Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel) (19 page)

Mike and Lightning led the way to a narrow trail that followed a noisy stream.

Mike twisted in the saddle. “This is my favorite trail.”

“I can see why. It’s so pretty and peaceful here.” Butterflies with yellow wings edged in black fluttered among the ferns and wild roses that lined the creek banks. Waves of sunshine splashed through the gaps between the tree branches. Bird calls rose above the creek’s splashes. Kate tipped her head back, reveling in the clear blue sky and thinking she could stay there forever and never once miss civilization.

“When we get to a fork in the path, we’ll take the upper trail.” He winked and turned around, riding on.

She felt her cheeks warming, again. She had to quit blushing like a schoolgirl every time he winked at her. But she had to admit she liked his winks. Maybe it was because her dad used to wink when he teased her.

Mike stopped to point at the ground. “See that?”

“An animal footprint?”

“Yeah, a mountain lion. They’re also called cougars around here.”

The print was bigger than her hand. “Are they dangerous?”

Tramp sniffed at the indentation, growled, and tracked an invisible trail into the brush.

“Once in a while you’ll hear of a cat attacking a human. But it’s rare.”

“That doesn’t exactly make me feel safe.”

He chuckled. “We’ll be fine.” He flicked the reins. “Let’s go, Lightning. Come on, Tramp.”

***

An hour later, they rode into a clearing. Mike slowed his horse. “This is it.” He dismounted.

Kate did the same.

Reins in hand, they stepped slowly toward the rocky rim of the canyon. Tramp lagged behind, pacing and whimpering.

Mike laughed at his dog. “This is my favorite hangout, but he doesn’t think much of it. Are you okay with heights?”

She hesitated. Maybe Tramp knew something she didn’t know. “I’ve never been this close to the edge of a canyon before.” She could hear water crash over the precipice.

“I’ll hold your hand—in case you start to feel lightheaded.” He grasped both sets of reins with one hand and took her hand with the other. They peered between two large boulders. Behind them, Tramp whined and the horses snuffled.

The stream they’d followed through the forest plunged over the edge and down the canyon wall. A rainbow hovered above the waterfall’s crest. Kate breathed in the crisp, invigorating smell of the mist and squeezed Mike’s hand. “It’s beautiful.” She leaned a little farther. “But I can’t see the bottom.”

“You can if you lie on the flat area.”

She pulled back. “I don’t want to see it that badly.”

He grinned. “It’s not as scary as it sounds. I’ll secure the horses and we can do it together.”

Kate wished she hadn’t mentioned seeing the bottom. But she was game to try—as long Mike stayed close.

She scratched Tramp’s back and watched Mike lead the horses to a wide spot in the stream where water pooled. She admired his confident and gentle manner with the horses. Even so, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hang over the edge of a cliff with him. But when he returned to her side with a look of anticipation, maybe even affection, she knew she couldn’t disappoint him. Still, she held back, though he took her hand again.

“It’ll be okay, I promise. Trust me.”

Trust him? She’d stopped trusting men long ago.

Chapter Fifteen

A BLUR OF LIGHTS
tangled with screams—hers.
Kate covered her face.

Mike grabbed her arms. “Kate, what’s the matter?”

“I …” She pressed her forehead with her fingers. “I fell off a balcony a long time ago—and landed on a car. Funny, it all came back to me just now.”

He sat back. “Were you hurt? I mean, are you okay now?”

She opened her eyes.

He looked flustered. “If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.”

She took a long breath. Her boyfriend, who turned paranoid every time he got high, had accused her of stealing his drugs and knocked her over the balcony of their third-floor apartment. She’d spent weeks in the county hospital recovering from the fall. But with nowhere else to go when she was released, she’d gone back to him and stayed with him until he kicked her out to make room for his pregnant mistress.

She swallowed. “I’d like to try.”

“We’ll take it slow and easy.” He led her to a slab of flat rock and sat down, laying his hat to the side. “We’ll go on all fours from here.” He laid his hat to the side.

Kate placed one knee on the warm rock, and then her hands and the other knee.
Help me, Jesus. I can’t do this without you
. Tramp yelped but kept his distance.

