Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel)

by Lyles, Rebecca Carey

  Kate looked from Trisha to Bethany. “Is there something I should know?”

  Trisha glanced around. “Let’s go sit in the gazebo. It’s more private.”

  “We can’t forget we’re supposed to help fix lunch today, Trish.” Bethany led the way to the gazebo.

  Kate followed. “I’m on lunch duty, too.”

  They treaded a narrow path through the newly plowed garden to the redwood-stained shelter in the center. Kate inhaled the scent of warm earth. Mrs. D had asked the three of them to plant a vegetable garden in a few days. She couldn’t wait.

  The girls sat on one side of the built-in bench that matched the curve of the rounded structure. Kate laid the bottle and rag on the bench and sat across from them. “So what’s the deal with Manuel? How can we help him?”

  Trisha snorted. “Help a loser? He’s going to end up in the pen.”

  Kate pressed her hands against her thighs to stem her rising anger. “That may be the opinion of some, but that’s precisely why I want to help him. Everyone—especially losers—needs encouragement.” Oh, how well she knew.

  “Whatever.” Trisha turned to Bethany. “Go ahead, Beth. You tell Kate about Manuel. Then we’ll see how much she wants to encourage him.”

  Bethany shrugged. “Kate can do whatever she wants.” She crossed her legs. “The short version is that last summer Manuel and some other guys we go to school with were out on the flats drinking and partying and driving crazy in pickups and ATVs. They topped a hill and surprised a herd of antelope, which took off running. So they chased them. But one antelope was injured or sick and couldn’t run fast.”

  Trisha interrupted again. “In case you didn’t know, the only animals that can run faster than pronghorn antelope are cheetahs. I don’t know how fast cheetahs can run, but I’ve heard antelope can run like, seventy miles an hour.”

  “The way they run is cool to watch.” Bethany flipped her blonde hair behind her shoulders. “They do a hopping kind of thing. My dad says it’s called pronking. Anyway, the injured one couldn’t keep up. Manuel, who was really drunk by then, decided to chase it with an ATV. He trailed it for a long way. Nobody could say for sure how far.”

  Kate sighed, reminded of the idiotic things she’d done while high.

  Bethany took a breath. “Finally, the antelope stumbled and fell, but Manuel didn’t stop. He drove over it then turned around and did it again, and again and again. The other guys said blood and guts and fur flew everywhere, covering the ATV and Manuel with gore. I guess there wasn’t much left of the antelope by the time he was done.”

  Kate thought of the beautiful, stately creatures she’d seen grazing in the meadows and felt sick.

  “What a creep.” Trisha narrowed her eyelids. “I get so mad every time I think about it.”

  Bethany’s face had paled and her voice wavered, but she continued. “Manuel’s family doesn’t have much money, so the court appointed my dad, who’s an attorney, to defend him. He tried hard to help Manuel, but the evidence and the witnesses were all against him. Plus, Manuel didn’t have anything to say for himself.”

  “What could he say?” Trisha pounded the bench seat. “He was obviously guilty.”

  Kate frowned. “Was it a setup?”

  “Dad tried to prove it was a setup, but the judge found Manuel guilty and sent him to reform school in Worland.”

  “What happened to the other boys? Were any of them prosecuted?”

  “They got charged with DUIs and defacing public lands. But they didn’t get sent to the boys’ school.” Bethany brushed a bug off the bench. “They’re so wild. They’ll probably end up there one of these days.”

  Kate glanced at her watch. “I don’t want to make us late for kitchen duty. But I have a question before we go.”

  The girls stood.

  “Manuel has been punished for his crime. Why do people treat him like he has leprosy?”

  Bethany lifted her chin. “Because he’s a criminal.

  “He committed a single crime. And he paid the penalty, did his time. Has he continued to commit crimes?”

  “Not that we know of.”

  “So, he’s no longer a criminal.” And neither was she.

  “But …”

  “But what?”

  Trisha curled a strand of hair around her finger. “He’s a Mexican.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “My grandpa says you can’t trust a Spic.”

  “You believe that?”

