Dream a Little Dream

Bob frowned and yanked his hat off again. Those distracting dark curls drew her attention once more and Molly found her gaze lingering there, until he moved his head and his navy eyes slammed into hers. “I said that to Clint Matlock in confidence. You were eavesdropping—”

“Eavesdropping! Are you kidding! You were sitting in Sam’s diner. Everyone heard you say it.”

“That may be true.” He gritted the words through barely moving lips. “Still,” he snapped, on a second wind, an angry wind, “it doesn’t give you the right to think you can plunk me in the middle of your stories like a poster boy for some lonely cowboys foundation. I said I was getting ready for the wife God was going to send me. What makes you think God needs your help? Because I certainly don’t.”

“Now that’s not fair. God’s using me.”

“And you’re using me.”

That tripped her up for a moment. True, her column had been picked off the wire by a huge number of newspapers across the country. The interest in what was happening in Mule Hollow was a phenomenon! Though she’d already gained some praise and recognition for one of her personal segment articles prior to moving to Mule Hollow, and her magazine article sales had been enough to help pay the bills with their meager success, the Mule Hollow phenomenon had put her on the map. After she’d seen the ad and decided to relocate here and started her column about Mule Hollow, well, things had been great. Everyone was interested in the dying little town that had done a national ad campaign for wannabe wives.

Even magazines that never had given her the time of day were suddenly interested in what she had to say—on the subject of Mule Hollow as well as other topics. It was a dream come true. She couldn’t deny it.

Of course, in the big world of media Molly realized only her pinky toe was in the door and the overnight recognition could be gone in a flash. But to say that she was using him…well, it sounded so wrong. “It’s a win-win situation,” she said in her defense—and it was true. “I get the recognition I need to move up in my career while you and the other fellas get invaluable exposure that will lead would-be wives to our little town. I’m helping you fulfill your dream.”

Looking at Bob sent her own heart into that all-too-familiar jig. The Bob jig, as she referred to it. The guy didn’t even know the effect he had on women, which was part of his appeal. He wasn’t a spotlight kind of man. He was a little shy about all the recognition he was getting. That was what the fuss was really about, she reassured herself.

She knew he realized her work was helping Mule Hollow. There was life in the little town now, when only months ago the place had been dead. The fact that Adela Ledbetter, Norma Sue Jenkins and Esther Mae Wilcox had put in motion a plan to revive their beloved town had ultimately led to the influx of husband-hunting women. Molly was meant to be here. Her help was crucial. The fact that her articles had caused a young woman like Cassie, without home or family, to hitchhike to Mule Hollow in the hope of finding what she’d never had…brought tears to Molly’s eyes.

For her, it had been Lacy Brown—now Lacy Matlock—who’d inspired her to move to the town and change her life.

The wacky hairdresser had recognized her mission in life when she’d read the first ad and instantly moved to Mule Hollow to open her salon and help bring life to the town. She’d believed, and rightly so, that the women would read the ads about a bunch of lonesome cowboys and that they would come. And she’d believed they would want to look good while trying to find the right cowboy. But most important, she believed that while they were getting all spruced up in her salon, she would be able to witness to them.

And it was happening. Molly had been the first person Lacy had talked to about the Lord. That conversation had changed her life.

Molly had accepted the Lord into her life and begun to build a personal relationship with Him that very day. She was stumbling all the way, but trying, as Lacy had shown her by example, to put God first in everything she did. Not an easy thing to do. Especially when someone like Bob didn’t fully appreciate the good she was striving to accomplish. The man had said he wanted a wife. She was simply trying to help him!

And she wouldn’t do that for all the bachelors. Oh no, some of these cowboys were lonesome for good reasons! No ambition, partying all the time, not an ounce of respect for a lady…but the ones like Bob—especially Bob—were wonderful guys and she only wanted to help.

Her thoughts whirring, she met his dubious stare straight on, his denial ringing in her ears. He might not think he needed her help, but God had called her to Mule Hollow for a reason. Maybe at first coming to the quaint little town had been about career strategy, but that had lasted about a week. She had started seeing things differently the instant the Lord entered her heart.

Women out there needed good men.

