Winter at Mustang Ridge (17 page)

Then it was time for the videos.

Jenny’s pulse bumped with a combination of nerves and excitement as she cued up the first of Big Skye’s videos. “Now, I know Krista said just interviews, but I spiced it up with some stuff from our archives—aka, the attic. Feel free to tell me it’s too much.”
Please don’t tell me it’s too much
.

“If your photos are anything to go by, I’m going to love it.”

In a perfect world, they would’ve been in a screening room where Jenny could’ve killed the lights, not just to improve the picture, but also so she wouldn’t have the option of darting nervous looks over at Shelby, trying to judge her reaction as the video began with a black screen and the soft strum of a lone guitar. Then the black warmed to a sepia-toned image of a man and a woman posed stiffly together, a dollar photograph from back when a dollar might be a cowboy’s wages for the whole week.

After a moment, Big Skye’s voice said, “In 1869, two years after the Union Pacific Railroad came through Wyoming, a railroader-turned-gold prospector named Jonah Skye won five hundred head of cattle and some money in a poker game. His wife, Mary—tired of moving around and living on the fringes—pressured him to cash in his gold and build her a proper home in a valley they knew of, near a little town that didn’t even have a name yet. A year later, they drove a hundred head down to the railhead, where they were fattened up and shipped for slaughter. Two years later, it was five hundred head. By year five, when this picture was taken, the cowboys of Mustang Ridge Ranch were running several thousand head and making good money. More, Jonah and Mary had added a son to the family, little James Skye.”

The picture dissolved to Big Skye’s image, and darned if you couldn’t see Jonah Skye in the shape of his face. “My name is Arthur Skye, and I’m James’s four-times great-grandson. Mustang Ridge Ranch is, and always will be, my family’s legacy.”

The narration paused and the background guitar strum came up over a montage of the oldest pictures Jenny had managed to find. Most of them were posed shots of family members, but there were a few candid photos of caballeros wearing batwing chaps and knotted neck rags, and cowboys on horseback amid huge herds, looking like their upper bodies were floating above the backs of the cows.

Then the screen went dark again, the music paused, and the simple title came up:
Mustang Ridge: The Early Years
.

Into the brief silence, Shelby said softly, “You’re flipping brilliant.”

“We can change the title, or whatever you want. This is just a first pass at—”

“Shut up. You’re messing with my moment.”

Jenny leaned back, let out a long, slow breath, and let the video play out.

For the next eight and a half minutes—she just hadn’t been able to keep it to five—her gramps told them about the cattle rustlers of the Keyhole Canyon gang, and how the interconnected
MRR
of the ranch’s brand was designed to be almost impossible to alter. He recounted fortunes won and lost with the draw of a card or a gun, and how the cattle business had boomed as the population exploded. Always, though, the stories came back to family, and how when you lived in the middle of nowhere, it was family that counted.

Even though she had seen it a zillion times already, Jenny’s throat still lumped up when the clip finished with Big Skye looking into the camera like it was an old friend, and saying, “Throughout our history, the men and women of Mustang Ridge have always been a family, whether by blood or by heart. We stand by each other, and we stand for the land and the creatures entrusted to us. I think—I hope—that Jonah and Mary would be proud of the family we’ve made here.”

His face stayed on the screen for a beat, and then dissolved to a picture of his younger self astride a bay gelding, wearing batwing chaps and a wide-brimmed hat as he rode off along the fence line and into the setting sun.

Slowly, the guitar faded out. Then, the image did, too.

When the screen went to credits, Jenny hit a button and froze things.

There was a three-count of silence. And then Shelby, still staring at her monitor, said, “Oh. My. God. Where were you when I had huge budgets to work with?”

“Belize, probably. I guess that means you like it.”

Shelby turned to her, eyes shining with more than just appreciation. “Perfect. That was absolutely perfect. And . . . I can’t believe you got your grandfather to do this. He hates the dude ranch thing!”