  Bethany checked her watch. “We’d better go.”

  Kate stood, blocking their exit from the gazebo. Though she was not normally an in-your-face person, their indifferent attitudes troubled her. “Your skin is almost as dark as Manuel’s, Trisha. Should I distrust you?”

  Trisha averted her gaze. “That’s different. I’m part Italian.”

  “Where I come from, some people would call you a Wop, which is just as bad as calling a Mexican person a Spic.” She picked up the bottle and rag. “I don’t mean to lecture. I just hope you’ll give Manuel a chance. He needs friends, just like you and I need friends.”

  ***

  Whistling a nameless tune, Mike loaded his pickup with supplies from the barn. Seeing Kate always put him in a good mood. She’d had a tough life, yet she had a ready smile. A beautiful smile.

  He tossed a saddle into the bed of the truck and was about to head back into the barn, when he saw Tara strutting toward him. He grunted. Why didn’t the woman find someone else to pester?

  She leaned against the pickup, one hand on her hip. “What were you grinning about?”

  He maneuvered the saddle toward the front of the bed. The biggest mistake—well, the second biggest mistake—he’d ever made in his life was going steady with her for a month when he was a junior and she was a sophomore in high school. She’d been on his case ever since. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember what he saw in her, other than her body. Appalled at the notion he’d been governed more by hormones than good sense back then, he braced himself for whatever nonsense was on her mind. “What brings you over to the WP today?”

  She jutted out her hip and batted her false eyelashes. “I asked you a question first.”

  “I forget. What was it?” He picked up branding equipment from the ground and tossed it into the bed with a noisy clatter.

  “I asked you what you were grinning about.”

  “Oh, that was a real question.” He thought for a moment. “I don’t remember. Whatever was on my mind, I suppose.” He took a quick look around. Funny how everyone disappeared when Tara Hughes came on the scene. “What’s your answer to my question?”

  “What am I up to? Let’s see, about five-foot-five and a hundred …”

  “You know what I mean.”

  She pouted. “You don’t want to know my measurements?”

  Elbows locked, Mike gripped the tailgate and clamped his teeth together to keep from shouting at her to get off his property.

  With a melodramatic drop of her shoulders, Tara sighed, but then she perked up. “I suppose my more desirable features are obvious.” She shifted her weight to the other hip.

  He turned toward the barn. “I’ve got work to do.”

  Tara scampered around the pickup to clutch his arm. “Actually, I have a serious answer to your question.”

  He looked down at her, fighting the urge to knock her hand off his arm. The sooner he heard her out, the sooner she’d leave.

  She looked both ways and lowered her voice. “We should go someplace private.”

  He tipped his head to avoid her smoker’s breath. “How ‘bout you tell me here and now.”

  “Well …” She took a big breath. “We’ve needed to have a heart-to-heart talk for some time, Mikey.” Her eyes were wide and adoring. “You and I should take a weekend, get out of town, and sort through some stuff. I know an intimate little place …”

  ***

  Kate watched Bethany and Trisha exit the garden before she hea
ded for the barn to rinse the bottle. The normally chatty girls were silent. Had she been too hard on them? She passed the corral, where Trudy was curled on a mound of hay, fast asleep.

  Questions pummeled her brain. Were her expectations reasonable? Did she expect the people she’d harmed to forgive and forget her misdeeds the way she expected the locals to forgive and forget Manuel’s failures? She snapped the rag to flick off a fly. Was there a way she could help Manuel move beyond his past and his reputation?

  She rounded the corner of the barn and spied a faded-blue, dented fender. Her breath caught in her throat. Old Blue’s owner couldn’t be far away. Two more steps, and she saw him standing on the far side of the truck, his face hidden by the brim of his hat. Head tilted, he appeared to be listening intently to the female who clung to his arm. A glimpse of the backside of the woman’s close-fitting pants told her all she needed to know.

  Kate turned away. She’d almost convinced herself Mike was as interested in her as she was in him. But that was obviously not the case. She took another step, right into the path of a barn cat with a wiggling mouse hanging from its teeth. The cat snarled, its feral stare smoldering with a ferocity that stopped her in her tracks.

