Deadly Silence

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Hey, Casey!” Iris lifted her hand. “Time for a ride! I’m going out shortly to gather some flower essences up in the hills. Want to go with us?” She cackled and rubbed her hands together.

  “You bet I do, Iris,” Casey sang back. “I love to ride on a sunny morning like this.”

  Kam smiled, and gripped her cousin’s arm and whispered, “Grams has a suitor!”

  Brows raising, Casey said, “Are you serious?”

  “Humph,” Iris called from her desk, where she was finishing off a violet flower essence for an order. “Why can’t an eighty-something fall in love? You think we don’t have hearts that feel? You younguns make me laugh.”

  Turning, Casey walked with Kam over to the long wooden desk where Iris sat primly on her three-legged wooden stool. She had a green apron draped over her pink long-sleeved blouse and jeans. Her silver hair was piled on top of her head with several tortoiseshell combs. “Hey, I think that’s great,” Casey said.

  “He’s coming with us,” Kam said in a conspiratorial whisper.

  “Now,” Iris chided her granddaughter, wagging her finger in her face, “you just behave yourself, Missy! Professor Timothy Varden is a Harvard wildlife biologist.” Preening a little as she set the one-ounce eyedropper bottle into a nest of paper to protect it during shipment, she added saucily, “And he’s absolutely enamored with what I do. Making flower essences. He had no idea that they are an alternative medicine. Before, he just looked at a flower and could reel off its Latin name and tell me all about its anatomy.”

  Casey saw the elder’s eyes flash and gleam. Iris reminded her of an impish elf from Ireland just about ready to play a trick on some unsuspecting human. Iris was like that all the time: cagey and the sharpest knife in the drawer. “And what did you tell him?” Casey asked with a chuckle. Knowing full well Iris always told everyone what was on her mind without preamble, Casey waited. Of course, Iris had the richest and most powerful cattle ranch in Wyoming, and here in the valley, she and Rudd Mason, her adopted son, were the king and queen of the cattle ranches, so to speak. Best of all, they were nice people, unlike some of the power snobs Casey had met at Clarissa Peyton’s fete.

  Arching her thin brows, Iris said, “I knocked him off his feet!” She grinned like a coyote as the two young women stood near her hanging on her every word. Placing tape on the box, Iris found a label and pen. “Little did Tim know that violet here, for instance, is for a wounded heart. It helps a person get through their grieving. It doesn’t remove the grief, it just helps a person work through it better than they would without this dainty little flower’s energy.” She quickly wrote out the name on the label that she placed on the small, square cardboard box. Handing it to Kam, whose job it was to mail them every afternoon at the post office, Iris sighed. “He’s the first man I’ve met—except for my Trevor—who was sincerely fascinated by this discovery.”

  “I know he’s sweet on you,” Kam teased.

  “Oh, maybe.”

  Chortling, Kam said, “Grams, he absolutely dotes on your every word. Yesterday, when you told him at lunch you were going to make some flower essences out there in the hills, he was beside himself. He wants to learn what you do.”

  “Actually,” Casey said, “it sounds like kismet. He’s a plant lover. Why wouldn’t he be interested in what you know, Iris?”

  Giving a nod, Iris said, “That’s right, Casey. Like a good academician, Harvard-trained no less, he’s open-minded and curious about the plant world. He’s not one of these idiot men who thinks he knows everything and, therefore, is blind, deaf and dumb!” She scooted off her stool, pulled off her apron and dropped it on the desk. Standing barely five feet tall and slightly overweight, she rubbed her hands briskly together once more. “Okay, girls, let’s go a-flowering! Our horses await us over at the stable. Wes said he’d make sure all the flower-essence-making supplies would be in our saddlebags.”

  Kam picked up her tan Stetson from her desk and settled it on her head. She wore jeans, a red T-shirt and a denim jacket, because it was still chilly in the morning. “I’m ready, Grams!”

  Casey walked with the two women to the huge red barn. The Elk Horn Ranch was part dude ranch, but the greater part of it was devoted to raising organic buffalo and cattle meat for a growing market across the world. It had been Iris’s idea to start selling organic buffalo meat because it was so lean and could lower the cholesterol of a meat-eating person. Her idea, way ahead of her time, had taken off in 2000 and she had never looked back. It was a multimillion-dollar business now with half the ranch reserved for the shaggy buffalo and the other half to raising Here ford cattle.

