The Cowboy's Make Believe Bride (Wyoming Matchmaker Book 2) Page 4

  Phillips didn't give him a chance to respond. “As I see it, you ain't got a chance in Hades. Not that folks don't like you. But we'd like you to try. Mostly because we want to see what you'd do after you lose. Split maybe? Can't see you working for Deke.”

  Fort tossed up his hands. “Why would I split? My family's ranch is here. I live here.” The short-sightedness of the community baffled him. Did it really take having a girl to show he was committed to the community? To him, that was straight up bullshit.

  Phillips moved his cigarillo from one side of his mouth to the other. “Yep, true. But as I see it, you got this gal in Texas that none of us know anything about, and if you lose this election, maybe you'll want to go live there with her. The pull of a siren woman is serious. Hard to resist. I've been there.” He started poking Fort in the chest. “You may be tied to your Ma's ranch but it's your Ma's still. Not yours, and this gal, maybe she don't like small towns. Yep, Deke's a shoo-in.” He ended his words with a final poke.

  “I agree,” said Burt, the feed store owner. “Not that I think he's the best candidate, but he might be the steadiest candidate.” A few others in the crowd nodded their agreement.

  Fort kicked the toe of his boot against the ground in frustration. The entire town was comprised of fools, and clearly, he was one of them. Maybe he should leave and start over someplace where people were sane.

  Stupid town. If he didn't love it so much…

  Fort lifted his hand in the air to get the men's attention. “For what it’s worth, I love this fool-headed town and all the nut jobs in it.” He looked at Mr. Phillips. “Those eight years in the navy—”

  “As I see it, you didn't even stick that out,” Phillips said.

  “Neither did you,” Fort retorted.

  Phillips straightened up. “Listen here, son, I was called up—”

  “And I volunteered. Let's not fight over our time. We served, and it was an honor to do so. I appreciate what you gave this country Mr. Phillips.” Fort placed a hand on Phillips’ shoulder. The older man nodded and pressed his lips together, a sign that the old man's ire had receded. Fort continued, “This is my home. I love these cows, even those troublesome wild horses. I'd rather deal with the damage they're doing to the land than be away from here.” He gestured to the land outside the large front store window.

  “Sounds like someone is running for Sheriff,” Bucky Wise said from the back of the crowd.

  “I'd vote for ya, Fort, if you were settled,” Burt said. “I'm not one for change, and I'd hate to vote for you only to have you run off. Know what I mean?”

  Fort nodded. He did. Mrs. Z had explained it well the day before.

  “We're ready to load you out back, Fort,” Burt's son, Colt, said.

  “Thanks, Burt. That's high praise.” He gave Phillips another pat on the back and extracted himself from the crowd who were still talking about his merits as sheriff.

  After his truck was loaded with both his and Mrs. Z's supplies, he drove away from the store, his mind heavy with questions. He simply needed to admit to himself he wanted to run. Being the town's sheriff appealed to him on a level deeper than he expected. With it would come an acceptance he'd never experience but longed for. A respect he was working hard to garner.

  When the idea of hiring a girlfriend had first popped into his mind, he'd discarded it. Yet, it kept circling back. He made a mental list of the pros and cons, but quickly lost track of the cons since the pros of becoming sheriff and building that career were looking pretty damn good.

  The stakes were high. No doubt. But maybe, just maybe, if the townspeople saw another side to him, they'd warm up to the idea of him running. He wasn't saying he needed to get married. He was only going to show them a softer Fort.

  5

  Cori clenched her back teeth and stared at her coworker, a girl fresh out of high school, who used the word “like” as a noun, verb, adjective, and overall filler word.

  Said girl, Mitzi, was staring at the photo-processing machine in wonder and frustration. “I, like, don't understand what happened. I, like, set it up like I always do. This machine is like a computer and should, like, do it's, like, job.”

  Cori closed her eyes to keep from rolling them. “Yes, well. It's not like a computer, it is a computer, and though they are able to do what commands we tell it, we still need to properly maintain the machine. This includes putting paper in and closing the side panel so we don't overexpose the film.”

  Mitzi stared at her wide-eyed. “Like, duh. But it didn't tell me to do any of those things.”

