by Leena Clover
“Didn’t you hear me the first time? We are closed!”
“But we have a reservation,” Becky piped up this time.
“And we got it yesterday,” Tony added. “Why did you give out a reservation if you are closed?”
“Pammie!” The man roared loudly.
Loud enough for me to cover my ears with my hands.
“Damn fool woman,” the man muttered, and hobbled back to his room.
We looked at each other and shrugged. I wasn’t about to give up so easily. I pointed to a seating area at one side.
“Let’s at least get comfortable. I’m sure someone else will turn up, other than Miss Sunshine.”
I tipped my head toward the room and we giggled. Jeet and Tony grabbed a chair each and Becky and I huddled together on a sofa.
“Did you see any diner or fast food place on the way?” Jeet asked. “I’m hungry.”
It was past 1 PM and we were all getting antsy. The Triple H ranch was turning out to be a Triple F, triple failure!
About ten minutes later, a door banged somewhere and we heard someone shuffle in our direction.
An older woman hurried in and went behind the desk. She glugged some water and tried to catch her breath.
She motioned me over.
“Hi! You must be Patel, party of four. Sorry but I had to step out for a few minutes. Ranch crisis, you know.”
She nodded as if expecting us to understand. We nodded along.
She flipped the pages of a giant register, and asked us to fill in our details. Tony stepped forward to do the honors. Meanwhile, I gave her the once over.
The woman was in her mid thirties, dressed in a gingham dress with knee high boots. She had grayed prematurely, judging by the lines on her face. She wore a cowboy style hat. I wondered how much of her costume was for show, and whether it was really her style. She managed to look dowdy inspite of the bright red lipstick she was wearing.
“I’m Pamela Harris,” she introduced herself.
A round of introductions followed as we returned the favor. She pulled a key off the board.
“Lunch is almost ready. Do ya’ll want to eat first or check out your cottage?”
We all wanted to eat first.
“The dining hall is around the bend. I can drive you there if you like.”
We all opted for the ride. It was way past our lunch time and we were all starving. Doritos and sodas only go so far. Tony was itching to ask her about the reservation but I held him back. I wanted to get some food inside me first.
The dining room had a few round tables that seated four or six. Most of those had a Closed sign over them. There was a long table that seated 10. Pamela pointed to the long table.
A young girl appeared miraculously and took our drink orders.
“We serve the same meal to everyone,” Pamela explained, just as the girl came back with a tray loaded with plates. “You can let me know if you have any diet restrictions or any preferences.”
Lunch was roast chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy. The girl placed bowls of steamed broccoli and corn and a big bowl of salad in the center. A tray of dinner rolls followed.
We tucked in. The food was bland but rich.
“The chicken’s farm raised of course,” Pamela continued as she ate with us.
The girl brought in small bowls of ice cream. We finally leaned back. I felt my mood improve. I was ready to face anything now. If they said there was no booking, I would turn away without doing anyone much harm.
Tony coughed politely before he began.
“There was a man. He said you are closed today?”
Pamela’s face darkened.
“Who said that? We took your reservation, didn’t we?”
“Tall, blue eyes, walks with a cane,” Becky explained.
Pamela’s mouth twisted in a frown.
“Ignore him. Why don’t I show you to your room, er, cottage?”
She drove us back to The Lodge. We piled into the LX and followed her as she led us to our cottage for the weekend.
The road twisted a couple of times through dense greenery. We came upon a clearing. The cottage was good sized, made with some kind of wood. It set the right rustic tone. But the cottage paled in comparison to the view. A large lake stretched before us, it’s water shimmering like silver in the pale sun. A cold breeze flew over the lake, making me shiver. I zipped up my fleece jacket as I looked around. We are all speechless.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Pamela said softly.
She sounded wistful.
“Oh, I’d give anything to live here!” Becky exclaimed. She turned around and beamed at Pamela, excited. “You live here all the time?”
