Wyoming True

by Diana Palmer

  * * *

  IDA WENT SLOWLY back into the bedroom, puzzled by Jake’s odd behavior when she was talking to the investigator. He couldn’t possibly be jealous of him, of course. She felt a wave of pleasure wash over her as she processed the unlikely thought. No, she told herself firmly, he was only being kind. Of course.

  She got together enough clothes for a few days and packed them in a suitcase. It was heavy.

  She went out into the hall, grimacing as she walked. “Jake, can you get the bag for me?”

  “Sure thing.” He glanced around the bedroom as he picked up the piece of luggage. No frills, nothing fancy at all. The room was spartan. There was a bed and a chest of drawers, a bedside table with a lamp, several throw rugs, and a vanity with a mirror and a little chair. Nothing else. Not even a picture on the wall.

  “You live simply,” he remarked.

  She shrugged. “I have paintings that I’d like to put up, but they need to be matted and framed first, and it’s a long way to Casper.”

  His eyebrows arched.

  “I can’t really drive that far,” she confessed. “And there’s no frame shop in Catelow.”

  “I get it.” He led the way into the living room, noting that she’d retrieved her cane and was using it. Most likely bad weather was on the way. People with joint injuries had a lot of pain just before a low-pressure system moved in.

  “Can you make it all right?” he asked, concerned.

  “I’m doing fine,” she lied. The ibuprofen was wearing off. She stopped. “Jake, my ibuprofen is in the cabinet in my bathroom...”

  He put down the suitcase and went to get it. The medicine cabinet had Band-Aids, antibiotic cream and ibuprofen. He palmed the bottle. “No toothbrush?” he asked when he rejoined her.

  She laughed. “Packed,” she said, indicating the luggage.

  On his way back he noticed a box, open, with leads in it. “What the hell is this?” he asked.

  “It’s my TENS unit,” she said.

  “Come again?”

  “It has electrodes. You put them where the pain is and turn on the power. It pulses electric shocks into the muscle to help relax it. Works pretty good, but it’s uncomfortable to wear.”

  He smiled. “You learn something new every day,” he chuckled.

  “So you do.” She smiled back.

  “Okay. If that’s the lot, let’s go.”

  He led her out the door and she locked up.

  The driver, Fred, was standing at the back seat of the limousine with the door open, smiling at them. “Everything okay?” he asked. “I hope they get the person who hurt your cat, miss,” he added. “I have cats of my own.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  Jake put her inside and climbed in behind her.

  * * *

  HIS RANCH WAS BIG. The limo drove down a paved driveway with white fences on either side of it. Even at night, it was impressive. The house sat far back off the highway in a grove of aspens and cottonwood trees. It was yellow brick with graceful arches and a lot of black wrought iron trim. There were two balconies. On either side of the house were what looked like flower gardens.

  “It must be gorgeous here in the spring,” she said as he helped her out of the car. “My goodness, it looks like it should be in Texas or Arizona...”

  He chuckled. “It’s called Spanish House locally,” he told her, watching his driver get her bag out of the boot. “My grandfather was married to a Spanish lady. She was related to most of the royal houses of Europe, although her family shunned her when she came to the wilds of Wyoming to live on a poor cattle ranch. She was my mother’s mother. My grandfather remodeled the house for her after some stocks he’d invested in made a huge profit. It was the only time he had money, but he never regretted spending it. He loved my grandmother to the end of his days. So did I,” he added curtly, pushing back emotion. “When she died, my mother inherited a great deal of money and property. My father was dead by then.”

  “It’s lovely,” Ida said. “Are there flowers in the spring?”

  “Oceans of them,” he replied. “My mother loved them.” He made a face. “My father mowed down every one of them, every single spring. I replaced them when he was finally gone, and it was just my mother and me. I’ve kept them just the way she left them.”

  “What a terrible man,” she said.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” he returned.

  The driver opened the door, and Jake led her gently down the cobblestone path that led to the front door.

