Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel) (18 page)

She narrowed her eyes. “So, it’s all about money.”

He recoiled as if he’d been slapped. “Other than love for the land, that’s what all ranching is about. This is the way we make our living. Others may drive a truck or deliver mail or teach school, but we own and run a ranch.”

Hearing no response, Mike was trying to think of a way to make amends for his outburst, when Kate spoke again, her voice low. “Are you planning to let someone shoot Trudy when she’s grown?”

“I shouldn’t have let you name her. Now you’re emotionally attached.”

She looked away.

He sighed. Kate had lost her family—and her dog. Returning the calf to the herd wouldn’t be easy. “To be honest, I’m not any happier about the hunts than you are. Can we talk about something else?”

She nodded.

“So, what’s your favorite thing about Wyoming so far?”

After a moment, Kate came to life again. “Everything. I like
everything
about Wyoming.” She waved her arm out the window. “The wildflowers, the mountains, the animals—including your bison. And the traffic.”

“Traffic?”

She pointed at the long, charcoal strip of asphalt ahead of them. “We’re the only ones on the road right now. Even in the middle of major snowstorms, that doesn’t happen in Pittsburgh. People are everywhere, all the time.”

He grunted. “I couldn’t live that way.”

She grinned. “I hope you never have to. Your ranch is a wonderful, beautiful Shangri-La.”

Her smile made his heart lurch and beat faster.

Kate angled her head to peer through the front window. “That’s a really big bird. Is it an eagle?”

He looked out his window. “You’re right. It’s a bald eagle. I heard there’s a nest on that mountain.” He pointed toward a tall peak. “We could hike up there to look for it sometime, if you’d like.”

“Could we really get close to its nest?”

Kate’s excitement routed all thoughts of bison hunts from his brain. “We might get close enough to see the eaglets with binoculars.” He paused. “Did you change your mind about riding with me on Friday?”

“No. Why would I?”

“You didn’t seem too happy about buffalo hunts.”

“The Whispering Pines is your ranch, not mine. I respect you and your mom and the decisions you make.”

Chapter Fourteen

FOLLOWING THE TRAIL RIDE,
Kate helped the wranglers remove the bridles, bits and saddles from the horses and wipe them clean. They shook out the saddle blankets, sponged and brushed the horses’ backs, checked their hooves and led them into the corral. The sun was slipping behind a mountain by the time they finished.

Clint walked her to her cabin. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

She nodded. “It felt good to ride again.”

“You’re a natural in the saddle. Maybe sometime you and I can go riding together.”

“I’d love that.” Two riding dates in one day. Amy would be so jealous.

He said goodnight, gave her hand a squeeze and headed for his cabin.

The moment Kate stepped into the Blue Jay, a stench assaulted her sinuses. Her cabin hadn’t smelled quite right earlier. However, she’d been too excited about her date with Mike to think about it. Now, the odor was strong enough to burn her nostrils.

She tiptoed into the bathroom—empty sink, thank God—and peeked behind the shower curtain. No snakes in the tub. She cautiously lifted the toilet lid and heaved a sigh of relief. Just water.

But there was one more place to look. Under the sink. She opened the door to the cabinet. Toilet paper, towels and shampoo. Nothing more.

Before she inspected the rest of the cabin, she soaked a washcloth with water, squeezed it out and placed it over her nose and mouth. In the kitchen-living room, she felt her eyes begin to burn and wished she could cover them too. Maybe the cabin had a sewer leak. Or the snake had decomposed, although she hadn’t noticed the smell outside. Or—she swallowed—could it have revived enough to crawl back inside the cabin? She checked the oven and the refrigerator, pulled cushions from the couch and chair, glanced underneath.

The closer she got to the bedroom, the stronger the odor grew. She held her breath and knelt to look beneath the bed but stopped at the sight of rumpled bedding. With a quick yank, she flipped the covers back to see a bloated, bloody, cat-size animal sprawled across the sheet. The hairs on its rigid tail quivered with the sudden movement. She screamed and ran out the front door, gasping for air.

A family of guests neared her cabin. Kate leaned against the log wall, hoping they couldn’t smell what she smelled. She waited in the twilight, dreading what she had to do. Finally, she sucked in another breath, slapped the cloth against her face and strode back to the bedroom to stare at the tan-colored creature.

