“Sweetie?” a voice called from the other side of the bus. Moments later, a petite white-haired woman came around the front of the shuttle, eyes lighting when she caught sight of Krista. “There you are! I’m going to fix a few folk up with snacks while your mom and Junior show the others to their cabins. Do you need anything?”
“Nope, I’m good for right now, and Miss Abby is conked out.” Krista patted the snoozing bundle within the sling. “Bless her for being a good sleeper, and pretty much the best baby ever—not that I’m biased or anything. But before you go, Gran, I want to introduce you to Danny Traveler.”
The older woman’s face brightened. “Hello, dear! It’s so lovely that you’re here. How was your trip?”
“It was fine.” She had splurged on a direct flight and strapped herself in, chased an Ambien with a screw-top micro-bottle of white wine, and practiced her deep-breathing exercises. It hadn’t been fun, but she had made it through.
Gran’s eyes went sympathetic, as if she had said the rest of it out loud. “I stocked your camp with supplies, but come see me before you and Krista head out there. I have a little basket put together for you.”
“And by little, she means approximately the size and mass of the average blanket chest,” Krista put in.
Danny cleared her throat, suddenly overwhelmed—by the warm welcome, the chaos, all the people around her. To Krista, she said, “Do you need to help show people to their cabins? I don’t want to keep you from your guests.”
“You’re a guest, too.”
“I’m not paying nearly what they are.” Which was yet another reason to be grateful.
“No, but you’re staying far longer, and you’re not going to require as much hands-on time. Though, for the record, you’re welcome to participate in any activities you’d like. We’ve always got a spare horse or three, and there’s something magical about a long ride in the great big wide-open.”
“We’ll see. I’m planning on spending most of my time in the valley. You know, reading, walking, chilling out.” Working her way through the daunting collection of aptitude exams that had been a parting gift from Farah, her physical-therapist-turned-friend.
“Of course. But please consider it an open invitation.” Krista touched her arm—like she wanted to do more but could tell Danny wasn’t a hugger. “Come on. Let me hand Abby off to her nana, and then I’ll show you to your valley.” She laughed. “Now that’s not something I get to say every day! See? I knew I was going to like having you around.” She danced away, humming a happy tune and exchanging a few words with each of the guests she passed, introducing herself and the baby, and welcoming the newcomers to her family’s world.
Danny watched her, thinking, That. That was what she wanted—not all the people and the hustle-bustle of running a dude ranch, but that sense of loving life and doing exactly what she wanted to do. Too bad she didn’t know what that was.
Yet.
* * *
An hour later, Danny was gunning along behind Krista on a borrowed ATV, anticipation growing as they steered their four-wheelers toward a narrow cut-through between two rock walls. They rode through a gap nestled beside a sluggish river lying low on its banks—Jenny had mentioned that the region was in the grip of a drought, with water at a premium and the fire danger high. Then, when the rocks opened up, Krista slowed and stopped, waving for Danny to come up beside her.
As she did, her mouth fell open and she had to remember to hit the brakes, because otherwise she might’ve rolled right into the lush valley ahead of them. “Holy . . . Wow,” she said reverently. “This is gorgeous!”
She had thought she was getting used to the dramatic beauty of the Wyoming backcountry they’d been bouncing through—all rolling hills and tree-shrouded rivers, with the mountains rising fat and purple in the distance. But this was something else entirely. Although the hills were dry and brown, the river valley was lush and green. Sloping banks ran up to the trees, and matching arms of stone wrapped around the green space, enclosing it in a geological hug that undoubtedly spanned hundreds of acres, yet felt safe and intimate. Especially when she saw a group of horses drift down to the water, almost lost in the distance as they stretched their necks to drink from the river.
“Welcome to Blessing Valley,” Krista said, grinning as several of the horses lifted their heads and pricked their ears toward the ATVs. “And there are your roommates—those are the mustangs of Blessing’s Herd, all forty of them, with Jupiter leading the way.” She pointed to a dark gray horse that stepped in front of the others as if to say, If you want to bother them, you’ll have to go through me to do it.
