Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel)

by Lyles, Rebecca Carey

  Emmitt scratched his hairy nostril. “Looks like yer still in operation.”

  “The Whispering Pines is doing just fine, if that’s what you boys came to find out. But I’d appreciate it if you kept your snoopy, pointy noses out of our affairs.”

  Emmitt stuck his chest out. “Just what does that mean?”

  Kate clenched her fists.

  Laura placed a hand on Kate’s arm. “You know what it means. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a ranch to run.” She turned her back on the men and moved behind the counter.

  Shoving their dirty, misshapen hats onto their heads, the brothers stomped out of the lobby. The screen door slammed behind them.

  For a moment, the room was quiet. Then Bethany high-fived Laura. “Good for you, Mrs. D. It’s about time somebody put those Clifford brothers in their place. They try to run all the ranches around here, when their own place is a trash heap.”

  “Thanks, Bethany. I had to at least act brave, or those two would have been here every day telling me and Mike what to do. Dan had a lot of trouble with them.” Her hands quivered as she straightened a stack of brochures.

  Kate placed her hands on the countertop. “Are you okay?”

  Laura grinned. “I am better than okay.” She spread her arms wide. “I am fabulous. I’ve been wanting to give those old geezers a piece of my mind for a long, long time.”

  ***

  Seated next to Laura in a pew near the back of the Highway Haven House of God sanctuary, Kate watched church members greet each other and settle into their seats. The floor’s creaks and groans and the welcoming smiles from the other parishioners made her feel more comfortable than she’d expected. Several people stopped to welcome her and to say “hello” to Laura.

  The word ambiance drifted through Kate’s mind. Highway Haven’s sanctuary exuded a wonderful, almost supernatural, ambiance—in spite of its stark interior and lack of ornamentation. No stained-glass windows. No statues. No cushions on the straight-backed pews. Yet, the room radiated warmth and welcome.

  She saw a couple walk in the side doorway Dymple had used last Sunday morning. Kate closed her eyes. She’d come so close to attacking the sweet lady, the one who most likely provided the wild roses on the altar. She pictured Dymple patiently coaxing the thorny branches into a perfect bouquet for the Sunday service and thanked God she hadn’t harmed the elderly woman. Forgive me, Lord.

  She heard music and opened her eyes. A group of musicians stood at the front of the room playing a pretty song she didn’t recognize. Mike, who was picking the melody on his guitar, caught her eye. Kate shifted her gaze, determined not to let his presence divert her from worship.

  The simple service was surprisingly similar to those she’d experienced in prison. The parishioners seemed to forget themselves and focus on God. When they sang her favorite song from prison days, How Great Thou Art, she could tell by the way the music swelled and the walls resonated with emotion that the other worshipers loved it as much as she did. It felt good to sing God’s praises again. And to be reminded that he was greater than all her problems.

  The singing ended, and the congregation sat. Kate smirked, amused by the sound of squeaking pews.

  Laura leaned over. “You have a beautiful voice, Kate.”

  Kate smiled. “Thanks, Laura. It’s such a beautiful song.”

  A husky man in a tee-shirt and jeans stepped behind the pulpit, Bible in hand. “Please turn with me to Psalm 145.”

  So that was Pastor Chuck, the one Dymple had said she would like. He seemed like an ordinary guy. No robe or collar. Maybe he was down-to-earth, like Chaplain Sam.

  A rustle of pages whooshed through the room, reminding Kate of aspen leaves ruffled by a breeze. When the page-turning stopped, an expectant calm descended on the group. But before Pastor Chuck could begin reading, Tara strutted from the back of the room to the second row, her high heels pounding the wood floors. Heads turned, and a ripple of whispers trailed her miniskirt.

  Kate blinked. She had no idea Tara was in the building or that churchgoers dressed that way. She looks like I did when I was trying to hook up with johns.

  Mike set his guitar on a stand and followed the other musicians into the congregation. Kate tried to conceal her surprise when he passed the second row to sit beside her instead of Tara. Uh-oh. Trouble was brewing. And she was right in the middle of it.

