Authors: Andi Marquette
From the Boots Up (2 page)
“Would you like a sandwich? You missed lunch.” She
closed the walk-in door.
“Is the chili ready?” she asked hopefully.
“Not yet. Let me make you a sandwich.”
“Are you sure? I can just—”
She raised an eyebrow imperiously. “I am the Kitchen
Queen. I have spoken. Go sit down.” She gestured at the counter by the back
door.
“Yes, your majesty.” She walked around the island and
hung her hat on one of the pegs by the door then sat down on one of the stools,
her back to the counter so she could watch Alice and Anna. “We got another
reservation.”
“Oh, good. I know your dad was worried about filling
up,” Alice said as she sliced bread.
“He said that the reporter that was supposed to come
broke her leg.”
She stopped slicing bread and looked over at her,
concern written in the lines across her brow.
“The editor is trying to find another reporter who
can come out on short notice.”
She went back to her sandwich making. “Well, that’s
how journalists operate. They’re used to changes in plans.” Alice finished with
the bread and started slicing part of a turkey breast. “How soon can the new
one come?”
“They don’t know. I guess they’re trying to keep the
same schedule, if they can find someone. But they might not be able to. So
maybe the next couple of weeks or July.”
“Too bad. From what your dad said, the first one
sounded like a good match for an assignment like this.” She spread deli mustard
on one slice of bread and mayonnaise on the other then placed the slices of
meat on the mayo piece and lettuce and tomato on the mustard piece. She’d add
her “secret spices” next.
“Oh, and I’m not supposed to be an asshole.”
Anna snickered and Alice looked over at her, her lips
twitching with a smile. She returned her gaze to Meg. “You’re hardly that.”
“Dad seems to think I am. He kind of makes me feel
like I’m a teenager, still.”
“That’s his job as a parent. To make you feel like a
teenager the rest of your life. And if it’s any consolation, you’re far from
being a teenager. You’re your own woman. Just remember that to your dad, you’ll
always be his little girl.”
“Then why is he freaking out that I’ll be an asshole
to the reporter?”
“He’s just stressed, hon. He wants to make a good
impression so the story gets a lot of attention.” She went over to one of the
refrigerators and took out a jar of dill pickles.
“He thinks I have Mom’s temper and he thinks I don’t
suffer fools. I guess he thinks if the reporter’s an idiot, I’ll let him or her
know.”
She laughed. “Nothing wrong with pointing something
out, and nothing wrong with a woman having a temper. You just need to learn how
to direct it appropriately. And maybe soften the blow.” She retrieved a plate
from under the stainless steel counter along the back wall. “Diplomacy, love.”
she said. “The art of telling people they’re idiots without making them feel
too bad about it.”
Anna giggled as she reached for another carrot.
Meg grinned. “I guess I might need to work on that a
little bit.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Alice said with a smile.
Anna finished with the carrots and put them in a
plastic tub that she carried into the walk-in. She had to duck her head, since
she was pushing six feet tall. She’d never played team sports, for which her
height probably would have served well. She was, however, an excellent barrel
racer.
“I’m not going to screw this up,” Meg said. It still
stung a little, that her dad thought she might.
“No, you’re not.” Alice brought the plate over to
her. It looked like something out of a food magazine, with the pickle and chips
arranged artfully around the sandwich halves.
Meg smiled. “Thanks. I love your sandwiches.”
She squeezed her shoulder. “Iced tea?”
“Yes, please.” She turned so she faced the counter
and bit into the sandwich. Alice made the best. “How is it that your sandwiches
always taste so good?” She said after she’d swallowed.
“Made with love.” Alice winked as she put a glass of
tea and a napkin on the counter next to Meg’s plate.
“You’re the best-kept secret in the West. Please
don’t ever leave us. But if you do, mention the Diamond Rock on your cooking
show.”
She laughed and went to clean up. “You’re your
father’s daughter.”
Meg continued to eat, Anna and Alice chatting amiably
behind her. When she finished, she took the plate into the dishwashing room
then went back into the kitchen where Alice was checking the chili. Anna must
have gone into the dining room, because one of the swinging doors was moving.
Alice handed her a spoon. “One taste. No
double-dipping.”
