Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel)

by Lyles, Rebecca Carey

  Clint pointed at two wheelbarrows propped against the barn. “How about you and Darryl load up the wheelbarrows. You can dump the compost randomly in the garden. Kate and I will spread it around.”

  Tanner raised his eyebrows. “You and Kate, huh?”

  Darryl grunted. “He and Rusty get all the broads.”

  Kate studied Darryl. He was a scrawny kid, probably not more than eighteen or nineteen years old. She’d been called worse names—far worse names, but something in his voice said he didn’t have a high regard for women.

  Clint squinted at Darryl. “Watch your mouth.” Though Darryl looked ready to retort, Clint kept talking. “When you get tired, we’ll switch. After we put down a couple inches, we’ll use the tiller to mix it into the ground.”

  “How come we’re moving horse pucky again?” Darryl did not look happy.

  Kate wondered if he was always so whiny. He reminded her of more than one woman she’d met behind bars.

  Tanner elbowed him. “It’s the cycle of life thing, bucko. We feed the animals, they eat the food and poop out the leftovers. We till it into the soil, so we can grow vegetables to give us strength to pitch hay to the animals, so they can make fertilizer for the garden.”

  “If I’d known Mrs. D wanted it on the garden, I would have tossed it there in the first place.” Darryl walked over to a wheelbarrow propped against the barn wall and grabbed it by the handles. He rolled it to the pile.

  Tanner chuckled. “You can’t scoop manure straight onto a garden. It’ll burn up the plants. It has to sit for weeks, sometimes months, to turn into compost.”

  Just think of it this way …” Clint tossed a shovel full of compost into the wheelbarrow. “We’re the most important workers on this ranch right now, doing the most important job.”

  “That’s a bunch of—” Darryl pointed at the manure mound. “And I’m not buying it.” He glared at Clint. “I won’t get no purple heart for hauling manure. Besides, I hate vegetables. My grandma made me eat way too many Brussels sprouts.”

  Tanner thrust a fork into the compost heap. “I hear the vice president is coming to Wyoming to fish next month. Maybe he’ll give you that purple heart.”

  “Funny, man, funny.”

  As far as Kate could tell, Tanner and Clint were teasing Darryl. But the kid didn’t seem to have much of a sense of humor.

  She and Clint helped fill the wheelbarrow before carrying rakes to the garden. They passed the corral, where Kate stopped to stroke Trudy. The calf’s sad bawls when she left made her feel bad.

  Later, they rested in the gazebo and drank ice water Kate brought from her cabin.

  Clint wiped his brow. “The garden seems a lot bigger this year.”

  “Yeah, and we’re not even half done.” Darryl plunked his glass down on the bench seat. “I get all the junk jobs around here. I’ll probably get stuck with a bunch of bratty kids on the hayride tomorrow.”

  Kate stared at him, thinking he sounded like a three-year old. He’d told her this was his second summer to work at the WP. Surely he knew the routine by now. What did he expect? To be treated like one of the guests?

  “That’s enough.” Clint’s voice was sharp.

  Darryl shot upright and stomped out of the gazebo but pivoted for a final retort. “Just because you lowered yourself to peon status so you could hang around the new broad doesn’t mean you can ...”

  Clint sprang to his feet.

  Darryl took off running, Clint not far behind.

  Tanner, who’d also jumped up, sat back down. “They can duke it out without me.” He took off his hat and fanned his face with it. “Sorry about the way the kid talks. He’s a hothead. I doubt he’ll last the summer. In fact, I was surprised the Duncans brought him back this year, after all the trouble he caused last season.”

  He offered a wry smile. “But you know Mrs. D. She’s a real softie. Darryl’s dad abandoned the family, so they’re probably in a bad way financially.”

  When Kate returned from taking the tray of glasses to her cabin, she was surprised to see all three men hard at work. She hurried to the manure pile to help Clint load a wheelbarrow.

  He stopped shoveling. “Sorry about that, Kate.” He motioned toward the garden where Tanner and Darryl were working. “He tends to step out of line once in a while. I shouldn’t let him get under my skin.”

  ”How’d you get him to come back? I don’t see bruises on either of you.”

