He slowly pushed himself upright and leaned against the back of the foldout couch.
She set a tray on his lap before placing a covered Styrofoam cup on it. “I have some codeine upstairs from Daddy’s knee surgery. That’ll help the pain.”
He grabbed her arm. “What does he know about me?”
She scowled. “Nothing.”
“Good.”
She pulled a plastic spoon and crackers from the pocket of the scrubs she still wore. “You’d get along great with Daddy. You two are a lot alike. I’ll introduce you one of these days.”
He worked the lid off the soup. “I can’t stay here. You have to drive me to Mexico. We’ll leave tonight.”
***
Kate rested her elbow on the wheelchair arm. “What did Deputy Caldwell say?”
Dymple gripped the railing. “All that excitement at the house was because they found tire prints at the entrance to the drive.”
“Plenty of people use your driveway.”
“Yes, but not everyone runs studs on their vehicle in the summer.”
“What does that mean?” Kate watched a canoe drift silently below them.
“Whose pickup always has studded tires, no matter the season?”
“How would I …? Oh.” She stared at Dymple. “Mike, Mike Duncan. But he’s driven into your driveway dozens of times.”
“That’s what I told the deputies. But, from what I got out of Bernie’s babbling, he thinks he can prove from the boot prints and the tire tracks that Mike met you in my backyard to do a drug deal.”
“What?” Kate gaped at her. “That’s nuts. I’ve done my share of dealing, but Mike doesn’t have a clue—”
“Exactly what I told them, except the part about you. I have to admit, the tire tracks are as obvious as the boot prints.” She sighed. “Bernie wanted me to press charges, but I refused. I find it hard to believe Mike would have a clandestine meeting of any sort, especially in my backyard.”
“How did he react when you said you wouldn’t do it?”
Dymple sniggered. “His face turned red, and he started sputtering. Then he said he didn’t need a complaint. He’d just add the evidence to what he’d found at the ranch, including proof you’ve been killing buffalo for Mike.”
“That’s insane. I didn’t … I couldn’t …” Kate groaned. “How do I stop this crazy train from dragging us all over the cliff?”
For a long time, neither woman spoke. A pair of hawks circled above the river, their shrill, high-pitched calls echoing between the mountains.
Dymple sighed. “You can’t stop it, Kate. Neither can I.”
“There must be something we can do.”
“Yes, there is.” She took both of Kate’s hands and bowed her head. Her braid slipped over her shoulder to hang in front of Kate’s face. “Oh, God, we are helpless sheep who need your shepherding. And so do the Duncans. Satan is trying to steal our joy and our peace. But you can bring faith out of fear, joy out of sorrow, sanity out of insanity, and good out of Elvis.”
Kate scrunched her face tight to contain the grin that threatened to give way to a chuckle and ruin Dymple’s earnest prayer for evil Elvis.
“Lord, we are straining at the bit to be done with this struggle.” Dymple released one of Kate’s hands to raise her own above her head. “Help us rely on your perfect plan and wait on your perfect timing. In the meantime, dip us deep into your living water. Wash away the dirt. Fill us with your Spirit. Quench our thirst for peace. May each of us come through this ordeal shining like you, our Morning Star, and singing your praises for all the world to hear. Amen.”
***
“Of course you can drive me to Mexico. You have that great big yellow tank parked outside the door.”
Tara caressed his shoulder. “But we can’t be partners if you’re in Mexico and I’m in Wyoming, Jer.”
“We can’t be partners if I stay here. They’ll find me and throw me back in jail. You have to move to Mexico with me.”
She popped the tops on two beer cans before handing him one. “What if I told you I know a place where nobody will ever find you?”
He glanced up at the tiny, street-level window covered by a short curtain. “I can’t stay in this basement forever.”
“I’ve got a much safer place in mind.”
He tipped his head back, sipping the beer and studying her face, his eyelids low. “Yeah?”