Danny didn’t want to bother anybody, but her lips curved at the thought that she would be sharing her home with the beautiful creatures. She’d never been particularly horse crazy, but the gray mare had a wise, knowing air about her. “She’s beautiful.”
“It’s thanks to her that we have the herd—Wyatt won a ‘train your mustang from scratch in six weeks’ competition with her last year, and the prize money went to buying an entire herd and setting up a sanctuary in this valley and the adjoining acreage.”
“Why not call it Jupiter’s Herd, then?”
“We thought about it, but we want the sanctuary to outlive a single horse or herd . . . so we named it after a foundling who was adopted by one of the earliest settlers in this area. Blessing. She married an early homesteader here at Mustang Ridge, making her my however-many-great-grandmother.” Krista grinned. “She’s a favorite of mine in the family tree, and the name seemed to fit.”
“Blessing Valley.” Danny drew in a breath of air that felt even cleaner and fresher than it had down by the ranch, though an hour ago she would have said that was impossible. She wasn’t sharing this air, though—it was all hers. A blessing indeed.
“Come on.” Krista restarted her ATV. “The campsite is about a mile in.”
A short drive brought them to where a bend in the river formed a spit of smooth ground. There, a firepit was lined with flat river rocks and surrounded by a cut-log seating area. As they rolled closer, Danny scanned the campsite, looking for the equipment she had sent on ahead.
Instead, her eyes landed on a hotel on wheels.
A big silver and purple RV was parked under the trees, with its awning extended to shade a small table, a couple of chairs, and an outdoor rug. The name RAMBLING ROSE was painted on the side of the RV in glittering script, and the tinted windows gave glimpses of pretty rose-patterned curtains and leather chairs.
And Danny was gaping again.
“I hope it’s okay,” Krista said, but she was grinning, like she could already see that it was far more than her guest had hoped for.
“Okay? Are you serious? I was expecting a pop-up camper and a six-pack tethered in the river. This is . . .” Too much, overwhelming. “Is the RV yours?”
“My parents’. He’s Ed and she’s Rose, and when the snow starts flying up here, they head south and go looking for stuff they haven’t already seen. Thus, the Rambling Rose.”
“They don’t mind my using it?” Please say they don’t mind. Danny had told herself that camping out in the middle of nowhere would be a good way to figure out what came next in life. But the posh bus tucked into the private valley suddenly seemed like her own personal slice of solo heaven.
“That depends. Are you planning on throwing any wild parties?”
“I’m not, but I can’t speak for Jupiter and her buddies.”
Krista gave her a shoulder bump. “I can pretty much guarantee she’ll stay out of your way. She enjoys people well enough—I think we amuse her—but she takes her duties very seriously when it comes to keeping the herd out of trouble.”
“Then we should be okay on the no-parties thing.”
“Excellent. Let me show you around the RV. It’s not big, but there’s a whole lot of features packed into the square footage.”
>
The whole it’s not big comment didn’t fully sink in until Danny put her foot on the steps going up and found herself facing a dark, narrow opening. And stalled as the oxygen suddenly vacated her lungs.
Oh, crap. Not now. Please not now.
Stomach knotting, she muttered under her breath, “Don’t be a wuss. It’s bigger than the airport shuttle.” Except the shuttle had been all windows and open space, with a wide aisle and lots of room for people and luggage. What little she could see of the RV was packed to the gills, with drawers and cabinets tucked into every available square inch. And it was dark.
“So you probably saw outside that you’ve got solar and wind power.” Krista flipped on the lights, brightening the gloom to unnatural fluorescence. “The keys are in the visor in case you need to move it.” She wiggled into the narrow aisle that ran between the popped-out kitchen and the matching breakfast nook on the other side. “You can fold the table away to make this a sitting area.”
As Krista demonstrated, Danny hovered just inside, keeping one foot hanging out the door.
“Then down this hall—it gets a little narrow here—you’ve got your three-quarter bath. There are a couple of tricks I need to show you, so you’re going to want to crowd on in here with me.” Krista said it like it was no big deal.