  Cori didn't want to point out that anyone with eyeballs, especially ones as large as Mitzi's, could see the side panel was open. As for the paper, the little blinking light on the corner of the screen was a good clue. Cori shook her head in disbelief. “I’ll fix it, but that roll of film is ruined.”

  Mitzi smiled. “I'll, like, tell the customer that, like, the machine was, like, acting up. Like, I do it all the time.” She glanced at the name on the film's envelope then sucked in a quick breath.

  Cori snatched the blue and white paper sleeve from her and scanned for the name. “Crap on a cracker,” she said and handed it back to Mitzi. “Good luck with that one.”

  The film belonged to the infamous Mrs. McAdams. Her sour disposition was what one could hope for when dealing with her. Any other day she was downright nasty. Cori hoped she’d be at lunch when Mrs. McAdams came for her photos, but in case she wasn't, she fully planned to duck and hide in one of the oversize cupboards they used to hold their supplies. She wanted no part of this mess. She still hadn't dug out from the one her parents left her with.

  Cori spent every day scrutinizing her actions and calculating her risk. For her, changing the town's perception of her was imperative. She'd grown up in Brewster, Texas. Some of the folks here had educated her, babysat her, and worked on her family's ranch for generations. But fat lot of good any of that did her now. All anyone could remember was what her father did and, apparently, the sins of the father were to be revisited on the daughter. If there was ever a stranger in their hometown, Cori was one such person.

  Maybe now that the government was taking applications for the restitution money, the attitude of the locals toward her would change.

  “I'm gonna, like, take a break,” Mitzi said, then yawned.

  Cori nodded. Yep, that was about right. Mitzi had been here long enough to run one set of film through the machine, screw it up, and her day was done. She'd spend the remaining shift hours chatting with other store employees, going out for lunch, staring at the Barbie clothes in the toy aisle for fashion tips, and essentially being useless to Cori.

  “Don't forget I get to take a lunch break, too. So be back in a few hours.” Cori moved to the film developer and began doing a check. She wanted to make sure everything was perfect before she started any other orders.

  “Like, as if. It's just a break. I'll be back in a few.” Mitzi scuttled off before Cori could say anything further. Not that she had anything to say. Keep her nose clean and her mouth shut. Not that her nose had ever been dirty, but her mouth had gotten her in trouble once or twice. She had a problem repeating things she'd been told or overheard. There was also the time when she was eight, and her momma had entered Cori in the Little Miss Heifers pageant. Winning had been all Cori's Momma had talked about. “Just get a crown, Corinne. Just one. Smile and be sweet” had been her momma's request. Cori had tried, really. But when the judge had leaned toward her, her sour breath puffing in Cori's face, and asked, “If you could work with any of the following who would you pick? Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, or Fairy Godmother?” Cori had laughed in her face and said, “None, because they are all make-believe. They ain't real. They're a lie. When I get a job, it’s going to be as a rancher. I love being on a ranch.” Never mind a handful of four, five, and six-year-olds were surrounding her. Yep, she really did need to learn to zip it.

  Time flew as Cori ran several disposable cameras from a
wedding. She picked out several amazing shots, reprinted them, and made a collage she thought would make the bride blubber all over again. She really did enjoy working with pictures. Almost as much as she did cows and horses. Then she spent time leaning against the counter people watching. Like clockwork, as the hour reached noon, Mitzi didn't show up to relieve her for lunch.

  Mr. Miller shuffled by, a bakery pie in hand. Every day he would spend time in the automotive section. He was one of the few who acknowledged her. His tiny head nod and half smile meant everything to her. Cori knew for a fact Mr. Miller had been the first to apply to the government for monetary compensation for the loss of his land. She wondered if he'd moved out of his double-wide trailer and into something with a yard for his zero-turn.

  “Hey Cori, have you seen Mitzi?” Cori turned to find the store manager leaning against the counter. He pointed to her collage. “Well done,” he said without so much as looking at her. Just talking to the air, like he knew she was there but couldn't see her because she was invisible.

  “Thanks. I haven't seen Mitzi for a while. She took a break. If you come across her, would you please tell her it’s time for my lunch break? I don't want to leave until she's manning the desk.” It was against policy to leave the section unattended, so Cori hoped he picked up on her subtle hint. She wasn't about to become a narc and tattle on Mitzi, but she could leave a trail of breadcrumbs.