“He loves being on camera more.”

“Krista never said.”

“She might not have known how deep his camera whoreness goes.”

Shelby belly laughed. “You did not just call your grandfather a whore.”

“If you tell anybody, I’ll deny it. Or, better yet, I’ll say you said it.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me.”

They grinned at each other like a couple of fools, and then Jenny said, “You want to see the other one?”

“You did two of them? Already?”

“And a vanity piece for my mom.”

“Is she still—” Shelby’s phone rang, interrupting. She checked the ID and frowned. “It’s Lizzie’s school.”

While she took the call, Jenny rose and went to the dining room windows.

Rex leaped up and followed, excited.
Are we doing something cool?

“I’m just having a look-see, buddy.”

The windows were marked out with a huge rectangle of painter’s tape that went all the way to the floor, suggesting that they were slated to become French doors in the near future. The view was a doozy: a tractor shed on one side and a falling-down barn on the other, with snow draping the buildings like it had been put there on purpose to turn them from dilapidated to picturesque. But that wasn’t what caught Jenny’s attention so much as the leaden gray of the horizon, and how she couldn’t see the mountains anymore.

“They’re letting the kids out early,” Shelby said, coming to join her at the window. “The bus is on its way. I guess the storm is moving faster than the forecasters thought.”

Well, darn
. Jenny scowled at the sky. “No fair. I’ve got a date tonight.”

“I’m thinking that’s going to need a rain check. Or would that be a snow check?”

“It’s annoying, that’s what it is.” Jenny sighed. “Either way, I should probably hit the road. I’ll leave you with a flash drive that has most of what I just showed you on it. If you change your mind on any of it—”

“I won’t.”

“Good to hear. Okay, so if you have any more ideas on how I can contribute, or suggestions for the interviews, you’ve got my numbers and my email. Meanwhile, I’ll do the additional interviews we talked about. We can meet again in a week or two, if you like.”

“Absolutely. And I was thinking we should get together outside of work stuff and have a couple of drinks or a meal and a movie, or something. Do a girls’ night.”

The invite brought a flush of pleasure. “I’d like that. I haven’t been out since I’ve been back.”

“Not big on hooking up with old friends for a round of remember whens?”

“Not many old friends, at least not that I’ve kept in touch with.” None, really. “The kids who left after high school are long gone, and the ones who stayed or came back after college have their own friends and families to hang with. When I try to add myself on without Krista there to run interference, everybody gets weird and awkward, like they don’t know what to say.”

“You’re a celebrity.”

“More like an escapee.”

“Okay, I get it. You’re out of the local scene. Their loss, my gain.” She held out Jenny’s coat. “Next week?”

“Would it be okay if I invite another newbie along?” she asked, thinking of Michelle.

“The more, the merrier. How does Wednesday sound?”

“Great, assuming we’re dug out by then.”

“Don’t even joke about it.” Shelby made a face. “It’s my first winter out here, and I’m told we’ve been lucky so far.”

Jenny shouldered her bag. “Did the school say when the snow is supposed to start?”

“Sorry, no. It’s an automated system. Want me to call Foster and see how things look up on Mustang Ridge?”

“That’s okay. Even if it’s started dusting a little by the time I hit the high country, the Jeep can handle it.” She leaned in and gave Shelby a half-hug with her free arm. “Great to meet you, totally yes to girls’ night, and I’m out of here. Come on, Rex!”

“Go!” Shelby waved them through the door, then called, “Do you want me to call the ranch and let them know you’re on your way?”

“Yes, please! ‘Bye!”

Foster was just pulling in as Jenny pulled out, and he gave her a thumbs-up that she took to mean that the roads were okay. Still, she kept the pedal down and the speedometer up as she headed for home, hoping to beat the snow.

“H
ere’s the last of today’s charts,” Ruth announced, as she bustled into Nick’s office. “I’ll put them away, and then I’m going to boogie. The snow is piling up fast.”