  Tramp bounded around the corner, and the cat vanished behind the woodpile.

  Kate hurried into the barn. She’d learned on the street not to mess with other women’s men, especially women like Tara. She didn’t want her precious Michael any more than she wanted the cat’s half-dead mouse.

  ***

  “Whoa.” Mike yanked his arm away. “I don’t know where you’re going with this weekend talk, but you’ve got the wrong guy. I have nothing to—”

  Tara straightened, hands on her hips. “Oh, yes, you do, Michael Duncan. Among other things, you hired a dangerous employee. That combined with poor buffalo management will ruin this two-bit guest ranch of yours, if you’re not careful.”

  Clouds blocked the sun and cooled the air. He glanced at the murky, roiling sky, which mirrored the fury building inside his chest. “Our employees and bison and whatever else goes on at this ranch are none of your stinkin’ business.”

  “Oh, yes, they are. I’ve tried to tell you, but you haven’t listened. I won’t put up with your bison obsession or with the way you fence them in once we’re married. They’re an embarrassment to the community and to the State of Wyoming.”

  He knew he should address the marriage issue, but he couldn’t help but defend his herd. “That’s ridiculous. There’s a buffalo on the state flag.”

  “Daddy says buffalo should roam free—”

  “Stop right there.” He raised a hand. “I don’t care what your father says. And I’ve told you before—we are not getting married.”

  “Oh, Mikey, don’t tease me.” She grabbed his arm again. “You may not be ready now, but someday you’ll see how right we are for each other. Just think what a fabulous spread the two of us will have when we combine our seventy-five-thousand acres with your little dude ranch.”

  He pried her fingers off his arm and stepped back, fists clenched.

  Tara’s eyelashes fluttered over wide eyes. “My pager is vibrating. Gotta go.” She scurried away, her high heels flinging clumps of dirt and manure behind her.

  Mike threw the remaining equipment into the back of the pickup, opened the truck’s passenger door and whistled a short, shrill summons to Tramp, who leaped from the shady side of the barn onto the seat of the cab. After closing the door, Mike squirmed around his dog to reach the driver’s side. Desperate to distance himself from the scent of Tara’s perfume, he sped through the ranch grounds and onto the highway.

  The air felt thick and smelled like rain. He studied the storm clouds rolling above him. The dark mass looked as gloomy and nasty as he felt. He wanted to drive all day—just ride the highway listening to mournful country music and thinking about how much he missed his dad and brother. If they were around, they’d tell him how to deal with Tara.

  But he knew he couldn’t stay away from the ranch long. He had a list of chores to conquer before the first guests arrived on the weekend. And he was supposed to meet Rusty and Clint down at the cattle pasture after lunch.

  Tramp hung out the window—nose into the wind, tongue and jowls flapping. Oh, for such a simple, carefree life, a world without Tara Hughes. She was a worse nutcase now than in high school. He rubbed his jaw. And what did she mean about the bison and some employee ruining the ranch?

  He wanted to ask his mom who she thought the supposed “dangerous” employee might be, but she was so busy. Besides, she got upset every time Tara stepped foot on the ranch. She’d never voiced her concern, but he had a feeling she was afraid he’d end up with the deranged woman just because there weren’t many other women his age in the area. He expelled a long breath and slowed for a coyote that loped across the road.

  Tramp barked at his distant relative until it was out of sight.

  Mike thought of Kate’s ready smile and her hair that shone in the sunshine. Now there was a woman who was easy on the eyes—and the mind. He pulled off the highway, checked for traffic and made a U-turn. Two huge raindrops pelted the windshield. With the driver’s-side window broken and the passenger window down, he and Tramp would both be soaked before they got back to the ranch. But that was okay. The soil needed the moisture, and the smell of wet dog hair would overpower Tara’s perfume.

  He lifted his index finger off the top of the steering wheel to greet an oncoming motorist. He should get to know Kate better, maybe take her to a chuck wagon supper at the Bar-K or a movie in Laramie. Or maybe a picnic at his favorite spot on the canyon rim.

