Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel) (30 page)

“It was for a while, but now it’s gone.” Tara sniffed. “So I went looking for her.”

“Do you go to the ranch every day to check?”

“No. I have my sources.”

Oh, yeah. Her so-called sources.

She rubbed at her mascara-smeared eyelids. A diamond he hadn’t noticed before sparkled, reflecting the fluorescent light. She sniffed again. “I know where she is.”

He straightened and rubbed his back.

“I went there today and was threatened …” Her voice rose. “Threatened by an old woman who treats me like
trash
every time I see her. I
hate
her.” A sob rippled her lips. “She tried to shoot my—my butterflies.” Tara slapped a hand across her cleavage and dropped her chin to her chest. Tears dripped onto the fingerprint-smudged ledge.

“Where were you? Is the old lady some kind of guard or what?”

Tara lifted her streaked face. “It’s a house not far from Copperville. Dymple lives there, Dymple Forbes. She wouldn’t let me inside. I’m sure your lover heard every word we said.”

Neilson living with another helpless old woman. Finally, some good news. “Did you see her car?”

She wiped hair away from her wet face. “No, but I
know
she’s there.” A sob convulsed her chest. “She’s friends with that old biddy.”

Hmm. He’d check the phonebook. Couldn’t be anybody else in that hick town with a name like that. “What did you say her last name is again?”

“Forbes. Why do you want to know?”

“I hired a lawyer today who’s going to get me out of this hole. When he does, I’ll pay Neilson and her old lady friend a little visit.”

“Oh, Jer …” She leaned toward him, fingernails against the glass. “I thought we were a team—in this together.”

“In what together?”

She regarded him from beneath arched eyebrows. “You and I are
good
together. I have plans. You could join me.” She puckered her lips and batted her barely adhered eyelashes. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Here she goes again.
But he had to admit he was curious. Plus, he’d like to get his hands on that rock on her finger. Had to be worth several grand. He was tired of messing with Neilson. Trina, or whatever her name was, was more his style. Still, his Pittsburgh woman would suffer the consequences for the misery she’d heaped on his head.

***

Kate reached for the cranberry juice Dymple had just poured for her. “Thanks, Dymple. Isn’t this a gorgeous morning?” The sun was shining and a warm breeze tinted with traces of lilacs and sweet peas perfumed the patio.

“That it is.” Dymple set the pitcher on the table and sat across from Kate. “Are you feeling better this morning?”

“Much better. Thanks for making me eat lunch after the Tara incident yesterday. I think it helped me sleep. I don’t know how many hours I slept, but I didn’t wake up until I heard the birds chirping this morning.”

“I checked on you a couple times, but you didn’t even stir.”

Kate bit into a toasted English muffin spread with real butter and Dymple’s homemade chokecherry jelly. “This is fabulous jelly, Dymple. If they have chokecherries in Pennsylvania, I never heard of them. Maybe it’s because I lived in the city.”

“Chokecherries are mostly seed and too sour to eat in their natural state. At least that’s how most folks feel about them. But with plenty of sweetener, they make good jelly—and syrup and wine. Years ago, someone dubbed my wine
Dymple’s Delight
, and the name stuck.” She slid her chair back. “I’ll bring you a sample.”

Kate motioned for her to stay seated. “It sounds delicious, but I don’t usually have wine with breakfast. Besides, it might interact with my meds in ways you wouldn’t appreciate.”

“I’ll have to take you chokecherry picking later in the summer. Sometimes I go alone, and sometimes I go with women from the church. We have a grand old time laughing and gabbing.”

“I would love that, if …” Kate looked away.

Dymple waggled a finger at her. “I know what you’re thinking.
If
you’re still here,
if
you don’t go to jail,
if
you can walk. I know it’s hard not to have a sense of what the future holds, but how about living one day at a time? There’s a scripture that says, ‘This is the day the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it.’ I learned long ago that my thoughts get out of control when I think too hard about what
might
or
might not
happen.”

“Okay. This is a wonderful day, a
fabulous
day. I will enjoy every moment, starting with another muffin with lots of jelly.”

“That’s my girl.” Dymple passed the muffins. “Would you care to go over to the cemetery with me this morning?”

