Somewhere (Sawtooth Mountains Stories Book 1)

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Somewhere (Sawtooth Mountains Stories Book 1) Page 5

by Susan Fanetti


  Catherine, standing akimbo, drummed her fingers on her hips. She wore a belt with an intricate silver buckle, and her boots seemed to match the tooling on the belt. “Well, you’re in luck. We got a big corporate event coming in, full house, in two days, and I just had to kick a couple worthless little chippies who were only here on the chance to catch themselves a billionaire.”

  At the corner of her eye, Gabe saw Pearl react in some way to that.

  “Okay,” Catherine sighed. “If Reese sent you up, I’ll call that good enough to put you on paper, anyway. Pearl, get her paperwork started, then take her on the tour. I’ll have Ellen up at the desk. D’you know is Heath around yet?”

  “He is,” Gabe answered. “He drove me up.”

  Catherine gave her a sharp, witty smirk. “Well now. You’ve got all the eligibles hooked already, don’t ya?”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Sure you don’t. Well, you be careful around Heath Cahill. This town will turn on you fast if you play loose with him.”

  Gabe didn’t know what that meant, either, but she held her tongue. “I’m just looking for a job.”

  “And you’ve got one. After you do the paperwork and get the tour, head back to the kitchen. Naomi’ll be in by then, and she’ll show you the ropes.”

  “So…I hope I’m not being dense, but what job am I getting?”

  Catherine’s loud huff suggested that yes, she was being dense. “Waitress. Pays minimum plus tips. You’ll need to go down to the Outfitters and pick up some clothes—just tell Randall that you’re working up here, and he’ll know what you need. No board until after a month’s probation. I’ll be down at the stables.” Without waiting for a response from either Gabe or Pearl, Catherine strode to the wide front door and left into the morning sun—the clouds had broken away.

  Gabe turned back to Pearl and gave her a wide-eyed look.

  Pearl laughed. “Catherine’s great, don’t worry, but she wants things the way she wants them, and she sees them the way she sees them. Come on—I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  “Board? Did she say board? Like, a place to live?”

  “Yeah. If you want it. This place used to be a real working ranch. There’s bunkhouses off a ways from the guest cabins. It’s not luxurious—each bunkhouse has four tiny bedrooms and a shared living area and bathroom—but it’s clean and free, and since a lot of the staff is seasonal, it works out pretty well. Mostly it’s people who come from away to work the season. Locals just go home, and we get a bump in pay for not taking the room.”

  “Wow. And I need clothes?”

  “Yeah—that’s on you. But we all wear jeans, boots, and shirts like this.” She did a little game-show-hostess sweep over her chest. “The Idahoan Outfitters in town carries everything you need, like she said, and if you need to pay it off in installments, Randall’ll set something up, and it’ll come off your checks.”

  Gabe’s head spun—but with glad relief most of all. There was a lot to take in, and a lot of sudden change, but it felt good. Like her first truly forward step since her father had killed her life.

  *****

  After Gabe filled out the paperwork and Pearl left it in Catherine’s office, they walked all around the ranch. First, Pearl showed her the banquet and meeting rooms, the guest rooms inside the big house, and the various guest cabins, some of those too large to warrant the humble label ‘cabin.’

  Then Pearl took her to the bunkhouses, which were just as she’d described: small and plain, but clean and comfortable. The ‘bedrooms’ were barely bigger than closets, each holding a twin bed and a dresser and nothing else, but the mattresses looked good, and the common area was cozy.

  She saw the pool, and they walked a little ways down the hiking trail, into the woods. There was a pasture of sheep, and Pearl explained that one of the ranch’s package offerings was called “The Cowboy Life,” which gave guests a chance to try ranch work like herding and roping, and they let them watch more specialized work, like shearing and shoeing.

  Gabe smiled at the thought of Heath working for an audience. In just the few hours since she’d met him and the few minutes of actual contact, she had a decent sense that he would hate that.

