Wannabe in Wyoming (Antelope Rock Book 1)

by J. B. Havens

  Howard got right down to business. “The will is pretty straight forward. Your father left you this house, the surrounding land, twelve-hundred acres, and all his assets. You’re his only living heir. The estate includes the remaining twenty head of cattle and two horses Jason owned at the time of his death, which are being temporarily cared for at the neighboring JP Ranch. I also have an offer for their purchase from Jeremiah Urban, who owns the JP. If you don’t wish to sell them, he’ll transport them back here for you when you’re ready for them. Personally, I’d recommend selling them to him. This place isn’t in good enough shape to house, care, and feed one cow let alone twenty steers and a couple of horses, if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “Is his price fair? I know the difference between a cow and a heifer, a steer and a bull, but that’s the extent of my knowledge.”

  He nodded. “Yes, his price is more than fair. Especially considering he’s been caring for them along with his own herd for some time now, even before your father’s death. If you need me to, I can have my paralegal do some quick research and show you the current market value, so you can compare them to his offer.”

  She appreciated that he didn’t seem to want her to get stiffed due to the fact she had no idea what the cattle and horses were worth. “Okay, yes, that’s fine—thank you. Does he need to meet with me?” She lifted her elbows off the table where they’d been resting, grimacing as they stuck slightly to the surface. “And I’m going to need some directions to the nearest furniture store and grocery store.” She waved a hand, gesturing around the room. “Do these appliances even work?”

  “I think so, although the stove and washer/dryer in the mud room might be unplugged. I also have the number for a local, reputable contractor who can come out and give you an estimate on the repairs to the house.”

  “Thanks. Looks like I’m going to spend a good part of tomorrow on the phone.”

  He chuckled lightly. “Probably. Let’s get these forms taken care of, and I’ll leave you to it.” Flipping open the folder, he handed her a pen and showed her where to start signing her name or initials.

  Twenty minutes later, she stood alone in the filthy living room of her new house, a folder of documents clutched in her hand, including a long list of names and phone numbers for services she’d be needing. First things first though, she needed to check the place out and make a list of what she’d need at the store. The line of zeros in her new bank account gave her a sense of freedom she’d never had before. It wasn’t to the point she’d never have to work again, but she was still in shock over the windfall. What a novelty, not worrying about paying rent or waiting for her next paycheck to roll around so she could buy food for the week. She glanced around, trying to decide if she should sell the place or keep it. She wasn’t sure and wouldn’t rush to make a decision either way.

  “What the hell have I gotten myself into?” Jerking open curtains and windows, she got to work.

  Chapter Two

  With a massive grocery list in hand, Willow headed into town in her father’s late-model, Ford F-350. It was in much better condition than her Chevy and had a full tank of gas. She’d found the keys to it hanging on a hook by the front door and saw no reason why she shouldn’t make use of the nicer vehicle. She slightly hated that it was a Ford, but she wasn’t about to argue with a free truck, even if she cringed a little when she started it the first time. After driving Chevys all her life, it felt like a betrayal to drive anything else, especially something from their biggest competitor.

  Her first stop was the cemetery behind the local Protestant church, where Howard had said her father's grave was. For some strange reason, Jason had demanded he be buried without a public funeral and before Willow had been notified of his death. Apparently, he’d paid the church and a funeral home for the grave and their services several years ago. On one hand, she was grateful she hadn’t had to plan a funeral and a burial for a man she’d never met, but on the other hand, she was kind of peeved he hadn’t wanted anything to do with her, even in death. It made her wonder why he’d left her his estate instead of donating it to a charity or something. If he had, she would’ve spent the rest of her life never knowing who he was.

  It didn’t take her long to find the fresh grave with a small marker bearing her father’s name, the dates of his birth and death, and the name of the funeral home who’d taken care of the burial. No flowers or mementos had been left on his final resting place, like many of the others around it, and Willow was surprised to feel regret about not bringing anything. The grave was also one of only a few without a headstone, and she wondered if that was something else her father had pre-arranged. She remembered from when she’d interred her mother in a mausoleum at a cemetery that she’d been told it was common to wait a full year before erecting a stone or plaque in memory of a loved one.

  Pulling out her phone, she made a note to contact the funeral home and find out if a headstone had been paid for yet. If not, she would arrange to have one made, since it was the least she could do after her father had left her everything he’d owned.

  After paying her respects, her next stop was the bank Jason had used. Thankfully, Howard had been nice enough to inform the manager she’d be in today to fill out some forms, order new checks, and get a new debit card connected to the accounts she’d inherited. She’d found her father’s wallet in what had obviously been his bedroom, but the two credit cards and one bank card in it were obviously in his name. Howard had given her copies of her father’s death certificate and some paperwork saying she had power of attorney to deal with any accounts her father still had open at the time of his death. The ranch had only a moderate mortgage still left on it, which she could easily make payments on for the foreseeable future, and he hadn’t left any other outstanding debts, for which she’d been grateful. One less thing to take care of.

