The bison began to graze again.
Hands on the steering wheel, Mike listened to Clint and watched Buck load his rifle. Thank God Clint had offered to take charge of the hunt, even though it was a good excuse to get away from Aunt Judith who, true to her promise, had arrived yesterday afternoon—just in time for the Fourth of July weekend. Breakfast with her had felt like a police interrogation.
At six o’clock in the morning, he wasn’t prepared for her nonstop questions. “How does it feel, Michael, to be the only man in the family now that your brother and your father are deceased? Are you ready for the responsibility Matt would have shouldered with ease?” She’d even stabbed a strawberry from the fruit platter and shook it in his face. “Did your mother forget I’m highly allergic to strawberries?”
Then there were the comments stated as fact with no room for debate. “Your father had allergies, too. I firmly believe all the meat and potatoes you eat around here caused his cancer, and ultimately, his death. Too bad. He was way too young and had so much to offer this world.”
Mike fixed his attention on the Curtis twins. Before his mom pointed it out, he hadn’t noticed how they always dressed alike yet different. Today they wore yellow-and-green-plaid western shirts and green pants. The only difference between them that he could see was that one wore a yellow neckerchief and hat, while the other had a green scarf and hat. Dressed to kill.
He looked at the grazing bison. Three more on the way to the slaughterhouse. But he was ready. The guys had left the loader and the truck next to the pasture after they hauled away yesterday’s casualty. The processing plant knew to expect several thousand more pounds of buffalo today. And the taxidermist was prepared to receive a bison head later in the week.
Sliding across the seat, he worked his way out of his pickup. No sense putting a damper on the outing. If nothing else, the money would help cover the loss from the theft … which brought him to Kate Neilson and the pinch he felt in his heart every time he thought of her.
Why couldn’t he forget her? If the documents Tara had shown them were authentic, Kate wasn’t someone they needed around the ranch, let alone in his life. Her past was seriously flawed. Plus, it was entirely possible she was the one who stole the cash from the office. She had a key.
Buck pointed at a big cow. “I like the looks of that one, but the others might scatter when I shoot her. Then the …” He aimed his chin toward the twins. “Those ladies might have trouble getting a good shot.”
Mike glanced at Minnie and Mamie, who stood at the fence gawking at the bison like children at a zoo. “We’ll give them time for target practice before they take aim at a buffalo. Who knows where the cows will be by then.”
Both women had admitted on the way to the pasture that neither of them had fired a gun before. He’d had a feeling they lacked experience, so had thrown several hay bales plus a roll of paper targets in the back of his truck, just in case. If they couldn’t hit anything during target practice, he wasn’t going to let them fire at his herd.
The hunting party gathered behind Buck, who took his time preparing for the shot. The man obviously knew what he was doing, which gave Mike some comfort. Buck held the buttstock snug against his shoulder and hunkered down, his focus locked on the buffalo in his scope.
All was quiet. Mike could hear Buck slow his breathing.
Finally, the Texan pulled the trigger.
The cow rocked onto her side, legs flipping in the air as the roar of the gunshot reverberated across the pasture. With a wheezing moan, the buffalo wilted onto the prairie floor.
Buck let out a whoop. “One shot, and she’s mine.”
Clint pounded his back. “Great shot!”
***
Kate heard the Humvee stop beside the Jeep—and Tara’s sugary sweet voice. “Need help finding your way around the big city, Dymple? A town this size must be a challenge for an old woman.”
Just as sweetly, Dymple answered from above the map she’d opened as wide as it would spread. “Thank you, but I believe I’ve figured it out.”
“I think I’ve figured out something, too.”
“What’s that?”
“You came to town to visit Kate Neilson. And don’t pretend you didn’t. I have proof right here that she’s locked up in the county jail, where she belongs, with all the other druggies. It led me straight to her car, which is being searched by officers as we speak. Any guesses as to what they might be looking for?” She chortled. “I say good riddance to bad rubbish. Kate Neilson was a menace to our community.”
