Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel) (32 page)

Buck maneuvered to where he could see the screen. “Does the computer show I paid the extra fee to hunt buffalo? That’s the highlight of this vacation for me.”

Mike stopped typing.

Sherri, a petite blonde, frowned. “They’re really big animals, Buck. What in the world will the two of us do with all that meat?”

“All I want is a trophy head to mount on the wall.”

She wrinkled her nose and gave him a sideways glance.

“I’ll hang it in the den.”

“With all the other beady-eyed deadheads. I get the heebie-jeebies every time I walk in there.” She turned to Mike, placing her hands on the counter. “I apologize. It’s rude of us to squabble in front of you, but it’s probably obvious I’d rather not be included in the buffalo hunt.”

He nodded.
The buffalo hunt
.

Buck smiled. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll donate the meat to the ranch.”

As if the dining hall kitchen didn’t already have a freezer full after the last cow was killed.

Laura walked in from the other room. Mike introduced her to the couple, and they shook hands.

He cleared his throat. “Mom, Mr. Cunningham was planning on a bison hunt, but—
as you know
—things have changed since he registered. We’ve lost a couple bison to … to disease lately.” He stared at his mother, hoping she would support him on what he was about to say, but she just stared back, eyebrows scrunched.

He turned to Buck. “I know you want—”

Buck held up his hand. “I don’t
want
. I
expect
.” He leaned toward Mike, his fists on the counter. “I’m here
solely
for the hunt—the hunt advertised in your brochure. The hunt I paid for. If I can’t hunt, I’ll have my lawyer sue for false advertising.”

Sherri grabbed his arm. “Buck, surely you don’t mean that.”

“Of course I mean it.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

MIKE KNEW WHAT HIS
mom was thinking. He nodded to Buck. “You paid for a hunt, you’ll get a hunt. I’ll line up a guide for you.”

Laura gave the Cunninghams a key and explained the map showing the ranch layout. Mike finished their registration in the computer, all the while mentally kicking himself for advertising bison hunts. Thank God they were running low on brochures.

After the couple left, Coach wheeled into the doorway between the office and the counter. “Wanted to let you know I’m leaving for my appointment in Rawlins.”

Laura smiled. “No problem. We’re just glad to have your help when you have time to stop by.”

He maneuvered his chair around to leave.

Laura winked at Mike. “Just a minute, Coach. Do you suppose you could run an errand for me?”

He looked over his shoulder at her. “Sure. What do you need?”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stop by the print shop to see how fast they can whip up a couple banners for us. In the meantime, I’ll call Jill Harris. She’s the parade chairman this year.”

“And order more brochures.” Mike pounded the counter with his fist. “Without that stupid blurb about bison hunts.”

After he left, Laura peered at Mike like she was seeing him for the first time. “When did you change your mind about the hunts? You and your dad hunted together every fall.” She indicated the moose head above the fireplace. “You’re the one who shot Mangy, and if I remember right, it was your idea to offer our guests a chance to shoot a buffalo.”

“I know, Mom. I know.” He made another notation in the computer. “But the more I thought about it, the more I dreaded watching hunters kill my cows. It’s bad enough someone’s killed two, maybe three, of our bison. Then Kate said it wasn’t fair, because the buffalo would just be standing there, fenced in with no chance to get away. It’s not
hunting
—it’s slaughter.”

“Hmm. Kate said that, did she?” Laura gave him a knowing smile.

Mike felt his cheeks flush. “Well, anybody could have said it. Besides, Marshall Thompson wants to buy as many cows as I’m willing to sell him. Why let guests kill them when I can give my animals a good home?”

The latch on the lobby’s screen door clicked.

Mike glanced toward the doorway in time to see Tara step into the room, a folder in her hand. He groaned.

Laura elbowed him. “Hello, Tara.”

Tara ignored her and bee-lined for Mike. “I haven’t seen you for days, Mikey.” Her perfume flooded the room like a nasty fog.

Mike coughed but didn’t speak. God only knew what would spew out of his mouth. Knowing he’d cursed at Kate, he hated to think what he might say to Hughes in front of his mom.

Tara stroked his arm.

He jerked away.

She turned to Laura, stenciled eyebrows arched. “You the person who does the hiring around here?”