  The pastor cleared his throat and waited until he had their attention. “Our Scripture passage today reminds us of the goodness and greatness of God. Tune your ears and your hearts to what he wants to say to you today.”

  Tara stood, ran her hands down her hips to smooth her skirt, and stepped out of the pew. She stomped to the rear of the sanctuary. Again, heads turned, even the pastor’s. Mike was seated at the end of the pew, yet she wedged in beside him. He scooted toward Kate, who moved closer to Laura, who clenched her Bible like it was an anchor in the midst of a storm. And maybe it was.

  Finally, when the bench no longer shook, Kate released the breath she’d held throughout the episode. How could she tune into the sermon, like the pastor suggested? Or tune into God’s voice, like Dymple had said, with Mike’s hip and arm pressed against hers and Tara’s foot swinging a furious rhythm on the other side of his Levis? Prison services had never been this distracting, even in the midst of clanging metal doors and endless directives over the loudspeakers.

  Chapter Thirteen

  PASTOR CHUCK CLOSED HIS Bible. “Let’s pray.”

  Mike stood, worked his way past Tara’s bare knees and walked to the front.

  Though Kate bowed her head, she could feel hate emanating from the end of the pew. Should she try to defend her innocence to Tara after the service? Would it do any good? What if things got nasty? Could she keep from ripping the jealous woman’s hair out and snapping off her fake fingernails? Kate chewed at her lip. Better not chance a blow-up at church.

  The moment the service ended, she turned her back on Tara and followed Laura out the door toward the parking lot.

  “Kate! Kate Neilson—wait!”

  Certain it wasn’t Tara’s voice she heard, Kate turned to see Dymple Forbes hurrying toward her.

  The older woman grabbed her hands. “I’m so glad to see you again.”

  Kate clasped Dymple’s gnarly fingers. “I’m happy to see you, too, Dymple-with-a-Y Louise Forbes.”

  Dymple chortled. “You’ve got a good margarine to remember that.” She touched Kate’s cheek. “What happened to your beautiful face?”

  “Clumsiness. I tripped on the path the night I arrived at the ranch, but my scrapes have healed quite a bit already.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Are you enjoying the Whispering Pines?”

  “I love it.”

  “I knew you would.”

  “Everybody there is really nice.” Well, almost everybody. “And the ranch is so pretty. I love waking up to sunshine and mountain air and birds singing around my cabin.”

  Laura, who’d been visiting with a young couple, joined them. “And we love having Kate at the ranch.”

  Kate noticed Tara and Mike in the midst of a heated discussion on the far side of the parking lot. She felt sorry for Mike, but she was glad she wasn’t the recipient of Tara’s wrath this time.

  Dymple took Laura’s hand. “Would you and Mike and Kate be able to come to my place for lunch today?”

  “I’d love to, but I can’t stay long. Our guest season opened yesterday, so I need to make sure everything goes okay today.”

  Dymple turned to Kate. “How about you?”

  “I’d enjoy that. Thank you.” Lunching with Mike would make things worse with Tara. But how could she refuse when she was dependent on Laura for a ride?

  “I can’t speak for Mike …” Laura’s voice trailed off as all three women turned toward the arguing couple. Mike’s arms were folded high on his chest as if shielding himself from Tara’s long fingernails that jabbed at his ribs.

  “I don’t know what that is about.
” Laura had a worried look on her face. “But he might not be very sociable when it’s over.”

  His own mother didn’t know why Tara was mad? Kate put on her sunglasses.

  Dymple placed her hands on her waist. “That brat needs a good paddling,” Her voice cracked. “She’s always causing him grief.”

  Kate gawked at the little woman.

  Dymple’s blue eyes blazed and her jaw jutted. “I’m going to go break it up. If that hussy gets snippy with me, she’ll be sorry.” Before Laura or Kate could stop her, Dymple started across the parking lot as fast as her arthritic feet could propel her, her fists and her braid swinging.

  Conversations stopped. Kate felt for Mike, certain he’d rather not be the center of attention during an argument. She couldn’t hear Dymple’s words, but she could see the relief on Mike’s face as he wrapped her hand around his arm and walked her toward Laura’s SUV.

