Page 47 of Christmas at the Ranch
“Just because I grew up in Manhattan doesn’t mean I never went camping,” he answered, pitching the tents. “I was an Eagle Scout. I have eight merit badges, if you need proof.”
“I don’t need to see your merit badges,” I said, laughing.
Even at the dude ranch, Dutch seemed different than the other ranch hands. His shirts were always pressed and he wore his cowboy hat at a different angle: low and over his forehead.
“Why didn’t you tell me we were going camping?” I inquired.
“Because camping isn’t the surprise. It’s what we’re going to do in the morning.” He handed me a sleeping bag. He leaned close and kissed me. “Now, go to bedlike a good girl. We have to get up early. I brought a camping radio with an alarm.”
“How early?” I was used to getting up early, but Dutch was being so mysterious. For all I knew, we’d be up at four a.m.
“You’ll find out when I wake you up.” He dragged his sleeping bag into his tent. There was a twinkle in his eye. “Good night. If we stay out here any longer, I’ll break all my resolutions.”
I was afraid I’d lay awake for hours, but I went straight to sleep. Camping always does that to me. I love the fresh air. The way the stars feel so close, as if I could reach up and touch them.
The next morning, Dutch had to shake me awake. At first, I thought he was a bear rummaging through the tent. I almost threw my shoe at him. But then he said my name and I realized it was Dutch.
He had already made coffee and bacon. He only gave me a few minutes to eat until we hopped back in the car. We drove to an open field, and in front of us was a hot-air balloon.
“That’s the surprise.” He pointed at the balloon. “The balloon rides leave at six a.m. and I didn’t want to be late.”
“We’re going on a hot-air balloon?” I asked in astonishment.
Hot-air balloon rides are popular with tourists, but they’re expensive.
“Just you and me and the pilot.” Dutch took my hand. “Alice prepared a picnic. Bread and cheese, andchocolate-covered strawberries.” He smiled at me mischievously. “We can leave the picnic basket if you think I’m using it to seduce you.”
“Are you kidding?” I demanded. “I’ve actually never tried a chocolate-covered strawberry, and I’m hungry. You wouldn’t let me finish my bacon.”
We sailed over the Teton River, past Teton National Park, and into Idaho. Dutch handed me binoculars and I saw elk and bison. And the colors! Waterfalls an impossibly pale shade of blue, fields greener than anything I’ve ever seen. Yellow poppies and marigolds. It seemed straight out of an animated Disney movie where everything is so bright and glittery, it can’t be real.
Afterward, we sat in the field and finished our picnic. Neither of us wanted the morning to end.
“How did you think of it?” I asked. I felt like I was floating, as if the ground swayed gently beneath me.
“You’ve shown me Jackson Hole, I wanted to do something you hadn’t experienced,” Dutch said, slicing a wedge of cheddar cheese.
“You succeeded,” I answered happily.
He handed me a piece of cheese. His expression was suddenly serious.
“There was another reason too. You say you’re completely happy in Jackson Hole. If I showed you new places, you might change your mind and visit me in New York.”
I almost responded that New York was different than Idaho. New York had tall buildings and trafficand too many people. But Dutch was looking at me intently. Instead, I gulped.
“I might.” I nodded.
Then I had to do something to lighten the mood.
“You learned two things about me today,” I joked. “I’m eighteen and I’m not a virgin. You have to tell me two things about you.”
“Two things you don’t know?” Dutch repeated. He chewed his bread thoughtfully. “I wasn’t just an Eagle Scout in high school, I was also president of the debate society.” He smiled. “In other words, I was a geek and didn’t have a date until college.”
I bit into a piece of cheese. “That’s only one thing.”
He thought about it. “In business school, I’m going back to using my real name. It’s Arthur,” he said. “Arthur Wentworth.”
Samantha closed the diary. Dutch was Arthur! She couldn’t believe she hadn’t made that connection. She wondered if they had fallen in love, if Diana ever visited Arthur in New York.
