Lassoed by Fortune. Marie Ferrarella

and that included him.

      Harlan first heard the rumor about the possibility of a new restaurant—funded by some of the Fortunes of Red Rock—coming here to Horseback Hollow the way he heard about almost everything else that came to his attention: from one of the customers sitting in his barber’s chair.

      In less than forty-eight hours, what began as a vague rumor quickly became the topic that was on everyone’s lips. No matter who was doing the talking, it seemed that everyone, young or old, had an opinion on the subject of this new restaurant that might be coming.

      Some spoke with feelings and passion about this restaurant that had yet to materialize. Others chose to feel him out first before stating how they felt on the matter.

      “What do you think about that new place that’s coming to Horseback?” Riley Johnson, one of his most regular customers, asked him.

      The rancher, lean and rangy of build, came in for a haircut like clockwork every two weeks despite the fact that he had very little hair to speak of these days. He came, Harlan suspected, for the company and a chance for some male interaction. Riley owned a fairly small spread as far as ranches in the area went and he and his wife had been blessed with all girls. Riley spent most of his days feeling outnumbered.

      The barbershop was a place to regroup.

      Riley twisted around in his chair to look at the man he’d known going on five decades, waiting for the latter to answer.

      “Well, it’s not a done deal just yet, Riley,” Harlan pointed out as he made rhythmic cuts to the hair that was there.

      “I heard it’s more done than not,” Clyde Hanks, another regular, waiting for his turn with Harlan, spoke up.

      “Well, you heard wrong,” Harlan told him, keeping his eyes on his work and Riley’s balding pate. “Nobody’s put in any papers for it and nothing’s crossed my desk yet. There’s gotta be permits issued, land measured, all sorts of tedious things like that before anything gets started,” Harlan said. “You boys know that.”

      Riley still looked a bit skeptical. “And you’re not just holding out on us?”

      “No reason not to tell you if it was happening,” Harlan answered mildly.

      “You ask me, it’s not a good idea,” Riley said.

      “Bringing in new business is always a good idea,” Clyde maintained.

      Harlan could see both sides of the matter, the way he always did. The good and the bad. Which was why he decided that calling a town meeting to put the matter up for discussion and then eventually to a vote might just be the best way to handle this budding tempest in a teapot—before that teapot boiled over.

      The meeting was set for Friday evening at seven.

      As always, Harlan relied primarily on word of mouth to spread the news of the town meeting. To play it safe, he also had a couple of notices posted, one in the Superette because most of the town frequented the grocery store, and one in the town’s only post office. To his way of thinking, this was as close to covering all bases as he could possibly get.

      And then Harlan went back to business as usual, doing what needed to be done until the day of the meeting.

      * * *

      Julia glanced at her watch. It was almost time for the meeting. She was so preoccupied, going over what she wanted to say and trying very hard not to be nervous, that she didn’t hear her father’s soft footfalls until he was next to her. The once heavyset man had lost a great deal of weight, but he was on the mend and determined to get better with each passing day.

      “Julia?”

      “Oh, Dad, you scared me,” she said, looking up, startled.

      He smiled at her. “I just wanted to wish you luck tonight. Some of our friends and neighbors can be real stubborn about changing anything.” His protective attitude toward her was out in full display as he said, “Maybe I should go with you.”

      He still thought of himself as being stronger than he was. She knew these baby steps toward full recovery were frustrating for him, but she didn’t want him taking on more than he should. “No, you know excitement isn’t good for you, Dad. You’ve more than done enough already,” she told him with feeling. “Finding out about the Mendozas and how they were looking for a new location for a second restaurant, setting up my introduction to them... I’ll take it from here.”

      “You know, I wanted this for you. Wanted to find some way to pay you back for what you gave up to stay here for me.”

      She didn’t want him to feel obliged to her in any way. She’d stayed out of love, not because anyone had made her. “Dad—”

      “Let me have my say, Julie. I didn’t do all that much, just asked around to find out where you could get in contact with that Marcos Mendoza guy. Most of it was just a matter of luck, anyway, him being married to Wendy Fortune. They’re looking to expand their business, so why shouldn’t it be here? Especially since James Fortune is so thrilled to finally make contact with his long-lost sister Jeanne Marie, and her living right here in Horseback Hollow. You might even call it fate. I just tugged a little on fate’s hand, that’s all. You did the rest. You wrote to them and laid it all out, nice and pretty, the way I knew you would, telling them about all the ways building their next restaurant right here was a good idea for them and for the town. You always did have a real good head on your shoulders, Julie. Almost as good as your heart,” he said with barely contained emotion.

      Moved, she hugged him. “I love you, Dad.”

      “Right back at you, baby. Now go knock ’em dead,” he urged.

      The meeting was held at the Two Moon Saloon. As usual, the bar was declared officially closed for the duration of the meeting. The establishment’s tables were all pushed to the side, against the walls, and extra folding chairs had been brought in.

      As always, there were more people than chairs, but that was just the way things were and no one seemed to mind all that much. Standing for the duration of the meeting seemed like a small price to pay for being included in the town’s voting process.

      At exactly the stroke of seven, Harlan began the meeting. “Thank you all for coming,” he said, addressing people he considered to be his friends rather than his constituents. “I don’t think many of you have to be told why we’re here.”

      “I dunno about anyone else, but I’m here to get out of doing more chores,” a male voice at the back of the room piped up. A smattering of laughter followed the remark.

      “Glad we could help you out, Zack,” Harlan said, recognizing the speaker’s voice. “All right, let’s get started,” he declared, bringing down his gavel and officially calling the meeting to order. “It’s recently come to my attention that there’s been some serious talk about some out-of-towners thinking of opening up a new restaurant right here in town.”

      “Why do we need another restaurant? What’s wrong with The Grill, I’d like to know?” a woman on the left asked indignantly.

      “Have you been there lately? It ain’t exactly the Four Seasons,” her neighbor, a woman with a rather heavyset face, pointed out.

      “Well, this ain’t exactly New York now, is it?” the first woman countered.

      “Ladies, ladies, you’ll all get your chance to state your opinions,” Harlan promised calmly. “That’s why we’re here. No need to try to shout one another down. We’re not taking a final vote tonight. That’s for the next meeting. Right now, we’re just going to discuss it. All right, one at a time, please,” he requested, looking out at the sea of faces before him. “Who wants to go first to make a case for or against a new restaurant opening up in Horseback Hollow?”

      More than a few hands shot up. This certainly was a hot topic, Harlan thought. He fervently hoped that it wouldn’t divide the town and put the residents at odds with one another. Something like that could