“I’d love to. But will I be able to use my wheelchair? I’d hate to make tread marks across someone’s grave.”

Dymple laughed. “That won’t happen unless you wander off the path.”

***

Tired by the effort it took to roll her chair to the cemetery, Kate parked under the shade of a wide tree to catch her breath and rest her arms. She watched Dymple hobble around the grounds. In spite of her stiff joints, the elderly woman bent low to pick up errant plastic blossoms and reached high to snap off straggly branches.

Kate lifted her hair to cool her neck. Would she be as active and gracious as Dymple and Aunt Mary when she was older? Would she have a garden to tend? Or would she spend her latter years surrounded by razor wire? She shook her head. She would not think about the future—only about today, this beautiful day. And how good it had been to talk with Aunt Mary and Amy yesterday.

She waved to Dymple and called her name. “I’m going to the church for a few minutes, if that’s okay.”

“Of course. Just don’t wear yourself out.”

Kate entered Highway Haven House of God through the side door, which had only a single step to negotiate. Using the railing, she pulled herself upright then stood on one foot while she rolled the chair up the step. She hopped inside, leaning on the wheelchair back for support. The first thing she noticed was the collection box at the far end of the room.

Kate winced. She must have looked like a deer caught in headlights, guilt written across her face, when Dymple first saw her. A lot of horrible things had happened since that day, but she was glad she didn’t run away, and glad she’d met Dymple-with-a-Y Louise Forbes.

The rustic chapel’s peaceful atmosphere hadn’t diminished. She angled herself onto a front pew with her feet stretched out before her, her back to the door she’d just entered. Enveloped in a warm shaft of sunshine, she felt wrapped in love, cocooned by her Savior’s goodness.

“Lord,” she whispered, “I thought I finally had my life under control when I walked in here a few weeks ago. But it only took moments before I blew it again. And things went downhill from there. I don’t want to dwell on the past or the future, because I’m loving this moment. Thank you for allowing me to enjoy another day on the outside.

“But I’m
terrified
of going back to prison. Something inside me says if I return, I’ll never leave. That may not be true, but if nothing else, it would break Aunt Mary’s heart.

“Help me trust that you have a purpose for my life and believe you’ll make this craziness turn out for good. And please don’t let Ramsey harm Dymple. If he comes for me—or I should say, ‘when he comes for me,’ I won’t be able to protect her, so you’ll have to do it.”

She thought of the only service she’d been able to attend at Highway Haven and remembered the beautiful sound of the congregation singing
How Great Thou Art
. She began to sing the song, grateful she was alone in the chapel.

She had just concluded the first verse, when a male voice joined hers.

Kate stopped singing and turned her head.

Pastor Chuck and his wife, Wanda, walked in the back door. He motioned for Kate to continue. Together, the three of them sang to the ceiling and beyond. The song resonated between the rafters until they sang the final chorus and Chuck said, “Amen.”

Wanda sat on the other end of the pew, her arms full of banners. “You’re looking better than when we last saw you. How are you feeling?”

The kind couple had visited Kate twice in the hospital. She appreciated Wanda’s sweet spirit and enjoyed her husband’s dry humor. “Today is a good day. I slept a lot yesterday, which seemed to help. I haven’t had to take a single pain pill today.”

“Good for you. But don’t try to be Superwoman. Take the pills if you need them. My mother, who was a nurse, always said we relax when the pain diminishes, and that helps the healing.” She rested an elbow on the pew back. “I’m sorry we interrupted your private moment. We came to decorate the chapel for the Fourth.”

Chuck, who stood nearby, folded his arms. “I’m not sorry.”

Wanda frowned at her husband. “Chuck, you don’t mean that.”

“Weren’t you just stewing about how we need to find a soprano for the Fourth?”

“Yes, but what does …?” She raised her eyebrows and looked at Kate. “Oh, I see what you mean.”

Kate looked from Wanda to Chuck. “What are you two talking about?”

“Sorry.” Wanda patted her leg. “We’ve been wondering where we could find a soprano for the parade. Wendy, our regular singer, will be out of town that weekend.”

“Parade?”

