Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel) (37 page)

“And they’d never lack for fresh meat.” He reached for the whiskey beside the bed. Maybe next time he’d buy a rifle instead of a handgun.

“Meaning …?”

“They’ll eat all those fancy animals of yours, and there won’t be anything left to hunt.”

Tara shrugged her shoulders. “Daddy will figure something out.”

“Back to this plan of yours.”

Taking the whiskey jug from him, she opened it and poured some in a paper cup. “First of all, I have to marry Michael.”

He stared at the diamond on her left hand. “What does he have to do with this?”

“We need an office where guests can check in and where staff can work. All Daddy and I have right now is a house, a small barn and a couple sheds—plus a whole lot of land.”

She handed him the cup and poured some for herself. “We need cabins for lodging as well as a dining hall, a big barn, stalls and corrals. Our ranch is next door to the Whispering Pines, which makes for a perfect merger. We would, of course, change the name. Daddy wants to call it
Hughes Big Game Ranch
. She frowned. “But the Duncans won’t sell. Daddy has asked, again and again, but they won’t even look at an offer. So, the obvious solution is for me to marry Michael.”

Ramsey took a long swig from the cup. “How can I be your partner if you’re married to him?”

“You’ll have to hide out in the hills until the heat dies down. Eventually, we’ll make you ranch manager.” She winked.

He pursed his lips.
Jerry Ramsey, Ranch Foreman
. Sounded good, but he was getting sleepy.

“Before that, you’d have to do your part.”

“What’s that?”

“Make sure your friend Nielson is out of the picture.”

“What does she have to do with your plans?”

“Everything.”

He peered at her through narrowed eyes. “Meaning ...”

“Meaning she’s after Michael in a big way.”

“Are you sure?” Even if he didn’t want Neilson anymore, the thought of her whoring around infuriated him.

She nodded.

“Do you know where she is?”

“We’ll find her.”

“What do you expect me to do with her?”

“Whatever it takes to get her out of my life.”

“Before or after I move to the cabin?”

“Before you move to the cabin and after I bleach your hair.”

He involuntarily touched his head. “No you won’t.”

Tara took his cup. “You’re a wanted man, Jer. You need a new look and a new name.”

Another name change. Who was he, really? Not a ranch foreman, yet. And no longer a correctional officer. He was a rolling stone, a drifter, a rambling kind of cowboy now that he was out west. Was there a name that fit him? Maybe he should go back to his birth name, if only he could remember what it was. He could hear his mother’s voice calling
Chester
. But Chester what? Did he have a middle name? Or a last name?

Ramsey belched and adjusted a pillow. “You said there were
two
glitches in your plan. What’s the other one?”

“My soon-to-be mother-in-law.”

“What’s the deal with her?”

“I’m afraid she’ll negatively influence Michael when we get ready to combine ranches.”

“So you want both her and Neilson out of your hair.”

“You’ve got the picture.”

It was too much to think about when he was so tired. “Get the drugs.”

***

Blinded by the morning sunlight, it took a moment for Mike to realize it was Bernard Caldwell who stood at the lobby door with another officer. Maybe he should start charging them for time on his property, like he charged the guests.

Bernard held up a piece of paper. “Warrant to search the ranch for illegal substances.” The other deputy stood to the side, one hand hovering above the butt of his gun.

Mike stared at Bernard. How did he pull that off?

As if reading his mind, Bernard smirked. “The new county judge was none too happy to learn we found drugs in one of your cabins. Said they’d found too many stashes in the backwoods of New Hampshire, where he hails from. He plans to nip drug dealing in the bud in Carbon County.”

Mike sighed and motioned them into the lobby. “Mind telling me the reason you’re starting here?” He opened the door that led to their living quarters.

Bernard grunted. “Oh, just a little bit of detective work. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about tire tracks and boot prints at Dymple Forbes’s place, would you?” He didn’t give Mike a chance to answer. Instead, he looked at his bare feet. “I’ll need your boots.”