  She learned that the ranch was open most of the year, with a few weeks closed for Christmas and for the transition between seasons, but that, by far, the warm season, mid-April through mid-October, was their busiest time. Though they were at the foot of the Sawtooth range, they weren’t close to good alpine skiing, so their winter season was for people who wanted to get away and be quiet. Catherine kept a small staff of year-round employees in addition to the seasonal hires.

  Eventually, near midday, they’d made their way to the stables, where Heath was well at work. With the sun, the day had warmed to near summer heat, and he’d taken off his jacket and the red plaid shirt he’d had on under it. Besides a long leather apron, all he wore over his torso was a white t-shirt so snug it seemed glued to his body. His really, really excellent body. His arms, with a sheen of sweat glimmering over that almost-bronze skin, were…something else.

  “Damn, he’s just so pretty,” Pearl sighed next to her.

  Yes, he was. With Catherine’s snark still echoing in her recent memory, Gabe didn’t respond. But she watched. She definitely watched.

  He’d just tied a big brown horse for shoeing, and before he did anything else, he took his gloves off and went to stand at the horse’s head. The horse shied a little, shifting on his feet, but Heath stood there, rubbing the sides of his—her? How did you tell on a horse?—face, speaking in low tones at his or her ear. Finally, after a few solid minutes, the horse pressed its nose against Heath’s chest, and then they stood there, like they were hugging, for a while longer.

  Then Heath stepped away, trailing one large hand over the horse’s neck and down its shoulder. He put his gloves on and patted its leg, and the big beast picked up its foot and set it in Heath’s hands.

  Gabe knew nothing at all about horses except that they were pretty. But she was fairly certain that Heath was good with them.

  Still in that swoony tone, Pearl said, “Destry’s got a little bit of a nervous temperament. A truck backfired while he was getting shod a couple years ago, and he kicked Heath right in the chest. Stopped his heart. That was a scary day. But Heath was right back with him as soon as he could be.”

  Gabe put her hand to her chest. “God. Do guests ride him?” She couldn’t imagine putting spoiled rich people on skittish horses.

  “Oh no. Des is Catherine’s baby boy.” Pearl tugged on her sleeve. “Come on. It’s about lunch time, and all’s we got left of the tour is the kitchen and dining room. You’ll like Naomi.”

  *****

  Naomi was a small, older Native American woman—Shoshone, she was quick to mention—with long, greying black hair captured in a net snood, and Gabe did like her right away. She reminded her, in spirit if not in body, of her grandmother. Feisty and friendly. She grabbed Gabe’s hand and took over the tour of ‘my house,’ as she called the kitchen and dining room. Her staff was preparing a simple lunch of barbecued beef and assorted starches.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “When the guests get here, we do up the meals, and you can get a plate of most things on the menu if you want it. But we locals like things simple, and Catherine likes to feed us cheap.”

  “Simple and cheap is the way I eat, too. My grandparents owned a cantina in Santa Fe. Basic Mexican comfort food. People love simple food. I think even the fancy people, deep down, love simple food best.”

  Naomi laughed hard and clapped her hands together. “I think you’re right. They’ll never admit it, though.”

  *****

  Heath came in for lunch, his apron off, showing the forged chest under that sinfully snug t-shirt, now stained with sweat and work. He nodded a greeting at Gabe, among other people, but he sat alone. When he was finished, he went to Naomi, said something and squeezed her arm sweetly, then went back down to th
e stables.

  With nothing better to do, Gabe hung out in the kitchen and helped clean up. Might as well get to know her coworkers.

  A few hours later, she was sitting in the empty dining room with Naomi, Birdie, and Anne, having a coffee break and listening to her new friends gossip, when Heath came in. His plaid shirt was on again, open over the t-shirt, and he had his hat in his hands.

  “’Scuse me, ladies. Gabe, I’m heading out.”

  She liked the sound of her new name in his silky-rough voice. “Okay. I’m ready.” Her leather jacket was hanging just inside the kitchen door. He waited while she pushed the swinger in and reached around to snag it.

