“Deal.”
She stood. “I’d better get back to the office. Will you be okay?”
“I’ll be fine. Thanks.”
“Oh, by the way, I called Kate. She admitted she’d been attacked in the hospital but didn’t offer details.” Laura sighed. “Maybe she’ll explain later.
“Also, Marshall Thompson from our sanitation service called for you. I told him I’d have you call him back. He sounded anxious, although I can’t imagine what could be so important about our garbage. They haven’t missed any pickup days that I know of.”
Mike felt like a boxer staggering from a near knockout, hoping and praying the match was finally over but instead gets slammed back down, flat on his face. “I’ll call him.”
She brushed straw from her pants. “We had another phone call ...”
By the sound of her voice, he knew it had not been a good call. But what could be worse than the Marshall Thompson call?
She sighed. “It was your Aunt Judith. She’s coming in July. Said she wants to be here for the Fourth.” Laura stared down the side of the loft into the belly of the barn. “I should be happy to see my sister-in-law, but …”
Aunt Judith’s comments at his dad’s funeral often rang in Mike’s head like a stuck car alarm. “You should be pleased, Michael, darling,” she’d intoned in her pseudo-cultured voice. “Your father has such a beautiful view from this hillside.” If ever he’d yearned to strangle a person, that was the moment. You should be pleased, you should be …
Weeks later, her annual Christmas letter included a picture of his dad in his casket. His mom had read the caption to him. “My dear, departed brother, my final sibling out of six precious souls to pass, today rides a heavenly range herding cosmic cattle, leaving me to traverse this cold, cruel world without the comfort of a loved one by my side.”
“So her five kids and nineteen grandkids don’t count as loved ones?” Laura had crumpled all eleven single-spaced pages into tight balls and hurled them into the fireplace before he had a chance to see the photograph. Which was fine by him. Aunt Judith had a way of getting under his skin. And she never missed an opportunity to remind him that he would never measure up to his brother.
He kicked a bale. Just the person to grind his nose into the mat.
Chapter Twenty-Two
HER WEIGHT ON HER good leg, Kate used the patio table and a chair back to push herself to a standing position. She’d sat for more than an hour searching for internships in Denver. Her advisor in Pennsylvania would have come up with multiple options in the snap of a finger. But Kate wasn’t ready to tell the university she’d blown it. They’d bent over backwards to help her get a degree while she was in prison. Would she lose the diploma if she became incarcerated again and unable to fulfill the internship requirements?
She heard the front gate clink, then male voices. Her heart plunged. She scanned the woods that surrounded Dymple’s house. If only her leg wasn’t broken … She groaned and plopped into the wheelchair. “Okay, God. I’ll trust your promise that in all things—even an arrest for something I didn’t do—you will work for good.”
She gripped the wheels and rolled the path toward the front of the house. When she cleared the corner, she saw two sheriff’s deputies standing before the purple door, shoulders squared, elbows out, hands hovering near their guns.
She stopped. This was a first. The one time in her life she was innocent, and she was turning herself in. Had she lost her mind? She hoped it had something to do with a change of character, not just her broken leg. “Looking for me, officers?”
The deputies whirled, hands on their holsters.
Kate smiled at their startled expressions and lifted her hands. “I won’t cause you any trouble.”
Neither man looked convinced.
“But gentlemen …” The voice came from the other side of the house. “I will cause you plenty of grief.”
The deputies spun the other direction.
Dymple, who held a basket of plastic flowers, glared at the men. “Whoa, boys. Remember me? I live here.”
“You shouldn’t sneak up on us.” The deputy looked from Dymple to Kate and back again. “You could get hurt.”
She straightened to her full five feet three inches. “If you’d been paying attention, Bernie, you’d have seen me coming. Now, tell me why you and—” She stared at the other officer’s name tag. “Why you and Deputy Ramirez are honoring us with this surprise visit.” She set the basket on the ground and moved to stand next to Kate.