He looked up from his notes. “Leave ’em. I’ll do the filing.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re the one who has to drive home, so scram already. Drive safe and text me when you get there.”

She gave him a fond smile. “Yes, dear.” She headed for the door, but turned back to say. “Sorry about your date.”

“Me, too.” He was itching to see Jenny again, and she wasn’t going to be in Wyoming forever. “Hopefully this storm won’t sock us in for too long.”

She shot a dubious look over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t count on it.” Then she brightened. “Lucky for you, we live in a brave new world of technology. You can have a Skype date.”

“My nose looks huge on Skype.”

“So put your computer on a couple of books to get the camera looking down at you,” she said like that should’ve been obvious. “A glass of wine, a couple of candles, some music in the background and voila! Instant romance. Or you could stream the same movie, sync it up, and watch it together.”

“True.” But after four days of phone calls that could have—and a few times had—lasted for hours, he wanted some one-on-one time, up close and personal.

“I know it’s not the same,” she said with a wink. “But you can still have fun if you get creative. Ask me how I know.”

I’d really rather not
. “I thought you were boogy-ing?”

She laughed and left.

Twenty minutes later, as he was finishing up in the office, tucking away the last of the files, her text came through:
Home safe. Stay warm. C u Mnday.

“Ah, Ruth.” He shook his head. “I suppose I should be grateful you don’t use text-speak in the office.” Cheesepuff jumped off his desk, landed with an audible
thud
, and walked over to the door, tail flicking. “What, you want to go outside, too?” Nick dumped his lab coat and followed the cat to the waiting area, giving a low whistle at the wall of white outside. “That would be a no on going outside, then.” Having grown up a few hours south of Three Ridges, he’d thought he had known what to expect around here. Half a winter at this elevation, though, had taught him different. Up on the ridgelines, the storms came in fast, hit hard, and stayed put. “Okay, upstairs it is. How does popcorn and some Bond sound to you?”

As he followed the cat up the stairs, he composed a message to Jenny.
Done for the day, but socked in. You home safe?
He debated turning it into text speak for a laugh, but couldn’t bring himself to mangle the English language like that.

He didn’t get an answer right away, but they were in the Land of Dead Zones, after all. He figured he’d give it a half hour, then make a couple of calls. Not to stalk her, so much as to make sure she’d made it home okay from Shelby’s. Grinning at the prospect of her giving him the “I’ve been handling myself for a long time, Buster, so don’t think you’re going to do it for me” attitude that he had glimpsed a few times before, he snagged his popcorn out of the microwave, grabbed a soda, and headed for the couch. “Come on, cat, let’s have some guy time.”

The opening chase scene unfolded with the usual collection of gunshots, screeching tires, and improbable stunts, and with Nick checking his phone every couple of minutes, just in case.

Bond was zooming along an eyebrow road in a fast car that’d taken a serious beating when something went
thudda-thud
downstairs.

“Did you hear that?” Nick muted the movie, figuring Daniel Craig could kick ass with or without volume, but there was no way he could hear anything over the chop-socky on the screen.

In the sudden quiet he was very aware of the whited-out window and the wind that lashed at the building, sounding annoyed that it couldn’t get past all the weather stripping and spray foam he’d slopped around when the first cold snap hit. The noise—if there had even been a noise—didn’t repeat itself, but silence didn’t mean there wasn’t a problem.

“Think someone’s out in this garbage?” he asked Cheese, figuring those radar-dish ears could outperform his own any day. He had learned to kill the driveway buzzer during a bad storm—better that than listen to the darn thing false-alarming every few minutes, so that couldn’t have been it. But he’d thought . . . “Or am I imagining things?”

He was halfway down the stairs when footsteps thudded on the front porch, followed by a weather-muffled knock and a faint call of, “Hello? Nick?”

