in her life, she hadn’t been able to recognize it for what it was.
Maybe Nate didn’t recognize it either, she mused, wondering . . .
Valentine Valley filled up with rodeo crowds. Emily had never seen so many cowboy hats in her life. She and Nate shared an occasional meal, but the rodeo that weekend began to take up more and more of his time. It was a good thing. She had to keep reminding herself not to imagine things were too deeply felt, that there might be more to the softness in his eyes than friendship and enjoyment. They couldn’t have more than that even if she wanted it. Nate didn’t.
Her building was done at last—bare of furniture on the first floor but ready to be whatever the new owners wanted it to be. She called the real-estate agent, and he toured the place for the first time, whistling his admiration. After taking pictures, he promised to get back to her soon about whether the owner of Leather and Lace wanted to see it before making an offer. When he’d gone, she stood in the middle of the restaurant and felt . . . melancholy, wistful, as if this building had been another stage in her life that she was soon to leave behind.
Luckily, preparing for the rodeo baking competition kept her mind off anything too weighty. She settled on a chocolate mousse cake, and baked two, one for the judges, and one to be auctioned off later in the day for the Valentine Preservation Fund.
Just after dawn on the morning of the rodeo, the clouds broke, signaling a beautiful mountain day. Emily showed up with her entry and walked the ranch grounds, gawking at the colorful tents fluttering in the breeze, and the profusion of food vendors. She made plans to come back and sample the food, fried dough, sausage and peppers, and her favorite, cotton candy.
Crafters and leather artists displayed their wares. She noticed Josh wasn’t among them, but she was able to meet several of the women who sold their crafts on consignment at the flower shop, and blushed at their praise for her ability to hand-sell their goods. She’d helped these people earn a living with their talents, and it made her feel good.
Little boys and girls were dressed as cowboys, complete with chaps and spurs and little Stetsons. Emily later found out they were competing in a sheep-riding contest—who could stay on the longest, just like the big cowboys riding a bucking horse. Spurs jingled from cowboy boots as young men arrogantly strode through the grounds, ready to compete. More than one person called a hello, and she realized how many people she’d met in just a few short weeks.
And everywhere were the animals, of course. Many competitors brought their own horses for the barrel racing, calf roping, and team roping. Dogs roamed the grounds, occasionally wrestling for dominance, then barking in merry packs. In pens, the cattle lowed in deep baritone voices, as if warning all the competitors to expect a challenge.
At the baking-competition tent, she stayed to help Sandy Thalberg coordinate the entries. She got whistles from more than one cowboy, and she felt positively pretty in a sundress and cowboy boots—nothing like you’d see on the streets of San Francisco. She was dying to know what Nate thought but knew he must be crazy busy so didn’t seek him out. But every time she heard his deep voice over the loudspeakers that echoed through the valley, she felt a little thrill of excitement. And then his voice was gone, and Josh’s took his place. Emily exchanged a curious look with Sandy, who only shrugged her shoulders and went back to work.
A half hour earlier, in the ranch office, Nate looked out the window at the lightening sky and scowled. He’d printed out several lists and talked to all the event coordinators. He still had some more announcements to make, but he was waiting for the last document to print, then he’d follow his prescribed list, making sure everything got done.
“Nate?” Josh ducked his head in the door. “Where the heck are you?”
“I’m coming,” Nate said, standing near the printer impatiently. “Are the bulls in the holding pen?”
“Of course. You already delegated that task.”
“Right, sorry.”
“You know, big brother,” Josh said, half-sitting on the edge of a desk and studying Nate, “I bet you wouldn’t know how to enjoy the day if you weren’t running the whole thing, being everything to everybody.”