Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel)

by Lyles, Rebecca Carey

  She climbed inside and pulled the door shut.

  Mike started the engine. “Where were we?”

  “I think we were trying to decide which one of us is engaged.”

  “Oh, yeah. Where did you get the idea I’m engaged?”

  “I ran into Tara Hughes at the grocery store. She told me the two of you are planning to get married.” Kate gave him a sideways glance. “She also told me to keep my distance from you. She’d be furious if she saw us in this truck together.”

  Mike clenched his teeth, fearing unChristian words would erupt. He blew out a breath. “I am not and never have been engaged to Tara Hughes.”

  “She seems convinced.”

  A car drew even with them to pass.

  “Idiot.”

  “Tara?”

  “No. Yes. No. I meant this driver who’s trying to pass on a hill and a curve.” He slowed to give the other driver room to steer the car back into the correct lane. “I dated Hughes for a short time in high school. But that’s all it took. She’s been on my case ever since, even when I was in college. She was always mailing me stupid letters or showing up at my dorm.”

  He downshifted to power up the long hill. “I never once, not once—” He pounded the dashboard. “Not once did I even mention marriage to her.” He released an exasperated sigh and looked at Kate. “I hope you believe me, because that’s the truth.”

  She touched his arm. “I believe you. You two never seemed like a good match to me, but I didn’t want to flat-out ask you about your relationship with her. Then I saw her with someone else, which didn’t make sense.”

  He felt a happy lift in his stomach.

  “And for the record …” Kate lifted her eyebrows. “I’m not engaged, either.”

  He grinned. “Good. Glad we got that straightened out. So, now will you go riding with me?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “If you weren’t helping with the trail ride, I’d ask you to go this afternoon. How about Friday evening I grab some grub, and we’ll have a campfire on the canyon rim?”

  “That sounds wonderful, if we can get away.”

  “We can do it. I’m the boss, remember.”

  “Which means you’ll feel guilty every moment we’re gone.”

  “Nope. I plan to forget the WP and have a good time. Clint has the trail ride under control, and Mom has a cowboy poet scheduled to entertain the guests afterwards.”

  He studied Kate’s face as she watched a herd of elk race across a hillside, her hair floating on the breeze from the open windows. Friday couldn’t come soon enough in his book.

  She turned to him.

  He looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring, and checked Tramp in the mirror. As usual, the big dog clung to the side, his tongue hanging out, and his golden fur ruffling in the wind.

  Kate cocked her head. “What’s that noise?”

  “What noise?”

  She leaned out the open window. “Sounds like something’s wrong with your tires or your wheels.”

  He slowed the pickup. “You mean that gritty sound?”

  ”Uh-huh.”

  “That’s the sound of studded snow tires on dry pavement. A lot of folks around here run studs in the winter, but my dad kept them on all year long. He was convinced they got Old Blue places regular tires couldn’t go. I’m not sure what I’ll do when these wear out.”

  “I’ll have to remember that the next time I buy tires.”

  “Depends where you live. Studs are legal year-round in Wyoming, but that’s not the case in most states.” He jerked the wheel to avoid a jackrabbit that chose that moment to bound across the highway.

  “Interesting.” She leaned her elbow on the seatback. “Have you heard anything from the sheriff about the dead buffalo?”

  “No, not a word.”

  “Do you have any ideas?”

  “Nope. Nothing adds up.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Me, too. I just hope it doesn’t happen again.”

  “But it could ...”

  Mike raised an eyebrow.

  “I was in the lobby yesterday when Minnie and Mamie came in. Remember them?”

  “How could I forget those two? Dad always said there are no twins on the face of the earth as unique as the Curtis pair.” Whether the women were throwing horseshoes or sitting outside their cabin, everyone within a hundred yards was well aware of their presence.

  Kate leaned toward Mike. “I heard one of them tell your mom they plan to hunt bison this summer. Did you know about that?”

  He nodded. “Mom told me.”

  “Where did they get the idea they can shoot your buffalo?”

