Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel)

by Lyles, Rebecca Carey

  Before Kate finished typing her name, she realized the futility of sending out applications. She couldn’t drive a car or leave Dymple’s house, let alone the state, for interviews. She didn’t know how long she’d be under arrest or when she’d go to trial. Or if she’d be sent to prison. If she was offered an internship, she wouldn’t be able to tell an employer when she could start.

  Oh, well. She’d just have to pray the state assigned a good public defender to her case. She closed the resume and signed into her Facebook account. Maybe she’d write Amy a note instead. It would be nice to communicate with someone who understood what she was going through, someone who’d also contributed to recidivism statistics.

  Six messages. That was a surprise. She’d had the account for two months but only friended four people so far. Kate clicked the icon and grinned. The messages were all from Amy. Her friend’s funny missives never failed to make her smile.

  The first one read: Kate, did you ride off into the sunset with the most gorgeous cowboy on earth? I haven’t heard from you in ages!!! The second added: Okay. So maybe you got stampeded by a buffalo herd instead. P.S. I hope not!

  Kate laughed out loud.

  Then: What’s the deal with the weird e-mails? Did you fall off the wagon?

  Kate frowned. What did that mean?

  She opened the next message. Kate, we’ve got to talk. Were you serious when you wrote that you were going to “drain this dump of every cent they have,” and “My bank account is bulging now?” What’s wrong with you? Call me ASAP!

  The final two notes made even less sense. WHERE ARE YOU, KATHERINE JOY NEILSON??? I’ve tried your cell phone and the phone in your cabin. I leave messages, but you don’t return my calls. And what did that last e-mail mean—“diamonds are a girl’s best friend”? Are you engaged? Did you break into a jewelry store? I’m trying not to panic, but I’m really, REALLY worried about you. If this is a joke, I’m not laughing.

  The last note read: Your aunt called last night. She’s beginning to get concerned, too. I didn’t mention the e-mails. I hate to meddle, but if we don’t hear from you soon, I’ll contact the ranch to find out what’s going on. Your forever but frustrated friend, Amy.

  P.S. I’ve been sending e-mails to your work address. I hope that’s okay with your boss. I’m just doing everything I can think of to get your attention. Am praying you’ll check Facebook soon.”

  ***

  Mike saw Clint’s truck parked at the top of the hill and Clint leaning against the fender. He was drinking from a plastic water bottle. When Mike got out of his truck, Clint tossed him a bottle.

  “Thanks. Just what I needed. See anything out of the ordinary?”

  “Nope. Everything looks good. Fence is fine, the current is flowing. How about you?”

  “No holes, thank God. And the grass looks great this year.”

  “Yeah, all that snow really helped.”

  Mike removed the cap and swallowed some water. “Reminds me. Thanks for taking care of the ruts and that boulder on the road.”

  ”Didn’t take as much time as I thought it would.”

  “We need to fence a new pasture soon. Can’t allow the herd to overgraze.” Buffalo with plenty of food and water and room to roam were the easiest to control.

  Building fences made him think of Cyrus, who relished the challenge of setting posts in a straight line and pulling the wire taut. What in the world happened to him? Would he ever come back to Copperville? Thank God Manuel’s mom had agreed to help Fletcher in the kitchen. She was a great cook.

  They watched the bison chomp at the grass. A flock of crows hopped about the pasture, flapping their wings and cawing. The buffalo either hadn’t noticed their presence or chose to ignore them.

  Mike leaned back, popping his spine. “Better head in for lunch. I hear Marita is fixing tacos today.”

  Clint folded his arms. “Before we go, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “It’s about Kate Neilson.”

  Mike raised an eyebrow.

  “She seems to have disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  “Yeah. I saw her once in the hospital. But the next time I went to see her, she’d been released, and the nurses couldn’t—or wouldn’t—tell me where she went.”

  Mike didn’t respond.

  “Her cabin is empty, and all her stuff is in her car, which is parked next to the cabin. You and your mom must know where she is.”

