The Wrangler

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Hello,” he murmured as she opened the screen door.

  “Come in, Mr. McPherson. Gus is in the kitchen waiting to see you.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Griff said, nodding deferentially to Val as he removed his hat.

  Val caught the faint scent of lime soap as he passed by her. Today, he looked spruced up and much cleaner. Her heart beat a little more quickly as she closed the screen door and gestured for him to go down the hall.

  “Turn right,” she called out to him.

  Griff turned and found himself in a large kitchen. At the table sat a wiry woman with short silver hair, a cane leaning against the table next to her. He smiled and walked over to the table. “Mrs. Hunter?” he asked, holding out his hand toward her. “I’m Griff McPherson. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Call me Gus, young man,” she said, and gripped his hand firmly. Feeling the calluses, she said, “My granddaughter, Val, will bring us coffee.” She gestured to a cedar chair opposite her. “Have a seat. We can chat a spell.”

  “Thank you,” Griff said in a respectful tone. Gus Hunter might be small, but she was like packed dynamite ready to go off. She, like Val, wore work clothes. The lavender blouse brought out the glint in Gus’s blue eyes. Her hair was like a curly silver crown around her head.

  “I made you chocolate-chip cookies,” Gus said proudly, pointing to the large plate on the table.

  Heartened, Griff smiled a little. “That was mighty kind of you, ma’am.”

  Snorting, Gus said, “Don’t ma’am me! Call me Gus.”

  “Yes…Miss Gus,” Griff murmured, trying to curb a smile over the elder’s spunky personality. Andy had warned him Gus took no prisoners.

  Val brought over the coffee and set it in front of them.

  “Sit down, Val,” Gus ordered, pointing to the chair next to the wrangler.

  Val took a seat next to Griff. She could see her grandmother measuring and weighing the wrangler as he poured cream into his coffee. He was tall, muscular and relaxed.

  “Take a couple of cookies, too,” Gus ordered him. She pushed the plate directly in front of Griff.

  “Thank you,” he said, reaching for one. “I don’t usually get home cooking and these look real good.” He bit into the cookie, filled with chocolate chips and walnuts. It melted in his mouth. Griff couldn’t speak but held up the remainder of the delicious dessert to Gus to show his appreciation.

  Gus glowed. “Now, young man, this is an interview for a job as our wrangler here at the Bar H. You understand that?”

  “Yes, ma—I mean, Miss Gus, I do.”

  “Val told me you’re from back east.”

  Griff swallowed the cookie, nodded and told her the story of how he’d wound up in New York City, as well as how he landed back in Jackson Hole.

  “So, you were filthy rich and lost it all in the crash on Wall Street?” Gus surmised. She saw the sunburned wrangler’s brow dip.

  “Yes, I lost everything.”

  “And did your brother Slade call you and invite you back to your family ranch?”

  Her questions were sharp and painful for Griff. “No, he didn’t call me. I wanted to come home because I had nowhere else to go. I thought I could stay with him and we could rebuild the Tetons Ranch together.”

  “Well,” Gus said, brows knitting, “everyone in the valley knew Slade was a heartbeat away from losing his ranch. When the economy went south, he and a whole bunch of ranchers were walking the line on bank foreclosure. If it weren’t for Dr. Jordana Lawton and his horse, Thor, winning that ten grand at the endurance race, the bank would own that ranch by now.”

  “I know. I helped them out during the endurance contest.” Griff finished off the cookie. Gus was firing off questions almost faster than he could answer them. Just as Andy had warned him she would….

  “So how come you’re not working for your brother now?”

  Moving uncomfortably, Griff said, “We got split up at six years old, Miss Gus. I was bad about staying in touch with him over the years, and I guess it took its toll. The fault was mine. I was living in a rich, wealthy city and frankly, I looked down on him and the ranch. Half the ranch is legally mine, but it was Slade whose hard work, sweat and blood kept it going. Not mine.”

  “You’re honest to a fault, aren’t you?”

  Griff gave her a twisted grin. “Is there any other way to be?”