Pamela smiled and nodded affirmatively.
“My Daddy owns this ranch. I grew up here. And I will probably die here.”
She sobered for a second and then tried to hide it.
“Let’s give you a tour of the cottage.”
We followed her eagerly. Any thought of Jordan Harris or investigation was farthest from my mind.
The cottage had a wide wooden porch or verandah. A patio set offered enough seating for four. I spied a hammock tied to two trees in the back. It offered a pretty view of the lake.
Pamela opened the door with the key. We entered into a small foyer that led into a great room. Spacious chairs and sofas flanked a rustic coffee table. It had a base cut out of a tree and a glass top. The place was luxurious.
A small kitchenette and bar flanked a wall. There were two bedrooms, each with their own bath. Becky and I bagged the one with a King bed. The boys were happy with the other room with two full size beds.
Pamela showed us the coffee maker.
“The fridge is stocked with creamer. You can get more coffee sachets from the lodge if you want. Dinner’s at six sharp at the same place.”
She turned as if to leave.
“What kind of activities do you offer?” I asked.
Pamela pointed to a file folder lying on a counter top.
“That has all the details. There’s not much to do now, compared to the summer. Most guests prefer to settle in the day they arrive.”
We nodded.
“Isn’t there a pool here?” Jeet wanted to know.
“There’s an outdoor pool but it’s not heated,” Pamela apologized. “We do have a hot tub on the deck in The Lodge. You can use it any time until 9 PM.”
“What about tomorrow?” I asked.
Pamela smiled.
“You have our Silver package. So you pretty much call the shots. You can go kayaking or take out the paddle boats. You can get a wagon ride or a horse ride. If you want to go on a hike, we can pack a lunch for you.”
Boy, were we spoiled for choice.
“I suggest you go over this binder,” she pointed to the printed material. “I’ll see you at six.”
She got into her golf cart and sped away.
We looked around and whooped in excitement. Our camping trip hadn’t turned out well this summer. Then our foliage trip had been cancelled. It had been a while since we’d had some fun. I’d worked hard through the summer, and I had money to burn. I couldn’t have spent it in any better place.
Jeet jumped on the bed in his room and began flinging off his clothes.
“Who’s up for a swim in that lake?” he screamed.
“The water’s at least fifity degrees, you idiot. You’ll freeze to death.”
“Come on, Meera! Stop being such an ass!” Jeet protested.
Tony began to sneak out.
“You better not be going toward that hammock!” I ran after him and we both dove at the same time.
Luckily we collapsed into it instead of on the ground, and the thick sturdy ropes took our weight.
Becky went and sat on a small dock that reached into the water, and began reading a book.
Jeet sulked, turning the TV on full volume.
Our weekend was on in full swing.
Chapter 8
We st
arted getting antsy by four. I made coffee and we sat in front of the TV.
“Did you notice Pamela is a Harris?” I asked. “She must be related to the guy.”
“No sign of Jessica yet,” Becky pointed out the obvious. “Maybe we should go looking.”
“Go where? There’s like a gazillion acres in this place.”
“We might see her at dinner,” Tony said.
“Is she even here?” I moaned.
The whole weekend suddenly seemed silly to me. Was it just going to be a big waste of money?
“Let’s say Hi to Motee Ba.”
I held my hand out for Tony’s cell phone. Jeet ferreted out some snacks from the LX. Motee Ba had insisted we take some munchies with us, just in case. They sure came in handy.
We cleaned up and I drove the LX to the dining hall, following the directions. There were plenty of them. Someone had planned this place with care.
Pamela welcomed us and showed us to the long table. A couple of women were sitting at one of the smaller tables near a window. An older man sat slumped at another table. He looked like a poster child for a rancher, with hair that had more salt than pepper, a thick mustache and a craggy, weather beaten face. He was on the wrong side of sixty.
He nodded at us but didn’t crack a smile.