Then again, to normal people it wasn’t.
Taking a deep breath, Danny forged down the tunnel, not letting herself see how it stretched out longer and longer, like a horror-movie hallway. Hoping Krista couldn’t smell the fear oozing from her pores, she dug her fingertips into the doorway molding and managed to give a nod that she hoped related Go ahead instead of I’m gonna puke.
She could deal with this. She would deal with it, damn it. The last thing she wanted to do was seem ungrateful when Jenny’s family was offering her the perfect getaway.
Krista gestured, lips moving as she went over a process that only half stuck—something about a cross of toilet paper in the bowl and keeping the gray water to a minimum. All Danny really heard, though, was a Charlie Brown–like wah-wah-wah-whahhh and a whole lot of blood rushing in her ears. Breathe in, breathe out. That was basic. It was mandatory. In. Out. In. Out.
Finished with the bathroom, Krista squeezed back through the narrow opening and forged even deeper. “This is the bedroom. We put the stuff you shipped in here, figuring you’d want to organize it yourself.”
To a normal person, it probably looked like a king mattress flanked by a wardrobe and a drop-down desk, with two big duffels on the floor. To Danny, it was a cluttered dead end with a tiny window that let in the light but wouldn’t let her out no matter how hard she screamed.
For the love of God, don’t scream. Jamming her fingernails into her palms hard enough to draw blood, she sucked a thin trickle of oxygen through her nostrils.
“It’s all pretty self-explanatory.” Krista reversed course and headed back up the tunnel, talking all the way as she pointed out a fire extinguisher and a stack of manuals sealed in a Tupperware box under the sink.
Danny’s feet stayed glued at the bedroom threshold. Breathe in. Breathe out. You’re not stuck. You can leave anytime you want. See? You’re moving now. One foot, then the other. Turn. Walk, don’t run. You don’t want her to know you’re a head case. A weenie. Broken.
One torturous step at a time, she trudged back up the tunnel, sweating like it was a hundred and ten degrees rather than a shady eighty or so. Until, finally, she made it down the steps, through a walled-in opening so narrow that her shoulders brushed against either side, and out into the bright yellow sunshine of the green, green valley, with its bubbling water and open sky.
Where she could breathe again. Sort of.
“Anyway, I think that takes care of the basics,” Krista said, seeming unaware that Danny’s brain had gone all Blue Screen of Death there for a few minutes, leaving her stomach knotted and her lungs struggling for air. “There’s a satellite phone in the glove compartment for emergencies, and you’ve got the ATV for when you’re ready to come back to the ranch for Gran’s cooking, a real shower, and some company. You can explore with it, too, but watch your terrain and your fuel, and leave enough breadcrumbs so you can always find your way home.”
She paused, as if it was Danny’s turn to say something. Which it totally was, but she didn’t know what to say or whether she could get it out even if she knew.
Say something! Don’t be a wuss. Fixing her eyes on the river—watching the water keep moving, never stuck in one place—she swallowed hard and managed, “I don’t know how to thank you. I . . .” Horrifyingly, her eyes threatened to fill and she choked. “I’m sorry.”
Expression shifting to one of utter sympathy—but not pity—Krista touched her hand. “No, I’m sorry. You came here to get away from people, and here I am nattering away at you.”
“It’s not that. You’re lovely. It’s me. I’m just—”
“Seriously. Don’t stress.” She squeezed Danny’s arm. “I glommed onto you the second you stepped off the bus. I’d blame it on hormones or being a new mom stuck in babyland twenty-four-seven, but I’m surrounded by adults on a daily basis.” One corner of her mouth kicked upward. “Confession time: I’m a little jealous of your getaway, and kind of wishing Wyatt, Abby, and I could set up camp farther upstream and hide out until the wedding.” She sighed. “Which we totally can’t do. But it sure sounds nice.”
Okay. Danny could breathe again. She could think. Sort of. As her pulse started to slow, she made herself focus on the conversation, grateful to Krista for smoothing things over and giving her time to pull herself back together. “I guess you could camp out for your honeymoon,” she suggested, her voice only a little wobbly. “Or, I don’t know, a bachelorette party?”