  Joe, the manager, nodded. His lack of direct eye contact bothered her. He turned to leave, but paused. “Listen,” he said, looking at his thumbnail. “You're a good worker.” He nodded twice.

  “Thanks,” Cori said and wondered what in the heck was his deal. He nodded again and was gone before she could think of anything else to say. Her stomach growled, and she hoped Mitzi would show up soon, but like her daddy had always said, “You can hope in one hand, shit in the other, and see which one fills up first.” An unpleasant image to be sure but, in this case, Cori wouldn't be surprised if Mitzi didn't show up until a few minutes before Cori was scheduled to clock out. It had happened before. Thankfully, Cori was prepared. She had tucked a few granola bars and an apple in one of the drawers and went to get them now, hoping they'd tie her over until she could go to lunch or it was time to go. Preferably the first. She had the granola bar unwrapped and in her mouth in seconds and was reaching for another when she heard the unmistakable angry tone of Mrs. McAdams.

  “Is that all you do around here? Eat?”

  Cori stared at the second granola in her hand. If she were a person with superpowers, she'd turn the granola bar into a wand and cast a shut-up spell on Mrs. McAdams. Maybe the entire town would thank her. She dropped the granola bar back into the drawer and turned to face the angry woman.

  “Afternoon, Mrs. McAdams. How can I help you?” Darn it all and that Mitzi. She should be the one facing this firing squad.

  “You want to help me? Maybe you could come mow my yard since Lloyd had to take that job over in the next county and can't help as much at home.” Lloyd and Cori had gone to school together, but he'd been a few years ahead. Not the sharpest tool but considerably nicer than his mother. Mrs. McAdams, hands resting on the small of her back, glared at Cori. Crinkles of discomfort creased the corners of the older woman's eyes. “Thanks to your family. Or maybe you could give us back the money your father swindled?”

  Cori was at a loss for how to respond. Mrs. McAdams words were sharp daggers to the heart. Everywhere she looked, every person she talked to in Brewster, had been affected by her father's actions.

  Mrs. McAdams sighed wearily. “Are you going to help me or not?”

  “Oh, right. Film.” Cori forced herself into the moment, wishing she could forever forget the past.

  “Well, I'm not here for tacos, am I? Obviously, I'm here for my film.” She rolled her eyes and slapped her hand on the counter. “Dumb girl.”

  Correction. If Cori had a superpower, she would want the ability to morph into something her nemesis found scary. In Mrs. McAdams case, there was nothing that woman found frightening, but that didn't stop Cori from wanting to jump-scare the pee outta her. Like one of those pranks people play on the computer. One moment you were looking at a bucolic pasture, waiting for something to happen, and the next a crazy face flashes on the screen, appearing to jump at you. Only it goes away so fast you think you imagined it. Cori would like to do that right now.

  Please she begged the universe. Just this once.

  Of course, nothing happened. “Picking up or dropping off?” Cori asked instead. Hoping it would clue the woman in that Cori hadn't seen any pictures from Mrs. McAdams and therefore wasn't the one who overexposed them.

  “Picking up,” Mrs. McAdams bit out.

  Cori went to the drawer where she'd filed the envelope and thumbed slowly through all the options, hoping Mrs. McAdams would simply disappear. Evaporate. Get hauled off by a Yeti. Anything. Cori held the woman's picture envelope between her thumb and forefinger and mentally scolded herself. This was not the attitude she needed to possess if she was going to change the way the majority of the town felt about her. She needed to kill them with kindness, prove she wasn't like her father.

  “Here ya go, Mrs. McAdams. If you have more shopping to do, there is no need to pay here.” Totally breaking store policy, but if it meant Mrs. McAdams would leave, it would be worth it.

  The woman narrowed her eyes at Cori and lifted the envelope's tab as if the sticky portion had never been sealed.

  Yes, Cori thought. Resistance was futile. Much like many of Cori's wishes. While Mrs. McAdams slid the pictures out, Cori looked over her shoulder for Mitzi. For anyone.

