The man clapped his hands and straightened. “Perfect.” He returned to the microphone. “We have our first request for a dance with the bride, plus a request for a special song.”
Kate and Mike looked at each other and then back at Coach, who rolled close to pin a bill to Kate’s sleeve.
She tucked her dress around her knees before sitting on his lap.
He yelled, “We’re ready. Hit it!”
The crowd moved back.
He spun his chair into the middle of the room, flipping wheelies and figure eights.
Kate screamed, clinging to his neck.
Gales of laughter filled the room as the musicians broke into song.
Buffalo gal, won’t you come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight?
Buffalo gal, won’t you come out tonight and dance by the light of the moon.
The onlookers clapped and sang along.
As I was walking down the street, down the street, down the street,
A pretty little gal I chanced to meet, oh, she was fair to see.
Ohhh, buffalo gal, won’t you…”
Kate and Coach laughed so hard Kate thought they’d fall out of the wheelchair, but they made it to the end of the dance, and others got their turn. Dancing with one partner after another, all the while blowing kisses to her new husband, Kate thought she’d never had so much fun.
She saw Fletcher whirling Aunt Mary around the room, her tiny feet balanced on the tops of his big boots. She waved to Amy, who danced with cowboy after cowboy, her auburn hair swinging. In the corner, Cyrus twirled Dymple with one hand. They’d both feel it tomorrow, but she was glad they were having as much fun as she was tonight.
Desperate for a breath of fresh air, Kate stepped onto the verandah to cool down. She dropped into a rocker and kicked off her white boots. A full moon was just beginning to rise over the mountain. She smiled. What a wonderful finale to a fairytale day.
She rested her head on the back of the rocker, thinking of the new journey she’d just embarked on. It wouldn’t be perfect. She knew that. But she and Mike had each other now. And a sense of calm had settled on the ranch. Thank God, the bison killings had stopped.
Though the authorities still hadn’t found the gun or figured out who killed the cows and the second calf, Ramsey eventually admitted to slitting Trudy’s throat. And Darryl had confessed to cutting the pasture fence—because he didn’t like the Duncans, he said.
The prosecutor had pressed for the “real” reason without response. The ranch hand also admitted to planting the snake and the ferret—and the drugs, all with the intent of forcing Kate to leave the WP. Evidently he didn’t like her, either.
Darryl said he helped Tara steal the cash but insisted she’d written the email messages. None of the three took ownership of the gruesome picture on the computer nor did any of them provide substantive reasons for their actions. Kate had a feeling Ramsey’s obsession with her and Tara’s with Mike had a lot to do with the summer’s craziness. And Darryl? Associating with the other two was probably enough to prove mental instability.
Mike and the sheriff were convinced there was more to the story, much more. And Mike had never faltered in his belief that the mastermind was Tara’s father, Todd Hughes. The few times she’d been around the man, her street “antenna” had gone haywire. Maybe Mike was right.
“There you are. I wondered where you disappeared to.” Dymple plopped into the rocker next to her with a groan. “These old bones aren’t going to let me forget this night for a couple of weeks—just like the Fourth of July. But the pain was worth it.”
Kate grinned. “I’ll never forget how you danced in the street below the truck. I couldn’t have said what I did without knowing you believed in me and prayed for me.”
Dymple took her hand. “My pleasure, sweetie. And it was truly a pineapple to participate in your wedding. I don’t believe I’ve ever enjoyed one as much as yours.”
“That’s what everyone says.”
“My favorite part was when a meadowlark trilled in the meadow just after Pastor Chuck pronounced you two man and wife.”
Kate nodded. “That was a special moment.” After the ceremony, Chuck had told he remembered his mom saying, “Whenever I hear a meadowlark sing, I know everything is all right in my world.”
Mike stepped out the dining room door.
Kate smiled at her handsome husband. Yes, everything was all right in her world.
“Time for the last dance, Mrs. Duncan.”
She slipped on her boots while he helped Dymple stand.
He led them both inside. The musicians were already singing. Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam …
Mike pulled Kate close. “They’re playing the WP theme song.”
“Funny how your mom never mentioned having a theme song.”
Home, home on the range …
Laura joined them and, together, the Duncan family circled the room laughing, singing and linking arms with friend upon friend. They danced out the door, across the porch and into the pumpkin glow of the magnificent harvest moon cresting the mountain.