  “No, frankly, there isn’t. But the generations ahead think it’s okay to tell half-truths or no truth when it suits them. In my book a lie is a lie, pure and simple.”

  Nodding, Griff said, “Some do, that’s true, but not all of them. I’m from the same generation you’re talking about.”

  “Points scored,” she said, respect clear in her voice. She glanced over at Val, who looked worried. Gus couldn’t fathom why. So far, this gent was the real deal. “Okay, Mr. McPherson, you tell me why you think you’d be a good addition to the Bar H.”

  Griff wondered if Val had shared with Gus his answer to a similar question she’d asked him. Devoting his attention to Gus, he replied, “It’s clear to me now that Wyoming is where I belong. I couldn’t help that Slade and I were split up at six and sent to different uncles to be raised. I’m grateful they were there for us. Coming home after the stock market crash, at first, I hated it. Then, every day, it seemed as though Wyoming was working a little more of her magic on me. It was scrubbing off all those city years and I was rediscovering what I really loved to do. Working with my hands gives me a satisfaction that no Wall Street job ever did. Mending a fence and making sure it’s stout and can withstand a bull makes me feel good.”

  Gus saw some redness appear in the wrangler’s cheeks. He was struggling to put his feelings into words. She studied his hands. “You got work hands,” she confirmed. Holding up her own, she added, “Hands to thrust into the rich soil of Wyoming. To help things grow. There’s a feeling that comes with being one with the land. And if you weren’t born here, you couldn’t understand.”

  “Right.” Griff studied the old woman’s long, thin hands. Her knuckles were slightly enlarged due to arthritis. He saw the calluses across her palms. Her nails were short and jagged. Despite her cane, it was clear nothing could stop her from working on the ranch. He liked the sturdy, straight-talking elder. Griff wondered if his mother had lived, would she have turned out to be like Gus? He wanted to think so because the elder had a backbone of steel.

  “I was missing something out in New York. I had the best of everything. My aunt and uncle loved me fiercely and I loved them. In my heart—” and Griff touched his chest “—I felt an emptiness and I never understood it until I arrived back here. When I worked with Slade at the Tetons Ranch, the ache started to go away. Later, I realized I was starving for my roots. My real home.” He became serious, his voice low. “I want a job as a wrangler because I feel I can contribute. My heart is in my work, Miss Gus. It’s true, I don’t know everything about wrangling, but I’m hungry to learn.”

  Nodding, Gus shot a look across the table toward Val. She looked vulnerable, her eyes glinting with unshed tears. Gus knew she hadn’t been yearning to come home the way Griff was describing. Pinching her lips, Gus swung her gaze back to Griff. “Young man, I like where you come from. It’s true, you aren’t a fully realized wrangler yet, but I feel over time it will happen. Now, I can’t give you much money. Ten dollars an hour for eight hours a day. And you know you’ll be workin’ twelve hours a day, from dawn to dusk.”

  “That’s more than fair,” Griff answered, grateful. “I’ll prove my worth to you.”

  “I expect that. Now we got a problem. The wrangler’s bunkhouse was destroyed by a fire. One of the wranglers my daughter hired burned it down smoking in there one night. I ain’t hirin’ anyone who smokes. Too darned dangerous. Anyway, I hope to get that bunkhouse rebuilt next summer and you can m
ove into it then. Meantime, we’ve got no bunkhouse for you. But, if you’re okay with it, I have another bedroom upstairs with its own bathroom and shower. It’s yours if you want it. I won’t charge you rent.”

  Surprised, Griff looked over at Val. She looked displeased but refused to meet his gaze. Gus, on the other hand, looked like an excited child. He smiled a little hesitantly and said, “That’s very decent of you, Miss Gus. I’ll try not to get underfoot. And I’ve never smoked.”

  “I do the cookin’ around here,” Gus warned. “And I’m a darned good cook, too. But I do expect you to wash and dry dishes every other night. And you’ll do vacuuming and dusting once a week in this house. You got a problem with that?”

  Grinning, Griff said, “Miss Gus, if those cookies are any indication of your cooking ability, then I’m in hog heaven. And I don’t mind cleaning up after myself or doing housework. It’s all the same to me. Just tell me what you want, when you want it, and I’ll be happy to do it.”