  Tara watched the two for a moment then flipped an obscene gesture at the crowd and climbed into her canary-yellow Hummer. With a blast of the horn, she roared out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

  ***

  Kate rode with Laura and Dymple to Dymple’s house on the other side of the cemetery. Mike and Tramp followed in Old Blue. They parked the vehicles just off the road and entered her property through an arbor-topped wrought-iron gate that opened to a flagstone walkway. Kate admired the terraced garden filled with daffodils and tulips and thought the vine-draped stone house looked like an English cottage. Multi-paned windows sparkled in the sunshine, and baskets of blossoms hung from the eaves.

  Dymple opened her plum-colored door with its rounded top and beveled-glass window. The others trailed behind her, passing the hand-stitched quotes and watercolor paintings, mostly of flowers, that adorned the walls. Kate removed her sunglasses to read a cross-stitched sampler.

  The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save.

  He will take great delight in you,

  He will quiet you with His love,

  He will rejoice over you with singing.

  Zephaniah 3:17

  There was no question whose home this was. She turned to Dymple. “I like your house. It’s unique.”

  “I think I need more pictures of flowers, don’t you?”

  Kate laughed. “Definitely.”

  Dymple indicated a large parcel on the couch. “As you can see, Mike, I haven’t even opened the box. I was afraid I’d break the computer, so I left it on the cantaloupe.”

  Kate saw Mike struggle to suppress a grin.

  He picked up the box. “Do you mind if Tramp wanders around your yard, Dymple? He’s been cooped up in the truck all morning.”

  “Just make sure the garden gate is latched. I put up a higher fence this year to keep the deer out. However …” She scowled. “It doesn’t discourage the rabbits one iota.”

  ***

  Mike switched on Dymple’s stereo and lowered the volume. After yet another run-in with Tara Hughes, he needed something to mellow him out. He opened the box. Hats off to Dymple. Not many women her age would build a fence or buy a laptop without knowing how to use it. Maybe in some crazy way the computer would be good for her brain farts—as she termed her mixed-up words.

  He inserted a disk to install the first program and looked out the window as the disk began to whir. If Dymple hadn’t come to his rescue, Tara would still be ranting at him. Maybe he should quit going to church. The woman sucked the love of God right out of him when she showed up at a service.

  Then there was Kate. What was the deal with her? At first, she seemed to like his company, but now she acted distant. Why wouldn’t she go out with him? Was it his breath or something he said?

  He heard his mom talking in the kitchen, her voice low. “What in the world did you say to break up that argument, Dymple?”

  Mike grinned. When it came to Tara Hughes, his mom always needed to know what was going on.

  “I was a bit feisty, wasn’t I?” Dymple snorted. “But I’ve had enough of that shrew ranting and raving at Mike. He’s like a grandson to me.”

  He nodded. Yeah. She’d been a grandma to him as long as he could remember.

  “I told Tara the church parking lot was no place for a hissy fit and she should hightail it on home. And I told Mike I couldn’t use my calendar until he programmed it, something he promised to do before I ordered it.”

  Mike chuckled, thinking he’d be happy to program Granny Dymple’s calendar on her cantaloupe anytime she asked.

  ***

  Though she and Mike had nothing to say to each other, Kate enjoyed lunch on the patio with Dymple and the Duncans. The food was delicious and the weather perfect. When they finished, Dymple took Laura to tour her vegetable garden. Kate started after them, but Mike stopped her. “Could you come inside with me? I need your help with the computer set-up.”

  “I don’t know anything about computers.”

  He opened the patio screen for her. “You know more than you think.” They stepped inside. He pointed to the couch. “Have a seat on the cantaloupe.”

  “I’ll stand.”

  “No, please. Please sit.” He sat at the far end and placed the computer on his lap.

  She edged onto a cushion. “Okay. But I don’t understand how I can help.”

  He shifted to look directly at her. “I’d like to know why you can’t go out with me.”

  “So this isn’t about the computer.”

  “I thought we could talk while I install programs. Why can’t you go out with me?”

  She rubbed her temples. “Why are we having this conversation again? It should be obvious.”

  “It’s not obvious to me.”

