The Wrangler

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Do you know if they have a house they might rent?”

  Shrugging, Griff said, “I really don’t know. But you can ask them.”

  Brightening, Clarissa said, “I’ll do that.” She reached out and squeezed his upper arm. “Thanks for everything, Griff. Please give Miss Gus and Val my best. Tell them I’ll call one day soon and we’ll share a cup of coffee with one another and catch up.”

  Tipping his hat, Griff murmured, “I will.” He watched Clarissa walk back into the Horse Emporium. He knew she didn’t want anything to do with Downing, and hoped that Slade had an extra house to rent to her.

  Joe had finished loading the fence posts and spools of barbed wire into the truck. Griff thanked him and leaped off the platform, climbing into the driver’s seat. Heading toward the highway, he thought about Clarissa’s question as to whether the Bar H had any cabins for rent. And that gave him a great idea. He wondered what Gus and Val would think about it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CURT DOWNING’S UPPER lip lifted into a snarl. He watched from his truck as fashion plate Clarissa Reynard left the loading dock of the Horse Emporium. He felt his body harden with desire. Curt liked women, and it was easy enough for him to bed them, what with his money and his power. But he especially liked women that snubbed him. They were a challenge. Hands tightening on the wheel of his truck as it was loaded with feed for his horses, Downing cursed softly.

  Finding Clarissa at the Horse Emporium had been good luck. When he’d gone over to talk with her, he’d found out she was looking for a condo or, better yet, an apartment. He had both for rent. And he even lowered the price for her because she would be nearby and available for his unexpected visits. But she’d said no and then sought out McPherson. Curt bet his last dollar that Clarissa was asking if there was any room at the Bar H for her. He knew there wasn’t. There was one main ranch house, a barn and several outbuildings, but nothing she could rent. Good.

  Although she was newly divorced from Senator Peyton, Clarissa was still a power player. She might not have the millions the senator had provided when they were married, but she still had clout. And that was something Curt worked to get. He thought about how he could manipulate her into working with him in some way. Her son, Bradley, was now living with Zach Mason. And both were dealing drugs in the valley through his vast network. Oh, Zach didn’t know Curt was a regional drug lord. No, he was too smart to be discovered. His minions were so far removed none of them could point a guilty finger at him for the cops or federal agents.

  Now, how to snag Clarissa? Bradley, her teenage son from a previous marriage, had been in drugs since twelve years old. Bradley was now eighteen and a rebel. The kid was cantankerous as a wild mustang. Senator Peyton had hired a contract killer to kill Lieutenant Matt Sinclaire, a firefighter who had let Peyton’s family burn to death during a snowstorm several years ago. Peyton had planned to kill anything Sinclaire loved, which included his mute daughter and his love interest, Casey Cantrell. The plan blew up on Peyton and he was turned over to law enforcement. As soon as Clarissa discovered her husband was a would-be murderer, she presented evidence in court against him. It didn’t take her long to divorce him, either. The senator got even because of a pre-nup agreement and Clarissa ended up with the house in Jackson Hole and nothing else. She’d just sold it for far less than it was worth because of the ailing economy. Curt knew she was looking around to do more charity work. She worked part time at the local mercantile, but it was a menial job far below Clarissa’s station.

  “Mr. Downing,” Joe called from the dock, “you’re loaded and ready to go, sir.”

  Curt turned the key and the big Chevrolet purred to life. He eased away from the dock and turned onto the highway, heading back to his ranch. His mind, however, was focused on Clarissa. That bitch was, at one time, the queen of the town. She raised millions for charity and had ties to rich people around the world. She was an important player to him. And he wanted her for good reason. It didn’t hurt she was curvy, beautiful, smart and a natural born hellion. How to get Clarissa to like him?

  The light was bright and Curt put on his sunglasses. Warm, sunny days in Wyoming were to be celebrated. This part of the state had winter eight months out of the year, so sun was like gold to the residents. Yes...what could he do to pull Clarissa into his orbit? Mind ticking off possibilities, Curt decided that he had a chance to trap Clarissa in her own web. One thing about people who used to have money: they always wanted it and their station back.

