With the treat finished, Megan strolled along the wooden sidewalk. Realizing someone followed, matching every step she took, she veered left and right. Tired of this game, she stopped and turned around in time to see someone duck around a corner. "The man from the ranch is here. Perhaps today I learn his name."
Leaned against the post, waiting for him to make a move, Megan watched the kids running around and laughing. "This is what today's about. Why am I worrying about this character who's been watching me?"
"Hey, cuz."
"Hey, Brett. Hi, Faith. Are you two having fun?" Megan asked.
"I love the Fourth of July," Faith said, in between bites of chocolate walnut fudge. "It was the one day that I really missed being at home. Nothing compares to a celebration in Carlton. I can't wait for the fireworks." After she put the last piece of fudge in her mouth and licked her fingers, she said, "Did you hear about Danny?"
Endless possibilities raced through Megan's mind. "What did he do?" she asked, not wanting to hear the reply.
"He won a prize at every game," Faith said.
That's no big deal. Jason said Danny thrives on competition. Her eyes shot open. "Oh, no. Is there room in the van for us and his prizes?"
"That's the amazing part," Faith said. "He gave them away."
"No way," Megan mumbled. "Whom did he give them to?"
"Every girl on the street," Faith said.
Megan opened her mouth, but nothing escaped. She shook her head, wondering what came over Danny. He never did anything unless it benefited him. Perhaps Gray Cloud got through to him. "Anything is possible at the Circle M and its surroundings," she said to herself.
"Brett, what do you think?" she asked. Wondering why he remained silent, Megan turned and watched him devour a bag of cotton candy. "Like you need sugar," she said, trying to confiscate the sugary snack.
Brett grasped the bag tighter and smiled with each bite. The women looked at each other and said, "Men."
A group of dancers dressed in prairie-style costumes paraded by heading to the center square. The musicians warmed up their fiddle, accordion, banjo, and harmonica, and then the square dancing began. Quick movements, fancy footwork, and the dancers' agility astounded Megan. "Never in my life time," she mumbled and then ambled around town.
Near the Saloon, she stopped as if a brick wall had appeared. "Don't let it be Clay," she whispered under her breath. With a deep breath, she turned. Here stood the man she had seen at the ranch. "Who are you?" The longer she looked at him the more familiar he became. "I know you aren't Clay Jackson, because you're taller and broader, but you look like him. The same dark eyes, the same bone structure, but yet the two of you are worlds apart."