“We have two duties today—two warrants.” Deputy Bernard held up papers. “The first is a search warrant that allows us to search your house. The other is a warrant for Miss Neilson’s arrest for theft of funds at the Whispering Pines Guest Ranch.”
Kate felt Dymple flinch, even though her friend stood several inches away. She reached out to take her hand. “I should have warned you.”
Bernard sneered. “Should a been smart enough to wear gloves.”
Dymple stared at the men until they began to fidget. Finally, she spoke. “You are welcome to search my home. I have nothing to hide. Neither does Kate.”
Kate blinked, wishing she felt as confident as Dymple sounded.
“But as for arresting this young woman …” Dymple indicated the cast on Kate’s leg. “You can see she’s wheelchair bound, and you know she just had surgery. Incarcerating her right now would be cruel and unusual punishment. If you take her to jail, I will immediately call my lawyer, the ACLU, the governor—who, by the way, happens to be a personal friend, all the newspapers and radio and television stations from here to Denver and Salt Lake, and anyone else I can think of.” She cleared her throat. “Maybe I’ll even learn how to bloom on the Internet.”
Both men’s foreheads wrinkled.
Kate suppressed a smile. “I think she means blog.”
“Yes, blob—that’s it.” Dymple placed her free hand on her waist. “I will blob the entire world.”
Deputy Ramirez smirked.
“We get the point.” Bernard turned to his partner. “Let’s talk it over in the car.” He aimed a finger at Kate. “Remain where you are.”
As they walked away, Kate squeezed Dymple’s hand. “Thanks for defending me, Dymple. But they can’t change their orders. I’m sorry I sucked you into this mess.”
“God brought you here for a reason, sweetie. I plan to stand by your statue, no matter where this leads.”
“Oh, Dymple …” That was all she could say. Nobody had ever offered to stand by her statue, with or without pigeons.
“If you want, I’ll pray for you right now.”
“Please.” She was definitely in need of prayer.
Dymple set the basket on the ground and took Kate’s hand. Raising both of their hands above their heads, she began to pray. “Master of the universe, amazing Creator of every single thing on this puny planet and beyond, Lover and Redeemer of my dear, sweet friend, Kate Neilson—you know all about everything that’s going on down here, but I’ll tell you, anyway. We are desperate, oh, so desperate for a miracle. Kate is in no condition to go to jail. Besides, you and I both know she’s innocent.”
Kate blinked her eyes open. How did Dymple know that?
Car doors slammed. Kate watched the men walk up the path. Officer Ramirez carried a black case.
Dymple paused, still holding their hands high. “You not only love Kate, Lord, you love these officers, who are just doing their job.”
The men took off their hats and bowed their heads.
“May your Spirit descend on my humble home while they search it.” The timbre of Dymple’s voice became fuller, deeper, the crackle nearly a rumble. “Fill their hearts with courage to do the right thing, to be men of integrity, knowing you see and judge their every movement, their every action.” She cleared her throat. “In your most worthy, holy, awesome name, I pray. Amen.”
Amused by Dymple’s God-is-watching-you tactic, Kate grinned and whispered, “Amen.”
&nbs
p; The officers shot each other side-glances as they replaced their caps.
Dymple lowered their arms. “What’s the verdict, gentlemen?”
Kate winced. Verdict. Not a word she enjoyed hearing.
Bernard glowered at Dymple. “The sheriff said house arrest is permissible until the case goes to trial.”
Kate expelled the breath she’d held captive.
Dymple folded her arms. “And what exactly does that mean?”
Deputy Ramirez cleared his throat. “House arrest means we’ll limit where she goes and how often she leaves this place. That is, if you’re willing to keep her here, Miss Forbes. Plus …” He knelt on the ground, opened the case he carried, and pulled out a black strap. “We’ll attach this monitor to her ankle to track—”
Dymple interrupted. “Stop right there, young man. Kate can stay here as long as she needs. And we’ll comply with the house-arrest rules. But you are not, I repeat—not putting that thing on her leg. She just suffered a severe injury and won’t be going anywhere unless I drive her. I’ll take her to church and to town for doctor visits and shopping. If anything else comes up, I’ll call the department to get persimmons.”