  Wes, who was now the manager of the Elk Horn, stood with the reins of four horses in hand, smiling as they approached. The sun had just risen above the hills; a chill was still in the air, but the morning was fresh and promising. Casey saw a very tall, thin, bearded man in a floppy green canvas hat wearing gold wire-rimmed glasses hurrying toward them. On his back was a green knapsack. He was, she guessed, the wildlife biologist. His hair was shaggy and shone as silver as his neatly trimmed beard. Casey saw his blue eyes light up as he spotted Iris. There was no question this eighty-year-old man was interested in feisty Iris. When Casey looked toward Iris, she was glowing, her cheeks suddenly pink and her eyes dancing with happiness.

  Wes helped Iris into the saddle of her favorite horse, a small mustang. Fred, also a mustang, was Kam’s mount. For Casey, he’d chosen a black quarter horse gelding named Frank.

  “Iris, yoo-hoo,” Tim called, waving his hand as he hurried toward the group. “Don’t leave without me!”

  Kam traded a look with Casey. They moved their horses to one side as Wes held a tall, rangy half-thoroughbred quarter horse for the professor. “Is he always late?”

  Chuckling, Kam said, “Always. Maybe it has to do with him being the absentminded professor?” They both giggled. Iris, hearing the comment, raised one eyebrow as if to warn them to be kind to the professor who flapped toward them like a gangling bird on stilted legs ready to take off.

  “At eighty we are not absentminded!” Iris huffed. She pulled her horse around and scowled at them. “Now, I agree, our minds aren’t the same as you twentysomethings, but we have eighty years of experience under our belts which you do not have!” She lifted her chin to an imperious angle, just daring them to refute her statement. “And because of that, we deserve your undying and continual respect.”

  “Guilty as charged.” Casey laughed. Kam joined her.

  “You’re right, Grams.”

  “You bet your boots I am!” She turned, her focus to Tim, who was all smiles as he approached. He pulled some bedraggled flowers from the huge pocket of his green canvas coat.

  “Iris, these are for you,” he said, handing them to her. “I was on a walk before the sun came up and I saw these wonderful daisies and I just couldn’t resist them.”

  Touched, Iris took them. They were decidedly the worse for wear, their white-petaled heads drooping in her hand. “Tim, couldn’t you at least put them in some water? Why, these poor children are half-dead!”

  Chastened, Tim rubbed his hand across his bearded chin. “Why, Iris, you’re so right.” Then he gave her a boyish smile that made her glow. “You need to teach me about our plant neighbors. As a biologist, I pick them, I pull them apart to count petals, count stamens and such.”

  “Well,” she huffed, giving him a hard look, “these are my children, Professor. They are not to be treated as throwaways.” She waved the droopy flowers in his face.

  “Quite right,” Tim agreed apologetically. “Next time, I shall walk with a vase in my pocket and use the water from my bottle to give them sustenance.”

  “Still,” Iris murmured, pleased, “it’s a very thoughtful gift. Thank you, Tim.”

  Flushing, the biologist took off his floppy cap and bowed to her. “Anything for the Queen of Flowers…”

  Casey sighed inwardly. Tim was so knightly, a throwback to Victorian times. There was no
question he absolutely idolized the matriarch of the valley. And glancing over at Iris, who sat proudly on her mount looking down at him, she could see she was the queen. And he worshipped her.

  Sighing, Casey smiled over at Kam. Wes, too, was grinning. He helped the professor climb on board Lucky, a very quiet bay gelding who handled people who had never ridden a horse before. Tim was like a flapping crow, legs and arms akimbo as he struggled into the Western saddle. That endeared him to Casey.

  “Tim, you need riding lessons!” Iris rapped out smartly. “Wes, you need to get him in the riding ring or he’s gonna fall off sooner rather than later.”

  Wes tucked his smile away and said, “Yes, ma’am, I’ll do just that.”

  Straightening, his hat slipping over his glasses, Tim finally sat up with his boots thrust into the stirrups. “There, Iris! I’m aboard!” He pushed his beaten old hat up on his head and beamed over at her. “Do I not look like a knight in shining armor to you, now?” He raised his long arm in a flourish, taking a proud posture in the saddle.