Kate watched her friend’s wrinkled fingers scrunch the edge of the map.
Dymple cleared her throat. “What did Kate do to make you hate her so?”
“The bitch was trying to take away Michael Duncan and his ranch, both of which rightfully belong to me.”
“You’re a sick woman.”
“And you’re a senile old hag.” Tara hit the gas and was gone.
Kate sputtered upright. “That witch. She can’t talk to you that way.”
Dymple squeaked a sardonic laugh. “She just did. Plus, she gave me the finger.”
Kate huffed. “First I’m a thief who takes the Duncans’ cash. Then I’m doing drug deals with Mike. Now I’m trying to steal his ranch. What will I think of next?”
Dymple threw back her head and laughed so hard she nearly lost her teeth. “I’m so glad you’ve kept your sense of humor, Kate, even when nothing makes sense.”
Kate shook her head. “Nothing has made sense since I came to Wyoming.” She paused. “What was it that led Tara to my car?”
“Looked like a computer to me.”
“I know computers do amazing things, but how could it find my car?”
“Beats me.”
Kate rubbed the newly exposed flesh on her knee. “You know Tara will tell everyone from here to Copperville and beyond that I’m in jail.”
Dymple brushed a strand of hair away from Kate’s eyes. “No matter what rumors she spreads, sweetie, there’s a verse in the Bible that says men look at outward appearances, but God sees our hearts. He knows your heart, Kate. You will be vindicated. He also knows Tara’s heart. We don’t know what her role is in all of this, but there’ll be consequences for her vile behavior.”
Kate took the map. “I think I’d better fold this for you before you ruin it.”
“Shall we try again to see your car?”
“Might as well. We’re here.”
Dymple made a second U-turn and drove around the block again. She stopped where Tara had parked—across from the impound lot. Kate’s Honda sat in the middle of the asphalt surrounded by boxes and suitcases. A man in a beige uniform was digging through an open a carton.
Kate blew air between her lips. “Something about seeing my possessions scattered around a parking lot outside a sheriff’s department gives me a funny feeling. I hope it’s an allegorical expression of my life, not prophetical.”
“I’ll ask the sheriff what’s going on.”
“You don’t have to do that.” Kate placed her hand on Dymple’s arm. “They’re obviously searching for something. Probably drugs, which they won’t find.”
“Unless someone planted them in your car.”
Kate groaned. “You’re right. There’s always that possibility.” Moths began to thrash in her stomach.
Dymple parked near the front of the building. “I’ll be right back.”
Kate watched her friend limp away, glad Dymple hadn’t asked her to go inside with her. If she’d gone in, she might not have come out. She looked at the two rows of small, evenly spaced windows on the side of the building, windows so tiny no human could crawl through them. That had to be where the jail cells were located. Thank God she was on the outside.
She sucked in a breath and grabbed the dashboard. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Now that she no longer used a wheelchair, the sheriff was free to take her off house arrest and put her in jail. The moths became mallets beating against her ribcage
. Where could she run? Where could she hide? She reached for the door handle. If she could somehow get to her car …
Dymple emerged from the building, her face grim.
***
Mike’s stomach turned. Watching a second cow die was no easier than seeing the first one go down. Ignoring the turmoil in his stomach, he turned to the twins, but they were gone. Hearing a whimper, he looked around.
The women had sunk to the ground. They leaned on each other, freckles flaring against their pale, wrinkled faces.
He knelt before them. “Are you ladies okay?”
Minnie fanned her sister with her hat. “He killed that poor buffalo.”
Mike kept his voice gentle. “That’s what hunting is all about.”
“I know. I just didn’t think …”
Mamie sat up. “What will happen to it now?”
“We’ll take it to Rawlins to be butchered.”
Their faces contorted, and they pulled each other close again.
Buck walked over. “When can I get a closer look at her?”
“When we take in the loader and flatbed to retrieve the carcass.”
“The ranch can have the meat. All I want is the head and horns.”