“Ooh!” Krista straightened, eyes lighting. “I like that!” Then she laughed at herself. “And here I am, nattering again while my mom is undoubtedly spoiling the bejeebers out of Abby.” She didn’t sound at all put out by the prospect. “I’m going to go, and leave you to your valley. But if I could make one suggestion?”
Torn between wanting the other woman to stay and wishing she were already gone, Danny said, “What’s that?”
“Don’t wait too long to dig into that basket of Gran’s. You look like you could use a cookie or three.”
2
The black and green helicopter came over the trees and hovered above the clearing, looking like a giant dragonfly checking out some prehistoric field. Really, though, the rent-a-chopper pilot was probably just making sure his client hadn’t been overly optimistic when he promised a safe landing spot. And, well, said client had admittedly been watching too many monster movies of late.
Sam Babcock grinned up at the flying machine. “What do you think, Yoshi? Should we buy a chopper and have it pimped out to look like Mothra?”
The brown-and-white-splotched paint gelding swiveled his ears back at the sound of his rider’s voice, then forward again as the helicopter eased down, bobbling some in the crosswind.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re right—waste of money, bad for the environment, think of the bunnies, yadda, yadda. Still, it’d almost be worth it to see the look on Axyl’s face, don’t you think?” The crusty old rockhound—a longtime family friend and Sam’s right-hand man when it came to work stuff—was worth his carat weight in blue diamonds, but he didn’t have much of a sense of humor.
Yoshi snorted as the chopper finally settled in for a landing and the rent-a-pilot killed the engine. Moments later, the doors popped open and Axyl emerged, wearing fatigues and his trademark bushy beard, followed by Sam’s engineers, Murphy and Midas. With a stubby blond ponytail, battered sandals, and the sort of cargo-pants-plus-button-down getup that cool kids paid a ton for in Boulder, Murph looked more like an off-season ski bum than a whiz-kid mechanical engineer. In contrast, Midas was taller and bulkier, with cropped hair, dark clothes, and tattooed knuckles. But whi
le Midas might look like a bouncer from the sort of club that wouldn’t let Murph in the door, he was a top-notch geologist and mining engineer.
As they climbed down from the chopper and headed for Sam, Axyl was scowling, and Murph and Midas were arguing, with lots of hand waving and disgusted looks. In other words, business as usual.
Sam guided Yoshi out of the trees. “So, what do you guys think? Heck of a view, right?”
“View, shmew,” Axyl grumbled. “I know you like to buy up open space, and that you wanted to field-test the prototypes out in the backcountry, but why here? It’s in the middle of farking nowhere, and there are too damn many trees. Why not buy something closer to Windfall?”
Flipping open one of the bulging bags strapped behind his saddle, Sam said, “Because of this.”
The wind died suddenly and he could’ve sworn the sun brightened a notch as it hit on the six-sided rod of deep red gemstone he had dug out of the side of a rocky hill less than a half mile from where they were standing.
“No way!” said Murph, his eyes going round.
“Hot damn!” Midas said in a moment of rare agreement with his nemesis.
Axyl just looked at the stone for a minute, then sniffed. “Not bad.”
“What do you mean, not bad?” Sam said. “That’s a hell of a find and you know it!” Okay, maybe not five-figures good, but still. The deep ruby-red crystal pulsed with an inner glow that said jewelry-quality carats, and lots of them. It had been his first find on the new piece of land, confirmation of the quiver he’d gotten in his gut when he first rode up the shallow hill a few weeks ago.
“You didn’t find that in the middle of all these trees,” Axyl said, still looking unconvinced. He hated horses and helicopters, and only barely tolerated four-wheelers. As far as he was concerned, if he couldn’t get to his destination on a Harley, then it wasn’t much of a destination. Unfortunately for him, most of the remaining pockets of decent gemstone in the state—at least the ones that could be gotten at without stripping the land to the bone—were in the back of beyond.
Firelight at Mustang Ridge Page 2