She laughed and took a spoonful, holding it over her
cupped left hand so none would spill. She blew on it and tasted it. “Oh, my
God. Best. Chili. Ever.” She finished the spoonful and Alice took the utensil
from her.
“Make sure you tell the reporter that.”
“I won’t have to. One taste will prove it.”
Alice set the spoon aside and continued to stir one
of the big pots on the stove.
“He’s still acting weird,” Meg said after a few more
moments.
She stopped stirring and gave Meg her full attention.
“About your break-up with Amanda?”
She nodded.
“He’ll come around.”
“I think he’s hoping that I was just experimenting,
and now I’ll go find a boyfriend.”
“He also just wants to make sure you’re happy.” She
reached up and brushed Meg’s hair out of her face, like a mom might. “Sweetie,
your dad loves you more than life itself. But he’s a little traditional in some
ways, and it’ll just take him a little bit to get used to the idea. Parents
always have expectations for their children, and he’s having to revise some
about you.”
“I feel like I screwed up. Maybe I shouldn’t have
told him.” A knot tightened in her chest, and she hated this wedge that seemed to
have come between her dad and her.
Alice pulled her into a hug. “You had to. Because
this is part of you, and it’s not healthy to keep that all bottled up inside.
I’m proud of you, for telling not only your dad but your mom.”
Meg groaned as Alice released her. “I’m supposed to
call her.”
She gave her a sympathetic smile. “You are who you
are, and you’re choosing to live your life on your terms.”
“She doesn’t like my terms.”
Well, it’s not for her to decide, is it?”
“She makes it seem that way.”
“You’ll get through.” She pecked her on the cheek.
“Come and talk to me later tonight if you want.”
Meg nodded. “Thanks.”
Anna came back into the kitchen and Meg waved at her
before she moved to the back door, where she retrieved her hat before she went
outside. Across from the dining room and kitchen about thirty yards away stood
the two-story structure dubbed “the motel,” modeled after a Northwoods hunting
lodge for the guests, its rooms accessible from the outside. Covered verandas
sheltered the walkways. Her father lived in quarters just off the office
building, also across from the motel, and the hands lived in bunkhouses. All
the structures surrounded a large packed-dirt parking area, like wagons
circling a campsite.
She took the outside steps of the lodge to the second
floor, where she lived. She alone occupied this level, unless they had extra
guests. Otherwise, she kept the extra rooms closed up. Maybe the reporter’s
story would bring them enough business that they’d be able to open these extra
rooms. Her bootheels made hollow sounds on the wood and the metal roof of the
veranda creaked and popped in the sun. She sighed as she opened the heavy
wooden door into her foyer, hung her hat on one of the pegs near the entrance,
and walked down the hallway toward her bedroom, where she kept a phone.
Two
“
L
ooks like
we’re in luck with a
reporter,” Stan said as he leaned against the corral’s fence next to Meg. She’d
been watching Jackson work with a horse, along with a few of their current
guests, who weren’t within earshot.
She smiled with relief, because it was already
Tuesday.
“She’s supposed to get in this Friday.”
Another woman. Could be a good thing or a bad thing,
depending on whether Davey took a shine to her or not. He could be kind of
charming, but also kind of annoying. “Does someone need to go pick her up at the
airport?” she asked.
“No. She’s got her own transportation, apparently.”
“Who is it?”
“Don’t know. But the editor assured me that she’ll
get here Friday.” He pushed the brim of his hat back a bit from his forehead.
She’ll be here a week, which I guess is a full immersion experience or whatever
they call it these days.” He shrugged.
She nodded. A week on ultra super-good, keep-everything-perfect
behavior. A week with Stan on high alert. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
He looked at her, surprised.
“Alice said so.”
He laughed. “Oh, well, then it must be true.”
“Hey, if anyone would know, it’d be her.”
He nodded and watched Jackson. “Yep. It would.” He
looked back at her. “I need you to make a couple runs to the feed store this
week. And on Wednesday, could you go to Laramie and pick up a couple of saddles
I dropped off last month for repair?”
“Sure. Do we need anything else from Laramie?” She’d
combine one of the feed store trips with the Laramie trip.