  Clint dug into the mound again. “I threatened his job—after I cornered him. He knows all I have to do is say the word and the Duncans will fire him. That settled him down, though he’s probably still fuming. Rumor has it he has a hard time keeping a job.”

  “No surprise.”

  Clint leaned on his shovel. “Actually, he had me figured right when he said I wanted to spend time with you. I’ve been hoping for a chance to ask you something.”

  She watched his face, bracing herself. What had he heard about her past?

  “The Wild Bunch Saloon down in Encampment has line dancing on Friday nights. Would you like to go with me tonight?”

  She tried to hide her surprise. Why did she always expect the worst? She smiled. “I’ve never line danced, but I’ve seen it on TV. It looks complicated.”

  “It’s not that hard. Besides, if you mess up, nobody cares. Everyone is there to have a good time. And—if you can tear yourself away from Cyrus’s cooking—I know where we can get a real good steak on the way.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” She might hear about it from Cyrus, but she was a free woman now, who could eat anywhere she wanted. “Where is Encampment?”

  “It’s northeast of here, opposite the direction to Copperville, around twenty-five, thirty miles from the ranch.”

  “Oh, good. I’ll get to see the other side of the mountain.” And Ramsey wouldn’t be there.

  ***

  When Kate and Clint walked into the Wild Bunch, country music blared at top volume from speakers near the ceiling. Three lines of dancers in jeans and plaid shirts—male and female, tall and short, young and old—moved in unison across the wooden dance floor, grinning and clapping as they spun with the beat.

  Kate tapped Clint’s shoulder. “Looks fun, but I don’t know the steps.”

  He drew her into a corner. “We’ll practice. I’ll follow them, and you can follow me.” They laughed and stumbled together until she got the hang of it, and they joined the hand-clapping, boot-slapping group. Swiveling and stomping, stepping and kicking, they shimmied their shoulders, shouted yee-haw and waved their arms. Kate couldn’t stop giggling.

  Forty-five minutes later, Clint touched her shoulder. “You ready for a breather?”

  She fell against him, breathing hard. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  He led her off the dance floor to a booth. “That was a workout.”

  She dropped into the booth. “Amazing how good it feels to sit. But I have to say, I haven’t enjoyed myself this much in years. Is it okay to take my boots off for a few minutes?”

  He nodded, resting his forearms on the table. “Are you hooked? Can I take you dancing every Friday night?”

  She grinned and pulled her boots off, one at a time. “I’d love it, but I also want to try all the other cowboy stuff I saw in movies when I was growing up.” She fanned herself with a napkin. “You know—rodeos, cattle drives, barn dances.”

  “We can do it all. Just depends on how often we can get away from the ranch.”

  The barmaid brought their drinks—lemonade for Kate, who’d promised God and her Aunt Mary she’d never again partake of an addictive substance, and a beer for Clint. They sat back, relishing the refreshment and the breeze from the open side door and chatting like old friends.

  Kate enjoyed watching Clint’s expressive face. It was nice to know that a great guy—and a good-looking one at that—wanted to hang out with her. Especially since Mike was unavailable.

  Clint got up to join the dancers again.

  Kate was reac
hing for her boots, when she saw Jerry Ramsey walk in the front door with Tara Hughes. What? She jerked, knocking her ankle against the table leg. “Ouch!”

  Clint grabbed her arm. “You okay?”

  Elbows on the table, she dropped her head into her hands, hoping the duo hadn’t seen her. “I hit my ankle on the table leg.” The pain morphed into a throb. “I don’t think I can dance.” Even if she could, she didn’t dare walk out on the dance floor again.

  “Want me to get you some ice?”

  Questions ricocheted in her head like an out-of-control racquetball. Was Ramsey ever in jail? Why was his face such strange colors? Had someone beat him up? How did he hook up with Tara? Why was she with him and not Mike? “Thanks. I think I need fresh air more than anything.” She motioned toward the side doorway. What had Ramsey told Tara about her? Had they seen her?

  Clint picked up her boots and helped her stand, holding her arm as she limped outside barefoot. She leaned against the brick wall, her weight on her good leg. How did Ramsey manage to destroy every single happy moment of her life?

