Cyrus snorted as he came from behind the counter, key in hand. “Loves them ugly critters like there was something lovable about ‘em. Myself, I’m a cattle man.” He plunked his hat on his head.
Kate grinned, thinking the scruffy hat must have tumbled more than once across the windy Wyoming prairie.
Cyrus led the way to the door. “Let’s get you moved into the Blue Jay.”
***
Kate parked her Honda in front of a small log cabin snuggled into a copse of evergreens. She liked the cozy look of the cabin and knew she’d feel at home in it.
Cyrus, who’d walked over, stopped to gape at her car. “What kind of contraption is that?”
“Contraption?”
“Yeah.” He gripped his belt with his gnarled fingers. “Looks like one of them foreign outfits.”
“It’s a Japanese-made Honda, which I suppose looks out of place in this land of SUVs and dual-cab pickups.”
He squinted at her. “You a tree-hugger?”
“Not necessarily, but my car gets good gas mileage.”
He opened the cabin door before lifting two suitcases from the back of the Honda. “What in tarnation were you doing in a God-forsaken place like Pittsburgh?”
The incredulous look on his crinkled face made her laugh. She shifted the box she held. “I was born and raised there. Guess you’ll have to blame my parents.”
“So what brings you clear out west, other than the internship thing?”
This was beginning to feel like a police interrogation, something she didn’t care to repeat. But she answered his question. “I’ve wanted to visit here ever since my Dad read stories about a Wyoming horse ranch to me and my little brother. When I learned about the internship and possible future employment at Whispering Pines, I thought it might be a good fit.”
His right eyebrow shot up, pulling a web of wrinkles halfway up his forehead. “Possible future employment? You moved hundreds of miles for a pie-in-the-sky, maybe-maybe-not job? Wyoming goes easy on folks in the summer, but her winters can be tough on city slickers.” Grasping a suitcase in each sinewy hand, he started toward the cabin.
Kate bit back a retort and focused on his bowlegged gait as she followed him inside. She lowered the box to the floor. “Pittsburgh winters aren’t exactly mild. I believe I can handle all the seasons here, plus be an asset to the ranch.”
“Asset? Hmph.” He placed her luggage on the couch. “Most of the hands are plain ol’ ordinary folks. We’re cowpokes and horse wranglers who don’t have much use for shopping malls and traffic jams. And we don’t have much education, ‘cept for Mike, of course. Though I’ll never understand why a guy born and raised on a ranch needed a fancy piece of paper from the university to do what he’s always done.”
“I’m not here because of my education.” Kate paused, searching for words. “I just wanted to experience a different lifestyle.” If only he knew how different.
“This is a whole ‘nother world from Pittsburgh.” Back at the car, he stacked two small boxes on top a larger one and headed into the cabin. She followed. He dropped his pile onto the floor with a thump. “We work hard with our muscles, not our brains. You’ll have to do more than sit in that fancy office filing your nails, you know.”
Fascinated by the way the undulating creases of his face rose and fell, Kate ignored the affront and added her boxes to the pile.
He tapped a cigarette from its packaging. “You’ll have to muck horse pucky, warsh dishes, clean toilets, throw hay, get up before daybreak and toil ‘til after dark, sometimes in the rain and the hail and the wind, maybe even snow. Most of all, you gotta keep smiling at the guests, no matter how cantankerous they get.”
He gave her a sideways glance. “You reckon you can keep up with the crew and our so-called lifestyle?”
She readjusted her sunglasses. “I reckon I can. I plan to give it my best.”
He stuck the unlit smoke between his stained lips and returned for a final load. After they emptied the car, he slammed the hatchback shut.
Kate squeezed her fists and bit her lip to keep from swearing at him. At least the glass didn’t break.
Back inside, Cyrus plopped his load down. “Your eyeballs look like you went too many rounds down at Bogie’s place.” The cigarette drooped from one corner of his mouth as he spoke through the other side. “You hungry?”