“It’s open!” He hollered, coming down the rest of the stairs in a rush, adrenaline starting to pump. That had sounded like . . . “Jenny?”

The door flew open and banged on its stop as a whole lot of icy-cold rushed in, along with a snow-crusted figure, petite and female, wearing a familiar ski jacket and fuzzy hat, and carrying a computer bag strapped across her body like a bandolier. Behind her was a four-legged snowman of a dog.

They stumbled in as he wrestled the door shut, muting the roar of the storm.

“S-surprise.” The word came from between her chattering teeth as Rex shook, spraying snow in all directions.

“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” The bellow surprised him, as did the emotions that punched him in the chest. Bringing his tone down a notch, he demanded, “Are you okay?”

“We’re f-fine. Just got caught, that’s all.” She fumbled to lower the computer bag, which landed amid melting shards of ice. “Thought I had enough time to make it back from the Double-Bar H, but it turned out I didn’t, so I decided to come here, instead.” She fumbled to pull off her gloves, unzip her ski jacket, and drag it off. “Almost made it, too.”

“Almost?” He looked out the window, his gut doing a somersault. “Where’s the Jeep?”

“In the ditch around the corner from your driveway.” When he emitted a low growl, she narrowed her eyes. “It’s no big deal.”

And there it was, the ‘tude he’d been wishing for earlier. Only now it was more irritating than adorable. “You should’ve stayed at Shelby’s.”

Crossing to him, she reached up and cupped his jaw in her cool palms. “I’m okay,” she said firmly. “And, yeah, I probably should’ve turned around when things got messy. But I decided that if I was going to be snowed in with anyone, I wanted it to be you.”

Danged if that didn’t make him melt faster than the snow. Not just because of what she’d said, but because she was right—she was safe. And, better yet, she was here. He brought his hands up to her hips, caging her against him. “You did mention that you weren’t going to let any wussy old storm mess with date night.”

“I’m a woman of my word.”

He leaned in, skimmed his lips across hers. “My nose really looks huge on Skype.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” he said, and kissed her.

Before their kisses had said
I like you
and
This feels good
. Now this one said
Thank God you’re safe
and
I’m glad you came here
. More, there was a deeper, darker edge, an urgency that acknowledged what was going to happen next—they were going to go upstairs together and wait out the storm.

Her lips warmed beneath his, but he was all too aware that her fingers were cool on the back of his neck and her clothes were damp and chilly. And Rex wasn’t doing much better.

“Let’s get you two upstairs,” he said in a voice that didn’t quite sound like his own. “Warm you up, dry you off. That sort of thing.” He wasn’t quite tongue-tied, but he didn’t feel like his usual more or less charming self, either, like that part of him had been temporarily stripped away.

She eased back and toed off her boots, then retrieved her computer bag, which looked reassuringly waterproof. “I wouldn’t say no to a cup of coffee. And Rex could probably use a couple of towels, maybe a blow-dryer.”

“That I can do.” He snagged the dryer from Ruth’s grooming supplies and led his guests through the Employees Only door, and up the stairs to the second floor. “Er, do me a favor and excuse the mess.”

“Please,” she scoffed as she opened the door and stepped into his apartment. “I’m sure I’ve seen—” She stepped into his living room-slash-man cave, and laughed. “It’s not that messy, but, hello, bachelor pad.”

He came in behind her and took a look around, confirming that the mess factor was pretty low, thanks to his most recent herding of dirty dishes and laundry. Looking at it through her eyes, though, he imagined that a room empty of everything but a double recliner couch, huge flat-screen, and gazillion gaming components probably screamed “arrested development” rather than “I’m used to living out of a duffel.”

Then again, this was Jenny. She probably got the second part.

Seeing her glance at the screen, where Daniel Craig was kicking butt on mute, he said, “Cheese and I were burrowing in for a snow day and waiting for you to text us back and let us know you made it home safe.”

