A Rich Man for Dry Creek / a Hero for Dry Creek Read Free Page A

knobs on his plane’s instrument panel and wondered what he’d ever need with all the unnecessary attachments he’d asked the manufacturer to add. He couldn’t even remember why he’d wanted a cup-size blender added on the passenger side.
    He hardly knew himself anymore. It came from spending a whole five months as someone else.
    Jenny carefully laid the phone back down on the counter where it had been when the last call arrived and then picked it up again to wipe off the dust that had followed her out of the pantry.
    Robert watched her as he untied the apron strings from around himself and put the damp apron on the nearby counter. “Hope there was no problem.”
    She looked up at him in alarm. “What?”
    â€œAbout the pudding,” Robert elaborated grimly. She looked confused and guilty as sin. “I hope there was no problem with the order.”
    â€œNo, no, everything’s fine.” Jenny blushed.
    Robert wondered what the tabloids were paying these days. “Good. I’m glad to hear that. Wouldn’t want anything to go wrong with…things.”
    Jenny stiffened. “I run an efficient kitchen. Everything will be fine.”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œI’ll admit we are a little behind schedule, but your mother assured me that people will be late arriving because of the cold weather. And everything’s set up in the barn. Tables, chairs—the works. The kids even decorated.”
    Jenny hadn’t worried when she was in Seattle and Mrs. Buckwalter had called to ask her to come cater this event. The older woman had said the party was to be held in The Barn. She’d announced the fact with such flourish that Jenny assumed it was some bohemian restaurant with theme.
    Jenny was startled when they drove into Dry Creek and she saw that The Barn really was a barn, complete with hayloft and straw. Then she looked around at the few buildings in town and realized there probably wasn’t an industrial oven in any one of them.
    That’s when she first knew she was in trouble. Not that it would do to admit it to her employer’s son.
    â€œWe’ll have the platters ready just as soon as those puffs cool. And the water’s heating for the lobsters. A half hour and dinner will be served.”
    Robert nodded as he picked up the cell phone she had laid back on the kitchen counter. He slipped it into his pocket. His phone had a redial feature built into it. Maybe he could call the reporter and stop the story.
    Robert put on his wool overcoat and stepped outside. Snow covered patches on the ground and the frigid air made his breath catch. He’d been in cold weather before at ski resorts, but the cold in rural Montana bit harder.
    The back door to the kitchen led to a dirt path that was lined with garbage cans. Fortunately, the temperature was so cold the garbage wasn’t rotting. Not that Robert minded the smells of garbage anymore.
    Robert wondered if he’d ever be the same again. He hadn’t intended to spend five months as someone else. It had started as the adventure of a bored rich man. He knew that. There was something supremely arrogant about shedding his identity like it was last year’s fashion.
    But he had done it and wasn’t the least bit sorry.
    He’d flown down to the Tucson airport last October. From there he’d headed on foot toward a little town on the Arizona/New Mexico border. He’d left his suit with his plane in a locked area of the airport. He also left his black diamond watch and his laptop computer.
    He walked away wearing an old pair of denim jeans and a flannel shirt. The only thing expensive about his clothes had been his tennis shoes. He had no car. No cell phone. A dozen twenty-dollar bills, but no credit cards.
    He still remembered how good it felt.
    That day he left behind Robert Buckwalter III and became simply Bob. He rolled the name around on his lips again. Bob. He liked the