  Aside from the funny looks she’d gotten from the bank manager, clerks, and a few customers, the errand had been quick and relatively painless. It was evident she was going to stick out like a sore thumb in this tiny town, and she got the feeling that wasn’t going to be a good thing.

  She crossed the street to the grocery store where she’d parked her car earlier and grabbed a cart. She couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the name of the place. The Pack & Sack was apparently Antelope Rock’s only supermarket—if you could even call it that. There was nothing “super” about it, considering it was about one-third the size of the Wegmans Willow used to shop at in Philadelphia. However, Howard had assured her they would carry some of what she needed to get started on the housecleaning, and she could get a few more things at Ducky’s Feed & Supply store up the street. Anything else would have to wait for a trip to the nearest Walmart which was about a forty-minute drive away in Ferndale.

  As she strolled up and down the aisles, filling her cart with food, cleaners, and other stuff on her list, she garnered a few more weird looks. Was it the tattoos and her pink hair or the fact she was a stranger? The first person who didn’t stare at her like she was an alien from another galaxy was a guy in aisle four, stocking the shelves with canned vegetables. In his late teens, he was tall and skinny, with dark hair sticking out in all directions. A red Pack & Sack vest covered a white T-shirt over a pair of baggy jeans and sneakers. He did a double take when he first saw her, then his eyes widened. “Wow, awesome ink—I love your sleeve.” He took a step closer and gestured to her tattoos. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all,” she said with a smile, as she extended her arm for him to get a better look, rotating it slowly, so he could see all the facets of the intricate designs.

  “Wow, this is sick! I mean, it’s awesome! Who did the work?”

  “A guy back in Philadelphia. I just moved here from there.”

  His face fell for a moment before he went back to studying her tattoos in awe. “Damn. I was hoping the artist was local. My buddy got one last month, and between you and me, it was a shitty job.”

  “What are you
thinking of getting?”

  He shrugged. “Haven’t decided yet. I have to wait at least seven more weeks until I turn eighteen. My mom won’t let me get one until then. I think she’s hoping I’ll forget about it, but I’ve been saving up for one. I just need to find someone better than the guy who did Bubba’s.”

  Willow held in a bark of laughter, but only barely. “Um, is that a nickname or do people really name their kids Bubba around here?”

  The young man chuckled. “Some people might, but in his case, his real name’s Bobby, but everyone’s called him Bubba since he was little. I’m Cody Moore by the way.”

  He extended his hand which she shook. “Willow Crawford—it's nice to meet you, Cody.”

  “Same here. So, what made you move from a big city to this hick town?”

  Before she had a chance to respond, an obnoxious male voice boomed from behind her. “Cody, quit yer yappin’ and get back to work. Those shelves ain’t gonna stock themselves.”

  Willow turned to see a heavyset, balding man striding towards them. The blue tie he wore, over a white button-down shirt, barely extended past the start of his swollen beer belly. He was red-faced and sweating, even though it was a comfortable sixty-five degrees or so in the store. The name tag above his left chest pocket read “Al Sanders, Manager”.

  “Sorry, Mr. Sanders, I—”

  Not wanting Cody to get into trouble, Willow cut him off. “He was just telling me what aisle the aspirin was in for this headache I suddenly have.” She smiled at the teen. “What aisle was it again?”

  The look he shot her said he was grateful for her attempt to appease his boss. “Uh, aisle seven, Ms. Crawford. Let me know if you have trouble finding anything else.”

  “Thank you, Cody. You’ve been very helpful.” She bit her tongue against saying anything rude to the manager and gave him a forced smile as he eyed her hair and tattoos. As she began to push her cart away, she added, “Have a nice day, gentlemen.”

  Twenty minutes later, her cart was overflowing with bags as she steered it toward the exit. In between the interior and exterior sliding doors, there was a large community cork board where it seemed anyone could post announcements, business cards, lost and found flyers, and more. She paused and let her gaze scan them. Someone’s cat named Muffin was missing, and another person’s dog had puppies and they were free to good homes. A teenage girl was looking for a babysitting job. There was an announcement for that week’s Women’s Club meeting, and another for an upcoming book fair at the town’s library. A notice from the local American Legion Hall caught her eye.

  Pen Pals Wanted:

  Any Soldier, Inc.

  The members of our armed forces would love to hear from you. The mission of Any Soldier, Inc. is to connect our deployed soldiers with people back home willing to write to them and send care packages when appropriate. Receiving mail greatly affects the morale of any soldier. Go to our website to be connected to a soldier in need today . . .

  She finished reading the flyer and smiled. Back when she’d been in fourth grade, her class had adopted a soldier who’d been serving overseas. The students had sent him written letters and a care package twice a month during the school year, and their teacher would read his replies to them. Even though he would write one long letter to the entire class as often as he could, he’d taken the time to mention each of the students and comment about something from the individual messages they’d written to him. Two weeks before school ended, he’d come home from his deployment and surprised the class with a visit and a pizza party. Staff Sergeant Greg Sweeney—that’d been his name. Wow, she hadn’t thought about him in years. She remembered he’d said their letters had meant the world to him while he’d been away from his friends and family. Every time his name had been announced during mail call, it’d felt like he’d won the lottery when he received one of the class’s care packages filled with things to make his week a little brighter.