“Our ranch has a cabin way back in the hills where nobody ever goes. It’s old but in good condition.”
“Trying to turn me into a hermit?”
“I think you’d make a fabulous mountain man. It would be a great disguise.” She looked him up and down. “Grow a beard; let your hair get long, stop using that goop …”
His eyelids narrowed.
She batted her eyelashes. “Just joking. But I’m serious about the cabin. You’d be safe there.”
“And what would I do for food? Rip rabbits apart with my bare hands?”
Her face contorted. “Of course not. I’d take food to you, but you could shoot squirrels and deer and other animals, if you wanted.”
He swore again and slugged the mattress. “They took it.”
She jerked back. “Who took what?”
“My gun. The sheriff confiscated my gun and my truck.” He clutched the bedding. “That pistol was brand new. I only got to use it once.”
“Do I dare ask how you used the gun?”
“On a buffalo.” He stuck out his chest. “One shot sent it straight to its knees. Most fun I ever had.”
She stood up, hands on her hips. “Are you telling me you killed one of Michael’s bison?”
“It was a buffalo in Nebraska.” He stopped. “What’s it to you? We’re partners now. You’re done with Duncan.”
She cocked her head. “I have a plan—”
He threw his empty beer can at her. “I’m sick of you and your harebrained plans.”
She sidestepped the can. “You can listen to my harebrained plan, Jerry Ramsey, or I can walk upstairs, out the front door of my store, and across the street to the police station.” Her lips twitched. “Might even be able to claim a nice bundle of reward money for myself.”
Chapter Thirty
RAMSEY GRITTED HIS TEETH. “So, Sharon, what’s this plan of yours?” He would listen, but he’d do things his way—after he got his strength back.
Tara stood, arms folded. She glowered at him. “We need to get one thing straight—or this partnership will never last.”
He sneered and looked her up and down. “Never said I wanted to be your partner.”
She ignored him. “My name.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s Tara.” She spelled it out. “T-a-r-a. Can you remember that?”
He grunted. “‘Course I can.”
“Then you do that.” She hesitated, apparently waiting for more.
“Sit down.”
She sat on the end of the bed. “About the plan—it’s a big one with potential for plenty of cash.”
He felt a surge of interest.
“Daddy and I have been working on this for a long time. The pieces are about to fall into place, except for a couple glitches. That’s where you come in.”
He stuck his index fingernail between his teeth and began to chew.
“My grandpa was a really smart banker who knew how to acquire property. Every time a local rancher got into financial trouble, he bought their land cheap, so they wouldn’t have to foreclose. He’s the reason I got interested in real estate. Anyway, after arranging a few deals to make sure all his land was contiguous, he created one of the largest ranches in the region.”
Ramsey settled into his pillows. This was beginning to sound interesting.
“Grandpa died years ago. My father owns the ranch now.” She sat tall, eyes bright. “Daddy does cattle ranching like most everyone else around here, but he also wants to stock our place with exotics—”
He interrupted her. “Exotics?” Strip-dancers on
the ranch could bring in plenty of cash, but what did they have to do with cattle?
“Exotics are animals you don’t normally see in America. Wealthy hunters will pay big bucks to bag trophy heads for their walls.”
“You mean lions and tigers?”
“No. We’ll have animals that can’t climb trees or jump the fences. Gazelle, wildebeest, giraffe, zebra, kangaroo, emu, ostrich, camel—maybe wild boar or possibly javelina, even though they live in the U.S. in desert places like Texas and Arizona.” She took a quick breath.
“And who knows what else. Daddy wants a herd of buffalo, but he doesn’t want them fenced inside little pastures like Michael’s bison. He wants them to roam free, the way they do in Yellowstone Park, so hunters feel like they’re actually chasing down their prey. They might even get to see a stampede.”
“Besides the exotics, sportsmen could shoot the animals that live around here.” She used her fingers to list them. “Bears, coyotes, mule deer, elk, moose, antelope, pheasant, grouse, wild turkey—” She leaned forward. “I hear wolves have returned to this area. Isn’t that exciting? Wolves would really suck in the hunters.”