Laura didn’t respond.

“Well, you obviously don’t run background checks.”

Mike considered shoving Tara out the door, but he didn’t want to touch her. No doubt she would construe that as an act of intimacy.

She opened the long folder, which appeared to be filled with legal documents, and slid the top paper toward them. “Notice the name at the top?”

They couldn’t help but look.

The State of Pennsylvania

vs.

Katherine Joy Neilson

Page after page followed, the same name always at the top, whether paired with the State of Pennsylvania, the City of Pittsburgh, or Allegheny County.

Tara leafed through the forms, her voice growing louder as she listed the offenses. “Robbery. Burglary. Public intoxication. She slapped the forms onto the counter one-by-one. Assault. Petty theft. Trespass. Possession of an illegal substance. It goes on and on, even including …”

Eyes narrowed, butterflies animated, she leaned over the counter, her voice dropping to a hiss. “Pros-ti-tu-tion.” She straightened, a gleam in her eyes. “The moment I saw her, I knew there was something wrong with the slut. Did you know she just got out of prison?”

She acknowledged their silence with a sneer. “Didn’t think so.” She narrowed her eyes and shook her finger in Laura’s face. “You’ve endangered this entire valley by neglecting to do a background check and by employing a convict. You ought to be ashamed.”

“That’s …”Mike fought to control his voice. “That’s enough.”

“But don’t you see, Mikey? Kate Neilson is a
whore
.”

He pounded the counter. “Out!”

Tara jumped.

“Katherine Neilson could be anybody.” Laura’s eyes were wide. “She can’t be
our
Kate.”

Tara guffawed. “
Your
Kate is one and the same. Don’t be a bimbo brain.”

Mike whipped around the counter.

Tara grabbed the folder and began to back away.

He followed her, staying in her face as she retreated. “If you—” The cadence of his words matched the beat of his boots on the wood floor. “Ever–again–step foot–on our ranch–I’ll get a—”

He jabbed a finger at her. “Restraining order against you!” He stopped his advance when she grasped the door handle. “That’s a promise.”

She thrust her chin forward. “If you ban me from this ranch—
my
ranch—I’ll tell everyone you hire felons. Then nobody will come to your dumb dude ranch. You’ll go out of business and
beg
me to broker a deal with my Daddy to buy your pathetic little dirt farm.”

She flung the door open and marched away, her high heels drumming the porch boards.

***

When Kate awoke the next morning, the sun was above the trees. She found Dymple on her knees in the garden pulling weeds. “Good morning. I suppose you were up at five, as usual.”

Dymple sat back on her heels. “I’ve never been one to sleep in, especially on such a beautiful morning.” She grabbed her hoe and used it to stand. “How about some brunch? I had a glass of juice earlier with a banana, but my stomach is ready for a refill.”

“Oh, look, Dymple.” Kate was pointing at the opposite end of the garden. “A bunny with babies. Aren’t they cute?”

“Cute, my foot!” Dymple voice squeaked. Brandishing the hoe, she hobbled between the rows as fast as she could, her braid dancing across her back. “My candles won’t stand a chance.” She shook the hoe at the little balls of brown fur. “Beat it, you thieving critters!”

Mama rabbit looked at the human scarecrow, blinked and herded her brood away from the carrots, under the fence and into the bushes. Dymple dropped the hoe to the ground and rested her forehead on the handle.

“Are you okay?” Kate tried not to laugh.

“Yes.” Her reply was muffled. “I’m too old to chase rabbits. Maybe I should get a dog.” She raised her head. “But a dog would dig holes in my garden.”

They shared a simple meal of blueberry muffins, fruit and green tea on the patio. “I’m sorry about the rabbits.” Kate peeled a mandarin orange. “There must be something you can do to discourage them.”

“I’ve tried the easy solutions, like sprinkling vinegar and hot pepper flakes around the plants. Those may work, but every time it rains or I water the garden, they’re washed away.” She sliced a square of butter and spread it on her muffin. “I need to get serious about the battle.”

“What does serious mean?”

“Human hair, dried blood, fox urine.”

Kate wrinkled her nose. “Sounds like some kind of witch’s potion.”

Dymple tilted her head, a twinkle in her eye. “They do sound rather medieval, but they’re honest-to-goodness remedies sold in the garden-supply catalogs.”