  Giving him a keen look, Gus asked, “You got any plans to leave Wyoming anytime soon, young man? Once this economy staggers back to its feet, are you going to leave and go make your millions again on Wall Street?”

  “No, ma—I mean, no, Miss Gus, I won’t.” Griff looked around the warm, beautiful cedar kitchen. The cabinets shined red and gold in the afternoon sun that poured in through the large windows. “I’m home for good. I don’t want to go back to Wall Street.”

  Gus slapped the table. “Okay. Good!

  “You can move your gear in. Val will get the room ready for you. Tomorrow morning, you start your new job with the Bar H, Mr. McPherson.”

  Joy skittered through Griff. The old woman’s blue eyes glinted with elfin exuberance. He was elated over the job opportunity. Finally, someone was going to give him a chance! “Thank you, Miss Gus. I will do everything in my power to never disappoint you.”

  Shaking his hand firmly, Gus grinned. “Sounds good to me. Val will be your everyday boss. We’ve written up a very long list of things that need to be done around here. She’ll go over that with you this evening after dinner. “You like pot roast with potatoes, onions, carrots and gravy?”

  Griff got up and carefully pushed his chair back into place. “Miss Gus, that sounds wonderful. I don’t want to tell you what I tend to fix for myself if I’m left to my own devices.”

  “Just don’t go gettin’ fat on me,” Gus warned, grinning.

  Touching his hard, flat stomach, Griff said, “Oh, with all the work to be done around here, I don’t think that will happen. I have a feeling I’ll be putting in dawn to dusk days around here.”

  Val got up to show him to the door. “Those are the hours we’ll both work.” She tried to remain immune to the happiness dancing in his green eyes. He held the Stetson in his left hand as he followed her out of the kitchen.

  As they stepped onto the porch, Val gazed around the broken ranch. Everywhere she looked, there was fence line begging to be fixed. She watched Griff settle the Stetson on his head and hoped his proud stance would work out for them and their ranch. Lowering her voice, she said, “I hope you meant every word you shared with my grandmother in there, Mr. McPherson. What she didn’t tell you is that if you don’t do the work and do it right, I’ll fire you myself.”

  Griff stared over at Val’s set face. She was deadly serious. “I’ll make every effort to prove my worth to you and your grandmother every day.”

  His deep voice moved through her like music. Val fought to ignore it. Why did Griff have to be this easy on her eyes? It would be so much easier to dislike him if he was unattractive. “Better get going, Mr. McPherson. Gus sets the table at six o’clock sharp. She hates when people are late.”

  Grinning a little, Griff said, “Fair enough. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Thank you for the opportunity.”

  Standing on the porch, Val watched the tall wrangler walk down the slight slope to his beat-up Ford truck. It was painfully obvious that McPherson didn’t own a dime. Her heart finally settled down after he drove away. Turning, she looked toward the dirt road that led to Long Lake. It was half a mile away. The green of the surrounding mountains made her feel suddenly hopeful. Maybe she was wrong and Gus was right about this city slicker. Time would tell….

  * * *

  THE SUN SHONE ACROSS the mountains as Griff drove back toward Jackson Hole. The evergreens were dark and lush. He had rolled down his window, his arm resting on the door frame. Few people used air-conditioning in Wyoming. And his truck’s compressor had died long ago. The fresh air filled his lungs and it felt good to be alive.

  He had a job! His heart swelled with hope. The past few months had been hard. Griff was barely able to pay his room rent and grocery bills. Now he was going to live with a feisty grandmother who probably cooked like an angel—he had a real ranch job and a roof over his head.

  His mind and, if he were honest, his heart, turned gently back to Val Hunter. She was a beautiful, accomplished woman. She wasn’t happy that her grandmother had hired him, but Gus was in charge, that was clear. He looked forward to seeing that list of to-dos tonight after dinner. Hands on the steering wheel, Griff felt something flow through him like the river that paralleled the highway. Happiness. He was actually happy for the first time since returning to Wyoming!