Mike thought of yesterday’s dead buffalo sitting at the processing plant. “How about you donate it to the homeless shelter in Rawlins?”
Buck slapped him on the shoulder. “Great idea.”
Clint, who’d been watching the herd for reactions to the gunshot, turned to the group. “Are you ready for target practice, ladies?”
Mamie and Minnie looked at each other. “No, thank you.” Mamie brushed dirt from the knee of her green pants. “I couldn’t kill one of those amazing animals.”
Minnie straightened her hat and raised her chin. “At least we can tell our friends we went on a buffalo hunt.”
Mamie smiled. “That’s right.”
Clint winked at Mike as they helped the twins to their feet.
***
Kate held her breath, her heart thumping so hard she felt like she was shaking the Jeep. Whatever Dymple had to say, it wasn’t good. But she didn’t have an officer with her, so maybe …
Dymple opened the driver-side door but stood beside the Jeep without speaking.
Kate made herself ask. “Do they want me to go inside?” Was this her last free moment of life, her last breath of air outside penitentiary walls?
Dymple got into the Jeep and took Kate’s trembling hand. “I’m sorry to scare you. This old noggin just had a couple major jolts.”
“What did the sheriff say?”
“First of all, yes, your car is being searched, a second time. The first time, they found your cell phone charger and heard suspicious messages on your phone, which he says confirmed some e-mail messages.”
Kate swallowed. She knew that would happen.
“Then drips were discovered in your cabin up at the Whispering Pines, so they decided to go through your car again.”
“Why would the Sheriff’s Department care about drips in my cabin?”
Dymple harrumphed. “I meant to say drugs.”
“That can’t be. I’ve been clean for more than five years.”
“I believe you, Kate. I don’t know if I would recognize drugs if I saw them, but I didn’t see anything unusual when I packed your things. However, the sheriff says his deputies found contraband in every room of the cabin.”
Kate moaned. It was true. She was going to spend the rest of her life behind bars.
“I hate to say it, but there’s more bad news, sweetie.”
“I don’t know if I can take any more.” Her chest felt frozen, as if her organs had given up and stopped working.
“Gerald Ramsey escaped.”
Kate’s gaze flashed to the tiny windows just below the roofline of the building. “That’s impossible.”
***
Ramsey watched game shows, drank the two remaining beers from the six-pack, and smoked while Tara chatted with customers upstairs. The ceiling creaked with the weight of shoppers wandering the store above him. About to doze off, he sat up when his picture flashed across the television screen. Using the remote, he turned up the volume.
“We interrupt this program for a community service announcement.” The announcer was male. “Just moments ago, the Carbon County Sheriff’s Department issued an ‘inmate escape alert.’”
He stared at his mug shot, which filled the screen.
Speaking rapidly, the man listed his name—Gerald Ramsey—and description. Race: Caucasian. Age: thirty-seven. Weight: 162. Height: five feet, nine inches. Eyes: gray. Hair: black.
Ramsey sneered. Not anymore.
The announcer continued. “Secure your homes. Do not pick up hitchhikers. Do not open your door to strangers. Keep your children in view at all times.”
Ramsey drove his fist into the air. “Yeah!” He was famous. He was on TV. He was feared.
Tara came tripping down the stairs just as the newscast ended. Before he could tell her he was a celebrity, she picked up a knife from the end table. “Where did this come from?”
“My suitcase. That’s the one you gave me, remember?”
“I thought it looked familiar.” She hesitated. “Why do you have it out?”
He heard the hint of fright in her voice. Respect was coming at him from all directions. “You never know when you’ll need a weapon.” He fastened his gaze on hers and held it until she dropped the knife where she found it.
She stepped into the bathroom. “I came down to check my lipstick.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
IT WAS LATE BY the time Mike tiptoed into his bedroom, boots in hand. He set them in a corner and fell onto the bed, too tired to undress. After a moment, he raised his head, realizing for the first time that the loud snores came from the guest room, not his parents’ bedroom. For a moment, he’d been back in high school, when he’d slip into the house with his father’s noisy breathing in the background. Too bad it was Aunt Judith instead of Dad.