“That’s my dad,” Pamela swung her neck toward him. “He’s a bit out of sorts.”
“Come meet the new guests, Pa!” she called out.
The man struggled to his feet, although he looked fitter than us.
A round of introductions followed.
“You have a nice place here, Sir,” Tony said politely.
We all nodded.
“Nice? You bet it is nice.” He grumbled throatily. “My boy saw to that, didn’t he?”
He glared at Pamela.
“And I’m not ‘out of sorts’ girl. I’m thinking about my son.”
His eyes shone and he shuffled back to his seat.
I found myself at a loss for words. Becky mumbled an apology and we went back and sat at our table.
“Sorry about that,” Pamela said brightly. She leaned toward us and said softly. “Pa’s getting a bit senile. You guys relax. Your meal will be out shortly.”
“Senile?” I hissed. “The man’s just lost a child, and she’s calling him senile?”
My tone had alerted the two women sitting in a corner. One of them looked at us with interest.
Tony warned me to be quiet.
Dinner was served, huge platters with chicken fried steak topped with country gravy. There were large baked potatoes loaded with plenty of sour cream, bacon, chives and orange cheddar. Another bowl overflowed with fried okra. The Triple H may be giving weird vibes, but they didn’t stint on food.
A warm bread pudding with plenty of raisins followed.
The blue eyed hunk from afternoon hobbled in, leaning on his cane. His face turned red when he saw us.
He pulled Pamela roughly by the arm as she came out with a flask of coffee and dragged her back into what I presumed was the kitchen.
Angry words followed.
“I’m putting a stop to this right now. It’s my ranch now.”
“We worked hard on this, Jordan and I,” Pamela squeaked defiantly. “Where were you all this time then?”
“This will be a serious ranch now,” the guy’s voice rose. “None of this frippery. No more feeding people with my food.”
“Shut up, Cam, these are paying customers,” Pamela hissed.
“Pammie! Cam!” the older man roared.
He leaped up and strode inside.
“Shut your traps, both of you. We got company, in case you haven’t noticed. Your Ma raised you better than this.”
Pamela came out and mutely poured coffee. None of us dared to say a word.
“I ain’t dead yet, so I’ll be making any decision regarding this ranch,” the old man’s voice filtered through. “Now you go get your beauty sleep cuz tomorrow morning, you’re taking them folks on a ride of the ranch.”
A window flew open and a cold breeze came in. I shivered at some familiar feeling. Pamela walked over and shut the window.
The two other women were walking out and soon we were scraping our chairs back, wishing Pamela good night.
“Breakfast at 7 AM,” she reminded us. “Dress warmly for outdoors.”
“Isn’t this a working ranch?” Tony wondered. “Who works the ranch?”
Pamela laughed.
“Oh. There’s plenty of ranch hands and other workers. They don’t eat here. This is strictly for the resort guests. We have a bunkhouse for some of the ranch hands. There are smaller cottages for the ones with families. And we have an old fashioned chuck wagon. You’ll get a taste of all that tomorrow.”
“I thought ranchers had to, like, get up really early,” Jeet spoke up.
“They do,” Pamela smiled. “We’re up at 4:30 and grub’s on at 5. Everyone rides out after that.”
I drove the car back to our cabin. It was pitch dark without the benefit of street lights, but it was only seven in the evening.
“What do we do now?” Jeet demanded.
“How about a movie?” I asked.
The usual fight for the right tape followed and we finally settled on a scary movie.
“That hot tub sounds good right now,” Tony said after a while.
We put on our swimsuits under our clothes and drove back to the lodge. We still had about thirty minutes before the 9 PM deadline. I figured that’d be enough.
The hot tub turned out to be humungous, big enough for about ten people. Everything’s bigger in Texas, as they say. Technically, we were fifty or so miles shy of the Lone Star State, but the Triple H seemed to have its heart south of the border. The hot tub was occupied, but I was already freezing in my swimsuit. We walked in and cried out at the almost boiling water.