Decent men.

And that fundamental realization had set off a light bulb in her brain. It didn’t take long to see Mule Hollow was packed full of wonderful, God-loving men. And like Lacy kept telling her, God had His reasons for bringing her here. What better reason than to use her talents to showcase the good guys? Lead the women to water as Norma Sue was fond of saying. So that was what she was doing before she moved on to her next step up the ladder of success. She’d been showcasing all the cowboys. She couldn’t help it that readers loved Bob.

“Well,” Bob said, bringing her wandering brain back to the present. “God might be using you, but, like I said, I’m not in need of your services. The conversation I had with Clint was none of your business.”

She expelled a slow breath, fighting the urge to glare at him. “I’m only trying to help,” she reiterated, starting to feel nervous. Really nervous.

He met and held her gaze with one that said he disagreed. She narrowed her eyes, refusing to back down. She couldn’t. She truly hadn’t done anything wrong. Had she?

His eyes narrowed to mirror hers then suddenly the skin where his dimple would appear if he smiled started quivering, as if it was going to give way and turn into a smile at any moment. Molly breathed a sigh of relief. She just might be off the hook.

“Look Molly, really, I know you haven’t meant any harm. I know you think you’re helping me, and you’re certainly helping Mule Hollow. There is no denying that it’s been put on the map through your articles. But I’m done. I want out. Do you understand?” He dropped his chin to his chest then looked straight at her.

Molly’s throat went dry and she tried to swallow the lump that had lodged there. The acid in her stomach attacked the inner walls as she tried to digest Bob’s words.

No way around it. Her boat had a hole in it.

Bob engaged the gears and guided the truck back onto the road. When he started whistling softly to himself, Molly blinked and started fidgeting with a loose thread on the seam of her jeans. That was Bob. The good-hearted guy who was going to make some lucky woman a wonderful husband was back to being himself again. Just like that, he’d forgiven her for what he thought was an intrusion on his life.

Just like that, he thought all was well, everything fixed.

Molly struggled to breathe, watching the brightly colored town appear on the horizon. She didn’t feel the jolt of happiness she normally felt upon seeing it set there welcoming her. As brightly variegated as a box of crayons, just as Lacy had intended when she talked the town into painting the dull, dry, clapboard buildings, it should have brought a smile to Molly’s lips.

Not today.

Her thoughts were riveted to the article she’d submitted earlier in the week.

The one her editor had requested because of overwhelming reader interest….

The one that hit the streets tomorrow.

The one that was too late to retract.

The one she’d meant for good…really.

Chapter Two

The aroma of strong coffee, thick bacon and Sam’s unbelievably seasoned eggs were enough to make a good cowboy buckle with hunger. What man would miss home cooking when he could get something this fantastic by just walking in the door of Sam’s?

Call him crazy, but Bob could. Not that he’d ever had that much home cooking…but he missed it. Longed for it.

It was a simple fact that no matter how much he enjoyed the food and company at Sam’s, Bob wanted more. He wanted a home, a family. He’d wanted it all his life. Being raised in a boarding school did that to a guy. He pushed aside the old anger at his dad for choosing his career in journalism over him. But even though he’d forgiven his father, it hadn’t changed the fact that he longed for the family bond he’d never had. Having lost his mom at an early age, he had fond memories of how life had been before her death. He wanted a wife who could bring the same feeling of security to his life. That same sense of love and belonging.

After years of planning, he’d decided it was time he put his faith into action and show the Lord he believed He was going to send him the perfect wife. The wife He’d prepared for him from the beginning of time.

And so he’d taken the step forward and bought his ranch just a month earlier. It had been a big step for him to change the timetable on his long-term goals. His life had been going pretty close to the target he’d set for himself back when he’d quit the pro bull-riding circuit and taken the job working for Clint. But he’d realized in all of his goal setting he hadn’t left any room for faith in the plans he’d made. It had been an eye-opener when the realization hit him.

Not that he didn’t still believe goal setting was imperative for a man who wanted to be a good provider for his family. But after watching his buddies fall in love and get married when they’d least expected it—and be so happy as a result—he’d realized that sometimes a man had to follow a path that didn’t have a structure. Or at least not an earthly structure. So he’d changed course.

