The Wyoming Kid. Debbie Macomber

      DEBBIE MACOMBER

      The Wyoming Kid

      

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

      To the Gutsy Girls in the

      PAN Group of RWA’s Peninsula Chapter

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      About the Author

      Coming Next Month

      Chapter One

      His truck shuddering as he hit a rut, Lonny Ellison pulled into the ranch yard and slammed on the brakes. He jumped out of the cab, muttering furiously. In pure frustration, he kicked the side of his Ford Ranger with one scuffed boot. His sister, who was hanging clothes on the line, straightened and watched him approach. No word of greeting, not even a wave, just a little smile. As calm as could be, Letty studied him, which only irritated him more. He blamed her for this. She was the one who had her heart set on Lonny’s dating that…that woman. She was also the one who’d been busy trying to do some matchmaking—not that she’d had any success.

      It wasn’t like Lonny to let a woman rattle him, but Joy Fuller certainly had. This wasn’t the first time, either.

      He had plenty of cause to dislike her. Two years ago, when she’d moved to Red Springs to take a teaching job, he’d gone out of his way to make her feel welcome in the community. And how had she responded to his overtures of friendship? She’d thumbed her nose at him! He figured he was well rid of her. They’d argued—he couldn’t even remember why—and he hadn’t spoken to her since. Until today. Friend of Letty’s or not, he wasn’t about to let Joy Fuller escape the consequences of what she’d done.

      What bothered him most was the complete disrespect Joy had shown him and his vehicle. Why, his truck was in prime condition, his pride and—No, under the circumstances, he couldn’t call it his pride and joy. But he treasured that Ford almost as much as he did his horse.

      “What’s gotten into you?” Letty asked, completely unruffled by his actions.

      “Of all the crazy women in the world, why did it have to be her?”

      “And who would that be?” his sister asked mildly.

      “Your…your teacher friend. She—” Lonny struggled to find the words. “I’m telling you right now, I’m not letting her get away with this.”

      Letty’s expressive eyes widened and she gave a deep sigh. “For heaven’s sake, Lonny, settle down and tell me what happened.”

      “Look!” he shouted, motioning toward the front of his ten-year-old pickup so his sister could see for herself.

      Letty scanned the bumper, but apparently didn’t find anything amiss. “What?”

      “Here.” He pointed, directing her attention to the most recent dent.

      “Where?” Letty asked, bending over to examine it more carefully, squinting hard.

      “There.” If she assumed that being obtuse was amusing him, she was wrong. He stabbed his finger at it again, and then for emphasis ran his hand over it. All right, he’d admit that the truck had its share of nicks and dents. No working rancher drove a vehicle for as many years as he had without collecting a few battle scars. The pickup could use a new front fender, and a paint job wouldn’t be a bad idea, but in no way did that minimize what Joy had done.

      “This truck is on its last legs, Lonny, or tires, as the case might be.”

      “You’re joking, aren’t you? There’s another ten years left in the engine.” He should’ve known better than to discuss this with his sister. Women always stuck together.

      “You don’t mean that tiny dent, do you?” she asked, poking it with her finger.

      “Tiny dent!” he repeated, shocked that she didn’t see this for what it was. “That tiny dent nearly cost me a whole year off my life!”

      “Settle down,” Letty said again, “and just tell me what happened.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

      To say he was upset was an understatement. He was fit to be tied, and it was Joy Fuller’s fault. Lonny liked to think of himself as an easygoing guy. Very rarely did a woman, any woman, rile him the way Joy had. Not only that, she seemed to enjoy it.

      “Joy Fuller ran a stop sign,” he explained. “She claimed she didn’t see it. What kind of idiot misses a stop sign?” Lonny demanded.

      “Joy crashed into you?”

      “Almost. By the grace of God, I was able to avoid a collision, but in the process I hit the pole.”

      “What pole?”

      He wondered if his sister was doing it on purpose. “The one holding up the stop sign, of course.”

      Letty just shrugged, which was not the response he was looking for.

      Lonny jerked the Stetson off his head, and thrust his fingers through his hair hard enough to pull out several strands. Wincing, he went on with his story. “Then, ever so sweetly, Joy climbs out of her car, tells me she’s sorry and asks if there’s any damage.”

      “Gee, I hope you slugged her for that,” Letty murmured, rolling her eyes.

      Lonny decided to ignore the sarcasm. “Right away, I could see the dent, so I pointed it out to her. But that’s not the worst of it,” he said, not even trying to keep the indignation out of his voice. “She took one look at my truck and said there were so many dents she couldn’t possibly know which one our ‘minor incident’ had caused.” His voice rose as his agitation grew. “That’s what she called it—a minor incident.”

      “What did you say next?” Letty asked.

      Kicking the dirt with the toe of his boot, Lonny avoided her gaze. “We exchanged a few words,” he admitted reluctantly. That was Joy’s fault, too. She seemed to expect him to tell her that all was forgiven. Well, he wasn’t forgiving her anything, least of all the damage she’d caused.

      When he hadn’t fallen under her spell as she’d obviously expected, their argument had quickly heated up. Within moments her true nature was revealed. “She said my truck was a pile of junk.” Even now the statement outraged him. Lonny walked around his Ford, muttering, “That’s no way for a lady to talk. Not only did Joy insult my vehicle, she insulted me.”

      This schoolteacher, this city slicker, had no appreciation of country life. That was what you got when the town hired someone like Joy Fuller. You could take the woman out of the city but there was plenty of city left in her.

      “Whatever happened, I’m sure Joy’s