Lassoed by Fortune

CHAPTER Four


Harlan Osgood wore not one but two hats in his everyday life.

First and foremost, like his father before him, Harlan was the town barber. He owned and ran The Cuttery, Horseback Hollow’s only barbershop. Eventually he’d expanded the shop to include a hair salon, as well, for those ladies who were brave enough to cross the threshold and place the fate of their flowing tresses in Harlan’s hands.

Almost everyone in town sat in one of his chairs at one time or another, most on a fairly regular basis. Interacting with these town residents gave Harlan some insight into the way the locals felt about all sorts of matters that concerned them. He was a good listener, always had been, and that, in turn, helped him make some of the decisions he needed to make when he donned his other hat, the one that figuratively belonged to the town mayor.

All things considered, the latter was almost an honorary position. For one thing, there was next to no monetary compensation for the job. Being elected mayor by the good people of Horseback Hollow fed his self-esteem rather than helped him put food on the table. That was what running the Cuttery was for.

Harlan had always been considered a decent, fair man by his friends and neighbors. He wasn’t one to impose his will over the objection of others, didn’t look for ways—devious or otherwise—to line his pockets or the pockets of his friends at the town’s expense. What had put Harlan in office and kept him there election after election was his honest belief that in a town as small as Horseback Hollow, that everyone’s voice really counted and was equal to everyone else’s.

The way he saw it, one person was no better, no worse than another, and that included him.

Harlan first heard the rumor about the possibility of a new restaurant—funded by some of the Fortunes of Red Rock—coming here to Horseback Hollow the way he heard about almost everything else that came to his attention: from one of the customers sitting in his barber’s chair.

In less than forty-eight hours, what began as a vague rumor quickly became the topic that was on everyone’s lips. No matter who was doing the talking, it seemed that everyone, young or old, had an opinion on the subject of this new restaurant that might be coming.

Some spoke with feelings and passion about this restaurant that had yet to materialize. Others chose to feel him out first before stating how they felt on the matter.

“What do you think about that new place that’s coming to Horseback?” Riley Johnson, one of his most regular customers, asked him.


The rancher, lean and rangy of build, came in for a haircut like clockwork every two weeks despite the fact that he had very little hair to speak of these days. He came, Harlan suspected, for the company and a chance for some male interaction. Riley owned a fairly small spread as far as ranches in the area went and he and his wife had been blessed with all girls. Riley spent most of his days feeling outnumbered.

The barbershop was a place to regroup.

Riley twisted around in his chair to look at the man he’d known going on five decades, waiting for the latter to answer.

“Well, it’s not a done deal just yet, Riley,” Harlan pointed out as he made rhythmic cuts to the hair that was there.

“I heard it’s more done than not,” Clyde Hanks, another regular, waiting for his turn with Harlan, spoke up.

“Well, you heard wrong,” Harlan told him, keeping his eyes on his work and Riley’s balding pate. “Nobody’s put in any papers for it and nothing’s crossed my desk yet. There’s gotta be permits issued, land measured, all sorts of tedious things like that before anything gets started,” Harlan said. “You boys know that.”

Riley still looked a bit skeptical. “And you’re not just holding out on us?”

“No reason not to tell you if it was happening,” Harlan answered mildly.

“You ask me, it’s not a good idea,” Riley said.

“Bringing in new business is always a good idea,” Clyde maintained.

Harlan could see both sides of the matter, the way he always did. The good and the bad. Which was why he decided that calling a town meeting to put the matter up for discussion and then eventually to a vote might just be the best way to handle this budding tempest in a teapot—before that teapot boiled over.

The meeting was set for Friday evening at seven.

As always, Harlan relied primarily on word of mouth to spread the news of the town meeting. To play it safe, he also had a couple of notices posted, one in the Superette because most of the town frequented the grocery store, and one in the town’s only post office. To his way of thinking, this was as close to covering all bases as he could possibly get.

And then Harlan went back to business as usual, doing what needed to be done until the day of the meeting.

* * *

Julia glanced at her watch. It was almost time for the meeting. She was so preoccupied, going over what she wanted to say and trying very hard not to be nervous, that she didn’t hear her father’s soft footfalls until he was next to her. The once heavyset man had lost a great deal of weight, but he was on the mend and determined to get better with each passing day.