“You gonna be all right?”

She felt Mike’s hand on her shoulder and sat up, palms on her thighs. “A counselor once told me I have trust issues.” He didn’t need to know the counselor was a prison therapist. “Part of me says I have every reason to believe you’re the most reliable person in the world. But part of me says no one, not even God, could keep me from falling off the edge.”

Mike sat back, one knee raised. “You’re a braver person than I am.”

“You never act scared of anything.”

He was so quiet and his face had turned so serious, or sad—Kate couldn’t tell which, she feared she’d offended him.

Tramp scooted forward to rest his chin on the toe of Mike’s boot.

Mike stroked the bridge of his dog’s nose. “I suppose you could say I’m afraid I’ll mess things up for other people. I don’t trust
me
.”

Kate frowned. She had reason not to trust herself, but why did
he
feel that way?

He offered a wry smile. “I know—sounds crazy. But it’ll make sense when I tell you why. That is, if you want to hear. It’s not a pretty story.”

***

Seated on the ground, his back against a tree, Jerry Ramsey smoked a cigarette and swung his pistol between his knees. After waiting more than an hour, he still saw no sign of life in Neilson’s cabin, which was locked tight—the door
and
the windows.

Where could she have gone for so long without her car? He exhaled a stream of smoke. Probably took off with the jerk that chased him out of the cabin.

He pursed his lips around the cigarette, laid the gun down and cracked his knuckles. Neilson belonged to
him
, but she kept whoring around. That would stop once he had her back in Pennsylvania where she belonged. Where they both belonged.

He checked his watch. Although he could easily break into the cabin to wait for Neilson, the redhead wanted him to meet her at the Wild Bunch. He grabbed his weapon and stood, cursing under his breath, sick to death of her and her so-called
perfect plan
that was long on promises and short on details. But he needed a drink, so he’d play the game. This time.

The redhead had assured him Neilson would soon be his, once she took care of a few minor details, none of which she could
share
with him, of course.

But he was running out of time. He had to get himself and Neilson out of the state before his court date. Though all he’d done was have a few too many, he didn’t want to chance what some stupid judge might do to him if he hung around for the hearing.

Ramsey chewed a fingernail then squinted at it. He always felt better when it bled. He nibbled some more. Maybe the redhead could help him, maybe she couldn’t. But he’d had enough stalling. He was anxious to pair up with Neilson again. Things had been so good between him her when they first met. They were a good match, until she got pickled in religion. He’d pound that out of her. And he’d make her pay for aborting their baby.

He spat at a tree. He’d been abandoned, twice, when he was four. But at least his mother let him live. She’d had that much decency. The first time she gave him away, she woke him in the middle of the night to hand him to a man and woman whose breath sickened him the way hers did when she came home after dark.

The only thing he remembered about the couple’s house was the growling dog with the long dripping fangs. He shivered. They said he cried too much. But he couldn’t help it. He was terrified of the dog, and he wanted to go home.

They took him back the next day, but his mother didn’t care that he’d missed her, that he loved her, that the dog bit him. Instead, she slapped his face and said she’d teach him a lesson he’d never forget. Then she opened his little suitcase and turned it upside down, dumping the contents on the floor. She grabbed his favorite crayon, the brown one, from the pile and scribbled something on the top of a cardboard box and threw the crayon on the floor.

When it broke in half, he couldn’t keep from crying out. It was his best color.

She grabbed his shirt front and jerked him close. Her breath made him gag. “Today you get a new name, Chester.” That’s when she’d squinted at him, like she did when she was
really
mad. “What do you think of that?”

He didn’t answer, because he didn’t know what to say, and he knew she’d hit him if he said the wrong thing.

“You are no longer Chester. You are Gerald Ramsey.” She gripped his shoulders, her fingers drilling to his bones. “Do you understand?”

He didn’t understand but dared not admit it.

“Repeat after me—my name is Gerald Ramsey.”

Confused, he gawked at her.

She shook him, hard, and slapped him again. “Say it—my name is Gerald Ramsey!”