  She was unwieldly on the uneven surface, depending on the cane to get her safely through what felt like a maze as she avoided the more prominent stones.

  Jake looked back and realized belatedly how difficult it was for her.

  “Here,” he said, taking her cane and tossing it to the limo driver, who caught it neatly in the air.

  Jake swung Ida up in his arms and carried her to the door, which was opened by his little housekeeper, Maude Barton.

  She smiled at Jake and nodded curtly at Ida.

  “I’ve brought Mrs. Merridan home with me for a few days, Mrs. Barton,” he said. “Is the bed in the guest bedroom made up?”

  “Yes, sir,” was the guarded reply.

  Ida sighed. Apparently, her reputation had preceded her. She just smiled sadly at the older woman as Jake turned and carried her back down the hallway to an open door.

  Beyond it was the sort of luxury she’d become accustomed to over the years. The guest room was done in soft pastels, peach and beige, with powder-blue walls and a matching carpet. The bed, king-size, was covered with a patterned blue-and-beige duvet.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said quietly as Jake put her back on her feet.

  “I’m glad you like it. Why don’t you lie down for a bit, while I go over some paperwork and talk to my stock manager?”

  She forced a smile, because she was hurting. “That would be nice, if you don’t mind. And could you get out my ibuprofen and ask your housekeeper for something to take it with?”

  “Sure thing.”

  He fished out the prescription meds and went to the kitchen to see Mrs. Barton.

  “Can you make coffee and take a cup to Ida?” he asked.

  Maude glared at him. “Why can’t she come in here and get it?” she asked waspishly.

  His pale eyes took on a steely shine. “If you don’t like working here, Maude, you know where the door is.”

  She caught her breath. It was a very high-paying job. She’d never manage another like it. She gritted her teeth. “I’ll take it right in, Mr. McGuire.”

  “I thought you probably would,” he shot back. “And if you aren’t polite when you deliver it, I’ll know.”

  It was a veiled threat. She swallowed. Hard. “Of course, Mr. McGuire.”

  He nodded, a curt jerk of his head, and walked out the front door to have a word with his limo driver before he got to work.

  * * *

  MRS. BARTON CARRIED a tray into the bedroom where Ida was lying on the cover, propped on some pillows, her lovely face taut and pale with pain.

  She grimaced at the sight of the tray. “Oh, please, Mrs....Barton, wasn’t it? I didn’t need that. Just some water, to take my medicine with.”

  Maude cocked her head. “Medicine?” she asked curiously.

  Ida nodded. She sat up on the edge of the bed, swung her legs out, painfully, and opened the medicine bottle. It jumped out of her hand, scattering pills all over the spotless duvet. “Oh, damn!” she ground out, fighting tears. “First my horses, then my cat, now this...!”

  Maude put the tray on the vanity and retrieved the medicine bottle, glancing at it with raised eyebrows as she put the pills back in it. “How many of these do you take?” she asked, in a much less hostile tone than Ida had expected.

  Ida sighed. “Th
ree a day.”

  “It’s 800 milligram tablets,” she noted.

  “Yes. It takes a lot when the weather changes. I have a partial hip replacement and a metal rod with screws in my right leg, holding a broken femur bone in place. The whole works throbs when we have pressure systems moving in.”

  Maude handed the pill bottle to Ida, who shook out one pill and waited while Maude put the tray on the bed beside her.

  “Do you take cream and sugar?” she asked politely.

  “No. I drink it black. Thank you,” Ida added when she picked it up with an unsteady hand and took the ibuprofen with two sips of blazing-hot coffee.

  “My cousin takes those for a bad back,” Maude told her. “He says he can only take them for five days, then he has to wait for ten to take them again. He’s also supposed to take them with food.”

  Ida sighed. “I don’t feel like food. Somebody almost killed my cat. He’s at the vet’s...”

  “Good Lord! Who would hurt a cat?” Maude exclaimed.

