Page 47 of Christmas with the Cowgirl
“At first, but then we found out a couple of less scrupulous sorts were buying votes.Neither of whom,” she added pointedly, “are still here in Last Stand, by the way.”
“Y’all ride them out of town on a rail?”
She raised a brow.“Why, Mr.Flint, that ‘y’all’ almost sounded genuine.”
He didn’t take offense—another point in his favor—but only grinned.“I’m trying.So how is the contest decided now?”
“Minna Herdmann.”He blinked, and she laughed.“She’s the true matriarch of Last Stand.”
“I thought Maggie Rafferty was.”
“She’s close enough, but still in training,” Riley said with a laugh.“She’s gradually taking over as Minna steps back.She is pushing a hundred and four years old, after all.”
His eyes widened.“Wow.”
“She’d only come up to your shirt pocket, and she’s thin and wiry as a fiddle string, but she’s still feisty as can be and as sharp as ever.”
He chuckled.“She sounds fascinating.”
“She passed that a while back.She was born here, as was her father, and his father, repeat repeat repeat.”
He chuckled again.“I love the way you folks put things.You just nail it in the best way.”
That encouraged her to risk the question she wanted to ask.“You’ll have to meet Minna sometime.”She gave him a sideways look, then plunged ahead.“Assuming you’ll be here long enough.”
“Until after Christmas,” he said.“Jeremy saw to that.”
“I’ll bet he did,” she replied, thinking that it would be hard for anyone to say no to that kid.“You’ll have plenty of chances then.Lots of Christmas events coming up.”
“Like?”
“Well, sadly you already missed the Corbyns’ tree trimming at their place in town—that’s a big deal.But the Christmas parade and town tree lighting is this Friday.Most of Last Stand turns out for that.Then next weekend will be the Christmas market downtown.”He was smiling, and she realized probably why.“I know, our downtown is nothing compared to yours.”
“Or maybe everything,” he said quietly.“There’s a lot to be said for a whole town celebration where you know almost everybody, over one where you don’t know anyone.”
Riley thought there was a note of almost sadness in his voice.Was he really that unhappy there?Stuck, having no choice because that’s where the world he moved in was?
At that moment a woman in a police uniform, with sandy blonde hair pulled up neatly into a rather intricate style—that Christi thing again—and walking with an alert-looking black German shepherd, reached the corner of Main and Hickory.
“Emily,” Riley said, pleased to see her.
“Hi, Riley.Mr.Flint,” Emily Stratton said with a nod.
Clearly they’d encountered each other before, probably at the Baylor place Riley thought, given she was Jackson’s best friend’s girlfriend.
“Miles, please,” he said.
“You might as well,” Riley teased her friend.“Seems he’s going to be around until Christmas.”
The woman laughed.Riley bent to greet the dog at her side.“And you look distinguished as ever, Mr.Lobo.”The dog’s tail wagged happily.
“He’s working out really well,” Emily said.“Better than we’d ever hoped.”
“He found his person,” Riley said with a smile.
“I hope so, because I adore him.Chance still working on finding you the perfect ranch dog?”Emily asked.
“Yes,” she said.“But then I think Chance Rafferty is working on finding everyone in Last Stand the perfect dog.”