“And they’d never lack for fresh meat.” He reached for the whiskey beside the bed. Maybe next time he’d buy a rifle instead of a handgun.
“Meaning …?”
“They’ll eat all those fancy animals of yours, and there won’t be anything left to hunt.”
Tara shrugged her shoulders. “Daddy will figure something out.”
“Back to this plan of yours.”
Taking the whiskey jug from him, she opened it and poured some in a paper cup. “First of all, I have to marry Michael.”
He stared at the diamond on her left hand. “What does he have to do with this?”
“We need an office where guests can check in and where staff can work. All Daddy and I have right now is a house, a small barn and a couple sheds—plus a whole lot of land.”
She handed him the cup and poured some for herself. “We need cabins for lodging as well as a dining hall, a big barn, stalls and corrals. Our ranch is next door to the Whispering Pines, which makes for a perfect merger. We would, of course, change the name. Daddy wants to call it Hughes Big Game Ranch. She frowned. “But the Duncans won’t sell. Daddy has asked, again and again, but they won’t even look at an offer. So, the obvious solution is for me to marry Michael.”
Ramsey took a long swig from the cup. “How can I be your partner if you’re married to him?”
“You’ll have to hide out in the hills until the heat dies down. Eventually, we’ll make you ranch manager.” She winked.
He pursed his lips. Jerry Ramsey, Ranch Foreman. Sounded good, but he was getting sleepy.
“Before that, you’d have to do your part.”
“What’s that?”
“Make sure your friend Nielson is out of the picture.”
“What does she have to do with your plans?”
“Everything.”
He peered at her through narrowed eyes. “Meaning ...”
“Meaning she’s after Michael in a big way.”
“Are you sure?” Even if he didn’t want Neilson anymore, the thought of her whoring around infuriated him.
She nodded.
“Do you know where she is?”
“We’ll find her.”
“What do you expect me to do with her?”
“Whatever it takes to get her out of my life.”
“Before or after I move to the cabin?”
“Before you move to the cabin and after I bleach your hair.”
He involuntarily touched his head. “No you won’t.”
Tara took his cup. “You’re a wanted man, Jer. You need a new look and a new name.”
Another name change. Who was he, really? Not a ranch foreman, yet. And no longer a correctional officer. He was a rolling stone, a drifter, a rambling kind of cowboy now that he was out west. Was there a name that fit him? Maybe he should go back to his birth name, if only he could remember what it was. He could hear his mother’s voice calling Chester. But Chester what? Did he have a middle name? Or a last name?
Ramsey belched and adjusted a pillow. “You said there were two glitches in your plan. What’s the other one?”
“My soon-to-be mother-in-law.”
“What’s the deal with her?”
“I’m afraid she’ll negatively influence Michael when we get ready to combine ranches.”
“So you want both her and Neilson out of your hair.”
“You’ve got the picture.”
It was too much to think about when he was so tired. “Get the drugs.”
***
Blinded by the morning sunlight, it took a moment for Mike to realize it was Bernard Caldwell who stood at the lobby door with another officer. Maybe he should start charging them for time on his property, like he charged the guests.
Bernard held up a piece of paper. “Warrant to search the ranch for illegal substances.” The other deputy stood to the side, one hand hovering above the butt of his gun.
Mike stared at Bernard. How did he pull that off?
As if reading his mind, Bernard smirked. “The new county judge was none too happy to learn we found drugs in one of your cabins. Said they’d found too many stashes in the backwoods of New Hampshire, where he hails from. He plans to nip drug dealing in the bud in Carbon County.”
Mike sighed and motioned them into the lobby. “Mind telling me the reason you’re starting here?” He opened the door that led to their living quarters.
Bernard grunted. “Oh, just a little bit of detective work. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about tire tracks and boot prints at Dymple Forbes’s place, would you?” He didn’t give Mike a chance to answer. Instead, he looked at his bare feet. “I’ll need your boots.”
