Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“What about the candy floss?” I asked desperately.
“Later. Come on, Dad.” She tugged on my hand. “Miss Moore is going up to the stage. It’s her turn already. Hurry up."
I had no choice but to let her drag me to the edge of a small makeshift wooden stage. Montana was standing on it, and she looked embarrassed. Her hair was loose and the slight breeze blew strands into her face, and she impatiently pushed them away. Across the sea of faces our eyes met. She froze, then looked away, her face bright red.
“Bidding starts at twenty dollars for a kiss from the blondie”, a man’s voice chanted. “Do I hear a forty? Forty bid. Gentleman in the left. Now forty. Sixty? Sixty bid. Gentleman in the center. Eighty. Will ya give me one hundred dollars? One hundred dollars bid. One hundred dollars. Got ya, Sir.”
“Bid for Miss Moore, Dad,” Anya cried.
I looked down at her eager face and grinned. “Relax. We’ll bid for her. We just won’t show our hand yet.”
“Would ya bid? Bid now. One hundred and eighty. Gotta get it now. One hundred and eighty. Will anybody give me two hundred? Show us your money. That two hundred, right there. Two hundred and twenty bid. Will ya give me two hundred and forty for the blondie?”
“Five hundred dollars,” a voice rang out.
I turned towards the voice. He was tall and broad and wearing a cowboy hat and I saw instantly that he was in love with Montana. He was looking directly into her eyes and he had a secret smile on his face. He wanted her and he was letting everyone know that he did. To me, Montana was the most beautiful girl in the world, but because she was a virgin because of the way we were together, I’d naively assumed I did not have any competition.
But he was; my rival.
“We have five hundred. Five hundred bid. Five hundred bid. Going once. Going twice.”
A red mist clouded my brain. I didn’t think. I just reacted.
“Ten thousand dollars,” I called.
Montana’s mouth dropped open with shock. There was a gasp and every head in the crowd turned towards my voice.
“Ho, ho, there you have it. Ten thousand bid. Ten thousand bid. Any more bids? Bid Now. No more. Going once. Going twice.”
I looked at the cowboy. He was looking at me with shock and rage.
“SOLD for ten thousand dollars to the gentlemen in the back.”
“You won, Dad. You won,” Anya screamed happily next to me. The auction fever had got to her and she was bouncing with excitement.
Everyone was staring at us as we made our way up to the stage. I leaned down and lightly kissed Montana’s blazing cheek while she stood as still as a statue. Then I turned around and walked down the two steps of the stage. “I’ll wire the money tomorrow,” I told the shocked face of Mr. Moore’s assistant.
I noted the speculative look on her face as she nodded.
I pulled Anya along with me. “Dad, where are we going?”
“Home,” I growled.
“Why?” she cried plaintively.
“I forgot something important. We’ll come back later this evening,” I answered, as I strode out of the festival grounds.
I was furious with myself. What the fuck was I thinking? I had one thing to do and I had allowed my dick to ruin it. I had effectively just blown my cover. I had just made myself the talk of the town and not in a good way. Everybody will now wonder about my finances and what I was really doing in Bison Ridge.
“Why didn’t we stay and talk to Miss Moore?” Anya asked restlessly.
I could see she was upset, as I walked quickly with her through the kiosks and stalls, the last thing on my mind was having fun or greeting anyone.
“Dad, can we at least, please, get some Amish pies at the bakery stand?” she begged.
I stopped then and looked down at her. She was just a kid at a festival. She didn’t understand or deserve to be treated this way.
“Sure, of course, we can,” I agreed with a smile. “Okay, let's go over to the bakery stall.”
The light came back to her eyes, and I apologized silently to her in my heart. ‘Things will be fine soon, sweetheart. I’ll handle this. We won't have to run much longer.’
We headed over to the stand, and she began to pick out the pastries she wanted.
“Hello, Mr. Swift,” the owner, Mrs. Sherman, came up to us with a smile on her face. She had huge curls in her brown hair, a flowery apron, and a friendly boisterous presence about her.
I smiled. “Hello, Mrs. Sherman.”
“Have you just gone and broken the gossip centers of the town?” she asked with a laugh.
My rash behavior had already travelled to her ear. I winced inwardly. “I was just trying to help a good cause.”