The telephone rang inside the house.

Dymple hurried to answer it. “That’s probably Sheriff Gilmer returning my call.”

Kate frowned. Why did Dymple call the sheriff? Did last night’s confession scare her? She popped an orange segment in her mouth. Maybe her host wanted out of the house-arrest deal.

Dymple opened the screen door, hobbled across the patio and lowered herself into a chair.

Kate studied the elderly woman’s eyes, searching for a hint of her future.

Dymple picked up her teacup. “Good news, Kate. I told the sheriff about the phone call. He said he’ll place my complaint in Gerald Ramsey’s file.” She swallowed a sip of tea. “Even without positive proof of who the caller was, he can rescind his phone privileges. He said he expects Ramsey to remain incarcerated for several more weeks, if not months. Plus—”

“Wait a minute.” Kate leaned forward. “Are you telling me Ramsey is still in jail?”

“Yes. County jail in Rawlins.”

She sat back, surprised he hadn’t manipulated his way out of jail by now.

“The sheriff also told me Nebraska wants a go at your friend when Wyoming is finished with him. Something about a dead buffalo in their state reserve.” Dymple stirred honey into her tea. “The sheriff promised to let me know the moment he’s released. In the meantime, we can relax.”

“That’s nice of Sheriff Gilmer, but I don’t think I’ll let my guard down. Jerry Ramsey will find a way to get to me sooner or later.”

***

Mike dropped into a chair in front of the fireplace. He covered his face with his hands, reining in the urge to punch his fist through the wall.
You said you wouldn’t give us more than we can handle, God. In case you hadn’t noticed, this is over the top.

Laura tapped her fingernails on the counter. “Thank you, Mike.”

He lowered his hands. “For what?”

Her face looked like she hadn’t seen sunshine all summer. “For kicking Tara out. I was too shocked to do anything but stand here like a bump on a log.”

“You don’t know how close I came to hitting her.” He stood and walked over to her. “The next time she steps foot onto our place, we have to call the sheriff. I don’t know what’s up with her, but she’s a mental case.”

“Where did she get the idea this is
her
ranch?”

“I don’t have a clue. Just more craziness, I guess.”

“What if it turns out she’s correct about Kate? I didn’t do a background check because we’ve never required them. Your dad always said we should trust God to guide us to the right employees. Besides, in Kate’s case, she’s doing an internship. We had a letter of recommendation from her university.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Kate told me she had a difficult past, but this is something else.” He thought of Kate’s warm eyes and gentle smile. “I know anything is possible, especially considering the stolen cash, but it’s hard to believe …” His voice trailed off.

“There’s only one way to find out for sure.”

“What’s that?”

“Ask Kate.”

“Whoa.” He leaned with his back against the counter.

“Yeah, whoa.” Laura rested her elbows on the counter. “I don’t know. Maybe we should let the sheriff do the asking.”

Wordless, they stared at Mangy as if the moose had the answers to their questions.

Mike walked around the counter to the computer. “Better close this file.”

Laura straightened, massaging her shoulders. “Did you see that huge diamond on Tara’s left hand?”

“Couldn’t miss it.”

“Is she engaged?”

“Yep.”

“That’s amazing. Anybody I know?”

He nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“So, who is it?”

“Me. At least that’s what Tara thinks.”

“I hope ... I hope you’re joking.”

Mike clicked out of the program and glanced at his mom. Her face had drained even further of color. “I wish it was a joke. I told you she’s crazy.”

“But where did the ring come from, if no one gave it to her?”

“I have no idea. All I know is that Tara and Todd Hughes are planning a Hughes-Duncan wedding without input from the Duncans.” He told her about the dining hall scene and how he thought Tara had finally gotten the message he wasn’t interested in marriage. Until today.

Laura raised her eyebrows. “It’s all beginning to make sense.”

“Doesn’t make a lick of sense to me.”

“When your dad was alive, Todd Hughes called five or six times a year with an offer to buy our place. Or he’d show up somewhere on the ranch. Your dad thought it a bit spooky how the man could find him alone, whether he was in the barn, moving cattle or fixing fence. He always refused Todd’s offers, but that didn’t stop our determined neighbor from trying.”