  ***

  Kate dropped onto the sofa, removed her boots and stretched out. Thank God Manuel volunteered to help her care for the hungry calf. She was exhausted. She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of rain on the roof. She longed for sleep, but all she could think about was seeing Tara cozy up to Mike.

  The telephone rang.

  She crawled off the couch and stumbled into the chair. “Hello.”

  “Hey, baby.”

  Kate sucked in a breath. “How did—?”

  “I keep telling you, sweetheart, I have—”

  She slammed the phone down. Almost instantly, it rang again and continued to ring until she unclipped the cord and yanked it from the wall. She collapsed in the chair, wishing there was a way to know, without asking the authorities—or Tara—if Ramsey was in or out of jail.

  She slipped off her socks. Might as well take a bath. No way could she could rest after that call. Stepping into the bathroom, she twisted the clawfoot bathtub’s handles to max and was unbuttoning her shirt, when she felt the hair on her arms stand at attention. Someone was in the cabin. But how could Ramsey call her phone and be in her cabin at the same time?

  Chapter Eleven

  KATE GRABBED A LONG-HANDLED back brush from the shower and spun around. No one. The brush gripped in her right hand, she stepped toward the doorway. He had to be in the other room. But something in her peripheral vision caught her attention. She twisted to see a snake coiled in the bathroom sink. Screaming, she yanked the shower curtain back and jumped into ankle-deep bathwater.

  One foot slid out from under her, but she righted herself and gulped down another shriek to listen for snake sounds. But, did scales scraping against a floor make noise? Was it stealthily slithering toward the tub? Would it rattle or hiss when it got close? All she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears.

  She peered around the curtain. The snake was still there. She stared at the fat, mottled reptile, then at the window. One of the ranch hands had replaced the glass earlier in the week. Had she left it open? Or—?

  Of course. Ramsey was on the loose again.

  The snake didn’t move. Was it sick? Or pretending to sleep? Had it chosen her sink to hibernate in? No, probably not. Animals didn’t hibernate in the summer. At least she didn’t know of any that did. She turned off the water and sloshed out of the tub, never takin
g her focus off the intruder, then closed and locked the window—just in case the snake had a mate that might come looking for it. Or Ramsey returned.

  Using a bath towel, she wiped rainwater from the window sill, all the while watching the sink. Would the slimy creature lunge at her when she tried to leave the room? She reached to hang the towel on the rack—no way could she take a bath now—and slipped on the water puddled beside the bathtub.

  She fell. She’d barely hit the floor, when she looked up to see if the snake was coming for her. But she didn’t see a snake head peering over the top of the cabinet, its forked fangs searching for her scent.

  Yanking the towel off the rack, she crawled as fast as she could past the sink to the doorway, jumped to her feet and spun around. The snake was still there. She slammed the door shut, stuffed the towel into the crack at the bottom and darted for her bedroom.

  As she stepped into a pair of dry jeans, she remembered her promise to Mike and Laura to call for help if Ramsey returned. But he wasn’t in the cabin. And after seeing Mike with Tara, she didn’t feel comfortable asking him to deal with the reptile. Laura, she knew, would be more than glad to send someone to help her, but she had more important things to think about.

  Manuel. He’d know what to do. Plus, he wouldn’t blab about it to the others, even if they talked to him, which was unlikely.

  She finished dressing and hurried through the rain to the dining hall. Just as she expected, she found Manuel eating by himself, head down. She sat across from him. “Hi, Manuel.”

  He looked up. A smile brightened his sad face. “Hi, Kate. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” He leaned forward. “I think Trudy likes me.”

  She grinned. “What makes you think that?”

  “Well, just a little bit ago—”

  A loud snarl interrupted him.

  Kate turned to the sound and saw Cyrus stomping toward them. The bristling man grasped the end of the table and bent nose to nose with Kate. “Aren’t you just a wee bit late?”

  “Sorry, Cyrus.” She retreated from the angry man as far as she could without falling backward. “I had to take a bath before I came to lunch.” Well, an almost bath. He didn’t need to know about the snake.