Road kill. Ramsey was a sick man.

She picked up her pillow. Her uncle’s knife was gone. No surprise.

Ripping the corners of the bottom sheet from the mattress, she clasped them together, swung the creature off the bed and sprinted for the dumpster, where she opened the lid, flicked the carcass on top of the trash heap and slammed the top down.

Three steps and she was inside the nearby laundry hut stuffing the sheet into a washing machine. The sheet smelled like
death
. She gagged, added detergent, and gagged again. After switching the water to hot, she hurried back to the cabin to open the windows and strip the remaining linens from the bed.

While the Blue Jay aired and the bedding agitated, Kate huddled on the stoop watching the stars make their nightly debuts. She pulled her jacket close. This latest prank was beyond ridiculous. It was harassment. She’d secured the windows and locked the door and saw no signs of forced entry. That meant Ramsey stole a key from the office. Or was better at picking locks than she suspected.

***

Kate was still feeling groggy when she walked into the office the next morning. Whether it was the lumpy couch or wondering what was going to crawl into her cabin next—a half-dead animal or Ramsey—that kept her awake, she didn’t know. But she hadn’t been able to convince herself to sleep in the bed, even though the sheets were clean.

Laura, who’d been standing in the middle of the room talking with Coach, stopped mid-sentence. “Good Monday morning, Kate. How was the trail ride?”

“I had a great time. Did I hear you say Cyrus threatened to quit?”

Laura sighed. “I’m sorry you heard that. Please don’t tell anyone else.”

Coach rested his elbows on the chair arms and tented his fingers together. “He’s just spouting off. Didn’t you say he threatens to quit every summer, Laura?”

“It’s different this time. And much earlier in the season. He’s really ticked about …” Laura’s voice trailed away.

Kate lifted her chin. “About me?”

“He mentioned you, but—”

“Would it help if I apologized again? It’s my fault he’s so mad.”

“I wonder …” Coach clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his wheelchair. “I wonder if it has anything to do with Susan.” He looked at Kate. “She’s his daughter and only child. Went off to college back east several years ago and never returned home.” He paused, still eyeing Kate. “Susan was about your height and had long dark hair like yours.”

Kate sat down at her desk and turned on the computer. “I can’t see Cyrus comparing me with his daughter.”

“Well, there
is
a similarity.” He motioned to Laura. “What do you think?”

“It’s possible he made some kind of connection. You never know about Cyrus. He’s hard to read sometimes.”

Coach pursed his lips. “From what I hear, Susan never writes or calls. Life was miserable for her here.”

“Why?” Kate had to ask, though she could easily imagine Cyrus being the ultimate crabby dad. She’d seen her share of that type.

“Because Cyrus
made
it miserable.”

Laura chimed in. “Cyrus’s wife, Helen, died of hantavirus when Susan was in junior high. He’s been bitter ever since.”

Kate had never heard of the disease. “What’s that? Must be bad.”

“You’re right. It’s a terrible rodent-carried disease usually caused by contact with mouse or rat droppings. They think Helen caught it when she cleaned out their barn that spring.”

“Oh.” Kate pictured the animal she’d deposited in the dumpster the night before. Maybe she should wash the sheets again. Good thing she’d slept on the couch instead of the bed. She looked at Coach. “Was Cyrus cruel to his daughter?” She knew the cranky man had a temper, but would he harm his own daughter?

“I had Susan in phys-ed throughout junior high and high school. I never saw bruises or other physical signs of abuse. But she seemed cowed and tended to stay at school as late as possible after her mother died. Susan was shy and quiet, but smart—real smart. Harvard snapped her right up when she graduated. Anyway, nobody I know has heard from her since. Rumor has it she’s a research scientist in California.”

Kate felt sorry for Susan. She even felt bad for Cyrus. A lonely old man left behind by the two women he loved. Even so, that was no excuse for the way he’d treated her since her arrival at the ranch. “How sad. His own daughter avoids him.” She turned back to Laura. “Whether he associates me with her or not, I’ll do whatever I can to help keep him on the ranch.”

“Thank you.” Laura ran her fingers through her hair. “Dan was so good with Cyrus.” Moisture welled in her eyes. “He always found a way to settle him down. He would have known what to do about the break-in, and Mike’s accident with the truck, and the dead buffalo ...” She blinked and wiped a tear from her cheek. “I hate to think what will happen next.”