  Willow didn’t have a pen and pad handy, so she pulled out her phone and snapped a photo of the flyer. Maybe after she was done with the massive cleanup job she was facing, she could send a soldier a “thank you for your service” letter.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning, Willow groaned as she sat up in bed. Between cleaning all afternoon and a restless night spent on an old worn-out mattress, her back was aching. Her first errand after coffee today would be a visit to both the furniture and appliance stores in Ferndale. A new bed was a priority, but she also needed to re-outfit the entire house, including a new fridge, stove, and microwave to start with. After uncovering a couch and a recliner yesterday, she’d been greeted by burnt orange fabric from the seventies that smelled like it hadn’t been cleaned once in its entire existence.

  A trip to Walmart was also going to be in order for the day. She needed new linens, rugs, shower curtains, etc. for the bathrooms and bedroom, not to mention a bunch of things for the kitchen. She wasn’t a skilled cook, but even she saw the need for a decent set of pots, pans, plates, utensils, and glasses. The ones she’d found during her inventory check yesterday were unusable, in her opinion, and since she’d donated her old ones to a halfway house in Philly before she’d left, she had a list of everything she needed to buy.

  Last night, she’d ended up having a pre-made salad for dinner that she’d gotten at the Pack & Sack, using the included plastic utensils, but tonight, she wanted to cook an actual meal. Snorting softly, she couldn’t help but giggle every time she thought of the store’s name. Who was the genius that named a store the Pack & Sack? The dick jokes she could come up with for that were endless.

  Willow didn’t know much of anything about her father, but the more she saw of his house, the more she doubted they would’ve had anything in common. The man had not only been a slob, but he’d also been a bit of a pack rat. The closet in the bedroom was crammed full of boxes that appeared to be stuffed with old papers and receipts. Who needed a receipt for a gallon of milk they’d bought fifteen years ago? Her father had apparently.

  That thought reminded her to call one of the numbers Howard had given her and have a roll-away dumpster sent over. She also needed to hire a crew of guys to come help toss the old broken-down furniture and appliances before new stuff could be delivered.

  Sighing heavily, she rose and shuffled to the kitchen to start the coffee. Thankfully, it was the one appliance in the entire house that seemed new and in good shape. She guessed a single, male rancher could live with a craptastic bed and only two threadbare towels, but he couldn’t live without coffee. Who knows, maybe she did have something in common with the old man after all.

  Two cups of coffee and a shower later—she’d cleaned and disinfected one of the two baths in the house before going to bed last night—she was on her way to Ferndale. At least in the bigger town and stores, she wouldn’t stand out so much. The pink hair and tattoos didn’t seem to be well received in Antelope Rock, but the people there would just have to get used to it.

  Spotting the Walmart sign first, Willow pulled into the parking lot, grabbed a cart, and followed a few shoppers into the store. She hadn’t fully decided if she was keeping the ranch or fixing it up and selling it. Based on the property value Howard had showed her, if she did some improvements to the house and land, she’d clear a very nice profit in the sale after the last of the mortgage was paid off. She’d have enough to live comfortably just about anywhere she wanted. She’d even be able to travel for a bit, if she had the mind to, without worrying about a job. It wouldn’t last forever, but taking a few years off did sound appealing. With images of white-sand beaches and blue waves dancing in her mind, she tossed beach-themed bathroom accessories into her cart, along with blue and white towels.

  She continued with the color scheme in the bedroom department, selecting a light-blue and grey comforter and matching sheets with a higher thread count than she’d ever purchased before. A painting caught her eye. It was a picture of the ocean at night, a full moon shining down on the rolling wav
es, stars sparkling and reflecting off the water. The dark water seemed to hide untold secrets. There were footprints along the sand, right above the water line, left behind by a woman in the distance. Long dark hair touched the small of her back, just above a sarong tied around her hips. She was as mysterious as the ocean itself. The painting was a mass-produced print, no doubt millions of them were in existence, but it spoke to Willow. She saw herself in that lonely woman. Without a second thought, the painting went into her cart to replace the creepy portrait she’d taken down in the living room.

  Two overflowing cartfuls later, she checked out, trying not to cringe at the total before she remembered she could afford it. Her trip to the furniture store was, surprisingly, just as quick, easy, and relatively painless. She splurged on the new bed a little, but the living room set she picked out was simple, functional, and on clearance. She wasn’t convinced she’d be staying at Skyview Ranch forever and wanted to get things she could leave behind if necessary. Of course, she hadn’t applied that logic to her bed, but by the way her back felt this morning, she figured the expensive queen-size mattress would be worth its weight in gold. In the appliance store next door, there’d been a black refrigerator and matching range on sale, so she’d picked those, not really caring what they looked like beyond function. She also added a stacked washer and dryer set, to replace the ancient ones in the laundry room. The salesman had been nearly giddy as she’d placed her large order. It was probably the biggest sale he would have all week and possibly all month.