Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel) (12 page)

He chewed at a hangnail. It was her fault he got arrested. She’d made his life difficult, again—and expensive, when things could have gone smoothly, but she would pay for the trouble she’d caused him. And no matter how much she groveled and begged, he wouldn’t marry her and give her his name or a honeymoon in Yellowstone Park. They’d live together. That’s all.

Too bad, really. He took a long drag on the cigarette. He’d been looking forward to shooting a wolf or a bear, maybe even another stand-there-looking-stupid buffalo.

Chapter Ten

KATE TIGHTENED HER GRIP
on the over-sized bottle. Thank God her hands were getting better. She grinned at the calf. “You have quite the suction power, little girl. We weren’t sure you’d get the hang of it.”

The calf grunted but didn’t let go or shift its gaze from Kate’s face.

Kate thought about how much her animal-loving friend, Amy, would enjoy Trudy. She’d phoned Amy and Aunt Mary the night before. They were both so pleased with her description of ranch life, she couldn’t bring herself to mention the confrontations with Ramsey. Besides, as far as she knew, he was in jail.

A shadow fell across the corral. She looked up.

The Hispanic teen was eyeing her, an uncertain expression on his face.

“Hi.” She smiled. “I’m Kate. What’s your name?”

“Manuel. Manuel Ortega.” The youth placed his elbows on the top rail. “What’s in the bottle? Cow’s milk?”

“Mrs. D says this is goat milk, which is better for bison calves than beef-cow milk. Once a day, we add liquid vitamins and minerals, plus a raw egg.”

“Wow. It’s hard to believe goat milk is better than cow’s milk for a buffalo calf.” His accent was barely discernible. “When my dad, who’s a sheepherder, nurses orphan lambs, he sometimes uses goat milk. But I’m surprised it works for bison.”

“Surprised me, too. Trudy acted a little disappointed at first, and she wasn’t sure what to do with a rubber nipple, but now she loves it.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Trudy? Is that the calf’s name?”

Clint walked up to lean next to Manuel on the top railing.

Kate was glad to see him treat Manuel kindly, even though others ignored him.

He elbowed Manuel. “Can you imagine how humiliated that calf will be when the herd finds out she’s named
Trudy
?”

Manuel laughed.

Kate put her hand on her waist. “She has to have a name.”

“Maybe, but it should be something rugged and tough. This is a ranch, you know.”

“This is a
female
bison, you know. We can’t call her John Wayne or Clint Eastwood. Right, Manuel?”

Manuel raised his hands. “I’m staying out of this one.”

Clint placed one boot on the bottom rail. “How’s the calf doing?”

“She eats constantly.” Kate grabbed a rag from her back pocket and dabbed at the milk that dribbled down the calf’s chin. “Hungry all the time, but Laura says it’s normal for buffalo calves to nurse frequently.”

He slapped the railing. “I don’t believe what I just saw. You’re spoiling her.”

“I am not. If Trudy’s mother were alive, I’m sure she’d lick her chin for her.”

Clint rolled his eyes and turned to Manuel. “How much you want to bet Miss Trudy will be wearing a bib by tomorrow morning?”

The calf released the nipple with a loud pop.

Kate fell backward into the straw.

Clint jumped the railing to help her to her feet.

The calf leaped away, grunting and bawling.

Kate crouched, holding her hands out to the frightened calf. “It’s okay, baby. Come to Mama.”

Clint snickered. “
Mama?
You’re way too pretty to be a bison mama.” He opened the corral gate. “See you later.”

Embarrassed, Kate pulled the calf close.
I was a real mama once, before I aborted my baby.
She blinked. Where did that come from? She’d never before thought of herself as a mother—or the fetus as a baby.

She looked at Manuel. “Do you think Trudy should have a different name?”

But Manuel, who was watching Trisha and Bethany stroll toward them, turned away. “Better get busy.” He disappeared around the side of the barn.

Kate stood as the girls came closer. “Hi, Trisha. Good morning, Bethany.”

“Hey, Kate.” Trisha waved at Trudy through the railing. “We came to see the baby buffalo. He’s so cute.”

Kate laughed. “Mike says he’s a she. I named her Trudy.”

“That’s a great name.” Bethany smiled her approval. “Can we pet her?”

Kate opened the gate for the girls. She’d have to tell Clint at least one person liked the name. “Sure, come on in. But move slowly. She’s skittish.”

Trudy peeked at them from behind Kate’s legs.

“What a silly buffalo.” Trisha held her hand out for the calf to sniff.

Trudy stretched her neck toward Trisha, wiggling her nose and sniffing—until Tramp, who’d run up to the corral and slipped between the rails, barked. The bison gave a little grunt and a hop and trotted toward the dog.

Trisha laughed. “Upstaged by a dog.”

The three humans stepped out of the corral.

Trudy lowered her head as if to butt Tramp. Tramp sat on his haunches and barked again. The calf sprang back. They raced round and round the corral, Tramp yipping and Trudy grunting, until the calf wheeled to face the dog, her head lowered. Then they started the routine all over, sending dust and straw particles into the air.

Kate sneezed.