  Mike spread his hands. “Uhm …” What could he say? Kate wanted him to tell people she was at a convalescent home, but that’s where they sent senior citizens. Clint would never buy that line. Or, if he did, he’d want to know where to find the place. He couldn’t tell him she’d asked Dymple to box up her things and put them in her car so the cabin would be available for guests. That would send him directly to Dymple’s house. “She’s …” He dropped his hands. “She’s fine.”

  Clint’s face darkened. “If you think because you took her horseback riding once you have sole dibs on dating Kate Neilson, think again. She and I spent time together. We had plans, things we wanted to do this summer. Now I don’t even have a telephone number, let alone an address where I can find her. You could at least give me her number so I can call her.”

  Mike opened his mouth but no words came. He rubbed his chin. “I’m not at liberty to reveal her whereabouts.”

  Clint scowled. “Not at liberty to reveal her whereabouts? La-de-dah. Who do you think you’re kidding, Duncan?” He jerked open the door of his pickup and jumped in. The engine roared to life.

  “Clint, wait!”

  “Forget it. I’ll find her without your help.” He slammed the truck into gear and charged down the hill through a half-dried puddle. Mud sprayed behind the vehicle.

  Mike slumped against his truck. He should have worded things differently. Clint rarely got mad, but when he did … He opened the passenger door and squirmed under the steering wheel, remembering the day Kate first rode with him in Old Blue. Even then, he’d thought he felt sparks between the two of them.

  He turned the key to start the truck. Was Clint exaggerating, or did he and Kate really have plans? He hadn’t noticed them hanging around together. And she hadn’t said anything about the two of them. But that didn’t mean much. Almost every day he learned something new about Kate Neilson, usually something he didn’t want to know. Maybe he’d gotten the cart before the horse by falling for her before he had a clue who she was.

  ***

  Kate stared at the computer screen. She should have called Amy from the hospital. The voices inside the house were coming her way. She clicked out of Facebook, turned the computer off, and closed it just as Bernard opened the patio screen and stepped onto the patio. He held up a cell phone. “This yours?”

  She nodded.

  “The battery’s dead. Where’s your charger?”

  She hesitated, realizing that as soon as he charged the phone, he’d hear Amy’s messages. “In my car, at the Whispering Pines.”

  Dymple had retrieved the phone for her but not the charger.

  Deputy Ramirez, who with Dymple had followed Bernard out of the house, asked if the computer belonged to her.

  “This is Dymple’s.”

  He turned to Dymple. “We’ll have to confiscate your laptop, ma’am. It may contain important evidence.”

  ***

  Mike took his time driving back to the house. The way the day was going, he might as well call Marshall Thompson and get it over with. But what should he say? Should he act ignorant and innocent? After all, he never saw the ferret. Or should he confess he knew about it and possibly end up in prison for concealing federal evidence? Actually, he hadn’t concealed anything. He just hadn’t reported that a ferret had been found on WP property. He rubbed his chin. Like Dad always said, honesty was the best policy, but …

  Marshall Thompson answered on the first ring.

  Mike cleared his throat. “H
i Marshall. This is Mike Duncan, I’m calling about the—.”

  “Glad you called, Duncan. I’ve been wanting to talk to you. Can I put you on hold for a minute? I have someone in my office and need to ask him something before he leaves.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Mike tapped the desk, glad he was alone in the office. He was tempted to hang up. But he knew he had to finish what he’d started. Well, what someone started. Manuel with his animal-abuse history? Darryl with his bad attitude? Cyrus with …? Well, Cyrus being Cyrus. Or Kate with—

  Marshall came back on the line. “Still there?”

  Mike took a breath. “I’m here.”

  “Sorry about the wait. I closed my office door, so we shouldn’t have any interruptions.”

  Mike cringed. This was sounding serious.

  “My dad says he’s ready for me to take charge of the family ranch. I’ve been thinking about starting a bison herd and wondered if you’d be willing to sell some cows—and a bull, if you can spare one. Plus, I’d pay you to teach me everything you know about buffalo.”

