“Is that so, Mr. Mayor?” Rosie teased, accepting the gauntlet thrown at her feet. “Prepare to be humbled.”
They squared off, their competitive streaks igniting as each took turns tossing rings, the clang of metal on wood punctuating their attempts. Rosie’s accuracy earned her a small cheer from onlookers, but it was Charles who triumphed, a boyish grin spreading across his face as he claimed a stuffed bear prize.
“Victory is sweet,” he crowed, presenting it to her with an exaggerated flourish.
“Only because you’re not used to it,” Rosie quipped back, unable to suppress her own smile. She accepted the bear, tucking it under her arm like a badge of honor.
Their laughter subsided as they strolled away from the games toward the quieter edge of the fair. Here, away from the cacophony, Rosie saw a different side of Charles emerge—a softer, thoughtful expression.
“Did you ever dream of something different, Charles?” Rosie ventured, her voice low. “Before becoming mayor, I mean.”
He stopped, facing her, his gaze holding a depth she’d seldom glimpsed. “When I was a boy, I dreamed of being a rancher,” he confessed, “and being the first rancher to raise buffalo.” His chuckle was self-deprecating. “Foolish dreams of a young mind.”
“Those dreams sound wonderful, not foolish,” Rosie encouraged, touched by his candor. “How did a man who dreamed of being a buffalo rancher become a mayor anyway?”
He took a deep breath. “John Thompson wanted to be mayor. He’s not a good man, Rosie, and when William, Albert, and I talked of him running unopposed, they decided I was the best man for the job. John, Albert, and I all made our fortunes in the silver mines. John and Albert bought up half the town, but I bought my ranch and the livestock, and it cost every dime I had.” He sighed. “Then Texas fever went through my herd. I lost all but seven of my cattle. All the money I’d carefully saved for my herd was gone. When William suggested I run against John for mayor, I knew the small amount it paid would help me to rebuild my herd, so I did it. That was twelve years ago. Every four years, John runs against me, and I always win.”
Rosie smiled. “Good. I’ve met the man, and frankly, I didn’t like him much. He seemed to look down on everyone around him. You’re a good man, though. I knew it the moment I saw you.”
Her words seemed to reach into him, lighting up his eyes with something warm and indefinable. “Thank you, Rosie,” he murmured, “for seeing in me what I often forget.”
The moment stretched between them, filled with an unspoken understanding, until the distant strains of fiddle music called them back to the present.
“Shall we dance, Mrs. Jordan?” Charles asked, extending his hand with a newfound tenderness.
“Lead the way, Mr. Jordan,” Rosie replied, placing her hand in his.
As they moved together to join the dancers, their steps fell into rhythm with the spirited tune. The swirl of skirts, the stomp of boots, and the clapping hands surrounded them, but Rosie felt only the strength of Charles’s arms guiding her and the harmony of their movements. With every turn and every step, the bond between them strengthened.
*****
RAIN PATTERED AGAINSTthe windows of their cozy Hope Springs home, trapping Rosie and Charles indoors. Outside, the world was a blur of grey and green, but inside, they found warmth in the golden glow of lamplight and the rich scent of pine burning in the hearth.
“Your move, Mrs. Jordan,” Charles announced with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, gesturing toward the board game sprawled between them on the rug.
Rosie bit her lower lip in mock contemplation, her gaze flitting over the game pieces as if the fate of empires rested upon her decision. “I’m thinking,” she teased, buying time to strategize her next play.
“Thinking or stalling?” Charles challenged, leaning closer under the pretense of scrutinizing the board. His arm brushed hers, sending an unbidden thrill through her.
“Stalling is a perfectly valid tactic,” she countered. “Checkmate.”
His jaw dropped, incredulity etched on his handsome face. “I’ll be,” he murmured, then leaned back with a hearty laugh that mingled with the thrumming of rain. “Looks like I’ve underestimated you once again.”
Rosie’s victory was sweetened when Charles reached out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. Her heart skipped, and she caught her breath at the tenderness of the gesture. When his lips brushed her cheek, Rosie felt the barriers between them.
*****
THE NEXT MORNING, WITHthe skies cleared to a breathtaking azure, Charles led Rosie to the edge of the property where two horses waited, their coats gleaming in the sun. Rosie eyed the majestic creatures with a mix of awe and nervousness.
“Ever been riding before?” Charles asked, his voice laced with excitement.
“Only in my dreams,” she admitted, her pulse quickening.
“Then today’s the day your dream becomes reality.” He offered her a hand, assisting her as she mounted the gentle gelding he’d chosen for her. “Take it slow, there’s no rush.”
She took a deep breath, feeling the strength of the horse between her legs, its muscles rippling with contained power. Charles swung onto his steed with practiced ease, tipping his hat back with a grin. “Ready?”
“Let’s venture forth,” she said, feeling that every day with Charles was an adventure.