  Clint placed her boots on the ground. “Want me to take you home?”

  She sighed. “I’m sorry I ruined the evening.” She hated to be a party pooper, but she couldn’t risk a scene with either Ramsey or Tara and chance having her past revealed.

  “You didn’t ruin anything. I had a great time. You caught on fast. Next time, we’ll show the locals how the Burghers line dance.”

  “Burgers?”

  “Isn’t that what you Pittsburg people call yourselves? Pitts-burghers.”

  She giggled. “You are a crazy man. Did you know that?”

  ***

  Ramsey took another sip of beer and gaped at Tara’s tight and inviting shirt, which was spread open several buttons down. “You’re looking good tonight, Carol.”

  She scowled at him. “How many times do I have to tell you—it’s Tara.” As quickly as the frown had come, it was replaced with a demure smile. She leaned toward him, revealing one-and-a-half butterflies. “I drove all the way to Cheyenne to shop for something special for you tonight. Do you like my blouse?”

  His eyes were locked, but not on hers. “Oh, yeah? Just for me?”

  She nodded. “I’m so glad you’re a free man again. The two of us will make a great team.”

  “Team?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She stroked his hand. “I have plans. Plans that will get you what you want … and get me what I want.”

  “What if I don’t agree with those plans?”

  “Oh, I think you will, Jer. In fact, I’m sure you will.”

  ***

  The next morning Kate’s ankle was better, but her mind felt like it was on a ride across bumpy roads with nothing to hang onto for stability. She fed Trudy, hardly noticing the calf. Instead, she replayed her mental video of Tara and Ramsey walking into the Wild Bunch. When the calf was finished, Kate brushed her coat to a copper sheen, trying to guess why Jerry Ramsey and Tara Hughes would be together. No answers came to mind.

  All she knew was that Tara hated her as much as Ramsey was obsessed with her. Somehow, she had a feeling the pairing of those two sick but powerful personalities forecast turbulent weather ahead.

  She heard footsteps and shaded her eyes to look up into the morning sunshine.

  Mike stood beside the corral, his forearms on the top rail. “Trudy’s looking spiffy this morning.”

  Kate smiled, thinking Mike was the one who looked spiffy. Though he must have already put in a couple of hours of work, he looked like he’d just stepped from the shower.

  He grinned, and his freshly shaved cheek creased.

  Despite her determination to forget her feelings for him, Kate’s heart flipped a cartwheel. “Good morning. Where’s Tramp?”

  “When I saw you grooming the calf, I sent him back to the house. He’d get her all riled up and dirty.”

  “Thank you. This is a big day for this little girl.” Kate stood. “She does look pretty, doesn’t she?”

  Mike laughed. “As much as I love my bison, I’ve never thought of them as pretty, not even the calves. I’ll stick with spiffy.”

  “Did you hear that, Trudy? You look spiffy.” She scratched the calf’s chin. “The guests will love you.”

  Trudy lifted her nose and grunted her approval.

  “That, they will.” He rubbed his boot on the bottom rail. “Say, Kate, I was wondering about …”

  Her pulse began to pound. Had Ramsey told Tara about her past? Tara would surely tell Mike, if she knew.

  “I was wondering if you’d like to ride to the canyon tomorrow afternoon for a campfire supper, just the two of us.”

  Her mouth opened, but she could not think of a reply. As much as Mike made her heart go pitter-patter, she couldn’t tread any further into the quicksand of his troubled relationship with his fiancée—or Tara’s relationship with Ramsey.

  He stared at her, a hopeful expression on his face.

  Kate closed her mouth, opened it, and then closed it again. Finally, she spoke. “You know I can’t do that.” She set the brush on a post.

  He frowned. “Why can’t you?”

  “You know why.”

  She opened the gate, closed it, and walked away, the frantic drumbeat of her heart muffling Trudy’s cries.

  ***

  Kate met Bethany and Trisha in the dining hall to plan the garden layout. She didn’t tell the girls, but along with other minimum-security prisoners, she had tended a community garden in Pittsburgh her final summer at Patterson. She was excited to garden again and glad Bethany and Trisha would help her and Laura plant the huge plot.