  “You look more like Don Quixote to me,” Iris fumed, giving him a sad look and shaking her head. “Just try to stay on Lucky, okay? I don’t want to have to pick you up off the ground.”

  Chuckling, Tim moved his gelding next to Iris’s horse. “You just tell me what to do, my lady, and I’ll do it. How I love this country! Why, I’ve never felt so full of life as when I came here to your dude ranch. I’m glad my children pushed me into coming. You know,” he leaned over toward her and whispered, “this is their fault!”

  Iris said, “Fault? How is it a fault to come to the best dude ranch in the West?”

  Grinning and showing the gaps between his large front teeth, Tim said, “Oh, Iris, I’m not against dude ranches. It’s just that I was unhappy being in my Harvard office day in and day out. They know how much I love and revere nature.” He waved his hand around his head with a flourish as Iris led them past the corrals and onto one of the main trails that led to the hills about two miles away. “I just get soggy when I’m inside too much.”

  “Soggy?” Iris quipped, a devilish look in her eyes.

  “Well…er…you know.” Tim shrugged helplessly. “Soggy, as in depressed or sad. If I spend too many days inside, I just fall apart. Only nature can put me back together.” He suddenly grinned and swept his arm grandly across the vista in front of them. “This revives my spirit.” Then he became very sincere and added in a courtly manner, “But you feed my soul, Miss Iris.”

  “Humph.”

  Snickering, riding six feet behind the oldsters, Casey and Kam shared knowing looks. Casey leaned sideways to whisper to Kam, “We might be twentysomethings but we can still identify love, can’t we?”

  Giggling, Kam nodded.

  Iris turned in her saddle and gave them a merry look and then turned back to continue her conversation with Tim, who hung on her every word.

  Kam rolled her eyes and said nothing, her mouth wide in a smile of happiness. Casey shared her joy. They pulled back from the couple so they could talk to one another.

  “So, when did the professor get here?” Casey wondered.

  “Last week. He saw Grams and he fell all over himself. He was like a happy puppy dog around her. He’s like an ungainly bird flapping to take off, but he needs a long runway to do it.”

  Giggling, Casey nodded. Indeed, the coat the professor wore was sizes too large for him, so the corners of it flapped right along with his effusive use of his long, gangly arms. And the canvas hat that was probably like an old friend to him was equally floppy around his head. Between all these, Professor Timothy Varden reminded Casey of a great blue heron who was certainly awkward on the ground. Once in the air, however, the great blue heron was all grace, and Casey didn’t see that quality in the professor, which made him even more endearing. The man was not an egomaniac or a snob. Instead, he was like a curious little boy about everything. He constantly plied Iris with wonderful questions about her flower essences.

  “How do you know what they are good for?” Tim wondered.

  Iris gave him a flat, frustrated look. “I talk to them!”

  “Oh…er…you…talk to them, Miss Iris?”

  “Yes, don’t you hear them when you’re workin’ with ’em?”

  Tim sat up in the saddle contemplating her hurled question. Stroking his beard thoughtfully for a long moment, he finally admitted, “Why, I don’t believe I have ever heard a flower speak to me, Miss Iris. What does one sound like?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Timothy!” Iris spouted in disbelief. “Here you are, a world authority on plants, and you’ve never heard one speak to you? What kind of biologist are you?” She leered challengingly at him.

  His thick gray-and-black brows flew upward. “Why…Miss Iris…I guess I’m not a good biologist at all, then. How do you talk to them? I’m absolutely mesmerized by your skills.”

  Iris colored and preened in the saddle. “Well, there is a way to do it.”

  “Will you teach me? Please? I would give anything to hear a plant speak to me. Why, that would be earth-shaking!”

  “You got any Indian blood in you, Professor?” Iris demanded in a severe, assessing tone.

  “Er…why, no…no I don’t.” He gave her puppy-dog look of surrender. “I’m afraid I’m boringly Irish and English is all. Does that mean I can’t talk with a plant?”

  Waving her hand, Iris said, “Oh, it’s a hurdle to be jumped but anyone can learn to communicate with a plant.”

  Lively in his saddle and barely able to sit still, Tim said, “That’s wonderful news, Miss Iris! What language do they speak? Is it English? Or do they have their own secret language that I must learn?”