The hinges squeaked and his mom’s concerned face, illuminated by moonlight, peered around the door. Yep, just like high school. “Mom.” He kept his voice low. “I tried not to wake you.”
She stepped into the room and quietly closed the door. “You didn’t wake me.” Her voice was hushed. “When you didn’t answer your radio this evening, I couldn’t sleep.”
“Sorry.” Fearing a call would alert the person they were trailing, he’d turned off his two-way. “After Chuck shot the bison cow this morning, Clint checked the fence and found the upper gate down again. So we took horses up there and went looking for stray bison. Ended up going farther than expected.”
She waited, obviously expecting to hear more.
He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
She squeezed his toes. “You look bone tired. I’ll let you get to sleep. Just wanted to remind you about tomorrow’s parade.”
He grunted. “I forgot all about it. I’m supposed to meet the band for a practice before it starts.”
She patted his toes and turned to go.
“I hope Aunt Judith’s snoring doesn’t keep you awake, Mom.”
She smiled. “I kind of like it. She sounds just like your father.”
Long after his mom left the room, Mike stared at the ceiling, listening to his aunt’s rhythmic inhalations. They’d found three buffalo grazing several hundred yards from the pasture and had with excruciating slowness guided them back inside the fence. Then they’d searched the forest for more strays as they followed the ATV trail, which led to the Hughes headquarters on the other side of the mountain. Nestled by the river in a copse of cottonwoods, the ranch appeared innocent, even idyllic in the twilight.
He and Clint were standing at the edge of the grove, reins in hand, debating their next step, when they heard voices. They’d secured the horses and tiptoed toward to the nearest outbuilding, where a flashlight flickered behind a dirty window and vague forms moved about.
�
��You need to pay me a lot more if you want me to keep doing your dirty work.” The voice was male—a familiar but muffled voice he couldn’t place.
Mike unbuttoned his shirt, pushed the pillow away and flipped onto his stomach. Did he really recognize the voice, or was it his imagination?
Then another man had spoken. “We’ll talk about that later. You said this engine’s running rough. Start it up, so we can take a listen.”
The sound of a small motor coming to life had startled a flock of birds roosting in the treetops. They’d risen en masse to fly in circles above the trees, loudly voicing their disapproval.
That’s when he’d nudged Clint. “Good time to make our exit.”
Though it was dark, he’d seen Clint’s disbelief. “But don’t you want to know who it is?”
Mike turned on his side and punched the pillow into a wad under his neck. Maybe they should have gotten closer. But what if they’d been caught? Clint didn’t know about his boot prints at Dymple’s house or Bernie’s investigation. He turned to his other side. He’d never be able to explain a second instance of sneaking onto other people’s property to peek in their windows.
Not that he’d been charged with anything–yet, probably because the boots Caldwell took were the wrong ones. Thank God he hadn’t found the muddy pair on the deck. But the size matched, and Bernie, being Bernie, would eventually put two and two together.
***
Dymple drove Kate to Copperville early the next morning. When they crossed the river, she patted Kate’s leg. “Are you nervous?”
“A little bit. You know people are going to ask where I’ve been. They’ll wonder why I dropped out of sight right after the accident—and right after the Duncans’ money was stolen. I’m not sure how I’ll answer them.” She sighed. “Plus, there could be rumors circulating about my past, thanks to Ramsey’s presence in the area. Sometimes I feel like I have ex-con plastered across my forehead.”
Dymple slowed for pedestrians carrying lawn chairs. “You can be like the moon when it slips behind dark clouds, Kate. You can allow your fear of exposure to obscure your beautiful personality and the joy of Jesus in your life, or you can pry the clouds apart to let his light shine through. Don’t worry about what others might be thinking today. Just have fun, sing your heart out and share your sweet smile with everyone you see.”
Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel) Page 30