Her lips curved. “I did. Just not all the way to Mustang Ridge.”

“Hallelujah,” he said fervently, getting a laugh out of her. “You want to let them know where you are? Landline’s in the kitchen if your cell doesn’t want to play.”

“Thanks. I’ll give them a call.”

“I’ll dry Rex off here in the kitchen. You take the bathroom. Hop in the shower, get your body temp back up.” He pointed. “Down that hallway, first on the left. I’ll leave a set of sweats outside the door.”

“I’d accuse you of trying to get me naked, but I’ll admit it—I’m freezing.”

“And I’m a doctor,” he said piously.

Laughing, she disappeared in the direction of the bathroom. A few minutes later, as he was rifling through the shelves in his closet, he heard the shower go on. As a gentleman, he didn’t picture her naked.

Not much, anyway.

Tapping on the bathroom door, he called, “Clothes are out here.”

“You’re a prince.” Her voice was muffled by the door and the noise of running water, and all those sounds together combined to put a hitch in his breathing. He liked having a woman in his shower, for the first time in his new place.

More, he really liked that it was Jenny.

Figuring it was best not to look at it any closer than that, he focused on getting Rex dry. Three soggy towels and a few minutes later, he had a damp, wiggly dog that was warm enough that he’d rather explore than sit for any more grooming.

“Jenny’s right. You’ve got some focus issues.” He released the dog. “Go on. But don’t say I didn’t try!”

The goldie bounded out of the kitchen, did a loop of the living room, and bounced up on the couch to sniff Cheesepuff. The tabby hissed and swatted at the dog, and when Rex retreated, the cat puffed up to twice his already considerable girth and gave chase.

Nick stepped between them with a stern, “Quit that. You guys met downstairs and did just fine.” He put his hands on his hips and gave Cheese a mock glare. “And since when do you bother with dogs?”

That got him a rear-end view and a tail flick he interpreted as
Since he’s upstairs, in
my
space
.

“Well, deal with it.”

When the animals seemed ready to ignore each other, Nick made a quick circuit of the apartment, ensuring there wasn’t anything too embarrassing out in the open. He was only using four of the eight rooms—there were six on this level and two more downstairs, behind the clinic—so it didn’t take long. He stashed a few dishes in the dishwasher, kicked a few socks in the closet, and pulled his bedspread more or less smooth, kind of wishing he’d assembled the steel bed frame that had come with the mattress and box spring rather than just setting them up on the floor. Not that he was assuming anything. But it was a nice change to even have the thought.

The guest room—which he’d furnished in case his father wanted to crash with him—didn’t need any work because he was almost never in there. The pullout couch was folded up, the framed prints were straight, and there weren’t any hairballs on the rug. He was good to go.

Back out in the living room, he draped the fuzzy brown blanket more artfully over the leather behemoth, fished a couple of pillows off the floor, killed the TV, and tuned the radio to a local station that played a decent mix of music and gave good weather.

Cheesepuff watched him with a look of
Dude, really
?

“Stuff it,” he said mildly. “We’ve got company.”

Standing in front of the flat-screen, he took a look around, and decided it might come across as a bachelor pad, but at least it didn’t look like a scuzzy one. Most of the stuff was new, after all. It hadn’t had time to earn its rips and duct tape.

The cat’s ears flicked when the water went off, and again when the door opened and a bare arm snaked out to snag the sweats and socks Nick had left in the hallway. Rex’s head came up and he gave a low “whuff,” but he seemed content to stay flopped out on the rug in front of the sofa.

Still not imagining Jenny naked—not much, anyway—Nick headed for the kitchen and considered his options on the warm-the-body-up front. When he heard footsteps behind him, he said, “I can offer you coffee, hot chocolate, chicken noodle or cream of mushroom. Which, for the record, I thought was another can of chicken noodle when I bought it.”

“Can I get my hot chocolate with those little petrified marshmallows in it?”