Now, as he took a seat at Sam’s counter, Bob felt a sense of anticipation like he’d never experienced before. Something was about to happen that was going to change his life. He could practically feel God smiling at him.

Of course the feeling could simply and logically be that he’d dodged a bullet yesterday when Molly hadn’t been maimed or killed by Sylvester.

Ever since he’d dropped her at her apartment yesterday, she’d been stuck in his brain. He’d let her off easy, despite the fact she’d been a thorn in his side for weeks.

Ever since the Cassie incident, there had been an ongoing discussion among several of the cowboys about Molly’s articles. It galled him that they thought he was dim-witted for even thinking she should stop writing them. She was helping, they all insisted. Yeah right, helping herself into a highly visible reporting job. He’d been through it all before with his dad. Still, just as long as she left him out of it he didn’t care what she did.

That was his reasoning behind letting her off easy yesterday. Why get an ulcer over something that was old news?

He’d simply asked her to omit him from future articles. So that was that. He was done. Life could resume on an even note. Molly could do her thing and he could do his. There would no longer be any connection between them, which was a good thing.

So everything should be fine…right? His mind clicked to something about the way Molly had acted. An uneasy feeling settled over him as he replayed the trip into town. She’d been quiet. Real quiet. As in she hadn’t said anything except a mumbled thank-you when she practically dove out of his truck at her place….

Sam burst through the kitchen’s double doors, drawing his mind back from the sudden nagging sense of discontent. “Mornin’, Goodlooking,” Sam chirped.

Bob eyed the little man. “What’d you say?”

Flashing an unusually bright grin, Sam set a coffee mug in front of him and poured his stout black brew into it. “Now don’t go bein’ all shy, you handsome hunk of a man,” he drawled.

Lately everyone had noticed Sam had been slightly distracted and grumpy. But this was just plain abnormal. Bob was about to ask if his longtime friend was feeling okay but the Diner’s door swung open and the morning crowd of hungry cowboys stampeded inside. His friend and ex-boss, rancher Clint Matlock, was in the lead.

“Well hello, Bob.” Clint lifted an eyebrow and punctuated the word Bob. Another abnormality for the morning.

“Hey, handsome!” someone called.

“Honey-doll, could I have a date? Purdy please,” came another squeal.

Bob swiveled in his seat toward them as more catcalls followed. His heart sank. One of the cowboys was grinning at him like a lovesick cow batting his eyes, while another slid across the floor on one knee and grabbed his hand. Bob yanked free before the cowpoke’s puckered lips could plant a fake kiss on it.

“Hey! Watch out!” He glared at them with a withering sense of dread. This was not good. Not good at all.

Bob groaned, watching in dismay as they collapsed with laughter and fell over on each other in total glee. At his expense. Cowboys picked on each other for one reason and one reason only. To rub something in. But what? Bob swung back to his coffee, racking his brain. What had he done to bring on this kind of ribbing?

Until someone let him in on the joke he’d ignore them. Grabbing his coffee, he took a drink as if he couldn’t hear the laughing and backslapping going on behind him.

His coffee was in midair when Clint slid the morning’s paper across the counter in front of him.

The black-and-white pages were folded neatly to Molly’s column, About Town in Mule Hollow. In bold black letters the headline read: He’s The One You Need.

Bob choked on his coffee when his name jumped off the page at him. Everything going on around him faded away as he read the words. Suddenly the burning sensation in the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with hot coffee.

“I guess you didn’t read the paper this morning,” Clint drawled.

Bob met his friend’s gaze, the corners of his lips twitching with barely contained laughter.

“She didn’t…” was all Bob could manage, as his stomach knotted with fury.

Clint placed a hand on his shoulder. “Oh yeah, I’m afraid that’s exactly what she did. Handsome.”

“He’s The One You Need—not just any cowboy, handsome Bob Jacobs has a heart of gold and would make any woman an excellent husband. He’s so sure that God is going to send the right woman his way that he’s stepping out on faith….”