I prayed it was the older gentleman rather than the hunk but it wasn’t my lucky night. He turned and nodded at us. Then he leaned back with his arms around the edge of the pool and closed his eyes. Well, two could play the game.
I wasn’t going to let a sulking sour puss spoil our fun. We yapped about stuff and played around till our skin wrinkled like a prune.
Back at the cabin, we hit our beds exhausted and were out within minutes.
A few moments later, Becky was shaking me awake.
“Meera, get up. It’s time for our run.”
I groaned and peered out of the window. It was dark outside.
“Let’s run around the lake.”
I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes.
“Why have you turned so nasty all of a sudden?” I complained.
I dragged my feet, pulled on my sweats and did a half hearted run around the lake. Becky did three laps.
Showered and dressed, we were waiting outside the dining hall at 6:45. We were all wearing jeans, boots, sweaters and jackets, along with scarves and woolen caps. It was a cold day, and there was a forecast for flurries in the afternoon.
The ranch served a full country breakfast with bacon, cheesy eggs, biscuits, sausage gravy and fluffy buttermilk pancakes. There was steak for those that wanted it.
Pamela bustled in, looking harried. She handed me a couple of printouts.
“Here’s your plan for the day,” she pointed out.
“A tour of the working areas of the ranch. Coffee break. A hay wagon ride after that. Mid morning snack. Horse ride. Lunch …”
Pamela had come up with an exhausting plan for us. There didn’t seem to be any time to talk to people and ask questions. I decided we would have to tag team these people, and somehow squeeze our questions in.
She walked us out just as a large truck drove up.
“You’ll be riding in this. Save your fancy car.”
Handsome Jerk was at the wheel. He scrambled out and smiled at us. We looked at each other. Something had changed overnight.
“Hello, I’m Cameron Harris,” he introduced himself. “You can call me Cam.”
We mumbled our hello, refusing to shake hands. He got the signal and withdrew his.
“I think we got off to a wrong start yesterday. It’s my leg, you know. Makes me cranky.”
We nodded, deciding to accept this excuse for now, although I didn’t care for it much. Everyone piled into the truck and we were off.
Cam took a few turns and we came upon a hive of activity. A couple of big red barns lined the periphery. Wranglers were exercising some horses in a large corral at the center. A few other buildings were scattered around.
Cam pointed to a large whitewashed building with black shutters.
“That’s the homestead. It’s where we live. Pa, Pammie, Jordan and I, along with Norma, our housekeeper and cook.”
“Who’s Jordan?” I tried to sound disinterested.
“Er, my brother. He’s not here anymore.”
A couple of ranch workers tipped their hats when they saw us. We were shown the horses in their stalls. Cam pointed out the mess hall and ranch quarters, and then drove slowly through the ranch’s acreage.
“This one’s the easy trail,” he pointed. “You can walk your horse on this in a while.”
We came upon a bluff. Cam stopped the car and we got out.
“Best view on this land,” he said simply.
I looked around, and wondered what it would be like to own such a vast tract of land. A couple of ponds glistened in the distance. A girl sat at the edge of a pond, throwing stones in the water. She was too far off to call out to.
Becky suddenly grabbed my hand and squeezed it dramatically. Her expression told me plenty.
“Let’s see about getting you that wagon ride,” Cam said and hobbled back to the car.
“Must be quite a task, maintaining all this,” I began.
I had to make someone talk or the whole trip was a bust.
“Do you and Pamela do most of the work?” Tony tagged on. “Your Pa must be retired by now.”
“Retired?” Cam laughed. “Anything but. No one really retires on a ranch. You work from the day you can walk until the day they bury you. It’s nonstop work.”
“You don’t sound like you’re fond of it,” Becky egged.
“No. I’m not. That’s why I went away. But looks like I may be destined to be a rancher after all.”