  “Humph! Professor, if you don’t sit quietly in that saddle, you’re gonna make Lucky think he wants you to run him. Now, I suggest you sit still for starters.”

  Chastened, Tim stopped flapping his arms and legs. “Of course, Miss Iris.”

  She gave him a long, steely look. “And just for your information, plants do not speak English! How could they?” She patted her heart beneath her coat. “Plants speak from the heart, Professor. That is the only language they know.”

  Giving her a crestfallen look, Tim stammered, “But what is the language of the heart, Miss Iris?”

  Groaning and shaking her head, Iris muttered, “Professor, you’re such a greenhorn! You’ve lived your whole life in the plant world and you don’t have a clue about them!”

  “But,” he rallied, giving her a warm smile, “you will fill in that gap for me, won’t you?”

  Casey squelched a laugh. Kam gave her a merry look. They weren’t hanging far enough back that they couldn’t hear the spirited conversation in front of them as the horses clip-clopped along the muddy trail. Turning to her cousin, Casey said, “When does the professor leave?” She knew the dude-ranch programs were five days long.

  “Oh, he’s signed up for a second week to hang around Grams,” Kam said. “He called Harvard and is now on sabbatical. I think he’s looking to rent a condo in Jackson Hole so he can stay here to be with her.”

  Casey nodded. The two elders were having a wonderful, spirited conversation. They were animated, engaged, and their attraction was palpable to anyone who had a pair of eyes in their head. “Well, Iris could let him rent one of the cabins here on the ranch.”

  Kam smiled. “I think what will happen is, since our wedding is a week away, Iris will invite the professor to stay on. She can easily rent him one of the dude cabins.”

  Pressing her hand to her heart, Casey said, “Isn’t love wonderful?”

  Nodding, Kam said, “Yes. A rocky road to get to it,” she murmured, remembering her own hurdles and challenges when she’d first came here to the ranch to find her father, Rudd Mason. “Love has a strange way of showing up just when you don’t expect it.” Motioning to the twosome in front of them, Kam added, “And look at Grams. Her husband, Trevor, died five years ago of a sudden heart attack. She was absolutely lost witho
ut him. And when I got here, she could do nothing but bring up his name, and I could see her loneliness.”

  “Yes, but things have taken a turn,” Casey said, gesturing to floppy Tim. “Iris really likes him, don’t you think?”

  “I’ve never seen her so animated. Or so happy.” Tears came to Kam’s eyes for a moment. “Iris truly deserves this. I know my dad is thrilled pink. This takes away some of the grief and guilt he’s feeling about his two stepchildren, who have sided with his wife, Allison, who is in jail. The children refuse to come out here or have anything to do with him, yet Rudd has given them everything. Right now, Zach is into drugs. He’s hooked on cocaine, according to the police. He’s been in and out of jail twice, and to rehab twice. It hasn’t done any good. And Reagan…well, I don’t know what’s going on with her. She’s walked away from a rare directing scholarship with a California university to stay here with her mother.”

  “I heard Reagan is viciously gossiping about you, your dad and Iris.”

  Mouth turning thin, Kam nodded. “Reagan is spreading all kinds of vile lies about us. She blames all of us for her mother’s problems.”

  Snorting, Casey said, “Allison put out a contract on you and Iris. If Wes hadn’t stopped the hit man in time, you would all be dead. She got what she deserved.”

  “My father is twisted in knots over it, Casey. I wish…I wish I could take away some of his pain he’s feeling.”

  “You do,” Casey whispered, giving her cousin a warm look. “He’s found his daughter and I know he’s happy that you’re in his life.”

  Kam tried to smile but failed. “I feel the same about him, Casey. I guess they’re going to stick with their mother through thick or thin, even if she doesn’t deserve their blind loyalty.”

  “You can’t blame them,” Casey agreed, “but the gossip they’re spreading is awful.”

  Grimly, Kam said, “Neither of them are up to any good. Zach, who’s a geek, is spending all his time at Brick’s Game Room. I don’t know if you know it or not, but there’s a lot of drug traffic in that place. Rudd’s worried about Zach. The police have been trying for years to catch Brick’s employees dealing drugs, but so far, they haven’t been able to. If they could, they would shut that nest of drug dealers down for good.”