  Mike’s jaw dropped. Prepared only to negotiate the dangerous terrain of black-footed ferrets, he had no response. He stared out the window, attempting to switch gears. Truth was, he secretly enjoyed being the only bison producer in the area. Did he want to share that distinction? On the other hand, Marshall’s herd would come from his stock and therefore enhance the WP’s reputation as a quality producer. That is, if Marshall cared for his animals properly.

  And WP bulls would probably do stud service, at least at first, because he didn’t want to sell any of them quite yet. That could bring in extra cash and ensure quality calves. He pursed his lips. It would be less painful to sell his animals than watch guests shoot them. That would make Kate happy. He frowned. What he did with his bison was his concern, not hers.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  KATE AND DYMPLE SAT on the patio staring at the papers the deputies had left on the table. Kate felt almost too exhausted to breathe, and in too much pain to care about her future. “I should leave. I don’t want to bring any more trouble into your life.”

  “You call this trouble?” Dymple’s voice sputtered. “I call it an adventure. You can’t imagine how long it’s been since this old lady had any excitement in her life.” She squeezed Kate’s arm. “I’m your friend, Kate. As I told you before, God and I will stand by you no matter where this particular adventure takes you.”

  Kate wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I’d term it an adventure.”

  “Name it what you want—journey, passage, joyride. Just remember, I’ll be in the boat with you. You’re stuck with me.”

  Kate took Dymple’s wrinkled hand in both of hers. “I can’t begin to say how much I appreciate all you’ve done for me. I will never forget you.” She pulled a leaf fragment from her friend’s white hair. “I wish you could meet my great-aunt, Aunt Mary. You remind me of her.”

  “You’ve mentioned your anchovy before. Tell me about her.”

  Kate, who had feared she’d never smile again, grinned.

  “She’s probably about your age and has always been there for me, always believed in me, always encouraged me, even when no one else cared whether I was dead or alive.” Oops, that might be saying too much. “Everyone who knows her loves her. People call from all over the country to ask her to pray for them.”

  “I’d be thrilled to meet her.”

  Kate’s head began to pound. “Could I use your phone to call her and my friend Amy to tell them I’m at your house? They don’t know about the accident or that I was in the hospital. I’ll pay you for the calls.”

  When Dymple returned with her cordless phone, Kate asked, “Is it okay to give them your phone number?” She’d explain the situation to Amy and ask her to pray but tell Aunt Mary cell reception was bad in the mountains, which was the truth.

  Dymple nodded and handed her the phone. “I’ll fix us some lunch while you’re talking. You look as though you could use a little fortification after what you went through this morning.”

  “If you don’t mind, all that interests me right now is a pain pill and bed. I plan to keep the calls short. Just want to let them know where I’m staying.” And give Amy a quick rundown of current events.

  ***

  Kate opened her eyes. At first she thought a woodpecker was boring into the side of the house. Then she realized she was hearing the harsh bang of the door knocker syncopated by the tap of Dymple’s footsteps. Still drug drowsy, she closed her eyes and prayed the deputies hadn’t returned to ask more questions. She was so, so tired.

  The sound of Dymple opening the door was followed by the grate of a loud, insistent voice. “Is Kate Neilson here?” Kate opened her eyes wide, all senses on alert. Tara Hughes.

  Dymple’s reply was steady as steel. “If I knew where to find the Man in the Moon, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  Kate heard the front door bounce against the wall. She pushed herself upright. Though she’d hoped to keep her location hidden, she couldn’t let Tara harm Dymple.

  A throaty cackle filled the house. “Those butterflies sure are an easy target.”

  Tara screamed. “Put that gun down!”

  Kate reached for her wheelchair, but Dymple’s calm voice stopped her.

  “You’re an intruder on my property. If you don’t leave this instant, those bugs will migrate south.”

  “You old biddy! My daddy will get you for this.”

  “Your daddy comes to my house, he’ll receive the same reception.”

  Kate heard Tara swear then stomp across the flagstone pathway. For a moment, all was quiet. Then she heard the Hummer motor gunned hard. And the sound of Dymple closing the front door.