“Nah. Don’t want you having to run around the big
city too long.” He gave her a grin.
“Yeah. Booming metropolis of Laramie. Scary, trying
to find my way around.”
“Speaking of finding your way around, can you go with
Davey this afternoon for a horseback tour? I’ve got nine people on the
schedule.”
“Yep.”
“Thanks.” He squeezed her shoulder. “It’s not so bad,
having you around,” he said, droll.
“Yeah, well, it’s not so bad hanging out with you,
either.” She poked him in the arm.
“And I’m sorry about what I said the other day. I
know you won’t screw anything up when the reporter’s here. I’m just a
little—”
“Stressed. I know.”
He gave her a sly look. “But no snipe hunting with
the reporter.”
Meg laughed. “Damn, I was going to take her out with
the kids. See if we could catch one. Maybe she could get a photo of the elusive
snipe. Along with a jackalope.”
He chuckled and gave her a quick squeeze around the
shoulders. “Davey’ll be saddling up in about an hour.”
“Okay. I’ll go help.”
“Thanks, hon. See you at dinner.”
She watched him walk over to chat with some of the
guests, then headed for the horse pens and stables to help get set up for the
trail ride. She checked the paddock on the way. Davey had already saddled three
horses and he was in the stable when she walked in.
“Hey. You gonna be my riding partner today?” he
asked.
“Yep.”
“Cool. I’ve got Jester, Jim, Tom, Spots, and Dex
ready for saddling.” He took his baseball cap off and ran his hand through his
close-cropped hair. He was just twenty-one, but he already had the tight, rangy
build of a guy who spent a lot of time working outdoors. In twenty years, he’d
probably have the classic Marlboro Man look to him. He brushed his faded blue
tee off and took a drink from a water bottle he’d placed on a nearby hay bale.
She draped a bridle and bit over her shoulder than
pulled a saddle off its sawhorse and walked it out to the horses. Dex was
closest, so she saddled him first.
“Heard we’re gonna get a reporter after all,” Davey
said from behind her.
“Yeah. She’s supposed to be here Friday.”
“She?”
Meg rolled her eyes but Davey didn’t see because her
back was to him and she was focused on adjusting Dex’s belly strap.
“Yeah. She’s about sixty-eight, wears frumpy dresses,
and plays bridge. She’s hoping a few of the folks here are into that.”
“Bet she’s not. Bet she’s a babe. California girl,
after all. Bet she’s blond, and that she wears tight jeans.”
At least he didn’t talk about her boobs. Meg turned
toward him. “No fraternization, dude,” she said with a surfer accent. “That’s
the rule.”
“There’s no rule against looking. Or talking.” He
gave her a toothy grin, edged with a little bit of flirtatiousness, which
probably would have worked on a straight girl. Davey had that kind of charm to
him.
“Is that all you ever think about?” She turned back
to Dex and fitted the bit into his mouth.
“What? I’m a healthy young guy.”
“There’s more to a woman than tits and ass,” she said
as she worked the bridle over Dex’s head.
“Oh, I know. Believe me, I know.”
She shook her head and looped the reins loosely
around the saddle horn.
“C’mon, Meg,” he said with his “aw shucks” tone. “You
know I’m only teasing. But I do appreciate a woman’s assets.”
“I’ll bet. But the reporter’s are off-limits.”
“No harm in looking.” He flashed her another grin and
retreated to the stable for another saddle. She shook her head and patted Dex’s
neck. It was going to be hard enough being under an outsider’s scrutiny for a
week, trying to make light conversation when your every word was up for
examination. Unless she was Davey’s type. In which case it wouldn’t be such a
bad thing for him to do a little flirting with her. It would keep her off Meg’s
back, at least. On the other hand, it might annoy the hell out of her, if he
wouldn’t leave her alone. She’d have to keep an eye on the situation,
regardless. She gave Dex another pat and went to get another saddle.
H
ighway
230 in southern Wyoming cruised
north over the rolling prairie of the North Platte River Valley that
spread-eagled between the Medicine Bows to the east and the Rockies to the
west. The road jagged through Riverside and became 130 on its journey north into
Saratoga, population about seventeen hundred, and distance about fifteen miles
from Diamond Rock Ranch.