“Julia?”

“Oh, Dad, you scared me,” she said, looking up, startled.

He smiled at her. “I just wanted to wish you luck tonight. Some of our friends and neighbors can be real stubborn about changing anything.” His protective attitude toward her was out in full display as he said, “Maybe I should go with you.”

He still thought of himself as being stronger than he was. She knew these baby steps toward full recovery were frustrating for him, but she didn’t want him taking on more than he should. “No, you know excitement isn’t good for you, Dad. You’ve more than done enough already,” she told him with feeling. “Finding out about the Mendozas and how they were looking for a new location for a second restaurant, setting up my introduction to them... I’ll take it from here.”

“You know, I wanted this for you. Wanted to find some way to pay you back for what you gave up to stay here for me.”

She didn’t want him to feel obliged to her in any way. She’d stayed out of love, not because anyone had made her. “Dad—”

“Let me have my say, Julie. I didn’t do all that much, just asked around to find out where you could get in contact with that Marcos Mendoza guy. Most of it was just a matter of luck, anyway, him being married to Wendy Fortune. They’re looking to expand their business, so why shouldn’t it be here? Especially since James Fortune is so thrilled to finally make contact with his long-lost sister Jeanne Marie, and her living right here in Horseback Hollow. You might even call it fate. I just tugged a little on fate’s hand, that’s all. You did the rest. You wrote to them and laid it all out, nice and pretty, the way I knew you would, telling them about all the ways building their next restaurant right here was a good idea for them and for the town. You always did have a real good head on your shoulders, Julie. Almost as good as your heart,” he said with barely contained emotion.

Moved, she hugged him. “I love you, Dad.”

“Right back at you, baby. Now go knock ’em dead,” he urged.

The meeting was held at the Two Moon Saloon. As usual, the bar was declared officially closed for the duration of the meeting. The establishment’s tables were all pushed to the side, against the walls, and extra folding chairs had been brought in.

As always, there were more people than chairs, but that was just the way things were and no one seemed to mind all that much. Standing for the duration of the meeting seemed like a small price to pay for being included in the town’s voting process.

At exactly the stroke of seven, Harlan began the meeting. “Thank you all for coming,” he said, addressing people he considered to be his friends rather than his constituents. “I don’t think many of you have to be told why we’re here.”

“I dunno about anyone else, but I’m here to get out of doing more chores,” a male voice at the back of the room piped up. A smattering of laughter followed the remark.

“Glad we could help you out, Zack,” Harlan said, recognizing the speaker’s voice. “All right, let’s get started,” he declared, bringing down his gavel and officially calling the meeting to order. “It’s recently come to my attention that there’s been some serious talk about some out-of-towners thinking of opening up a new restaurant right here in town.”

“Why do we need another restaurant? What’s wrong with The Grill, I’d like to know?” a woman on the left asked indignantly.

“Have you been there lately? It ain’t exactly the Four Seasons,” her neighbor, a woman with a rather heavyset face, pointed out.

“Well, this ain’t exactly New York now, is it?” the first woman countered.

“Ladies, ladies, you’ll all get your chance to state your opinions,” Harlan promised calmly. “That’s why we’re here. No need to try to shout one another down. We’re not taking a final vote tonight. That’s for the next meeting. Right now, we’re just going to discuss it. All right, one at a time, please,” he requested, looking out at the sea of faces before him. “Who wants to go first to make a case for or against a new restaurant opening up in Horseback Hollow?”

More than a few hands shot up. This certainly was a hot topic, Harlan thought. He fervently hoped that it wouldn’t divide the town and put the residents at odds with one another. Something like that could turn ugly quickly.

Though he rarely expressed his own opinion on things, he felt strongly about one thing. He would not stand by and see the people who were his neighbors come to blows over this. He wouldn’t allow the restaurant to be built here if it came down to that.

* * *

Though she was friendly on a one-to-one basis, especially with her store’s customers, for the most part Julia considered herself to be rather on the shy side. She certainly didn’t like to call attention to herself, and as a rule, didn’t like speaking up in a crowded room. She always preferred to keep out of the spotlight.


Julia had attended more than one town meeting without saying a single word during the proceedings, only raising her hand those times when a vote had to be taken.

