isabell didn’t see his darling daughter stick out her tongue. “That’s sissy stuff,” Haley complained. “I’d rather help you, Clayton.”

      She started to climb down, teetered slightly, then hopped to the ground. Four men breathed a collective sigh of relief but Clayt was the only one who placed his fist over his rapidly beating heart. Turning to his brother, he said, “As soon as this barbecue’s over, I’m moving that bull to the other pen.”

      Luke and Wyatt both nodded but Cletus McCully shook his craggy head and said, “It won’t make any difference, boy. If there’s trouble to get into, that girl’s gonna find it.”

      Haley chose that moment to stoop down to pet a halfgrown kitten. Her stance reminded Clayt of how she’d looked when she was four, all little girl grace and innocence. He didn’t know how a child could go from precociousness to sweetness in the blink of an eye, but his daughter had been doing it all her life. She’d come into the world squawking her head off, and had learned to walk when she was only nine months old. He’d only seen her for a week at Christmas and during the summers after the divorce, but he distinctly remembered the year freckles had started spattering her nose. She’d been seven. That was about the same time she’d started calling him Clayton. Not Daddy, not even Clayt. Clayton. Until Haley, only his mother had gotten away with that.

      At first he’d thought it was just a phase. After a month, he’d asked her to call him Dad. She’d raised her chin and refused. Cajoling hadn’t worked either.

      He was the first to admit that he’d never known how to handle his little girl. But that hadn’t kept him from loving her. She’d spent the seven years since the divorce being bounced from one end of Texas to the other while Victoria searched for the oil tycoon of her dreams. Clayt had custody now, and Haley was here to stay.

      While Cletus, Wyatt and Luke set off to see how the women of the Ladies’ Aid Society were coming with the rest of the food, Clayt put his hat back on his head and strode toward the barrel roasters where a side of beef had been cooking all night. Keeping Haley in his line of vision, he breathed in the aroma wafting on the breeze.

      It was the third day of September and fall was in the air. The weather could turn on a person this time of year, but for now the skies were sunny and the air was comfortably warm. Picnic tables had been set up on the grassy slope of land between his folks’ place and his own. The fine citizens of Jasper Gulch would start arriving soon. It looked as if the barbecue he was throwing for his only brother, Luke, and their best friend, Wyatt McCully, and their future brides was going to come off without a hitch.

      Clayt was in a much better frame of mind this afternoon. Sleep had helped, but so had the realization that the situation with Haley wasn’t completely hopeless or out of control. Oh, Mel’s response to his marriage proposal still rankled, but the truth was he’d always done better when he was on edge, when beef prices were lousy and the weather was worse and only backbreaking long hours and sheer determination put food on the table and a little money in the bank. Somewhere between Friday night and noon today he’d decided it was about time he applied that same kind of sheer determination to finding a mother for his child.

      Mel had had her chance. From now on he was going to check out the other women who lived in Jasper Gulch.

      He was tall, Mel had said so herself. Women liked tall men, didn’t they? Folks had always claimed he and Luke had gotten their father’s looks and their mother’s brains. Who was he to argue? So what if Mel had turned down his proposal. There were other fish in the sea. Okay, there weren’t many, at least not in this corner of South Dakota. But there were a few, and by God, it was high time they were exposed to a large dose of Clayt Carson’s charm.

      

      “Wonders never cease, do they, girl?” Cletus McCully surveyed the folks talking and laughing in small groups throughout Clayt’s side yard.

      Mel downed the last of the punch in her paper cup before agreeing with her grandfather. It was amazing that two of the local boys—one of them her very own brother—were going to be married in a double ceremony in less than a week. It just so happened that she was immensely happy for her brother, Wyatt, and for Luke Carson, too. Jillian Daniels’s red hair and surprising flare of temper was a perfect match for that Carson obstinacy. And Lisa Markman’s throaty laughter and bad-girl smile was exactly what Wyatt needed.

      Some things had definitely changed in good old Jasper Gulch. Others, however, remained the same. Tomorrow was Labor Day, and the day after that school would start, just like it did every year. The same people who’d attended the town picnic earlier that summer had turned out for Clayt’s barbecue today. Punch had been ladled and plates had been emptied. Isabell Pruitt, the self-appointed leader of the Ladies’ Aid Society, had checked the punch for possible spiking every fifteen minutes like clockwork. Now, children were jumping puddles near the barn door, mothers were fussing about muddy shoes, and the area ranchers were lamenting over the price of beef, just like they always did.

      A trill of laughter drew Mel’s gaze to a rough-hewn fence near the shed. Clayt straddled the top board and Brandy Schafer, the only girl from her graduating class a few years back to stay in Jasper Gulch, was laughing up at him with stars in her eyes. It was enough to turn Mel’s stomach.