“Every Fourth of July, Copperville hosts an old-fashioned Independence Day celebration. We have a parade in the morning, games, contests and races in the afternoon, and fireworks at night. People come from all over. Everybody has a great time.”

“Most of the businesses and community groups enter floats.” Chuck leaned against the altar. “Some of them are exotic. Ours will be simple this year, featuring the music of our church band.”

“But we need another vocalist.” Wanda smiled. “You have a beautiful voice, Kate. Would you consider singing with the band? It would just be for the Fourth, that’s all.”

“I’m honored you asked, but I doubt I’ll be out of my wheelchair by then or off …” She hated to mention her house arrest, even to a pastor and his wife.

“We’ll nail a chair to the truck bed.” Chuck wielded an invisible hammer. “You can sit the whole way.”

Wanda laughed. “Which won’t be far. If you’ve driven Copperville’s main drag, you know it’s short. Several years ago, the committee decided to have the parade move from one end of town to the other then turn around and go back again. It’s humorous but fun to see both sides of the floats.”

Chuck grinned. “And the kids get to chase another round of candy in the street.”

The couple looked at Kate with such expectation she almost agreed to sing, but she knew she couldn’t commit without permission from the Sheriff’s Department. “Can I let you know later?”

“Yes, but please call me as soon as possible.” Wanda stood. “Our only practice is scheduled for a week from Thursday. We’d love to have you join us.”

“Just one practice?”

“Is that a problem?”

Kate felt her face grow warm. “I don’t know many religious songs.”

“You probably know patriotic songs.” Chuck straightened and placed his hand over his heart. “
America the Beautiful, God Bless America, The Star-Spangled Banner
…”

“I do, but—”

Wanda nodded. “That’s the kind of songs we’ll be singing. Maybe
This Land Is Your Land
and a contemporary song or two.”

“We sang all those in my school choir.” And the juvenile correctional facility choir, and the jail choir, and the prison choir ...

***

One phone call from Dymple to Sheriff Gilmer cleared the way for Kate to join the band practice, sing on the parade float and attend the July Fourth festivities. Though Dymple acted as if Kate had been asked to perform for the president, Kate had a feeling she’d be the Pennsylvania fool on display, the talk of the town. “Just about the time the WP’s cash was stolen,” they’d say, “Kate Neilson dropped out of sight. Now she’s back, trying to look religious by singing on a church float. Can you believe the nerve?”

They wouldn’t understand, as usual. Yet, a voice deep within seemed to say, “Go ahead, Kate. Show up and watch me work.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

“HEY, GUYS.” WANDA MOTIONED
toward Kate. “In case you haven’t met her, this is Kate Neilson. With a little arm twisting, she agreed to join us on the parade.”

“Looks like you twisted her leg, not her arm.” The grinning bass player threaded his way between cables to shake her hand. “You’re a saint to help us out, Kate, especially with your leg in a cast. “I’m Jackson.”

Kate took his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

The drummer raised a drumstick above his head. “I’m Monty. Are you the gal who got attacked by a wolf pack?”

Kate glanced at Mike.

His back to her, he bent down to plug in a speaker.

She swallowed the hurt. “Some wolves attacked Mike’s dog, but not me.”

“So what happened to your leg?”

Before Kate could answer, Wanda said, “You’re sure nosy tonight, Monty.”

“Just curious.”

Kate laughed. “It’s a long story, but the short version is that I was thrown off a horse.”

“At the Whispering Pines?”

“Right.”

They all looked at Mike, who shrugged his shoulders. “Can we get this show on the road?”

Her heartbeat slowed to a dull thump. Mike didn’t want anything to do with her. He’d only called once since the day he left Dymple’s house mad. She’d tried to explain her situation, but she’d bungled it and he’d quickly ended the call. Later, she’d left a message for him on the office answering machine. But he’d never returned her call.

She sighed. He’d probably learned about her past from Tara. She maneuvered her chair through the maze of microphones and music stands, biting her lip to keep from crying.

Mike’s stiff shoulders throughout the long practice broadcast the barrier between his heart and hers. Kate angled her wheelchair another direction in order to concentrate on the music. The moment the practice ended, she rolled toward the door, calling her goodbyes over her shoulder. Wanda helped her lower the chair down the side step.