Heart of Texas Volume 3: Nell's Cowboy. Debbie Macomber

“She owns the local feed store.” A pretty brunette sampled the first taste and nodded in approval.

      “I hope that was Mom’s,” Emma said.

      So did Travis. The taste she’d given him the day before was fabulous and nothing like any chili he’d tasted before. He’d accidentally discovered her secret ingredient was beer but had been sworn to secrecy.

      In his short visit he’d learned quite a bit about Texas chili, which was different from anything he’d tasted in New York City or on his previous travels. In Texas the chili was thick with meat and spices and it wasn’t made with beans.

      “That’s Mr. Jordan,” Jeremy said, identifying the next judge. “He owns the Western-wear shop.”

      Someone called Billy D, owner of the local tavern, and Adam Braunfels, a restaurateur, tasted next.

      The last one to try the chili samples was a large rancher type.

      “Who’s that?” Travis asked.

      “Pastor McMillen,” Jeremy whispered back.

      That surprised Travis. The man looked like he’d be more comfortable on a horse than in a pulpit.

      After all the judges had sampled the entries, they cast their votes. The crowd grew quiet with anticipation as the town sheriff, Frank Hennessey, stepped forward with the results of the voting.

      Emma stood next to Travis with her eyes tightly shut, her hands raised and fingers crossed.

      Sheriff Hennessey cleared his throat. “It was a difficult decision this year, but it appears that one entry stood out as the most flavorful. The voting is unanimous. The winner is—” the faint sound of a drumroll could be heard in the background “—number five.”

      Travis frowned, not knowing who the winner was until he noticed Nell. She stood there as though in a daze.

      “Nell Bishop,” Frank Hennessey shouted cheerfully as a stunned Nell moved slowly toward the microphone. “It gives me a great deal of pleasure to present you with this check in the amount of five hundred dollars.”

      Nell might be in shock, but Travis noticed that she snapped out of her stupor fast enough when it came to reaching for the check. The crowd loved it.

      Following the competition, spoonfuls of chili, dished up in small paper cups, were left for the crowd to taste. People surged toward the table that held the samples labeled “number five.”

      “Yay, Mom!” Emma said, rushing forward and hugging her mother.

      “This is really cool,” Jeremy said. He exchanged a high five with his mother.

      Travis barely knew Nell Bishop, but he was as thrilled that she’d won the cook-off as if the success had been his own.

      * * *

      Nell was exhausted. Exhilarated but exhausted. Adam Braunfels, one of the judges and the owner of the Chili Pepper, the best restaurant in town, pulled her aside when the competition was over. He told Nell her chili was the best he’d ever tasted and that he’d like to talk with her later about the possibility of buying her recipe. He wanted to serve it in his restaurant. Nell could hardly believe her ears.

      Following their conversation, Adam handed her a ticket for a free meal and suggested she stop off at his booth for dinner. Nell sat at one of the picnic tables at the far end of the rodeo grounds and savored a barbecued-beef sandwich and a heaping cup of coleslaw. It was the first time she’d eaten all day; she’d simply been too nervous before.

      Jeremy and Emma were with their grandmother, who’d taken them home. The kids had chattered incessantly about Travis Grant. Apparently he’d shown them the time of their lives and they sang his praises to all who’d listen.

      “Do you mind if I join you?”

      Her thoughts seemed to have conjured up the man. Travis stood directly across the table from her, holding a cup of coffee.

      “Please.” Nell gestured toward a chair, and Travis sat down.

      “Congratulations again,” he said.

      “Thank you.” She was dying to tell someone about her conversation with Adam Braunfels, but held her tongue. Nothing was definite, and she didn’t want to say anything until the details were settled.

      “From what I understand, I owe you a debt of thanks,” Nell said. “The kids told me this was the best rodeo of their lives, and all because of you.”

      “I was just about to thank you for sharing them with me. They’re terrific kids, Nell.”

      “I think so, too.”

      She pushed aside the rest of her dinner and reached for her coffee. After being on her feet all day, she was grateful to be sitting. “Ruth drove them home,” she said unnecessarily. She’d stayed to clean up the kitchen area and talk to Adam, but was so relaxed now she wasn’t sure she’d find the energy to move.

      “I heard someone say Willie Nelson was coming for the dance later,” Travis mentioned.

      “Don’t believe it.” Nell hated to be the one to disillusion him. “This is Willie Nelson country. We love him, and we send him an invitation to a picnic in his honor every single year.”

      “He’s never come?”

      “No, but then, we don’t really expect he will. He’s got bigger and better places to perform. We understand that and love him, anyway.” Whether or not Willie showed, the people of Promise would continue to enjoy his music. Willie Nelson represented everything they loved about country music.

      “Tired?” Travis asked.

      “A little.” An understatement if there ever was one.

      “Too tired to dance?”

      It took a moment to understand the question. Travis Grant was asking her to dance with him. She stared at him, unsure how to respond. It was kind of him, offering to be her partner. With anyone else she would have found an immediate excuse to decline. Not with Travis. For one crazy moment she actually considered it.

      “Thank you, but no,” she finally said.

      If she’d disappointed him, Travis didn’t let on.

      Nell checked her watch, thinking it was time—past time really—to head home. The band, a popular local group, was playing in the background. The stage wasn’t in sight, but well within listening range.

      “They sound good,” Travis said.

      They did. Much better than Nell remembered, but then, it’d been more than three years since she’d stayed for the evening festivities.

      All at once a crazed cheer rose from the audience and the announcer’s voice came over the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s a pleasure to introduce the good people of Promise, Texas, to Willie Nelson.”

      Nell’s gaze flew to Travis. “This has got to be a joke,” she said.

      But even before the words were out, the opening strains of “Whiskey River” echoed across the grounds.

      Her fatigue gone, Nell leaped to her feet and hurried toward the dance area. So did everyone else within shouting distance. Travis was right behind her.

      Nell and Travis never did get to see him. The crowd grew so thick they couldn’t do more than listen. Willie sang three numbers to wild applause, then suggested everyone dance. The music flowed, smooth and easy. People around her paired off, even though they weren’t anywhere near the dance floor.

      Travis smiled down at her. “Shall we?” he asked, stretching out one hand.

      Nell couldn’t stop looking at him long enough to decline. It wasn’t that Travis was a handsome man. His face was too angular, his features too rugged to be considered pleasing.

      He took her lack of response as answer enough