“What am I supposed to wear?”
Bernard shrugged, the sneer on his lips matching the arrogant lift of his eyebrow. “Try slippers. They’re perfect for sloshing through manure.”
Mike clenched his fists. “First bedroom on the left, in the closet.” With any luck, Bernie wouldn’t find the pair he’d left on the back porch the night before.
Laura walked from the office to stand behind the counter. “Good morning, gentlemen. What brings you here so early in the morning?”
The deputies mumbled a short greeting before walking down the hallway into their home.
Mike picked up a leaf that dropped from one of their boots. “They have a warrant to search for drugs, the illegal type.”
“Where did they get the idea we have illegal substances?”
He rubbed his temples. It was hard to sort things out, but if he didn’t tell his mom what was going on, someone else would. God only knew how fast word might spread that the Whispering Pines was a drug haven—and he was a Peeping Tom. But maybe he wouldn’t tell her that part, just yet.
***
Jerry Ramsey awoke feeling better and stronger than he had in days. By the time Tara arrived with orange juice and cereal, he’d washed his face, combed his hair and changed into his own clothing.
She sat across from him at the two-person table in the corner. “You look better this morning.”
“I thought of a way to find Neilson.”
“Really?”
“We can do it from right here.”
She shook cereal into their bowls then added milk. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“How?” She poured him a cup of juice.
“GPS. Bring me my computer.”
***
Kate and Dymple stepped out of the Rawlins clinic into the sunshine.
Kate pointed to her legs. “Doesn’t that look funny? One brown leg and one white one.”
Dymple laughed. “Like a dog I used to have.” She squeezed Kate’s arm. “Congratulations, sweetie. The doctor upgraded you to crutches and a shorter cast, all in one day.”
“It feels good to stand and to be able to bend my knee. Just do
n’t let me trip you with my crutches. It’ll take me a while to get the hang of using these things.”
“Do you still want to drive by the Sheriff’s Department?”
“I’m curious to see where they put my car. And if my boxes are still inside.”
Dymple drove the few blocks to the county buildings. “I think the impound area is on the other side.” She turned the corner. “There it is.”
Staring at the cars behind the chain-link fence, Kate was startled when Dymple shoved her shoulder. “Get down.”
She did her best to disappear from view as Dymple swung the Jeep in a quick U-turn, zipped around the block and stopped under a tree.
Kate sat up. “What was that all about?”
“I saw Tara Hughes’s Hummer. Couldn’t tell if she was in it.”
“Does she have the only yellow Hummer in the state?”
“Probably not, but I bet she has the only one with a license plate that says Sexy.” Dymple glanced in the rearview mirror. “Did you see your car?”
“I think so, but things happened so fast, I’m not positive it was mine. What do you think Tara is doing at the jail? Visiting Ramsey?”
Dymple eyed the mirror. “Duck!” She grabbed a map from the door pocket.
Chapter Thirty-One
TRAPPED BY THE JAMMED driver’s-side door, Mike waited behind the wheel while Clint helped the Curtis twins climb out of Old Blue.
Buck Cunningham, dressed in camouflage fatigues and combat boots, had ridden in Clint’s truck and was already out assessing the bison closest to the fence.
The mammoth bovines lifted their shaggy heads to study their visitors.
Clint steadied Mamie on the ground.
She gripped his arm. “Why did we stop where there aren’t very many buffalo?”
He reached for her sister’s hand. “I picked these cows because they’re separate from the main body of the herd. We don’t want gunshots to disturb the others.”
Minnie stepped down.
He went on. “They’re near the fence, and they don’t have calves at their sides. That will make it easier for you to aim at one animal without others getting in the way of your shot. Plus, it’s safer to shoot from outside the fence than inside.”
Minnie and Mamie glanced at each other, relief obvious in their exchange.
Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel) Page 29