Chapter Seventeen
As it turned out, she and Sophie were escorted into Marigold by a gentleman of the old school: Tom Sinclair.
They were out for a very brief walk—brief, because Jasper needed some growth and stamina to him before attempting distance—and excitedly discussing plans for the trip to town, when Tom came upon them.
“Well, now, the two prettiest ladies on the ranch,” was his amiable greeting. “And my two absolute favorite. How’s the pup doin’?”
“If we wear him out enough, he sleeps for fifteen minutes at a time, doesn’t he, Carrie?”
“That does seem to work. Although I think Tom might have been inquiring about his state of health.”
“Oh, yeah.” Sophie peered down at the energetic animal, who was leaping, mock-growling, and attempting play with every step. “Well, he still gots that big blue band-aid on his paw. But he’s eatin’ real good, and he ain’t got any more fleas, and we’re s’posed to take him back to see Dr. Morgan in a week.”
“And what are we going to look for in town today, Sophie?”
“We’re gonna get him a bed, Tom,” answered the happy little girl. “And maybe some more toys. And plenty of food.”
“I’d say that’s a fine idea. You goin’ alone?”
“We were planning on it. And having dinner there, too. Unless—” Caroline paused, smiling at the cowpuncher. “Unless you’d like to accompany us.”
Tom grinned with pleasure. “Haven’t had so fetchin’ an offer in a long time. How soon you plannin’ to leave?”
Arrangements were made quickly and easily. Tom would change and clean up, then bring the ranch truck around to the front door. Meanwhile, Sophie would leave Jasper in the kitchen, to the tender care of Maria, for the few hours they would be gone. Caroline would collect her purse, with credit cards and cash. All were looking forward to the outing.
To some extent. Impatient as she was for the simple pleasure of a shopping expedition and supper, Sophie was worried about her dog.
“You sure Maria knows what to do?” she fretted for the umpteenth time. “You sure she can take care of Jasper?”
“I’m sure he’ll be just fine, Sophie,” soothed Caroline. “We won’t be gone very long. And your puppy will probably sleep anyway. You really tired him out today.” And yourself as well. But she merely thought the words, instead of saying them aloud.
Marigold, a town of ten thousand or so, proved to have everything they were looking for. A large ranching and farming supply store had just the size bed that was needed for Jasper, and Tom carried the bag of dry and the carton of canned dog food Caroline purchased out to the truck bed. It was Sophie who chose the rope tuggie and the set of fluorescent green tennis balls as must-haves for her puppy, who surely must be missing her like crazy.
From there the girls left Tom to do some more browsing amongst saddles and leather goods, while they perused the goodies offered at a nearby toy emporium. Several coloring books, a 48 count box of watercolor brushes, and a Barbie Cinderella Princess doll later, they rejoined their escort for a short walk to the Cattleman’s Bar and Grill.
“It’s pretty casual,” warned Tom, as they stepped inside the iconic batwing doors. “Noisy. And peanut shells on the floor. But the food is damn good, and it’s reasonable.”
Caroline tried not to show her surprise. She assumed that she, as the one extending the invitation to dinner, and of—yes, it must be admitted—unlimited deep pockets, would be paying. But there she erred. No old-fashioned cowboy, with innate good manners toward all womenfolk, would ever allow such a thing.
“Want some fries, Sophie? And maybe a burger?” asked Caroline, as she scanned the menu.
“Uh-huh. And a great big ole apple dumpling, with ice cream.”
Music was thumping away loudly, not so much in the background as to drown out most attempts at conversation. After the third time that Tom, across the table, leaned forward and yelled, “Huh?” in response to her question, she gave up and they merely smiled at each other.
It was a pleasure to look at him, anyway, in between responding to Sophie’s concerns. He had changed into a powder blue long-sleeved shirt that did nice things for his coloring and dark navy form-fitting jeans that probably hadn’t even been through the laundry yet. Tom Sinclair was a true man’s man by appearance, and just plain sweet-tempered and considerate to boot; and Caroline was proud to keep him company.
They had finished their meal—Tom a giant slab of meat, cooked half-raw, and a baked potato; Caroline a much lighter pasta dish, with cornbread—and were enjoying coffee as an aftermath, when Tom suddenly asked her to dance.
“Oh. Well.” The music had changed from the raucous twangety-twang-twang to something softer and more mellow. She glanced over at Sophie in her bench seat, who, as promised, was working away at her dessert. “But what about—”
“Darlin’, she’ll be fine. The dance floor ain’t but five feet away.”
For her trip to the big city, she had changed into a white cotton sweater, a flowing skirt in her favorite purple and teal, and cute little sandals. Now, she was glad she had done so. It had never seemed appropriate to her for a woman to dance in jeans, no matter how many might consider her to be wrong.
She allowed him to draw her into his arms, to hold her firmly yet carefully as they sashayed around in an easy two-step. Tall, with the spare Westerner’s frame that allowed no extra pounds to settle upon it, Tom’s black and silver hair gave him a look of maturity, and his blue eyes seemed to see into her soul.
“You’re settlin’ in okay,” he commented.
She sighed. “I’m relieved you think so. But I’m sure I’ve just scratched the surface with Sophie. We’re bound to have a blowup one of these days, when we don’t get along at all. And I’ll wonder if I’m doing anything right.”
He twirled her, and brought her in again. Closer to his chest. “Sure nuff. But that’s just people, learnin’ to live together. You’ve been good for her already, Carrie, and that was the main reason Ben married you.”
“Yeeess...” It was the main reason; no one could dispute that. But she felt a little depressed hearing said it right out in public.
“It’s made all the difference in the world t’ Ben, knowin’ he could go on his travels, managin’ and addin’ to his empire, without havin’ to worry who was takin’ care of her.”
“He didn’t do such a good job of filling me in, right at the beginning,” she said tartly. “It was sink or swim. I wasn’t sure how I was to handle a little girl.”
“Well, you took the bit b’tween your teeth and you went off a-runnin’ with it.” She felt, rather than saw, his comfortable smile. “And she’s accepted you, completely. I’d say Ben got the best of the bargain, in a good mother for his child.”
“Not so much. He paid my enormous pile of bills.”
He peered down at her, with those eyes that saw so much. “And you’re kinda worried about it, aren’tcha? It’ll work out, honey. Don’t you doubt it for a minute. Things’ll work out just fine.”
“Tom—”
Another twirl, and she felt the strength in his arms and chest. “Think I dunno what’s goin’ on?”
Caroline felt oddly shamefaced. “You mean—it’s that obvious?”
“Well, not to most people. But it is to me. Carrie, looks t’ me like our little punkin has just about wore herself out. Whaddya say we get her on home t’ bed?”