  “The same sort of man who laughs when he tosses you over the side of a parking garage,” Ida said with a sad smile. “At least I landed on the grass verge below or I’d probably be dead.”

  Maude scowled, wincing inwardly at the pain the injury must have caused the younger woman. “Well, you have to eat something or you’ll do damage to your stomach,” she muttered. “I’ll scramble some eggs.”

  “Please don’t go to any extra trouble...”

  “It’s no trouble,” the older woman said curtly. “None at all.” She put the little coffeepot and the napkin on the side table. “I’ll take these back to the kitchen,” she added, indicating the condiments on the tray.

  “Thanks very much, Mrs. Barton,” Ida replied.

  “It’s no bother.” Maude didn’t smile as she went out. But Ida didn’t expect her to. The bad reputation she’d worked so hard to build was having sad consequences. It protected her from men but made her an instant enemy of most women she met.

  Well, that couldn’t be helped. She finished her coffee and put the cup down gingerly, lying back on the pillows with her eyes closed.

  Only a few minutes passed before Mrs. Barton was back with a plate of scrambled eggs and two slices of bacon.

  “You eat that,” she said in a motherly tone. “It will keep those nasty pills from dissolving your innards.”

  Ida laughed in spite of herself. “Yes, I expect so. Thanks very much. I’m sorry to put you to the trouble...”

  “No worries,” Maude replied, and she even managed a brief smile. “You just sit that on the side table when you’re through.” She paused. “Why would someone attack your cat?” she wondered again.

  “My ex-husband was sent to prison for abusing me,” she said simply. “He’s out and I have a lot of money and he has gambling debts. He says I owe him for what happened to him. He’s already hurt two of my horses. I guess poor Butler was the weakest link in the chain. Poor old cat,” she added heavily. “He had a string around his neck that had almost choked him when I found him out in the woods. He had welts all over him, as if somebody had hit him with a belt. I got the string off and took him home with me. It took almost two weeks for him to come out of hiding when I walked into a room. The vet said he looked as if he’d been tortured by someone. That’s what I thought, too. He lived through that, and now this. Two broken ribs, a broken tail, welts all over him...” She stopped, swallowing hard. “There was a blood trail halfway across the living room when I got home. If Mr. Colter didn’t have my poor horses, I expect they’d be victims all over again. They both had deep cuts on their hindquarters. My ex-husband said it was only a taste of what I could expect if I didn’t put up some cash.”

  Maude whistled softly. “And I thought I had a hard life,” she murmured. “He should be locked back up.”

  “If the sheriff can find anything to connect him to my babies’ injuries, he will be,” Ida returned, blue eyes flashing fire.

  “You might be next,” Maude said and grimaced.

  “Yes.” She looked at the other woman worriedly. “I’m putting you and Jake in danger just by being here!”

  “No, you’re not,” came the firm reply. “Mr. McGuire has two cowboys who used to be mercenaries. He coaxed them away from Ren Colter. Nothing, and I mean nothing, gets past them. You’re safe here.”

  Ida bit her lower lip. “Safe.” She laughed hollowly. “I haven’t been safe since the day I met Bailey Trent.”

  “Well, you are now. You eat those nice eggs before they get cold. And if you need more coffee, you just call me, okay?”

  “Okay.” She picked up her fork with a long sigh. “Thank you for the food. And the kind words. And for listening.”

  Maude flushed. “It was... You’re very welcome.” She smiled jerkily and went back to the kitchen.

  Ida finished the eggs and bacon, put the plate up, sipped half a cup of coffee and lay back on the pillows. Minutes later she was sound asleep.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MAUDE MET JAKE at the door when he came back inside.

  “I’m very sorry that I rushed to judgment about Mrs. Merridan,” she said stiffly. “I didn’t know her true circumstances.”

  “Gossip is a dangerous thing,” Jake replied. “She has some serious issues.”

  “She told me.” She grimaced. “What sort of monster was she married to?”