Kate tapped her arm. “Permission.”
“Permission.”
Bernard huffed. “Those are not our orders.”
Dymple scowled at the men. “They’re my orders. Sheriff Gilmer, who’s also a personal friend, can call me for clarification.”
The men looked at each other.
Kate felt invisible, even though she was the subject of the discussion. She also felt dizzy. “If you don’t mind, I need to lie down.”
The men jumped to attention and helped her to a nearby bench.
Dymple brought a pillow from the house. She placed it under Kate’s head before turning to the men. “Do you plan to do the searching or the arresting first?”
Bernard answered. “How about you ladies relax out here while we go through the house. When we’re finished, we’ll read Miss Neilson her rights and do the paperwork.”
They started toward the door, but Dymple raised her hand. “One more thing. Not a hint of Kate’s arrest will be leaked to the public.”
Bernard frowned. “The newspaper always calls us—”
“Not one word, Bernie, not even to the Duncans, or I will consider my privacy violated, which could become embarrassing for the Sheriff’s Department and risky for your paycheck.”
Bernard rolled his eyes and swatted at a wasp that landed on his cheek.
Dymple lifted an eyebrow. “You obviously prefer I discuss this matter with your boss, which I will do while you nose around my home.”
He grunted and looked at Ramirez. “Let’s get busy.”
Kate pressed her lips together to hide her amusement. Evidently, the former schoolteacher hadn’t lost her touch.
Dymple sat in the wheelchair. “Can I bring you anything? This can’t be easy for you.”
Kate watched clouds float overhead. “I feel surprisingly relaxed, even though I’m petrified I might go back …” She stopped. Being arrested again didn’t mean she had to tell Dymple or anyone else she’d already done time.
She grinned at Dymple. “Because you told me to ‘smoke’ that Bible verse this morning, I just keep telling myself—and God—that he promised to work everything out for good.” She clasped her hands behind her head. “I don’t have a clue how he can bring good out of being arrested and charged with a crime I didn’t commit, but what choice do I have other than to rely on him to take care of me?”
“Christians are not puppets. You have a choice. Just remember, no matter what happens, God is delighted with you.”
“Thank you for reminding me.” She looked at Dymple. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Are you really friends with the sheriff and the governor? Or were you bluffing?”
“You think I would lie, especially to officers of the law?”
“No, but …”
“After you’ve lived in Wyoming a while, you’ll understand.”
Kate looked away. She wouldn’t be in Wyoming long, unless she ended up in the state pen.
“Wyoming is a big state land-wise, one of the largest in the country. Yet we have the smallest population of all the states, around five hundred thousand residents.”
“Metro Pittsburgh has almost five times that many people.”
“Even though we’re spread out, it’s easy to have friends and relatives in every corner of our square state. One such friend, the governor’s mother, Sylvia, was my roommate when we attended the University of Wyoming a thousand moons ago. We’re still close friends. And Sheriff Gilmer? Let’s just say he knows who his supporters are in Carbon County.”
“You’re amazing, Dymple. I feel privileged to have a friend in high places.”
Dymple slowly rose to her feet.
Kate cringed at the sound of popping joints.
“The only friend in high places that counts …” Dymple straightened. “Is God. Even though he’s above and beyond all, he’s a friend who sticks closer than a brother, because he lives within us. He’s a friend who walks before us, beside us and behind us, a friend who promised to never leave us or turn his back on us. Don’t forget that.”
Kate watched her caretaker hobble into her home. House arrest was not something she looked forward to, but she had much to learn about life and about God. Dymple would be an excellent teacher.