  “Thanks, guys. I’ll see you tomorrow!” They all waved, and she went smiling to the door, where Heath stood. He gave her a tiny smile of his own and held the door for her.

  On their way down the drive to his truck, he actually started a conversation. “I guess things worked out alright for you today.”

  “Yeah. I got a job as a waitress, and I’m going to be able to live in a bunkhouse in a month. The people are all so nice! And it’s so pretty! Things worked out great.” Realizing that she was rambling, and at breakneck speed, Gabe stopped, biting down on her bottom lip.

  “I’ll be back for more of the same tomorrow, so I can drive you up. After tomorrow, though, I’ll be in the shop, and you’ll need to figure something else out.”

  She’d worked out a ride with Pearl, starting tomorrow, until she could take one of the rooms in a bunkhouse, but now she felt a little disappointed not to be able to take Heath’s offer. It seemed momentous that he’d offered on his own, after his near hostility to the idea when Reese had presented it just last night.

  But she had another ride. “That’s okay. I’m going to ride with Pearl until I can move up here.”

  They’d reached his truck, and he opened the door for her. “Oh. That’s good, then.”

  “Yeah. She’s nice.” She climbed in.

  “She’s okay, yeah.” He closed the door, and, again, Gabe watched as he passed across the front of the truck.

  When he got in, he slid his hat into its holder and raked his hands through his hair, which had stiffened over the course of a day of hard, hot work. He caught her watching again, and gave her an embarrassed smirk. He seemed to have softened toward her.

  “I probably stink. Sorry.”

  “No, you’re fine.” He did, in fact, but not in a bad way.

  They rode in silence for a few miles until, again, Gabe couldn’t stand it. “Why Hephaestus?”

  “Hmm? Oh. I like mythology. He’s the Greek god of blacksmithing. Vulcan is the Roman version, which would be easier for people to say, and spell, and probably a better business name for that, but everybody thinks Star Trek when they see the word ‘Vulcan.’”

  Remembering her first thoughts upon seeing his magnetic sign, Gabe laughed. At his responding frown, she explained, “I like mythology, too. I was thinking earlier that Hephaestus was a great choice because of the Spock thing.” She paused, considered, and added, “You are really good at it.”

  He turned to her—finally, an actual, real-life grin. It crinkled the corners of his eyes and showed long dimples in his cheeks. Wow. For the first time, Gabe got a sense of his age, too. His frowning face seemed practically eternal. Now, she thought he was thirty-ish.

  “You being such an expert about horses and all.”

  That was nearly a joke. “Don’t make fun. I saw you with that one horse—Destiny, maybe?—and you just seemed like you were good at what you were doing.”

  “Destry. He’s a good boy, just doesn’t like a lot of fuss around him. And thanks.”

  They rode in a much more comfortable silence until he’d pulled into the lot at the Gemstone and parked near the office. When he opened his own door, Gabe, trained by now to his chivalry, waited and let him open her door. He might not like her, but somebody had well and truly taught him to open doors for women.

  She thought it was sweet.

  It was the first time, though, that he’d helped her out of the truck—that morning, she’d climbed down before he could make his way around—so she was surprised when his hand went around her upper arm and he helped her out.

  They stood there, framed by the truck and the open door, his hand around her arm, and for the first time that she knew of, Heath really looked at her. He studied her. She returned that serious gaze with a smile.

  “Well, thank you for today, Heath. You were a huge help. I know you didn’t want to do it, but it meant a lot to me.”

  “How old are you, Gabe?”

  The question surprised her—for her reaction to it as much as for its seeming randomness. She hadn’t minded it when she’d been asked before, but this time, she felt defensive, almost offended. “Why? How old are you?”

  “Thirty-six,” he answered without pause. “Your turn.”

  That was…older than she’d thought. Her own mother had been only sixteen years older than she. Not something she intended to point out. “Oh. Um, twenty-one.” Before, when she’d been asked, her age had meant she was old enough. This time, it seemed to mean that she was too young.