Kate bit her lip. It was already happening. And it kept on happening. She had to put a stop to Ramsey’s rampage.

Laura sat down at her desk. “Thank you, both of you, for listening to me spout off.” She sniffed. “Sorry to be so pessimistic this morning. I know God will get us through this transition time. But some days, it’s just hard to move on without Dan.”

She opened a desk drawer. “Oh, my goodness. I don’t remember making this mess.” She sighed and her shoulders drooped. “But then, I forget a lot of things lately.” Opening another drawer, she pulled out a tissue and blew her nose.

Kate frowned. She had tried hard to not disturb the contents of the drawers.

“Laura …” Coach turned his chair toward her. “I’ve had plenty of experience dealing with teenage angst. Old-man angst can’t be much different. I’d be glad to talk with Cyrus.”

“Thanks, Coach.” Laura tossed the tissue into a nearby garbage can. “But Mike and I need to figure out how to take care of problems around here without Dan. This is just a bump in the road, a bump I’m sure we’ll survive.” She offered him a weak smile. “I appreciate the offer.”

The front desk bell rang. Laura checked her eye makeup in the small mirror above her desk and hurried into the lobby.

Coach shook his head. “Maybe I’m oversensitive about my disability, but I think Laura is afraid Cyrus will hurt me, or he won’t respect what I say. Just because I don’t have the use of my legs doesn’t mean I’m half a man. I could take the guy down in a second.”

Kate eyed his bulging forearms. “I bet you could.” And it would be great to see Cyrus humbled. “I’ve never considered you to be half a man.”

He grimaced. “Well, others do. I’ve heard the comments, seen the looks. And you know what? I have to admit I have my own doubts. I can teach and coach from a wheelchair. But can I defend my family without legs? Some nights I lie in bed wondering what I’d do if a burglar broke into our house, wondering how I can protect my wife and boys.”

Her heart went out to him. Not many men, especially the man’s-man athletic type, were able to bare their souls the way he just did. She logged into the network. “Have you tried prayer? I’ve been in some uncomfortable situations in pr—” She cleared her throat. “In Pittsburgh. The only way I could sleep at night was to tell God he’d
have
to take care of me, because I was helpless.”

He ducked his head. “You sound like my wife. She says prayer is a better use of time than worrying.”

“If you’ve ever been in Dymple Forbes’s house, you’ve probably seen the quote in her kitchen that says, ‘Only he who can see the invisible can do the impossible
.
’ She told me prayer is the way we focus on an invisible God to help us do impossible tasks.”

He began to peck at his keyboard. “I’m typing that up in big letters so Sally can tape it to our bedroom ceiling. Of course, I might have to aim a flashlight at it to see it, but it’ll be there to remind me.”

She laughed. “Whatever it takes. Don’t forget to stock up on batteries.”

***

Kate found Mike saddling horses in the barn. Both animals carried saddlebags as well as blanket rolls behind the saddles. A bubble of pleasure rose in her chest when he turned to her, a smile on his lips and in his eyes.

“Hey, Kate. You ready to go?”

She fingered a saddlebag. “Looks like we’ll be gone for days, not hours.”

“I always take extra gear, in case I run into a storm or something happens that I can’t get back right away.”

He helped her onto a sorrel with a flaxen mane and tail. “I thought you’d like this mare. Her name is Honey.”

“Really?”

“Really. You’re not the only one who read
Katrina’s Wild Pony
when you were young. Dad let me name her.”

“She’s beautiful. Just like I pictured Honey in the book.”

He adjusted the stirrups for her, tugged at the cinch a final time and gave her the reins. “I think you’ll enjoy riding her.”

“What’s your horse’s name?” Kate ran her fingers through Honey’s mane.

“Guess.”

“Uhm, let’s see. Ebony? Midnight?”

“Nope.” He patted the stallion’s dark neck. “This is Lightning.”

“In the book, Lightning was a white horse.”

“I know, but I like the name, and that’s how fast this horse can run. Like lightning. ”

Tramp trotted alongside the horses as they cantered through the ranch and across the highway.

Kate couldn’t stop grinning. Dymple was right. She was living her dream.