  “One of the worst kind,” he replied. “I think he’ll put her in harm’s way next. Her animals were a warning.”

  “Her poor cat,” she replied. “She said she found him in the woods with a string tied tight around his neck and welts all over him. She took him to a vet and adopted him. She was very upset that he’d gone through something similar again.” She lifted her eyes to his. “She’s not what I thought.”

  “She’s not what I thought, either, Mrs. Barton,” he replied quietly. “She’s like a chameleon. She pretends to be something she’s not so that men won’t hit on her. She’s afraid of them.”

  “Poor child,” she sighed. “What a life she’s had.”

  He nodded. “She could have gone on in college and taught physics. Pity she didn’t.”

  “Physics?” Maude exclaimed.

  He chuckled. “She graduated from MIT.”

  “Well, you never know about people, do you? I fed her some scrambled eggs and bacon. Not a good idea to take medicine that powerful on an empty stomach. My cousin is on the same sort of dose.”

  “Someday, I hope, they’ll come up with a treatment that works better and isn’t as dangerous,” he returned.

  “And then they’ll take ten years to approve it for general use,” Maude muttered. “I’ll just go clean up the kitchen. What would you like for supper, Mr. McGuire?”

  “Just soup and salad. I expect that’s all Ida will want, too. She’s upset about her cat.”

  “I know how she feels. I have four cats at home. One got run over by a car and barely escaped with his life. They had to take off one of his legs, but he still runs pretty good,” she added with a smile.

  He nodded. “Lucky cat.”

  “That’s his name, all right. I’ll have supper on the table about six.”

  “Six is fine. How’s Ida?”

  “Fast asleep.” She shook her head. “She’s got such huge dark circles under her eyes. I don’t think she sleeps well at all.”

  “She has nightmares,” he returned.

  “And that doesn’t surprise me at all.”

  “If the vet’s office calls here, if they can’t reach me on my cell phone, take a message, okay?”

  “I’ll be glad to. And, sir,” she added, a little shamefaced, “I’m sorry about the way I was when Mrs. Merridan came in here. She’s not the woman I expected. Not at all.”

  He smiled. “She’s not the woman anybody expects.”

  * * *

>   HE WENT IN to look at Ida. She was curled up on her side in the huge bed, her eyes closed, long black eyelashes lying on her cheeks. She looked beautiful like that. He had to force himself to leave the room.

  When he recalled not only the sheriff’s, but also the investigator’s interest in her, he felt himself bristling. He had competition. He wasn’t sure how he was going to handle it, which surprised him, because he’d been certain that Ida wasn’t getting next to him. Apparently, he’d made a miscalculation. It gave him something to think about while he worked in the office.

  * * *

  IDA WOKE UP just in time for supper. Maude brought her a tray with soup and salad and homemade dressing, with a cream puff for dessert.

  “I could have come to the table, Mrs. Barton,” she protested. “This makes so much more work for you!”

  Maude just smiled. “It’s no work at all. I love to cook. And it isn’t as if you’re on the tenth floor of some apartment building, you know. You’re just right down the hall.”

  Ida laughed softly. “So I am. But thank you.”

  “Very welcome. I hope you enjoy it.”

  She went back into the kitchen and dished up Jake’s supper. He was sitting at the table reading a market bulletin and glaring down at it.

  “Now, now, Mr. McGuire, reading all that political stuff is just going to mess up your mind and ruin your appetite.”

  He laughed hollowly. “True enough,” he conceded. He folded the paper and moved it to one side.

  “It’s a good night for soup,” she pointed out. “Viciously cold and they’re calling for a foot of snow tonight.”

  “I know. I’ve been making phone calls to get things organized here. You’d better get on home while the road’s still passable. We’ll put the dishes in the sink when we’re through with supper.”

  “Mrs. Danbury hasn’t shown up yet, and her husband phoned and said one of the children was sick and she might not make it over here tonight,” she remarked worriedly. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”