  “Probably from our e-mail newsletters. Or our latest brochure.” He glanced in the mirror again. “We decided to add bison hunts to our activity list this year to attract hunters. But I’d never have guessed the twins might be interested. What are they? Seventy-five, eighty? They probably can’t even hold a gun up long enough to get off a decent shot.”

  Kate gaped at him. “Are you saying people will walk into a pasture full of defenseless animals and kill them while they’re peacefully grazing, for no reason other than pleasure?”

  “Not just pleasure. Their meat sells for a premium, their horns and hides are worth quite a bit, and—”

  “Why don’t you just sell them to the slaughterhouse? The poor things won’t have a chance to run and hide or protect themselves from your so-called hunters.” She raised her hands. “I thought you loved your herd.”

  Mike frowned. “I don’t love them the way I love my dog. They’re a marketable product, every inch of their body. The guests will pay us for the privilege of shooting bison.” His voice rose. “The privilege. This is a unique opportunity for hunters. In the eighteen hundreds, bison roamed the West in huge herds that darkened the prairies as far as one could see … but not anymore.”

  He stabbed the air with his forefinger. “In addition to the hunt, our patrons will pay us to deliver the carcasses to a butcher, to ship the meat wherever they ask, to take the hide or the head or the horns to a taxidermist for them, and on and on. This could be very profitable for the ranch.” He dropped his hand onto the steering wheel. “You should understand that with your marketing degree.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “So, it’s all about money.”

  He recoiled as if he’d been slapped. “Other than love for the land, that’s what all ranching is about. This is the way we make our living. Others may drive a truck or deliver mail or teach school, but we own and run a ranch.”

  Hearing no response, Mike was trying to think of a way to make amends for his outburst, when Kate spoke again, her voice low. “Are you planning to let someone shoot Trudy when she’s grown?”

  “I shouldn’t have let you name her. Now you’re emotionally attached.”

  She looked away.

  He sighed. Kate had lost her family—and her dog. Returning the calf to the herd wouldn’t be easy. “To be honest, I’m not any happier about the hunts than you are. Can we talk about something else?”

  She nodded.

  “So, what’s your favorite thing about Wyoming so far?”

  After a moment, Kate came to life again. “Everything. I like everything about Wyoming.” She waved her arm out the window. “The wildflowers, the mountains, the animals—including your bison. And the traffic.”

  “Traffic?”

  She pointed at the long, charcoal strip of asphalt ahead of them. “We’re the only ones on the road right now. Even in the middle of major snowstorms, that doesn’t happen in Pittsburgh. People are everywhere, all the time.”

  He grunted. “I couldn’t live that way.”

  She grinned. “I hope you never have to. Your ranch is a wonderful, beautiful Shangri-La.”

  Her smile made his heart lurch and beat faster.

  Kate angled her head to peer through the front window. “That’s a really big bird. Is it an eagle?”

  He looked out h
is window. “You’re right. It’s a bald eagle. I heard there’s a nest on that mountain.” He pointed toward a tall peak. “We could hike up there to look for it sometime, if you’d like.”

  “Could we really get close to its nest?”

  Kate’s excitement routed all thoughts of bison hunts from his brain. “We might get close enough to see the eaglets with binoculars.” He paused. “Did you change your mind about riding with me on Friday?”

  “No. Why would I?”

  “You didn’t seem too happy about buffalo hunts.”

  “The Whispering Pines is your ranch, not mine. I respect you and your mom and the decisions you make.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  FOLLOWING THE TRAIL RIDE, Kate helped the wranglers remove the bridles, bits and saddles from the horses and wipe them clean. They shook out the saddle blankets, sponged and brushed the horses’ backs, checked their hooves and led them into the corral. The sun was slipping behind a mountain by the time they finished.

  Clint walked her to her cabin. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

  She nodded. “It felt good to ride again.”

  “You’re a natural in the saddle. Maybe sometime you and I can go riding together.”

  “I’d love that.” Two riding dates in one day. Amy would be so jealous.

  He said goodnight, gave her hand a squeeze and headed for his cabin.