  As he swung onto the main highway leading out of town, he saw the empty elk-feeding center on his right. During the winter, thousands of elk came down from the mountains to eat the hay distributed by the federal government. Without it, many would starve to death. The ten-foot-tall fence paralleled the highway and red-tailed hawks and other raptors were sitting on the posts looking for a meal across the flat, grassy land.

  His thoughts careened back to the Bar H. Damn. Somehow, he had to buy that property out from under Miss Gus! The old woman was stubborn and hated him. Curt didn’t know why. He’d never done anything to her. He’d tried cajoling Miss Gus, buying her flowers and candy. He’d even sent his Realtor to visit her. He too had failed. So what was it going to take to lever Miss Gus out of that ranch and sell it to him?

  Miss Gus had to be broke. She’d lived here for twelve years and the Bar H had consistently deteriorated in that time. If she had money, she’d have used it on the ranch. Or was she already in financial straits? The fact that she could buy twenty head of prime Hereford heifers told him she had some money squirreled away.

  He had to find some way to get that ranch out from beneath Gus. Curt slowed down and turned right onto a narrow dirt road that would lead to his ranch. It was time to employ some extreme measures. Maybe he could get his minions to do some dirty work for him? He had some handlers who took care of Zach, as middlemen who made sure the boy didn’t know that Curt was the brains behind the operation. Still, Downing wanted to think through his strategy. Most crucial was he couldn’t be tied to the ugly deed. And if Zach was caught, he couldn’t point a finger at him—only at his handlers.

  * * *

  “CLARISSA REYNARD WANTS YOU to call her,” Griff told Miss Gus after he’d climbed out of the truck. Gus and Val had been in the barn cleaning out the horses’ stalls.

  Wiping her brow, Gus pushed the blue baseball cap back on her head. “Clarissa Peyton?”

  “Yes, she’s gone back to her original name of Reynard. I guess the divorce is final and she’s using it instead.”

  Val walked up. “How’s she doing?” She felt herself respond simply to Griff being present.

  “Seems okay. She’s looking for a place to rent.”

  “What in tarnation? She has that million-dollar house to live in!”

  “Not anymore.” Griff filled them in on what he knew. Gus looked shocked after he’d finished his explanation.

  “This is terrible! Clarissa is a fine young woman! She’s done nothin’ but good for this valley. Her charities have helped millions of starving and poor people around the world.”

  Val managed a grimace. “Prenups by the rich aren’t exactly fair, are they?”

  Griff nodded. Val looked delicious in the white long-sleeved cotton blouse and jeans. “Prenups were never meant to be fair,” Griff told them. “They’re designed to save a man’s fortune, never mind paying what is fair to the spouse.”

  Snorting, Gus said in a grumbling tone, “Senator Peyton is a killer. He had no right to take money from Clarissa because she is responsible for raising Bradley, her eighteen-year-old son by her first marriage. The woman has responsibilities!”

  “I guess the senator thought he was being fair by giving her the Jackson Hole house.”

  “Hells bells!” Gus said, “That sidewinder has five homes dropped all over the US and other countries. He could sure affor
d to give Clarissa more than one.”

  Val smiled a little. When the oldster got fired up, she was something to behold. “Well, we can’t help her, Griff. We don’t have anything to rent to her, much as we might like to.”

  Griff hesitated. He’d had an idea to help the ranch get back on solid financial footing and decided to share it with them now. “Miss Gus, I have an idea. Part of my job in my uncle’s firm was as an investment banker. I look for ways to increase property income. Have you ever thought of building some small cabins on Long Lake and renting them out to fishermen and tourists?”

  Gus thought deeply for a moment. “Son, I like your idea. In fact, I’d talked to Cheryl about building five or six cabins along the lakeshore. We were lookin’ for ways to bring money in to keep the Bar H solvent.”

  “Really?” Val asked her grandmother.