“What am I supposed to wear?”

Bernard shrugged, the sneer on his lips matching the arrogant lift of his eyebrow. “Try slippers. They’re perfect for sloshing through manure.”

Mike clenched his fists. “First bedroom on the left, in the closet.” With any luck, Bernie wouldn’t find the pair he’d left on the back porch the night before.

Laura walked from the office to stand behind the counter. “Good morning, gentlemen. What brings you here so early in the morning?”

The deputies mumbled a short greeting before walking down the hallway into their home.

Mike picked up a leaf that dropped from one of their boots. “They have a warrant to search for drugs, the illegal type.”

“Where did they get the idea we have illegal substances?”

He rubbed his temples. It was hard to sort things out, but if he didn’t tell his mom what was going on, someone else would. God only knew how fast word might spread that the Whispering Pines was a drug haven—and he was a Peeping Tom. But maybe he wouldn’t tell her that part, just yet.

***

Jerry Ramsey awoke feeling better and stronger than he had in days. By the time Tara arrived with orange juice and cereal, he’d washed his face, combed his hair and changed into his own clothing.

She sat across from him at the two-person table in the corner. “You look better this morning.”

“I thought of a way to find Neilson.”

“Really?”

“We can do it from right here.”

She shook cereal into their bowls then added milk. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“How?” She poured him a cup of juice.

“GPS. Bring me my computer.”

***

Kate and Dymple stepped out of the Rawlins clinic into the sunshine.

Kate pointed to her legs. “Doesn’t that look funny? One brown leg and one white one.”

Dymple laughed. “Like a dog I used to have.” She squeezed Kate’s arm. “Congratulations, sweetie. The doctor upgraded you to crutches and a shorter cast, all in one day.”

“It feels good to stand and to be able to bend my knee. Just don’t let me trip you with my crutches. It’ll take me a while to get the hang of using these things.”

“Do you still want to drive by the Sheriff’s Department?”

“I’m curious to see where they put my car. And if my boxes are still inside.”

Dymple drove the few blocks to the county buildings. “I think the impound area is on the other side.” She turned the corner. “There it is.”

Staring at the cars behind the chain-link fence, Kate was startled when Dymple shoved her shoulder. “Get down.”

She did her best to disappear from view as Dymple swung the Jeep in a quick U-turn, zipped around the block and stopped under a tree.

Kate sat up. “What was that all about?”

“I saw Tara Hughes’s Hummer. Couldn’t tell if she was in it.”

“Does she have the only yellow Hummer in the state?”

“Probably not, but I bet she has the only one with a license plate that says
Sexy
.” Dymple glanced in the rearview mirror. “Did you see your car?”

“I think so, but things happened so fast, I’m not positive it was mine. What do you think Tara is doing at the jail? Visiting Ramsey?”

Dymple eyed the mirror. “Duck!” She grabbed a map from the door pocket.

Chapter Thirty-One

TRAPPED BY THE JAMMED
driver’s-side door, Mike waited behind the wheel while Clint helped the Curtis twins climb out of Old Blue.

Buck Cunningham, dressed in camouflage fatigues and combat boots, had ridden in Clint’s truck and was already out assessing the bison closest to the fence.

The mammoth bovines lifted their shaggy heads to study their visitors.

Clint steadied Mamie on the ground.

She gripped his arm. “Why did we stop where there aren’t very many buffalo?”

He reached for her sister’s hand. “I picked these cows because they’re separate from the main body of the herd. We don’t want gunshots to disturb the others.”

Minnie stepped down.

He went on. “They’re near the fence, and they don’t have calves at their sides. That will make it easier for you to aim at one animal without others getting in the way of your shot. Plus, it’s safer to shoot from outside the fence than inside.”

Minnie and Mamie glanced at each other, relief obvious in their exchange.

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.”