The band stopped playing, but the revelers, followed by Tramp barking his approval, continued to weave with the wind through the swaying trees.
Buffalo gal, won’t you come out tonight,
come out tonight, come out tonight?
Buffalo gal, won’t you come out tonight
and dance by the light of the moon.
Dedication
Winds of Wyoming is dedicated to the memory of my parents, Carrol and Lawrence Carey, who grew up on Wyoming homesteads and taught me to love God, family and Wyoming—and to the memory of Myrtle Smith, a dear friend who shared her sweet spirit with the world for 102 years, and who also shared my delight in the lilting western meadowlark songs that ring across Wyoming prairies.
Acknowledgements
A number of gracious individuals encouraged and assisted me while I composed and recomposed Winds of Wyoming. I am deeply grateful for the input provided by those who sludged through part or all of my early drafts of the story: Becky Dobson Carey, Peter Leavell, Sherrie Lord, Alissa Lyles, Brady Lyles, Steve Lyles, Amanda Martin, Robin Papaleka and Patricia Watkins. Much, much credit for a cohesive story goes to Chris White, courageous StoneHouse editor. His determination to iron out the wrinkles was just what my manuscript needed. Alissa, Brady, Peter and Steve also graciously provided final proofs of the story. As Peter says, it takes a team!
I also appreciate the support provided by fellow writing group members in Wyoming, Arizona and Idaho throughout the years I’ve been writing. Their insights and friendship through the hair-pulling process of transferring thoughts from brain to computer have been invaluable. Connie Flynn and Linda Style, bootcampfornovelists.com teachers and mentors, provided excellent instruction and guidance. Numerous writing-conference instructors and writing-contest judges have also taught me much.
Many thanks to wordsmiths Kris Neely, founder of West Valley Writers Workshop in Arizona, and Angela Ruth Strong, founder of Idahope Christian Fiction Writers, for creating supportive writing groups and for their unflagging backing of my own wordsmithing.
Thanks also to Dana at the Terry Bison Ranch near Cheyenne, Wyoming, for patiently answering my many questions and to the American Bison Association for providing additional helpful information.
My amazing parents-in-law, Nelly and Finis Lyles, are unwavering cheerleaders for their family. They tenaciously uphold each member and encourage our every endeavor. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for your love and for your interest in my interests, including writing.
Most of all, I thank God for his direction and inspiration through his Word and Presence, and my dear, sweet husband, Steve, for his steadfast belief in my abilities. He not only stands by my side but tolerates my long hours at the computer and helps me search for just the right word when I’m stuck. I love you, sweetheart!
The residents and volunteers I’ve met in various prisons and suppo
rt ministries deserve special recognition, though they’re too numerous to mention names. I’m awed by the brave souls who allow prison to become a stepping stone toward a new life in Christ and by those who walk alongside them.
Four excellent faith-based programs with which I’ve had firsthand experience are: Freedom Fellowship, Fort Collins, Colorado; Along Side Ministries, Phoenix, Arizona; City Light Home for Women and Children, Boise, Idaho; and Chrysalis Women’s Transitional Living, Boise, Idaho. May God continue to bless organizations and individuals dedicated to shining God’s healing light into hurting hearts.
About the Author
Though Winds of Wyoming is her first novel, Rebecca Carey Lyles began her writing and editing career years ago, working mostly with nonfiction articles and books. Recent stories have appeared in fiction and nonfiction compilations, including “One Touch from the Maker” and “Escape from the Prison System,” both published by Puckett Browne Publishing, and “Intrigue: Stories of Suspense,” published by StoneHouse Ink. She lives with her husband in beautiful Idaho, which shares a border with her home state, wonderful Wyoming. Visit the author online at http://www.beckylyles.com.
Copyright ©2011 by Rebecca Carey Lyles
All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher.
StoneHouse Ink 2011
StoneHouse Ink
Boise ID 83713
http://www.stonehouseink.net
First eBook Edition: 2011
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to a real person, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover design by Fuji Aamabreorn
Published in the United States of America
STONEHOUSE INK
Table of Contents
Acclaim for Winds of Wyoming
Title Page
"Every Saint has a past ..."
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Dedication
Acknowledgement
About the Author
Copyright Information
Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel) Page 34