He repeated, “My name is Gerald Ramsey,” over and over as she demanded, “Tell me your name!” time after time after time.

Finally satisfied with his responses, she tossed two pairs of pants and three shirts into the box, leaving his coloring book, his crayons, and his stuffed rabbit on the floor. When he reached for the rabbit, she knocked it from his hand and yelled at him through clenched teeth. “
That’s
for cry-baby Chester.
You
are big-boy Gerald Ramsey.
Get in the car
.”

He remembered her neck muscles looking like stiff, bulging ropes.

Grinding the cigarette into the dirt with the heel of his boot, he relived the silent drive to the back entrance of a towering faded-brick building. He saw his mother reach across him to open the passenger door and heard her tell him to get out. When he hesitated, she pushed him out of the car and shoved the box with the scribbles across the seat. It had fallen onto the ground beside him.

“Time to grow up, Gerald Ramsey. Shut the door.” He got up and closed it, like she said, and she immediately drove away, without a wave or a backward glance. But before she exited the parking lot, she stopped the car, backed it to where he was standing, and rolled down the window.

He was reaching for the door handle to get inside when she yelled, “Be sure to tell them your name is Gerald Ramsey.” When she left that time, she didn’t return.

He never saw his mother again.

And he never cried again.

He hadn’t cried when the older orphans at St. Agatha’s Home for Children pinched him until his arms turned black and blue. He didn’t cry when they stole his food. He didn’t cry when they threw gravel at him on the slide and smashed him face-first in the snow.

He closed his eyes, breathing faster and faster.

He hadn’t cried when Neilson killed his baby and got him fired from Patterson. He’d see to it she paid for all the grief she’d caused him. And he’d make sure she had another baby.

And another.

And another.

Ramsey leaned against the tree, on the brink of passing out. He bit his tongue to slow his breathing. He didn’t know
why
it was important to have kid after kid. He couldn’t stand the brats. Maybe he just wanted to be able to say he had a family. He had the power to fill the world with Ramseys. And that’s what he’d do. After he had his way with Cara—or whatever her name was—like he’d done with the girls at St. Agatha’s—and the women at Patterson.

Swatting at the pest that buzzed his ear, he took one last look at the empty cabin. He’d return later. Just like the stupid mosquito, he’d be back.

***

Kate stretched her legs in front of her on the rock and waited for Mike to tell his story. But when she saw the muscles in his jaw spasm as he apparently searched for words, she touched his hand. “Hey. You don’t have to tell me.”

He rubbed his jaw. “Like you, I need to face my fears and my past.”

Her heart stopped. Did he know more about her history than she thought he knew? Or was he talking about what she’d just told him?

“The day Matt—my older brother—turned fifteen, he got his motorcycle license and bought a brand new Yamaha with money he’d saved for years.” Mike tilted his head. “You know I have a brother, right?”

“I’ve seen the pictures on your mom’s desk, but I just assumed the other boy was a cousin or close friend. Guess I didn’t think much about it.”

“Matt was born three years before me—my only sibling. Anyway, after he rode the bike around the ranch for three or four days, Dad said I could ride with him.” His gaze was distant.

Kate had a feeling his memories of riding the prairies with his big brother were still vivid.

“We had a lot of fun charging up and down hills and bumping across pastures. We were supposed to use ranch roads and stay off the highway. But it didn’t take us long to decide we needed to feel the speed and power we could only achieve on a paved road.”

He looked down, scratching at the rock with his fingernail. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

“Sounds like you were typical boys.”

“Yeah, but …” He shrugged and resumed his story. “We had a great time on the highway—the road in front of us and a big engine beneath us. The trees just flew by. Eventually, we realized we were a long way from home. Matt pulled onto a wide spot in the road to turn around. He was about to take off, when I asked if we could switch places.

“He said, ‘No way,’ but I begged and begged and promised to be careful. Although I was twelve at the time, he’d already let me ride the motorcycle by myself. When he finally gave in, he told me not to go too fast, that Dad would ground us both for the rest of our lives if I got a ticket.