It Takes a Cowboy

“Wouldn’t hurt you to bid on one of those fine young hunks,” Arnette advised cheerfully. “Just because I decided I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life catering to Jesse Gibbs’s every cantankerous whim don’t mean I can’t appreciate a pair of broad shoulders and a nice, tight butt. Sure makes for a pleasant diversion on a lazy weekend.”

Laughing and shaking her head, Blair moved away from the folding table that had been set up as a sales counter, giving the people in line behind her a chance to be served. She sipped her slightly watery soda as she strolled toward the arena to watch the auction. She couldn’t help but be curious. It was certainly a beautiful day for the event, unusually warm for mid-June, the sky that intensely clear blue she’d come to identify with Wyoming. Rolling, wildflower-dotted pastures spread into the distance, crisscrossed by fencing, and on the horizon loomed the purply Wind River Range.

A colorful handmade quilt flapping from a branch of an enormous oak tree caught her eye. Blair loved pieced quilts, appreciating the effort and history that went into each one. A raffle box on a folding table had been set up in front of the quilt, along with a banner that read Converse County Hospital—35 Years of Sharing and Caring. A smaller sign proclaimed that proceeds from the quilt raffle would be donated to the Lost Springs Ranch for Boys. So many local organizations had pitched in to help today.

Impulsively, Blair stopped at the table, reaching into her pocket again as she greeted the striking redhead manning the raffle table. “Hello, Twyla. That’s a beautiful quilt. I’d like to buy some raffle tickets.”

Her cheeks unusually flushed, her manner a bit flustered, the hairstylist who had been cutting Blair’s dark blond chin-length hair for the past year reached for the roll of raffle tickets. “Hi, Blair. How many tickets do you want? They’re a dollar each.”

Blair glanced at the bill she’d pulled from her pocket. “I’ll take ten.”

Twyla took the bill and handed Blair ten numbered tickets. “The emcee will announce the winning number over the PA system after the auction. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Blair glanced wistfully at the quilt’s lovely log cabin design. “I’d love to win that.”

Someone else approached to buy raffle tickets, and Blair drifted toward the practice arena that had been built for the use of the boys on the ranch. The risers surrounding the arena were filling rapidly, mostly with women. Women of all shapes, descriptions and ages, she thought in amusement, glancing from a group of giggling teenagers to a couple of silver-haired women in spangled jogging suits. As she took an empty space near the front, she noticed that most of the people around her clutched glossy brochures filled with pictures of the men to be auctioned.

“Isn’t that a fine-looking group of studs?” the young woman beside Blair asked with a sigh, eyeing the men beginning to take their places in the folding chairs behind the auctioneer’s podium. “Lordy, what I wouldn’t give for a weekend with any one of them.”

Blair smiled at the brunette, who appeared to be in her early twenties. “Are you going to bid?”

The young woman laughed and shook her head. “I’m sure they’ll all go for more than I can afford. Some of these guys are famous, all of them are prominent in their fields, and there are some seriously rich women here to bid on them. Women from other states, even. I just came to make a donation to the fund-raiser and watch the fun. And maybe to fantasize a little about doing something wild and crazy with a good-looking stranger.”

Wild and crazy. Sounded like a description of Blair’s family. The Townsend reckless streak was notorious for spurring on impulsive and imprudent behavior. It was a part of her own nature that Blair had been suppressing for years, ever since it had become clear that someone in her family had to be responsible. That task had fallen to her at a very early age.

She looked again at the men assembling behind the podium, talking among themselves, some posturing good-naturedly for the women who hooted and whistled and flirted outrageously from the audience. If ever there was an opportunity for a woman to do something daring, this auction was it. They were an exceptionally intriguing-looking group of males. Not all of them could be called classically handsome, but it was obvious they were all comfortable with who they had become since leaving the ranch. They’d progressed a long way from the lost boys they’d once been. It must have been a sense of gratitude and obligation to the ranch that had brought them back for this rather odd occasion.

Blair looked from one self-consciously smiling male face to another. Each of them had at one time been in trouble, poised on the brink of potential disaster. Yet they had all chosen to turn themselves around. To make something of themselves. To...