  “I don’t know how they do things in Wyoming, but in Pennsylvania, engaged people don’t date other people.”

  He sat back. “I’m sorry. I had no idea you were engaged.”

  “I am not engaged.” Kate pounded the cushion. “You are, for Pete’s sake!”

  “No, I’m not.”

  They both turned at the sound of the patio screen opening.

  Laura walked over to the couch. “I’m going home now. If Kate wants to stay, can you give her a ride back to the ranch, Mike?”

  “Sure. I have another half hour or so to go with the programming. Then I want to show Dymple how to run this machine.”

  Laura rested her hand on Kate’s shoulder. “It’s up to you, Kate. You can ride with either of us.”

  Mike waggled an eyebrow. “I promise not to mistake you for my dog again.”

  In spite of the tension between them, Kate laughed.

  Dymple and Laura looked puzzled.

  He grinned at them. “Long story.”

  Kate twisted to look up at Laura. “I’m supposed to help with the trail ride later today, but I’d like to hang around for the computer lesson. I might learn something.”

  “Mike’s pretty savvy when it comes to technology, which is a good thing at our house. I have yet to understand the difference between ROM and RAM.” She started for the door, but stopped. “Isn’t this your day off, Kate?”

  “It is. But I haven’t been on a horse for years, so I asked Clint if I could help. I thought it would be a good way to get back in the saddle again, literally.”

  “We discourage employees from working on their day off.”

  “I love to ride. If I can help the wranglers, all the better.”

  “Okay.” Laura smiled. “Have a great time.” She hugged Dymple. “Thanks for lunch, dear. Delicious, as always.”

  After Laura left, Dymple sat in a chair across from Kate. “Did you learn to ride in Pennsylvania?”

  Kate rearranged her awkward position to a more comfortable one. “My dad made the mistake of buying me cowboy boots when I was young. I loved those boots and desperately wanted to wear them while riding a horse. I begged and begged my mom for riding lessons. Finally, she gave in, and my brother and I had lessons twice a week for an entire summer.”

  “Have you ridden since then?
”

  Kate shook her head. “The lessons came to a rather abrupt halt when my family was killed in a car accident.”

  Dymple’s wrinkles contorted with compassion. “I had no idea you lost your family. Were you raised in a children’s home or by relatives?”

  “I wish. No orphanage or relatives—just a whole bunch of foster homes.”

  Dymple winced. “Oh, you poor dent. Is that why you left Pennsylvania? Because you don’t have a real home there?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw Mike grin, which made it doubly hard for her to keep a straight face. “Like I told you when we first met, I’m here to do an internship at the ranch, so I can fulfill my marketing program requirements at the university.”

  Kate toyed with the sofa’s arm cover. “But I suppose I also came for nostalgic reasons. My dad bought me those boots while he was on a Wyoming business trip, and my mom ordered a matching outfit from a western store in Cheyenne. Plus, I loved the book Katrina’s Wild Pony, which you probably know is a story about a girl who lived on a Wyoming horse ranch. I must have read it fifty times.”

  Dymple nodded. “One of my favorites. I read it to my students every year I taught school.”

  “I took the book from my first foster home and carried it with me from place to place. When I was sad and lonely, it always had the power to transport me to a happier world.” She shrugged. “I guess all that coalesced into a lifelong desire to visit Wyoming.”

  “You’re living your dream, Kate.”

  She nodded. Even though she’d lost her family and never saw her dog—or her boots—again, and the book disappeared, she was living her dream. She glanced at Mike, whose eyes were focused on the computer screen. No doubt he’d heard every word. She wanted to kick herself for saying she stole the book, but at least she didn’t mention prison.

  ***

  Mike dropped the tailgate for Tramp. The dog hopped up into the bed of the truck, put his paws on the side and licked Kate’s cheek.

  She scratched his neck. “Poor puppy. You got kicked out ‘cause of me.”

  “He’ll be fine.” Mike latched the tailgate and opened the passenger door. He slid across the seat. “If Tramp rode in the cab, he’d want to sit on your lap and hang his head out the window. Last I knew he weighed around seventy-five pounds.”