  They roughed out a schematic using the seed list Laura provided before they walked over to the office to get her approval.

  “Nice job, ladies.” Laura tapped the paper. “I like the wide separation between beds, so we can reach the plants.”

  “Oh, look!” Trisha pointed at the open window behind the counter. “That chipmunk is peeking in the window.” She took Bethany’s arm. “Let’s see how close we can get.”

  Laura turned to Kate. “Change of subject. I don’t know if you normally attend church, but you’re welcome to go with me tomorrow morning, if you’d like.”

  Though she’d attended prison services, Kate knew she wasn’t good enough to go to church with regular people. But how could she tell her boss she wouldn’t ride with her? “What church do you go to?”

  “It’s on the other side of Copperville, a little place called Highway Haven House of God.”

  “I stopped there on the way here and met a lady named Dymple Forbes.”

  “You lucky person.” Laura beamed. “Dymple is a darling. She’s there every Sunday. I can make sure you two connect, if you’d like to see her again.”

  “I’d love to.”

  Two short, pudgy women with bottle-bright red hair, sequined glasses and a host of freckled wrinkles bustled into the lobby. Except for the red jacket and red hair bow worn by one and the blue jacket and blue hair bow worn by the other, they were identical.

  “Mamie and Minnie Curtis.” Laura hurried to hug them. “It’s so good to see you again.”

  “Laura, Laura!” Both women squealed, evidently very fond of Laura.

  She stepped back. “What is this, the seventh or eighth summer you’ve come to the WP?”

  “It’s our ninth visit.” The woman in red held up nine fingers. “Next year will be ten years, Lord willing and the creek don’t rise.”

  The woman in blue nodded. “We figured that out on the ride from Laramie. Oh, how we miss this place when we’re away, even Mangy.” She winked at the moose head.

  “Goodness gracious.” Laura took their hands. “You’ve become part of our family.”

  “Speaking of family …” The woman in blue laid her ringed fingers on Laura’s arm. “We were so sorry to learn about Dan. You must miss him dearly, and so do we.”

  “Thank you, Minnie. I know he would be delighted to see you two agai
n, if he was here. But we’re adjusting, and the ranch will continue as always.”

  She motioned to Kate. “One nice adjustment is the addition of Kate Neilson to our staff. She’s handling Dan’s marketing responsibilities.”

  The twins each shook her hand.

  “And I’m sure you remember Trisha and Bethany.”

  The girls turned from the window.

  Mamie and Minnie hugged them. “How could we forget such delightful young ladies.”

  Kate asked them how long they planned to stay.

  Mamie beamed. “Six wonderful weeks.” She gazed at her sister. “This year is extra special.”

  Minnie clasped her hands. “We’re going on a buffalo hunt!” The women clutched each other, their faces glowing.

  Kate stared at them. Buffalo hunt? Where did they get such a crazy idea? Did Mike know? She looked at Laura, who did not appear surprised by the comment. In fact, she was smiling, too.

  The lobby door opened and two gray-haired men dressed in worn plaid shirts and faded jeans stepped in, each holding a straw cowboy hat. Their leather belts were anchored by enormous silver buckles partially hidden by overhanging bellies. Tanned cheeks, pale foreheads, white-whiskered chins and poorly cut hair suggested they were not guests.

  “Elliott. Emmitt.” Laura’s normally melodic voice had turned to lead. “What brings you two to our neck of the woods?”

  The men fidgeted with their hats. Finally, the shorter brother cleared his throat. “Well, uhm, Miz Duncan, we just came to pay our respects to the deceased. May he, uh, may his remains rest in peace.”

  “Dan died last fall, Emmitt. Months ago. You could have paid your respects at the funeral, along with everyone else.”

  “We was real busy about that time, wasn’t we, Elliott?”

  Elliott nodded.

  Laura folded her arms.

  The other women in the room folded theirs and stood taller.

  Kate stepped close to Laura, her stance wide.

  The brothers glanced from woman to woman, their hoary heads jerking like wind-up toys. Finally, they wound down. Elliott smoothed the few hairs on his scalp. “Gotta git to town.”