  Gus nodded. “Your mom wanted nothing to do with it. I thought it was a great idea! The lake is stocked every spring by the state. We have five different types of trout in it. Fishermen would kill for this kind of setup. I figured if we built six cabins with three rooms each, we could rent them out for two hundred dollars a day during the summer. That’s a lot of money when you look at it.” Gus looked up at Griff. “And with your Harvard MBA, I know you can see money potential.”

  Grinning, Griff said, “Yes, ma’am, I do. It’s a good income base.”

  “Six cabins would mean twelve hundred dollars a day times three months,” Val said, thinking aloud. “That’s a lot of good money coming in.”

  “Hmm,” Gus said, peering up at her granddaughter, “maybe we need to relook at all our options? It wouldn’t take much of an investment to have six cabins built. We could do it this year. And by next spring, after advertising on the internet, we could lure those fishermen in here. Those types don’t blink at paying two hundred bucks a day for a cabin when they know a lake is stocked with trout. You open to it, Val?”

  “I am.” Val glanced over at Griff. “I think we need time to figure out what the costs and outlay are to us. After all, Gus, it’s coming out of your savings. Technically, the Bar H can’t afford it.”

  “Griff, do you have any construction experience?”

  “Very little,” he admitted. “Before Slade and I got split up, we worked with our father on building another house at the Tetons Ranch. I admit, I was five at the time, and I don’t remember a lot about it.”

  “I don’t imagine,” Gus intoned with a wry smile, “that your job on Wall Street afforded you any construction knowledge?”

  “Yes, in one way it did. We had a number of construction companies in our portfolio. I was the one who had to go out in the field yearly and visit them. We had two others who were developers, building condos or home packages. I learned a lot about construction from those companies.”

  “You have Slade for help, too,” Gus reminded him, poking her index finger into his chest. “Slade is good at everything.”

  Mouth curving a bit, Griff liked the feisty old woman. She had fire and grit in her eyes. “Yes, he is. And I could talk with him about such a project. We could sit down and figure out what the needs would be as well as the costs.”

  “Good, you do that,” Gus said, triumphant.

  “Gus, he has a lot of other things to do, too,” Val gently reminded her.

  “Oh, pshaw. He’ll figure out how to parcel out his time.” She turned and walked slowly down the slope toward the ranch house.

  With a chuckle, Griff traded a warm look with Val. “Your granny gets excited, doesn’t she?”

  Laughing a bit, Val nodded her head. “To say the least.”

  “Did you inherit the trait?” Griff wondered, feeling good about sharing a private moment with Val.

  “Oh,” she said, some of her smile disappearing, “I guess I did as a real young child.”

  Hearing pain in her voice, Griff wanted to reach out to Val. The stricken look on her face told him everything. “I’m sorry,” he confessed, “I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories.”

  Val took a deep breath and shrugged. “No matter where I go on this ranch, Griff, it’s all the same. One place isn’t any better than another.” She saw the care burning in his dark green eyes. For a second, Val had a wild, unchecked urge to step forward and embrace him. Somehow, she knew that he would hold her, would shield her against the oppressive weight she always carried. Warmth opened her heart and for the first time, Val realized just how much she was drawn to this tall wrangler. His face was sunburned, chiseled and becoming sculpted by Wyoming weather. It had a rugged quality gained by working in the harsh wilds of the state. And Griff wore it like a knight in shining armor. Swallowing hard, she took a step back from him instead of walking toward him like she really wanted to do. She saw care in his eyes—for her. It was a startling realization and Val was desperate to have time to feel her way through all of this. “It’s not your fault, so don’t worry about it,” she said, slightly breathless.

  Turning, Griff hooked a thumb toward the loaded truck in the driveway. “I’m going to get busy unloading the fence posts.”

  Val nodded. “If Gus really wants you to add building cabins to your list, you won’t be able to handle it all by yourself.”

  “No,” he agreed. “One person can only do so much.”

  “If I helped you dig post holes and string wire, two people could get it done in half the time.”

  Griff wanted nothing more than to have Val at his side. And he knew she was a consistent worker. “Stringing wire is hard work,” he warned her.