She hesitated. The strange old man reminded her of a teeter-totter. One moment he insulted her, the next he was kind. But she was hungry, and the grocery store was miles down the mountain. Not that she had money to buy groceries.
“I’m starved.”
“Get yourself settled in, then head over to the dining hall. Mrs. D told me to scrape up leftovers from the crew meals I fixed this week for whoever wanders in tonight.”
Kate pressed her lips together to hide a grimace. Prison leftovers, known to the inmates as Patterson Puke, had ruined her appetite for reheated food. But she needed something more than cookies in her stomach.
He stepped out the door and lit his cigarette. After he took a drag, he pointed toward a large log structure jutting from a hillside. “That’s the place over yonder. Follow the path.”
“Thanks, Cyrus. And thank you for helping me unload the car.”
“Oh, one more thing.” He reached inside his shirt pocket. “Here’s the key. But you won’t need it. Wyoming ain’t crime infested like Pittsburgh.”
Kate watched him amble away. “You irascible old man.”
Chapter Six
ALMOST THE INSTANT THE dining hall’s wooden screen door banged behind her, Kate heard Cyrus grouse. “About time. Can’t keep the grub warm forever.”
She worked her way between the tables, sniffing the hint of bacon and coffee in the air. By the time she reached the serving ledge that separated the kitchen from the eating area, she was ready with an apology. “Sorry I’m late. I got busy unpacking and forgot all about supper, which is crazy, because I’m really hungry.”
“Hmph.” Cyrus opened the walk-in freezer and stepped inside.
A broad, bald man with a Band-Aid on his shiny scalp interrupted his dicing to grab a towel and swipe at his eyes. “Stinkin’ onions.”
He walked toward Kate, beefy hand extended. “Fletcher Jacobsen. You must be the new person in the office. Welcome to the WP.”
“Glad to meet you. I’m Kate Neilson.”
She took his huge paw, glad his grip didn’t match his size.
He lifted an upside-down metal bowl from the counter to reveal a plate of steaming food. “Here you go. Still warm.”
“Thanks, Fletcher.” The leftovers actually looked and smelled good.
Cyrus exited the freezer. “It’s mighty chilly in there.” He rubbed his hands together. “Almost as cold as Pittsburgh.”
Fletcher winked at Kate before turning to Cyrus. “How about we call it a night? Miz Kate can turn off the lights when she’s done eating.”
Cyrus looked at her. “We’re short a hand in the kitchen tomorrow morning. Mrs. D told me to ask you to fill in, so you can meet the crew.”
“Sure. What time should I be here?”
“Four-thirty. On the dot.”
She blinked. That was even earlier than Patterson’s obnoxious wakeup buzzer. “I’ll be here—on the dot.”
***
Kate turned off every light switch she could find, including the porch lights, and discovered it was incredibly dark in the mountains at night—unlike Patterson.
As she felt her way along the wide covered porch, prison spotlights spiraled across the screen of her memory—pitiless, probing flares that glared into her cell, across her bunk and through her dreams every night, all night. She shivered, seeing again the stipples of light reflected on the thick, black windows of the corner guard houses and the cold glint of endless miles of razor wire coiled atop the sixteen-foot-high human cage.
She reached the steps, fumbling for the handrail. She had to forget her past. She was done with Patterson, and Pa
tterson was done with her. Balanced on the bottom step, she looked up. Above, and seemingly all around her, a black velvet sky sparkled with luminaries. She’d never seen so many stars or observed the way they pulsed.
A comet shot from one end of the gleaming umbrella of galaxies to the other as though showing off just for her. She grinned. Better than sparklers and as amazing as the wildflowers she’d seen earlier. Sensing the moment was sacred, a confirmation that God was re-creating her life, she lifted her hands and whispered a prayer of gratitude for the endless twinkles of light and the sweet smell of the crisp alpine air.
Her teeth began to chatter. Rubbing the goosebumps on her arms, she reluctantly started back to her cabin. Only starlight illumined the path, until she approached a big barn. The tall doors had been rolled back, spilling a yellow square of light into the night along with the odor of manure.