  Mrs. McAdams gasped. “These—these, these are—are—are awful. They're—”

  “Overexposed. Yes. I didn't process them, but the tech who did said the machine was acting up.” The granola bar sat like a boulder in Cori's stomach.

  When Mrs. McAdams tossed the pictures at Cori, they fell around her like heavy confetti. “You did this on purpose, didn't you?”

  “I had nothing to do with your pictures.”

  “How am I supposed to believe that? Your father looked us all in the eye and lied every day to our faces. You're just like him. You have to ruin everything. This town, my family, my pictures. Everything.”

  Cori looked around to the other customers who had stopped to watch. “Mrs. McAdams. I had nothing to do with what my father did.” How many times had she said this? She'd been in high school. The day following graduation her mother had split, leaving the responsibility of dealing with the government to Cori. Someone had to oversee the selling of the ranch and its assets. She had broken it down into bits. The more earned from the sale of the ranch and its equipment, the more the people of Brewster would get back. Not that it would ever be enough. But she'd done it, dismantled her home for everything she could get. Barbie, her mom, was too busy playing the victim to deal with it, and had Cori let the government do the selling, they would have asked for pennies on the dollar. Cori had refused to let that happen. She needed to know the people of Brewster were getting back as much as they could.

  Why do I stay? she wondered for the millionth time. Because its home, she reminded herself.

  Mrs. McAdams clutched her bag to her chest. “Every time I see you, all I can think about is what your family took from mine, and now you've even gone so far as to take away my memories.” She nodded to the photos scattered between them. “I'm going to find the manager and give him an earful.” After she stormed off, Cori sank against the counter.

  Mitzi suddenly materialized. “Wow, that was like awful, awful.”

  “Tell me about it,” Cori mumbled and tucked her hands under her bum to quell their shaking.

  “But like, whatever, she's, like, always unhappy, and I've, like, got some really, like, good news. Like check this out. I, like, got promoted to photo shop assistant manager, and I'm, like, now your boss. And as your, like, new and super cool boss, I'm giving you, like, the rest of the day off. Like awesome, right?”<
br />
  What in the flim-flam was going on? Mitzi was her freaking boss? Yes, Hell did exist on Earth, and it was right here in Brewster, Texas. Cori was standing at Hell’s mouth, had been on the cusp of it for years.

  “Like, I'm the bomb, right?” Mitzi smiled and kicked a photo over by the trashcan.

  Purgatory. She was sick and tired of it. How long was it going to take this town to forgive her? To accept her? Across the way, Cori spotted Mrs. McAdam's chewing out the store manager. He glanced at her and quickly looked away. Coward.

  Forget this. Cori looked at the clock, then back at Mitzi. “Well, considering that I get off in half an hour and haven't had lunch, you're not doing me any real favors. And where have you been all day?” She threw her hands up in question. Cori ran this department. Cori ran this machine and kept it going. She'd like to see Mitzi do a full day’s work. Just once.

  Scratch that. She couldn't care less. She was sick of it all. Sick of trying to do the right thing based on everyone else's expectations of her. Trying to undo something she had nothing to do with in the first place. She'd been a victim, too. Only difference was she didn't let it consume her. Nope. She kept trying to move forward. She'd volunteered at the hospital, took courses at the community college when she could afford it, and showed up on time for her shifts at the superstore. Yes, her dad had swindled the good people here, but Mrs. McAdams’ husband was the town drunk and had been long before her father took half his herd. No one ostracized them.

  Cori looked around. People were staring at her, some whispering, others shaking their heads. Why was it so easy to hate her, to constantly talk about her? Inside, she was weary. She couldn't find the silver lining to anything anymore. She hated herself every time she faked a smiled and pretended that being slighted was okay. It wasn't okay. She was a person, too. She had feelings and needs, too.

  Something inside Cori snapped into little tiny pieces, or maybe she was already in those little pieces, but now they'd been tread upon so many times they were dust. She could no longer collect them up and hold them together. Or maybe it was something simpler like missing lunch and she was hangry, that magical combination of hungry and angry. Whatever the reason, she couldn't stop herself if she wanted. The next moments passed like an out-of-body experience. One minute she was standing there watching everyone, straining to hear their whispers, and the next she was whipping off her store vest and tossing it in the air toward Mitzi. Then she leapt up on the counter.