  The moment Kate stepped into the Blue Jay, a stench assaulted her sinuses. Her cabin hadn’t smelled quite right earlier. However, she’d been too excited about her date with Mike to think about it. Now, the odor was strong enough to burn her nostrils.

  She tiptoed into the bathroom—empty sink, thank God—and peeked behind the shower curtain. No snakes in the tub. She cautiously lifted the toilet lid and heaved a sigh of relief. Just water.

  But there was one more place to look. Under the sink. She opened the door to the cabinet. Toilet paper, towels and shampoo. Nothing more.

  Before she inspected the rest of the cabin, she soaked a washcloth with water, squeezed it out and placed it over her nose and mouth. In the kitchen-living room, she felt her eyes begin to burn and wished she could cover them too. Maybe the cabin had a sewer leak. Or the snake had decomposed, although she hadn’t noticed the smell outside. Or—she swallowed—could it have revived enough to crawl back inside the cabin? She checked the oven and the refrigerator, pulled cushions from the couch and chair, glanced underneath.

  The closer she got to the bedroom, the stronger the odor grew. She held her breath and knelt to look beneath the bed but stopped at the sight of rumpled bedding. With a quick yank, she flipped the covers back to see a bloated, bloody, cat-size animal sprawled across the sheet. The hairs on its rigid tail quivered with the sudden movement. She screamed and ran out the front door, gasping for air.

  A family of guests neared her cabin. Kate leaned against the log wall, hoping they couldn’t smell what she smelled. She waited in the twilight, dreading what she had to do. Finally, she sucked in another breath, slapped the cloth against her face and strode back to the bedroom to stare at the tan-colored creature.

  Road kill. Ramsey was a sick man.

  She picked up her pillow. Her uncle’s knife was gone. No surprise.

  Ripping the corners of the bottom sheet from the mattress, she clasped them together, swung the creature off the bed and sprinted for the dumpster, where she opened the lid, flicked the carcass on top of the trash heap and slammed the top down.

  Three steps and she was inside the nearby laundry hut stuffing the sheet into a washing machine. The sheet smelled like death. She gagged, added detergent, and gagged again. After switching the water to hot, she hurried back to the cabin to open the windows and strip the remaining linens from the bed.

  While the Blue Jay aired and the bedding agitated, Kate huddled on the stoop watching the stars make their nightly debuts. She pulled her jacket close. This latest prank was beyond ridiculous. It was harassment. She’d secured the windows and locked the door and saw no signs of forced entry. That meant Ramsey stole a key from the office. Or was better at picking locks than she suspected.

  ***

  Kate was still feeling groggy when she walked into the office the next morning. Whether it was the lumpy couch or wondering what was going to crawl into her cabin next—a half-dead animal or Ramsey—that kept her awake, she didn’t know. But she hadn’t been able to convince herself to sleep in the bed, even though the sheets were clean.

  Laura, who’d been standing in the middle of the room talking with Coach, stopped mid-sentence. “Good Monday morning, Kate. How was the trail ride?”

  “I had a great time. Did I hear you say Cyrus threatened to quit?”

  Laura sighed. “I’m sorry you heard that. Please don’t tell anyone else.”

  Coach rested his elbows on the chair arms and tented his fingers together. “He’s just spouting off. Didn’t you say he threatens to quit every summer, Laura?”

  “It’s different this time. And much earlier in the season. He’s really ticked about …” Laura’s voice trailed away.

  Kate lifted her chin. “About me?”

  “He mentioned you, but—”

  “Would it help if I apologized again? It’s my fault he’s so mad.”

  “I wonder …” Coach clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his wheelchair. “I wonder if it has anything to do with Susan.” He looked at Kate. “She’s his daughter and only child. Went off to college back east several years ago and never returned home.” He paused, still eyeing Kate. “Susan was about your height and had long dark hair like yours.”

  Kate sat down at her desk and turned on the computer. “I can’t see Cyrus comparing me with his daughter.”

  “Well, there is a similarity.” He motioned to Laura. “What do you think?”

  “It’s possible he made some kind of connection. You never know about Cyrus. He’s hard to read sometimes.”

  Coach pursed his lips. “From what I hear, Susan never writes or calls. Life was miserable for her here.”