But this was different.

This—the restaurant that was under discussion—could very well mean the resurrection of her own dream, as well as representing some definite choices for the residents of Horseback Hollow.

Contemplating the restaurant’s advent, Julia had already gone so far as to create whole menus in her head, menus that offered so much more than The Grill—the building next to the saloon—did. The latter only served burgers, hot dogs and a grilled-cheese sandwich, which served as the establishment’s main and most popular meal. The selection at The Grill was so limited that it almost hurt.

So, after listening to one opinion being stated after another, with little being resolved—it was more like mundane bickering—Julia decided that maybe it was time for her to speak up on the side of the restaurant. She could see only pluses in having the business built here.

“Anyone else want to say something?” Harlan asked when the last speaker had finally and mercifully run out of steam and sat down. His eyes quickly swept the room.

When he saw the raised hand, he looked rather surprised to see who that hand belonged to.

“Julia?” he said uncertainly. “Would you like to say something?” Even as he asked, the mayor still expected to hear her say “No,” that she hadn’t really meant to raise her hand.

But she didn’t.

“Yes, Mr. Mayor, I would,” she said in a firm voice that gave no hint to the fact that her stomach had flipped over and was currently tied up in a very tight knot.

“Well, stand up and speak up,” he said, gesturing for her to rise. “No use talking if nobody can hear you or see you.”

“Might not be any use her talking even if we can,” someone scoffed.

“Shut up, Silas, and let her say her piece.”

The tersely worded command didn’t come from the mayor, as Julia might have expected. It had come from Liam Jones.

Stunned, she looked over toward where the rancher was standing at the back of the room. He was indolently leaning against a wall, the expression on his face moderately contemptuous. Initially, she would have said the contempt was aimed at her. But now, with his becoming her unlikely defender, she really couldn’t say what Liam was being so contemptuous of.

“Thank you,” she mouthed.

Liam just nodded silently in response, indicated that she should get on with what she had to say.

Liam Jones was a hard man to read, Julia thought, turning her attention back to the subject that had brought her here.

* * *

In truth, Liam wasn’t sure just what had prompted him to speak up just now to silence the would-be heckler. The man had only said aloud what he himself had been thinking. But the thought of someone trying to ridicule Julia into holding her peace had unexpectedly raised a fire in his belly.

If anyone was going to put her in her place, it was going to be him, not some half-wit who thought himself to be clever. And he definitely didn’t want to hear her put in her place in front of a crowd where she could be publicly humiliated. There was no call for that sort of crude behavior.

Julia’s soft, melodic voice broke into his train of thought. Liam turned his attention, albeit somewhat against his will, toward the redhead who had been haunting his thoughts ever since he’d kissed her and had messed up life as he knew it.

“Now I know that a lot of you think that things are going along just fine the way they are in Horseback Hollow—” A smattering of voices agreeing with her echoed around the room. “But they’re not really,” Julia insisted. The same voices now muttered protests.

Harlan raised his gavel in a warning gesture as he looked around the room, daring the mumblers to continue. The murmurings stopped.

Julia continued as if nothing had happened. “You can’t tell me that things are so good, so perfect that we couldn’t stand to have a little more revenue coming into the town.”

“You mean like taxes?” someone asked, somewhat confused as to where she was going with this.

“No,” Julia answered patiently. “I mean like people coming here from some of the nearby towns to eat at the new restaurant and spend their money.”

“So the people who own the restaurant make money, what’s that do for us?” Riley Johnson challenged. Julia could see by the man’s expression that he was one of the ones she needed to convert to her way of thinking. The man could be very persuasive when he spoke.

“What it means to us is a great deal,” Julia insisted, quickly explaining, “after all, the restaurant isn’t going to run itself. It’s going to need waitresses and busboys as well as people to do the cooking, to make sure there’s enough food, enough coffee, tea and other beverages to drink. It takes a lot to run a decent-size restaurant.

“The restaurant’s backers are going to be hiring local people, not busing in people regularly from Red Rock,” she pointed out, effectively shooting down a rumor she’d heard making the rounds this morning. “And those customers who’ll come to eat at the restaurant, they’re not just all going to get back into their cars and drive away into the night,” she said with a laugh. “Maybe they’ll stay and look around, buy something before they go—”

“The town’s only got a handful of shops,” Riley pointed out, still not convinced that the good outweighed what he viewed as the bad in this case.