And maybe, just maybe, Mike would visit them again. But he’d been so angry when he left. Would he understand if she called and tried to explain things to him? Could she do it without revealing too much?
Chapter Twenty-Three
MIKE AND CLINT MET on the road below the bison pasture.
Mike leaned out his window. “The branding is done, thank God. It’s been hanging over my head all spring.”
Clint flicked a grasshopper off the outside mirror of his truck. “Just be glad we don’t have to brand the buffalo.”
“We’ll wish we’d branded them, if we find another hole in the fence today and no bison.” He couldn’t erase the vision of his entire herd wandering through the forest. They’d be impossible to round up.
Clint eyeballed the fence. “Fence looks good from here, but you never know. Want to drive together or separate?”
“Let’s go opposite directions and meet at the top of the hill. If either of us sees a problem, we’ll radio. We should be finished in time for lunch.”
Mike guided his truck close to the fence line. The sunshine felt good on his shoulder. He still hadn’t fixed the window, but today that was okay. He settled in the seat, his right hand reaching for Tramp. Before his fingers hit the vinyl, he remembered his dog—and Kate. He sighed. They’d both been away from the ranch too long.
The good news was that Tramp was on the mend. Dr. Hall had told him yesterday he might be able to reclaim his dog next week. But he’d warned him it would be weeks, maybe months before the collie roamed the ranch again. “To be honest,” the vet had said, “he’ll never be as active and agile as he was before the attack.”
Mike stopped the truck and slid across the seat to the passenger door. He stepped out to jiggle a fence post that looked loose. But it felt solid. He removed his hat to let the breeze cool his head. The grass was tall and green this year, the cattle and bison thriving. His dad would have been pleased. The drought years had weighed heavy on his shoulders.
Mike ran his fingers through his hair before returning his hat to his head. But no matter how bad things got, his dad never lost his sense of humor.
Just the thought of his father’s wide grin and contagious laugh made him smile. He climbed back into the truck. If he didn’t get a move on, Clint would be coming down the hill looking for him. Without his dad’s guidance, it was good to have Clint for a foreman. Not only was he smart and dependable, he was a good friend—his best friend.
***
A flock of birds circled above the cemetery, jabb
ering like a schoolyard full of first graders. Kate watched them, thinking her Aunt Mary would say they were raising a ruckus. She should call her great-aunt, but could she tell her she was no longer at the ranch without letting it slip she’d been arrested again?
She eyed Dymple’s Jeep parked next to the deputies’ SUV. The keys hung on a hook just inside the front door. All she had to do was feel alongside the doorframe for the key ring and lift the keys off the hook, something she could do—even from a wheelchair—without the officers noticing. And then …
And then it would be impossible to prove her innocence. Back to square one. The birds swooped up in a massive black cloud and whirled out of sight.
Square one—make good decisions. Contrary to her ingrained instincts, she could not—would not—run this time. Staying put when she had an opportunity to escape imprisonment was even harder than turning herself in to the deputies.
Square two—find a good lawyer, one who could prove somebody else stole the money. Her many appearances in court had taught her the importance of an able attorney, which meant she needed to make money to hire one. And that meant she needed to find a job.
She struggled to sit up and maneuver into the wheelchair. Fatigue washed through her body, and she no longer cared about anything—the arrest, court, prison or the internship. All she wanted was to crawl into bed, burrow down inside the covers and sleep for hours, maybe days.
But she grasped the wheels and rolled them forward, feeling a knowing empathy for Dymple’s constant pain. Her whole body ached. Maybe she’d have a pain pill and a nap after the deputies left.
Back at the patio table, she studied an Internet list of marketing internships in Colorado. Most were with Denver firms. She didn’t want to live in a large city again. But … She sighed. Beggars can’t be choosers. She switched to a different program and opened a resume template.
On the other side of the patio door, oven hinges squeaked and cupboard doors slammed. The deputies were certainly thorough. They’d probably want to examine her wheelchair and inspect the cast on her leg.
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