From inside, she heard Cyrus’s voice. “And on top of being a city slicker, she’s supposed to be doing some kind of internship. We don’t need some over-educated broad telling us how her east-coast perfessors think we should run the WP.”
Kate stopped behind a tree.
“What got into your mom’s head, anyway, Duncan? City girls don’t know a blasted thing about ranching, no matter how much education they got.”
“Oh, don’t get so fired up.” The voice was definitely younger than Cyrus’s. “You were there when Mom said she was working with a university back east to set up an internship. She’s always wanted to give someone who’s never experienced our blue skies and wide open spaces a chance to enjoy the West. I’m sure the new hand has the credentials she was looking for.”
“Well, it don’t make no sense to me.”
“Don’t worry, Cyrus.” Fletcher was speaking now. “I’ll bet the last thing on that city gal’s mind is taking over a guest ranch. Most of the broads who show up here in the summer are just hoping to corral a cowboy.”
She heard a throaty guffaw. “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about, Jacobsen, ‘cause she’s probably hunting for a dude with some hair on his scalp.”
The men roared.
Someone else chimed in. “And a guy smart enough not to snag his billiard-ball head with his own fishhook.”
More laughter.
Kate stepped toward the barn, fists clenched. She’d come to fulfill an internship, not … She slid back into the shadows. They’d never believe her. Just like the waitress at the restaurant. They didn’t know her, but they thought they’d figured her out. They’d never know how wrong they were.
She broke into a run on the dark footpath. Halfway to her cabin, she tripped. Sprawled across the rocky trail with the wind knocked out of her lungs, she lay motionless, spread-eagle in the dirt and the pine needles until she could breathe again. When she lifted her head to spit out a pebble, groaning with the effort, she saw a circle of light bob toward her.
Before she could sit up, the light caught her, and someone was kneeling beside her. “You hurt?” The voice was masculine.
“I’m fine. Just tripped—that’s all.”
He swept the beam across her body. “You’re bleeding. If you can hang on a minute, I’ll get the first-aid kit.”
Her knees and palms were already burning, but she didn’t need a man to take care of her. Kate pushed to a sitting position. “No thanks. I just got a few scrapes. Nothing serious.”
“Are you sure? The kit is hanging on the barn wall, right around the corner.”
After what she’d heard, she didn’t want anything to do with the barn. “I’ll be fine.”
He held out his hand, which smelled of gasoline, and aimed the flashlight beam at the ground. “Here, I’ll help you up.”
Kate held her palm under the light and saw blood and dirt. “I don’t want to smear blood on you.”
“I’ve had worse stuff than blood smeared on me, but that looks painful. Here, I’ll grab ahold of your upper arm.”
She let him pull her upright, though the pain nearly took her breath away.
“You think you can walk?”
“Uh-huh.” She tasted blood on her lip.
He took her arm, and with his free hand, aimed the flashlight beam at the trail. “Where you headed?”
Tempted to jerk away, Kate reminded herself she wasn’t being manhandled by a correctional officer. She shivered, hating the involuntary sign of weakness. “The Blue Jay.”
“It’s not far.” He took off his jacket and laid it across her shoulders.
She looked at him, wishing she could see his face more clearly. “But, the blood—”
“It’ll wash. I get all kinds of crud on this thing, and it always washes out.”
Warm and soft against her skin, the flannel-lined jacket smelled like soap mixed with hay and horses and … she didn’t know what else. Maybe the fresh aroma of clean, outdoor air, something she hadn’t experienced often in Pittsburgh.
He took her arm again, and they began to walk. Though her scraped knees rebelled at each step, she tried not to shuffle. Then, almost as soon as they started, he stopped.
Kate stumbled.
His grasp tightened. “Sorry. I just remembered I owe you an apology.”
What was he talking about? Oh … She tensed and stepped to the side. She should have known he was one of the guys who mocked her in the barn.
He dropped his hand. “I was a jerk this afternoon.”