  “Why?” Kate had to ask, though she could easily imagine Cyrus being the ultimate crabby dad. She’d seen her share of that type.

  “Because Cyrus made it miserable.”

  Laura chimed in. “Cyrus’s wife, Helen, died of hantavirus when Susan was in junior high. He’s been bitter ever since.”

  Kate had never heard of the disease. “What’s that? Must be bad.”

  “You’re right. It’s a terrible rodent-carried disease usually caused by contact with mouse or rat droppings. They think Helen caught it when she cleaned out their barn that spring.”

  “Oh.” Kate pictured the animal she’d deposited in the dumpster the night before. Maybe she should wash the sheets again. Good thing she’d slept on the couch instead of the bed. She looked at Coach. “Was Cyrus cruel to his daughter?” She knew the cranky man had a temper, but would he harm his own daughter?

  “I had Susan in phys-ed throughout junior high and high school. I never saw bruises or other physical signs of abuse. But she seemed cowed and tended to stay at school as late as possible after her mother died. Susan was shy and quiet, but smart—real smart. Harvard snapped her right up when she graduated. Anyway, nobody I know has heard from her since. Rumor has it she’s a research scientist in California.”

  Kate felt sorry for Susan. She even felt bad for Cyrus. A lonely old man left behind by the two women he loved. Even so, that was no excuse for the way he’d treated her since her arrival at the ranch. “How sad. His own daughter avoids him.” She turned back to Laura. “Whether he associates me with her or not, I’ll do whatever I can to help keep him on the ranch.”

  “Thank you.” Laura ran her fingers through her hair. “Dan was so good with Cyrus.” Moisture welled in her eyes. “He always found a way to settle him down. He would have known what to do about the break-in, and Mike’s accident with the truck, and the dead buffalo ...” She blinked and wiped a tear from her cheek. “I hate to think
what will happen next.”

  Kate bit her lip. It was already happening. And it kept on happening. She had to put a stop to Ramsey’s rampage.

  Laura sat down at her desk. “Thank you, both of you, for listening to me spout off.” She sniffed. “Sorry to be so pessimistic this morning. I know God will get us through this transition time. But some days, it’s just hard to move on without Dan.”

  She opened a desk drawer. “Oh, my goodness. I don’t remember making this mess.” She sighed and her shoulders drooped. “But then, I forget a lot of things lately.” Opening another drawer, she pulled out a tissue and blew her nose.

  Kate frowned. She had tried hard to not disturb the contents of the drawers.

  “Laura …” Coach turned his chair toward her. “I’ve had plenty of experience dealing with teenage angst. Old-man angst can’t be much different. I’d be glad to talk with Cyrus.”

  “Thanks, Coach.” Laura tossed the tissue into a nearby garbage can. “But Mike and I need to figure out how to take care of problems around here without Dan. This is just a bump in the road, a bump I’m sure we’ll survive.” She offered him a weak smile. “I appreciate the offer.”

  The front desk bell rang. Laura checked her eye makeup in the small mirror above her desk and hurried into the lobby.

  Coach shook his head. “Maybe I’m oversensitive about my disability, but I think Laura is afraid Cyrus will hurt me, or he won’t respect what I say. Just because I don’t have the use of my legs doesn’t mean I’m half a man. I could take the guy down in a second.”

  Kate eyed his bulging forearms. “I bet you could.” And it would be great to see Cyrus humbled. “I’ve never considered you to be half a man.”

  He grimaced. “Well, others do. I’ve heard the comments, seen the looks. And you know what? I have to admit I have my own doubts. I can teach and coach from a wheelchair. But can I defend my family without legs? Some nights I lie in bed wondering what I’d do if a burglar broke into our house, wondering how I can protect my wife and boys.”

  Her heart went out to him. Not many men, especially the man’s-man athletic type, were able to bare their souls the way he just did. She logged into the network. “Have you tried prayer? I’ve been in some uncomfortable situations in pr—” She cleared her throat. “In Pittsburgh. The only way I could sleep at night was to tell God he’d have to take care of me, because I was helpless.”