Julia approached the subject from another angle. “Maybe this’ll encourage some of you to open up more stores. The way it is right now, we have to drive to other towns to get almost everything. For example, we could stand to have a full-size bakery right here in Horseback Hollow,” she suggested.

Liam raised his voice above the voices of several other people, pointing out, “You’ve got a bakery in your store.”

“What we’ve got are doughnuts and coffee,” Julia corrected him, smiling amicably. “I’m talking about a real bakery, one that has proper cakes, pies, fresh-baked bread straight out of the oven on the premises, to name just a few things.”

She looked around to see if she was getting through and to her surprise, she began to make out faces rather than just a sea of blurred features and hair all running together.

Some of those faces were smiling at her with encouragement. Julia took heart in that.

“I’m talking about building up a place that I am proud to call home. It is not going to be easy and it is not going to happen overnight. But it all starts with that first step,” she said with sincerity because she really believed what she was telling the people at the meeting.

Unconsciously holding her breath, she looked around the room to see if she had managed to make her neighbors understand.

“Yeah, but that ‘step’ you’re talking about involves inviting those Fortunes into our town,” someone toward the back piped up. “Who knows, after they’re finished, it might not even be our town any longer.”

Where did they get these ideas? Julia couldn’t help wondering. Even as she did, she caught herself slanting a look in Liam’s direction.

Had he started that baseless rumor? She didn’t want to think that and he had come to her defense when Silas Marshall had tried to heckle her, but Liam wasn’t the kind of man who could be easily swayed with just a few well-placed words and a smile. The man was nothing if not frustratingly stubborn.


“Now listen,” she said. “I’ve done some research on the subject of the Fortunes. I found out that this family always gives back to the community they’re in, usually far more than they ever received. Why, they even built a medical clinic in Red Rock and started the Fortune Foundation.”

“What’s that?” Dinah Jackson queried.

“That’s a nonprofit, charitable organization that helps take care of people in need,” Julia answered, addressing her words to the woman directly. “People who might have fallen on hard times through no fault of their own.”

“Oh, handouts,” someone snorted contemptuously.

At times, these people had more pride than sense, Julia couldn’t help thinking.

“No, a hand up.” She put emphasis on the last word. There was a difference. “The foundation helps people stand up on their own two feet again. As far as I can see, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

A smattering of murmurings rose around the room again as people made comments to their neighbors, rendering their own opinions on what seemed to be the Fortunes’ obviously selfless behavior.

There were a few in the gathering who required more convincing—Liam among them—but for the most part, Julia could see that she had managed get the wavering and undecided thinking about the benefits of having this new restaurant here.

The mayor scanned the room, took note of some of the expressions and made a judgment call.

“All right, I think that we’ve had a fair amount of pro and con debating on this subject for tonight. It’s getting kind of late and we all have somewhere to be. If there are no objections, why don’t we put the matter to a preliminary vote, see where we all stand on this issue right now? Remember,” he warned, “no matter what the outcome of tonight’s vote is, nothing’s final. You all have time to think about this, do a little research before we take a final vote on the matter. As of right now, there’ve been no concrete bids made yet, no proposals about building this restaurant.

“As far as I know, this could just be one great big rumor with legs,” Harlan told the people at the meeting, chuckling at the verbal image he had just created for them.

“If the preliminary vote turns out to be yes, then I will personally go to Marcos and Wendy Mendoza and convince them to build their second restaurant right here in the heart of Horseback Hollow,” Julia promised.

The “heart” of Horseback, at the moment, only involved a two-block radius since that was all that actually comprised the little town.

“Mendoza?” Clyde Hanks echoed, confused. “I thought you said that the Fortunes were the ones who were behind this venture. Just who the heck are Marcos and Wendy Mendoza?” He, as did many others, wanted to know.

“Her name’s Wendy Fortune Mendoza,” Liam told the man tersely.

It felt as though everywhere he turned, he just couldn’t get away and avoid those damn people, Liam thought darkly. They were trying to worm their way into his family and now into his town. Maybe the first was happening because they wanted the latter, he realized.

The Fortunes were like some biblical plague he couldn’t outrun.