  He blinked, then nodded and stepped out, leading her away from the door so he could close it. “Okay. Have a good night, Gabe. I’ll see you up at the ranch tomorrow.”

  He walked around the truck, climbed back in and drove away.

  Gabe stood on the lot where he’d left her, feeling like she’d missed out on something.

  PART TWO

  Chapter Five

  Heath could hear the racket of the kids as he took hold of the knob on the front door of his father’s house, so he wasn’t surprised when, swinging that heavy mass of old wood and iron open, he found Kendall and Anya wrestling on the flagstones of the front hall.

  Their family dog, a retired old border collie named Chester, sat in the arched entry to the living room and watched. Used to their antics, old Chess didn’t bother himself about it, but he always stayed close, just in case. His herding days were behind him, but the instinct was still there.

  “Cool it, kidlets, or your ma’ll start hollering.”

  They stopped and looked up at him, flushed and panting. “We’re playing rodeo.”

  “No doubt.” He crouched low, and six-year-old Anya climbed up on his back. “That’s outside play, and you know it. You break something of Poppy’s, and it’s not yelling you have to worry about.”

  Heath fucking hated rodeo and everything about it, he thought it was cruel to animal and human alike, but that was an unpopular opinion in this house, and in this town, and he mainly kept it to himself. His father, older brother, and brother-in-law had all done time on the circuit, and Wes, his brother-in-law, was still involved as a judge. There had been considerable fireworks when, while still in middle school, Heath had refused that life.

  Almost as great an explosion as when he’d taken up the work he did now and stopped regularly working his family’s land.

  “Come on, kidlets. I smell bacon.” With Anya on his back, eight-year-old Kendall at his side, and Chester trailing, Heath walked down the main hall of his father’s house—the big house on the Twisted C Ranch—and into the kitchen.

  His sister, Emma, was in there alone, working on breakfast. The dining room had been empty, too, and the living room. Heath kissed his little sister on the cheek and then set her daughter down. “Where’s everybody?”

  “Out at the barn. Wes is trying to talk Dad into something.”

  “Shit.”

  Wes would have been an architect or an engineer if he’d come from a family that could have afforded college, but instead, he was a good-natured good ol’ boy, stuck with his unfulfilled dreams. Marrying Morgan Cahill’s only daughter might have gotten him a ways closer to fulfilling a few, but Morgan Cahill wasn’t interested in anybody’s vision but his own.

  Wes always had an idea for a new way of doing things, and their father always heard him out, stringing him along with false h
ope before he said no, and Wes always fell for it and then felt betrayed, and they fought. It meant Sunday breakfast had gone to hell while the bacon was still in the skillet.

  “Uncle Heath, that’s a bad word. You’re not s’posed to say bad words on Sunday.”

  The Cahills were nominally members of the Jasper Ridge Assembly of God, but they had been indifferent churchgoers since Serena Cahill’s death. Many of her rules had evolved into family traditions, however—among them the rule of no cussing on Sunday.

  “Sorry, Annie.” To his sister, he asked, “Logan out there, too?” If their older brother was in the middle of it, there was a chance it would at least stay calm. Logan was good at managing people.

  Emma nodded. “Do me a favor and go out there and rope ‘em in? Breakfast in five minutes, and you know how Dad is if his eggs are cold.”

  Heath rolled his eyes, but he went, hearing Emma chase her kids to the sink to wash up as he went out the side door.

  The barn was some distance from the big house, and it took Heath a couple of minutes to make it over there. As he came in, Maggie, his own horse, threw her head over the stall and nickered at him.

  “Hey, girl.” He went over and rubbed her nose. “What you still doing in here?”

  She nickered again, with a different tone, as if to say she had no idea, but somebody’s head needed to roll.

  About half the stalls were still full. Heath took that to mean that whatever was going on among the rest of the men in his family had distracted Wes from putting the horses out to pasture this morning.

  Ignoring the office, he pulled Maggie’s lead and halter from the hook and stepped into her stall. “Come on, sweet thing. I’ll get you outside.”

 

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