“This afternoon?” She tilted her head. Who was he? Not Cyrus or Fletcher. She could see the outline of his face and hat in the starlight, but that was all. And smell his aftershave.
“Yeah. When you drove up to the office—that was me on the porch. I’d just had words with my mom, and I wasn’t feeling very friendly. I apologize for being rude.”
Oh, yes. The grouchy guy with the friendly collie. But at least he could say he was sorry. She hadn’t met many men capable of regret. “Thank you. Is Laura Duncan your mother?”
“Yep. I need to apologize to her, too.” He took her arm again.
She didn’t resist.
Within minutes, they were at the Blue Jay. Kate was surprised by the disappointment she felt, knowing they’d soon part ways.
He helped her up the single step to the stoop.
Kate was glad she’d thought to flip on the porch light before she left the cabin.
He opened the door for her, said, “Have a good night,” and touched his hat brim. “I’ll see you around the ranch …” He hesitated. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
Kate handed him his coat. “My name is Kate. Thank you for helping me—and for lending me your jacket …” She laughed. “I don’t know your name.”
“Mike. Mike Duncan.” He turned to go but stopped, a half grin creasing his face. “Welcome to Wyoming—and the Whispering Pines. Call the house if you need anything. Band-Aids or whatever.”
“Thank you.” Though she hurt all over and had started to shiver again, she watched him leave before stepping inside the cabin. She ran her fingers across the bumpy log wall and felt for the light switch. Finally she had a place of her own, a place to call home. It wouldn’t be long before finding the light switch in every room was second nature. She turned the porch light off and the ceiling light on before closing the door.
“Hey, lil’ darlin’.”
Kate gasped and whirled.
Jerry Ramsey sat at her kitchen table, a whiskey bottle and a half-filled glass in front of him. “Knew you’d be lonesome for me tonight.”
Kate stared at him. This couldn’t be happening. She tightened her grip on the doorknob.
He lifted the bottle. “Remember our good buddy Jack?” He snickered. “The three of us will have a fine time. We’ll be a sweet threesome, same as old times.” His lip curled. “Too bad your fridge is empty. With a little Coke, we could a made it a foursome—Jack ‘n’ Coke an’ me ‘n’ you.”
Kate yanked the door open. “Out!”
He picked up the glass and drained it. “Get real, baby.” “You know you want�
�you need—Jer an’ Jack.”
“How did you find me?”
“Like I’ve always told you, sweetheart—I have my ways.” His dark eyes were as flat and empty as one-way mirrors. “You owe me. Big time especially after I just caught you whoring around with someone else.”
His aftershave stabbed at her sinuses. How could she not have smelled him before she saw him? “Out. Get out of my cabin!”
He jumped to his feet and was across the small room in two strides. He grabbed her arm, but she jerked from his grasp.
He swore, kicked the door shut and threw her onto the couch. “I’m done being nice.”
She rolled away from him and grabbed the floor lamp beside the couch, ripping the cord from the wall.
Ramsey seized the lamp pole and twisted, but Kate held tight.
Someone pounded on the door. “Everything okay in there?”
“No!” Kate yanked at the pole.
Ramsey released his hold, and she fell onto the couch. He whipped a gun from beneath his jacket flap and dashed for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
Mike burst into the cabin. He glanced at Kate, who was on her feet again, then at the bathroom door.
They heard a bolt being shoved into place. Mike charged across the room, his boots hammering the floorboards, Kate right behind him. “Open up!” He rattled the doorknob. At the sound of breaking glass, he spun on his heels and hurried out the front door.
Kate ran to the doorway, calling, “He has a gun!”
The only response was the thump of running feet receding to silence.
She locked the door and fell onto the couch, staring at Ramsey’s empty glass. He’d contaminated her cabin before she’d spent a single night in it. She had to find Uncle Dean’s hunting knife before she went to bed—or some form of protection.
A loud rap sounded on the door. She sprang to her feet, clenching the lamp like a battering ram. “Who is it?”
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