Her eyes suddenly widened. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? She didn’t want Jeffrey spending time with the boys currently at the ranch, but would he benefit from talking to one of these former residents? A man who had been faced with a troubled future but who had chosen the path to success and responsibility instead? Jeffrey had never had a responsible, dependable male role model. Any one of these men would understand what rejection felt like. What it was like to be angry, confused, rebellious, defiant. Maybe they could share the secret of putting those negative emotions behind them so they could get on with their lives.

What if she bought one of these men to spend a weekend with Jeffrey, be a role model for him? It was a crazy idea...but she was desperate enough to give it serious consideration as the emcee took the podium and tried to calm the excited crowd so the auction could get under way.

Her thoughtful gaze moved from one bachelor to another. She wished she had one of those brochures so she could read their bios, pick the ones who seemed most responsible. She tried to make some guesses strictly on appearance. The famous rodeo champion was rejected immediately. A footloose, daredevil cowboy was not at all what she had in mind. Jeffrey’s father was both a wanderer and a thrill-seeker, and he had certainly not been a good influence on his son.

No, she most definitely did not want a cowboy.

A couple of the other bachelors looked a bit too nonconformist for her taste, she mused as her gaze skimmed across a guy with an earring and a ponytail. What she needed was a man who looked as though he understood the importance of conforming to the rules and expectations of society.

The auctioneer finally had everyone’s attention. “So, ladies, put your hands together for our first bachelor, Dr. Robert Carter.”

Doctor? Blair straightened with interest as an absolutely gorgeous man stood and stepped toward the podium. A ripple of appreciation went through the audience, followed by wistful sighs when the man whimsically kissed Lindsay Duncan’s hand. Blair noted his fabulous looks—what woman wouldn’t?—but she was more interested in other details of his appearance. The expensive, conservative haircut. His elegantly casual clothing—a navy golf shirt and crisply pressed khakis. The auctioneer introduced him as a successful pathologist, following that up with an amazing list of professional and personal accomplishments. A weekend with this man, Blair thought, tapping her chin, could be exactly what Jeffrey needed. And she would be making a donation to the ranch, a charity that had become close to her heart during the past year.

The bidding for Dr. Robert Carter started at five hundred dollars. To the apparent delight of the woman sitting next to her, Blair bid six hundred. Within minutes, the amount had risen sharply, as had the level of noise from the giddy, keyed-up crowd. Blair dropped out of the bidding at five thousand dollars. The guy looked nice, she thought, but there was a limit to how much she was willing to pay for a weekend that might not accomplish anything, anyway.

“See?” the brunette next to Blair said with rueful amusement. “I told you there are some high rollers in the crowd today.”

“You were right,” Blair said as the bids topped eight thousand and kept climbing.

The handsome doctor sold for a staggering amount. Blair gasped in surprise—as did a number of others in the audience—when the auctioneer called the name of the winning bidder. Sugar Spinelli was seventy-five years old and had been married for half a century! What did she want with a young stud of a doctor?

Blair was still shaking her head in amazement when the next bachelor was called to the stand. Again, bidding was brisk, though Blair sat this one out. When rodeo star Shane Daniels took the stage, there was a near frenzy of bidding. She didn’t participate in that one, either.

It really had been a dumb idea, she told herself as the auction proceeded. She hadn’t expected the bidders to be so serious about this. It seemed that every winning bidder had a serious agenda motivating her, spurring on high dollars and fierce, though generally good-natured, competition. Blair’s reason for participating was a valid one, but maybe she’d been foolish to even hope she could solve Jeffrey’s problems by buying him a weekend mentor.

By the time a half-dozen bachelors had been auctioned off, Blair was losing interest, her attention caught again by the tantalizing smells drifting over from the barbecue grills. One of those smoked turkey legs sure sounded good. Maybe, now that her stomach had settled a little, she could handle one. Maybe she should buy another batch of raffle tickets for that beautiful quilt. Since it didn’t appear that she was going to be buying a bachelor, she might as well donate to the cause in another way. And she really would love to have that quilt....

“Now, ladies, our next bachelor is Mr. Scott McKay. Scott owns a—”