  At first, after the crash and losing his job, Griff had felt hopeless. Coming home was his only option. He’d thought Slade would welcome him with open arms, but he hadn’t. His sibling had worked hard all his life to keep the family ranch from going under. And Slade had lost all respect for him because he was a city slicker.

  Was Val seeing him through similar eyes? His gut told him that she was. Mouth tightening, Griff slowed the truck as he entered the outskirts of Jackson Hole. It was a busy town during the summer months. Millions flocked here on their way to Yellowstone National Park, which lay fifty miles north of the cow town. A few tourists stopped first at the closer, magnificent Grand Teton National Park. It was his favorite place and Griff enjoyed hiking when he got the chance. Now he’d have no time for such activities.

  As he continued into town, Griff’s cell phone rang. He picked it up and saw it was Josh Gordon. Grimacing, Griff answered the FBI agent’s call. “Hello, Josh.”

  “I’m checking in to see if you’ve gotten anything on Curt Downing yet.”

  Griff pulled off the road and put the truck in Park. “No, I haven’t.”

  “I thought you might get something on him at the Horse Emporium. You said he picks up his feed supplies there.”

  “Yes, he does, but I haven’t seen him. He sends a kid who works for him, Zach Mason, to fetch the supplies.”

  “Look, we need your full attention on this. I know we’re not able to pay you anything for your help, but if we could prove Downing and his trucking company are moving drugs or guns, it would be of great help to our ongoing regional investigation. You know I can’t get authorization to send an undercover FBI agent there until I can prove that there’s good reason to do it.”

  “I understand,” Griff said, his frustration bubbling up at the situation he was in.

  The FBI had first approached him shortly after the Wall Street crash. They’d needed someone on the inside to help them understand the derivatives schemes. Griff felt guilty that he’d contributed to the economy’s downfall, and had agreed to help them. When that assignment was over, the FBI had called him into their office in Washington, D.C. They knew he was going back home to Wyoming, and Josh had asked if he’d be a mole for them on Curt Downing. And, of course, they couldn’t pay him a dime for his help. All the same, Griff readily agreed to the task because it was Downing’s father who had killed his parents.

  “You said you hear all kinds of gossip at the hay and feed store. Haven’t you gleaned anything there?”

  “Josh, I can’t force information out of people. If I go around askin
g a bunch of questions, I’ll blow my cover. And that’s not what you want. I have to be patient and cultivate relationships over time. Wyoming people tend to distrust outsiders for a long time until they can prove themselves. I’m still trying to fit in.” And then he told the FBI agent about being hired to work at the Bar H.

  “But that takes you out of the Horse Emporium.”

  “Yes, it does. But I need to pay my bills, somehow. And I’ll be in town several times a week running errands. Gus gets her hay and feed at the Horse Emporium, too.”

  “Damn, Griff, this is a real setback.”

  Raising his brows, Griff said nothing for a moment. Did Josh expect money to fall from the heavens? The agent was being ridiculous. “I know I’m out of the mainstream because of my new job, but I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.”

  “All right, good. Because I’m positive Downing is behind the movement of drugs through Wyoming. We have agents in Idaho, Montana and Colorado, and they’re picking up noise on the main hub that the drug dealer is located in Wyoming. It has to be Downing. We just can’t prove it yet. We also suspect a Guatemalan drug cartel called Los Lobos is moving into your area. They’re gunrunning from what we’ve been able to ascertain.”

  “Is Downing mixed up in both?”

  “Not that we know of,” Josh said. “Not yet, anyway. Guns and drugs don’t usually mix. But I want you to see if you hear anything on either of them.”

  The exasperation was evident in the agent’s voice. “Well, if that’s so, then shouldn’t these two separate reasons be enough to bring an undercover ATF and FBI agent in here to get the goods on Downing? Or the Los Lobos cartel?”

  “You don’t understand, Griff. Everyone’s budget has been slashed. My boss is turning down all kinds of requests from his field agents. Until we can get proof of some kind, my hands are tied.”

  “I’ll do what I can, Josh, but I have to eat and pay my bills first.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I understand. Okay, stay in touch.”