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Refusing to let his mind consider the picture she’d tried to paint, Shane shook his head. “Everything’s great with Christmas. I mean, Merry.”
“Good. She seems like a good girl. A little flighty.”
He quickly changed the subject. “You look nice tonight.”
Rayleen shifted and patted a hand to her hair. Then she shrugged and looked out over the dispersing crowd. She did look nice. In fact, she’d worn a pretty blue calico dress, though she still wore old shit-kickers on her feet. “Look at these two,” she muttered, tilting her chin toward his two stepgrandmothers.
The women had squared off in furious conversation just a few feet away.
Kristen pointed a finger at Jeanine. “You’re the one who never supported his interest in history and culture. All you cared about were those horses!”
“Me?” Jeanine screeched. “Are you kidding? Gideon told me you demanded a heater in the stables because you just had to have that Arabian.”
Kristen gasped and Shane watched the color fall from her cheeks.
“Oh, yes,” Jeanine pushed. “He called to complain about you all the time. Said he needed a trusted ear, someone to talk to. That was me, Kristen.”
Rayleen let out a long sigh. “Oh, boy. Women.”
“You may have been younger,” Jeanine snarled. “Maybe even more beautiful, but he never had any use for prissy little—”
“Jesus Christ and cheese and crackers!” Rayleen barked.
Both women jumped and spun around. Shane held up his hands and stepped a few inches back. There was no way he was getting involved in this.
“Rayleen Kisler,” Jeanine gasped. “Are you eavesdropping?”
“Eavesdropping?” she scoffed. “The goddamn mountain lions are eavesdropping. We can’t help but hear you.”
“Well, I never,” Kristen said.
“I never, either,” Rayleen agreed. “Because it seems to me that you two are arguing over a dead man. A dead man! Hell, if one of you really wants him, I’d hope I was the other, because there’s no point hanging on to a corpse.”
“He was a special man!” Kristen Bishop insisted.
“Well, he’s dead now, woman!” Rayleen yelled.
Both of the Bishop women looked around to be sure no one had heard. When they found themselves alone, they aimed eerily similar looks of disgust at Rayleen.
She laughed. “Well, look at that. Go on, then. Hang on to your self-righteousness. Hope it keeps you warm at night. But in case you hadn’t noticed, there are a whole lot of ancient cowboys around these parts, and whatever their flaws, they’re a hell of a lot warmer than a dead man, ladies.”
They both glared.
“Suit yourself,” Rayleen said. “More cowboys for me.”
The Bishop widows looked at each other. Then back at Rayleen. “Why?” Jeanine ventured. “Where do you meet these men?”
“Sweetheart, I work in a bar. I’m tripping over them.” She
laughed, but the women just stared at her.
Rayleen glanced at Shane. He looked away as if he weren’t listening. “Fine!” she barked. “There’s a bridge club over at the recreation center, and they have singles parties the first Saturday of every month at the senior center. If you want some old man pickins, those are your best bet.”
As if on cue, Easy appeared in his worn-out jeans and bolo tie with a crisply ironed shirt.
Jeanine gave Rayleen one last glare, but then Kristen nudged her and tipped her head toward Easy. They both cast gentle smiles in his direction as he crossed the road toward them.
Rayleen growled. “And if I catch you making eyes at Easy, I’ll snatch them out of your head and feed them to the crows.”