With mounting dread Molly watched Lacy’s expression as she read the column out loud. The unease that had clung to her all night squeezed tighter around her middle as she heard the lines she’d written aloud. If only she’d known how Bob felt last week. Instead of yesterday. If only…

She and Lacy were sitting in the reception chairs at the front of Lacy’s salon, Heavenly Inspirations, and oh how Molly wished she’d have an inspiration herself. She wished she’d had a heavenly intervention before she’d ever written the article that was about to make waves between her and Bob.

Because of nightmares, she’d hardly slept a wink last night before she’d finally risen early, called Lacy at home and asked her to meet her down at the shop. Preferably before her Saturday-morning appointments started arriving. Knowing that Saturdays were the day when the majority of cowboys came in for cuts, Molly wanted to be in and out before any of them saw her. Cowboys were early risers and by daylight they’d all have had their morning coffee and read the paper. And after having just reread it herself, in the light of what Bob had dictated to her yesterday, things were about to get tense.

Normally her column was simply her somewhat witty dialogue on the goings-on of the endearing town and all of its residents—the cowboy population most specifically. But this was different. This write-up focused totally on Bob. By reader demand! She had to remember that part.

“Does Bob know you did this?” Lacy asked, rolling up the paper and swatting the table with it, grinning. She was actually excited! An excited Lacy Matlock meant proceed with caution, there were sure to be curves ahead.

Molly hadn’t expected Lacy’s excitement. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No. Not yet.”

“Oh boy.”

That didn’t sound encouraging. Molly nervously rolled her pencil on the tabletop with her pointer finger, trying not to grab it and run. “He said he wanted a wife. He said it in the diner for anybody to hear.” Why was she defending herself? What good would it do? “So I felt obliged to help,” she tagged on the end, imploring Lacy to reassure her that what she’d done was perfectly natural and acceptable.

Not, Lacy’s laugh said instead. Her blond hair jiggled she laughed so hard.

Molly straightened in her chair and felt herself grow pink. “Lacy, it’s not that bad. C’mon.”

Lacy waved her hands in front of her face as she struggled to gain control of her laughter. “Molly, Molly, Molly. Don’t kid yourself. This article is fantastic. If I wasn’t already married and living in Mule Hollow with my very own dreamboat, I’d have packed my bags and headed this way the second I finished reading this. Who could resist Bob? I mean, you make him sound like the best thing since…since chocolate! That man’s going to be dodging women left and right.”

Molly tugged at her ear and chewed on the pencil eraser then yanked it out of her mouth when part of it crumbled on her tongue. “Do you think it will be that bad?” Jumping up she grabbed a tissue from the manicure table and spit the bitter eraser into it.

Lacy rolled her eyes and drummed her pink fingernails on the table, a trait of hers that was sure to leave lasting impressions on all hard surfaces she encountered. Between her eraser spitting and Lacy’s incessant tapping, they had a regular concerto going on, a musical of impending doom.

“Molly, your very words are…” She paused, snapped the paper open and cleared her throat obnoxiously. “‘Bob, with his to-die-for dimples, thoughtful wholesomeness, mixed with just the right amount of charm, might be enough to make this Mule Hollow lonesome cowboy the perfect husband, but it’s his faith in the Lord that sets him ahead of the game.’” She pinned Molly with eyes as bright as topaz. “The women are coming, girl. Believe it. Just a few mentions of him in your columns were enough to bring Cassie out here to try and marry the guy. Or had you forgotten?”

Fat chance. Molly’s stomach churned, and her hand drifted to toy with the simple gold chain she wore around her neck. “I’ll admit I did get a little carried away. I might have gone a bit overboard.”

“No! Are you kidding? It’s all true,” Lacy exclaimed. “Every last word. But girlfriend, my question to you is, if you noticed all of that, why are you advertising him? Why aren’t you signing up for the position as Mrs. Bob Jacobs?”

Molly took a step back and shook her head vigorously. “Nope. Don’t go there. You know good and well, Lacy, that I didn’t come here to marry.”

Lacy dropped her jaw a notch. “I know you are just like I was. You came for your career, and now you are doing one humdinger of a job getting the word out about the single cowboys here just yearning for true love. God’s given you a path and, honey, you are just blazing down it full speed ahead. But…and I mean this with all the love of a good friend, you not marrying—well that’s a bunch of hogwash, as Esther Mae would say.”