  Kate fell onto her pillow, her pulse pounding in her neck.

  Dymple peered around the doorway. Her cheeks were almost as red as her lipstick.

  Kate lifted her head. “I’m awake. That was Tara Hughes, wasn’t it.”

  “The one and only.”

  “What did she want?”

  Dymple stepped into the room. Her body quivered as she walked. “You. Any idea why?”

  “No. How did she find out I’m staying with you?”

  “I have no idea. Only the Sheriff’s Department and the Duncans know you’re here.”

  Kate stared out the window. Mike must have told her. She bit her lip. Tara would go straight to Ramsey, wherever he was. She turned to Dymple. “I have to leave. Your life is endangered because of me.”

  Dymple sat on the chair beside the bed. “Don’t worry about me. As you can see, with God’s help, I’m able to take care of myself.”

  “But there’s a person in my life, someone who followed me here. He’s far more dangerous than Tara. Somehow, he connected with her. I’ve seen them together …”

  “Figures. That woman has a knack for attracting trouble.”

  “He’s the reason I wanted to keep my whereabouts secret. But if Tara knows, he’ll soon know, if he doesn’t already. And he’ll come after me. I should go to a motel, so you’ll be safe.”

  Dymple straightened. “We’ve got to face this head-on, Kate. Even though I’m an old lady and you’re injured, there’s no victory in running from problems. If God directs us to go, fine. But so far, I sense he wants us to remain right here. He’s got a plan and a purpose in this.”

  Kate shut her eyes. She was too tired to think about it. “Can I ask you a question, Dymple?”

  “Sure, sweetie. Anything.”

  “Would you have shot Tara if she hadn’t left?”

  “Of course. I’m a woman of my word.”

  Kate eyed the older woman. She’d met more than one murderer. Dymple didn’t seem the type.

  “I would have shot her in the foot and then called the sheriff to haul her away.” She snorted. “Or me. Not sure which one of us they’d take. But I couldn’t let her force her way into my house.”

  ***

  Ramsey s
louched in the plastic chair gawking at Tara through the thick glass. He’d seen the woman upset before, but now she teetered on the edge of a breakdown. One moment she cried, the next, she laughed or screamed a string of swear words. He couldn’t tell what the hysterics were about. But it had something to do with Neilson, so he kept talking, kept trying to calm her, ignoring the pain she inflicted on his eardrums as he switched the phone from one side of his head to the other. “So Neilson left the hospital, but she’s not at the ranch. Is her car still there?”

  “It was for a while, but now it’s gone.” Tara sniffed. “So I went looking for her.”

  “Do you go to the ranch every day to check?”

  “No. I have my sources.”

  Oh, yeah. Her so-called sources.

  She rubbed at her mascara-smeared eyelids. A diamond he hadn’t noticed before sparkled, reflecting the fluorescent light. She sniffed again. “I know where she is.”

  He straightened and rubbed his back.

  “I went there today and was threatened …” Her voice rose. “Threatened by an old woman who treats me like trash every time I see her. I hate her.” A sob rippled her lips. “She tried to shoot my—my butterflies.” Tara slapped a hand across her cleavage and dropped her chin to her chest. Tears dripped onto the fingerprint-smudged ledge.

  “Where were you? Is the old lady some kind of guard or what?”

  Tara lifted her streaked face. “It’s a house not far from Copperville. Dymple lives there, Dymple Forbes. She wouldn’t let me inside. I’m sure your lover heard every word we said.”

  Neilson living with another helpless old woman. Finally, some good news. “Did you see her car?”

  She wiped hair away from her wet face. “No, but I know she’s there.” A sob convulsed her chest. “She’s friends with that old biddy.”

  Hmm. He’d check the phonebook. Couldn’t be anybody else in that hick town with a name like that. “What did you say her last name is again?”

  “Forbes. Why do you want to know?”

  “I hired a lawyer today who’s going to get me out of this hole. When he does, I’ll pay Neilson and her old lady friend a little visit.”