  “You’re right, it isn’t for sissies.”

  Grinning at her, Griff said, “You’re not a sissy. Why wouldn’t I want a partner?”

  A partner. Val liked that concept. “I’ll finish cleaning the stalls in the barn and join you.” Val saw pleasure gleaming in his eyes. Excitement shimmered through her. Griff always made her feel light and happy.

  “Good enough,” Griff said with a slight smile. “See you soon.”

  * * *

  BY THE TIME LUNCH ROLLED AROUND and Gus called them in to eat, Griff had unloaded what he needed to from the truck. New fence posts were stacked in neat piles. A spool of barbed wire and ten posts remained in the vehicle. Griff would drive down the road and start the repair at the gate and lake area first. Wiping his brow, he settled his cowboy hat back on his head and joined Val as she walked up to the house.

  “Good work,” he said. “We’re a good team.” And they were.

  Feeling heat in her cheeks even though she was perspiring, Val walked with enough distance between herself and this brazen wrangler so their hands couldn’t accidentally touch. She pulled off her leather gloves and said, “Ranch work isn’t for the lazy, is it?”

  “No,” Griff agreed amiably.

  “Where’d you get your work ethic?” Val said over her shoulder, climbing the stairs.

  “Our parents initially. Then Wall Street gave me a different kind of ethic.” Griff hurried ahead and opened the screen door for Val.

  He walked in behind her and sniffed the fragrant air. Spaghetti? Miss Gus had been promising for the past few days to make it from her home-canned tomatoes from last year’s greenhouse garden. Inhaling the scent of garlic and butter, Griff felt his stomach growl. He quickly went to his room to wash up.

  In the kitchen, Val helped Gus get the spaghetti and sauce from the stove to the table. Griff entered minutes later and set the table.

  “That spaghetti smells mighty good,” Griff told Miss Gus.

  “It should! I used a couple jars of my stewed tomatoes, with onions and red peppers, from last year.” Gus was wearing a white apron around her waist and there were red splotches from the sauce all over it. She proudly carried a large oval platter of steaming spaghetti to the table.

  “I remember your spaghetti over at your ranch in Che
yenne,” Val said, placing the bowl of sauce on the table. “I always loved it, Gus.”

  “My recipe is the same now as then. There’s another good reason for you to stay here, young lady. My cooking!”

  Laughter filled the kitchen as they sat down. Val retrieved a basket of toasted French bread that had been slathered with butter and garlic. Picking up the wide forks, Val hefted spaghetti onto Gus’s awaiting plate. Next, she piled a good amount onto Griff’s plate, and then her own. Ranch work was hard, physical work and they ate hearty.

  Spooning the sauce that contained small beef meatballs onto her plate, Gus said, “Dunno about you two birds, but I’m a starvin’ cow brute.”

  Griff enjoyed the patter between the women. The kitchen smelled wonderful and the warm, toasted garlic bread melted in his mouth. There was such a familiarity to this scene. He poignantly recalled his mother making all their meals. As a family, they sat at their table in the kitchen, eating together. How badly Griff had missed those times. He hadn’t realized it until arriving at the Bar H.

  For many minutes, there was no chatter, just people enjoying the food on their plates.

  Val saw how famished Griff had become. He had eaten enough for two of them. Still, he was tall, strong and carried absolutely no fat on his muscular body. “What did you like about Wall Street?” she asked toward the end of their meal.

  Hesitating, Griff said, “Looking back on it and seeing it differently now, not much. I got caught up in my uncle and aunt’s world. They were the rich and elite of the city. Charity functions, parties, cocktail events and eating at the right restaurants were important to them.”

  Curious, Val saw the question in his face. “And of course, they wanted you to share it with them?”

  “Yes,” Griff said, placing his plate aside. He picked up his cup of coffee. “My aunt and uncle had a personal cook, two maids, and I had a nanny growing up in their household.”

  “Musta been nice,” Gus said with a growl in her voice, patting her mouth with the napkin, “to have servants do your bidding. We could use a few of them around here.”