“Hey, that isn’t very nice.”

Lacy popped up, waving her arms wide. “You love it here Molly. You might be dreaming that writing for some fancy newspaper in some giant city is where you want to be, or crawling through some jungle, but I can see in your heart that Mule Hollow is in your blood now. Maybe when you first came here you thought you wanted to be somewhere more exotic, but after a few months here you’re now one of us. All you have to do is admit it.”

Molly pushed away the voice in her head that wanted to agree with Lacy, the part of her that longed to relax and put her roots deep in the Texas soil that surrounded this minuscule tad of a town. But she couldn’t.

She’d had a plan, a dream, for most of her life. You didn’t just chuck a lifetime dream out the window when it was finally within your grasp.

Besides, Bob Jacobs might be the best-looking man she’d ever seen and her heart might go pitter-patter every time he stepped near, but that didn’t mean anything other than the fact that she knew how to appreciate a good man when she saw one. And that was that.

She didn’t tell Lacy any of the last thought, though. She wasn’t insane. Instead, she argued the facts. “Lacy, forget me and Bob. Our life goals are aeon’s apart. Bob wants a Leave It To Beaver June Cleaver type, or a Martha Stewart—minus the criminal record—wannabe. Ha! Those icons would be the last two people on earth I would ever be confused with. Nor do I have any desire to emulate them.” Well, that wasn’t exactly the truth…it wasn’t that she didn’t have hopes of conquering the kitchen—she did. But so far her Tuesday night cooking classes hadn’t turned out so well. She was actually dangerous in the kitchen.

But even if she were to master cooking beyond her trademark lasagna with canned sauce, never, ever would there be hope for her to become a domesticated diva. “I need to go, Lace. I’m supposed to meet with Bob’s insurance agent down at Prudy’s place first thing this morning. Speaking of which, have you seen my car?”

“Have I seen it! Girl, Norma Sue came hurling herself into the diner last night talking about how terrible Sylvester had destroyed it. I’m telling you, Molly, Clint said it was only by the grace of God that you weren’t hurt. Thank goodness Bob showed up when he did. That bull is a maniac when he’s been away from his pasture for a while.”

“Then why do they keep him around?”

“Because he’s a champion. And he only gets crazy at certain times. Clint says Bob has made a mint off that bull. Believe me, him escaping from his pasture was more of a mistake than just the fact that he could have killed you. People pay really good money for Sylvester’s offspring. Clint said the first and best investment Bob made was Sylvester. The bull financed his new ranch and enabled him to buy the other bulls that he owns.”

“Are you serious?”

“Oh yeah. Clint said buying that particular bull was an act of genius on Bob’s part. He’s just a little high-strung.”

“Mean is more like it,” Molly grumbled as she said goodbye, poked her pencil behind her ear, slung her backpack to her shoulder and headed toward her car—or what was left of her car.

It was a hard walk. She had to force every step. Because of that bull she’d had nightmares. The last place she wanted to go was to see the destroyed car that could very well have been the end for her. Sure, while it was going on she’d been able to disconnect herself from the danger. She’d actually taken pictures of Bob as he raced to save her life! How crazy was that? Who did something like that?

The man must think her an absolute loony tune. But at the moment, she was thinking the same thing about him. Here she was trying to help him find a wife and he had this bull problem. And it wasn’t anything to pooh-pooh away. Didn’t he understand, great investment or not, if that crazy bull killed someone, he was going to have a hard time finding a wife from behind bars?

Rounding the corner of Prudy’s Garage, she came face-to-face with her mangled car, and her knees almost buckled at the sight of it. Her mouth went dry and her palms grew damp—it was as if she were back in that moment. She could feel the car shaking as Sylvester slammed into it. She could see the solid wall of pure bull muscle bunching and rippling. Feel the car tilt and start to roll. She winced. The toast she’d forced down for breakfast suddenly threatened to revolt and, covering her mouth with her trembling hand, she whirled away. On shaking legs, she stumbled back to the street, praying for the Lord to help her keep her breakfast down.