“Bless you.” Three voices chorused the blessing, one of them male.

Kate’s heart soared when Mike appeared next to her.

“How’s the nursemaid this morning?”

She couldn’t help but notice how his half grin creased his cheek. “Doing good.” She motioned toward the frolicking animals. “We’re enjoying the show.”

“Yeah, those two sure like playing together, but I need to cut short the fun.” He rapped the railing. “Tramp, time to go.”

The dog glanced at Mike but didn’t stop chasing his playmate.

Mike called his name again. This time, he added one more word. “Doghouse.”

Tail between his legs, Tramp turned his back on the disappointed calf and crept out of the corral.

Kate laughed. “I take it Tramp hasn’t forgotten his time in the kennel.”

Bethany leaned on the railing. “Did your dog do something bad?”

Tramp sat down beside his master, his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth.

Mike patted his dog’s head. “Good boy.” He straightened. “Tramp tangled with another calf. I’ll tell you about it sometime. Right now, I have to go get set up for branding.”

Kate snickered. “That’s what he told me, too. Someday we
might
hear the story.”

“Better get going. I’ll see you ladies later.” He winked at Kate and aimed for the barn, Tramp at his side.

Kate watched them go. Clint was fun, but Mike was the one who … She couldn’t contain the grin. He was one who made her heart
flutter like a flag in a flurry
, as Aunt Mary would say.

“Ooh, Kate.” Trisha gave her a knowing look. “I saw that wink.”

She felt her face flush. “He’s a nice guy.”

Bethany chimed in. “Yeah, real nice guy, especially to—”

Trisha interrupted. “Speaking of guys, we saw you talking to Manuel. You’d better be careful. He’s, like, bad news.”

Kate looked from Trisha to Bethany. “Is there something I should know?”

Trisha glanced around. “Let’s go sit in the gazebo. It’s more private.”

“We can’t forget we’re supposed to help fix lunch today, Trish.” Bethany led the way to the gazebo.

Kate followed. “I’m on lunch duty, too.”

They treaded a narrow path through the newly plowed garden to the redwood-stained shelter in the center. Kate inhaled the scent of warm earth. Mrs. D had asked the three of them to plant a vegetable garden in a few days. She couldn’t wait.

The girls sat on one side of the built-in bench that matched the curve of the rounded structure. Kate laid the bottle and rag on the bench and sat across from them. “So what’s the deal with Manuel? How can we help him?”

Trisha snorted. “Help a loser? He’s going to end up in the pen.”

Kate pressed her hands against her thighs to stem her rising anger. “That may be the opinion of some, but that’s precisely why I want to help him. Everyone—
especially
losers—needs encouragement.” Oh, how well she knew.

“Whatever.” Trisha turned to Bethany. “Go ahead, Beth. You tell Kate about Manuel. Then we’ll see how much she wants to
encourage
him.”

Bethany shrugged. “Kate can do whatever she wants.” She crossed her legs. “The short version is that last summer Manuel and some other guys we go to school with were out on the flats drinking and partying and driving crazy in pickups and ATVs. They topped a hill and surprised a herd of antelope, which took off running. So they chased them. But one antelope was injured or sick and couldn’t run fast.”

Trisha interrupted again. “In case you didn’t know, the only animals that can run faster than pronghorn antelope are cheetahs. I don’t know how fast cheetahs can run, but I’ve heard antelope can run like, seventy miles an hour.”

“The way they run is cool to watch.” Bethany flipped her blonde hair behind her shoulders. “They do a hopping kind of thing. My dad says it’s called pronking. Anyway, the injured one couldn’t keep up. Manuel, who was really drunk by then, decided to chase it with an ATV. He trailed it for a long way. Nobody could say for sure how far.”

Kate sighed, reminded of the idiotic things she’d done while high.

Bethany took a breath. “Finally, the antelope stumbled and fell, but Manuel didn’t stop. He drove over it then turned around and did it again, and again and again. The other guys said blood and guts and fur flew everywhere, covering the ATV and Manuel with gore. I guess there wasn’t much left of the antelope by the time he was done.”

Kate thought of the beautiful, stately creatures she’d seen grazing in the meadows and felt sick.

“What a creep.” Trisha narrowed her eyelids. “I get so mad every time I think about it.”

Bethany’s face had paled and her voice wavered, but she continued. “Manuel’s family doesn’t have much money, so the court appointed my dad, who’s an attorney, to defend him. He tried hard to help Manuel, but the evidence and the witnesses were all against him. Plus, Manuel didn’t have anything to say for himself.”

“What could he say?” Trisha pounded the bench seat. “He was obviously guilty.”

Kate frowned. “Was it a setup?”

“Dad tried to prove it was a setup, but the judge found Manuel guilty and sent him to reform school in Worland.”

“What happened to the other boys? Were any of them prosecuted?”

“They got charged with DUIs and defacing public lands. But they didn’t get sent to the boys’ school.” Bethany brushed a bug off the bench. “They’re so wild. They’ll probably end up there one of these days.”

Kate glanced at her watch. “I don’t want to make us late for kitchen duty. But I have a question before we go.”

The girls stood.

“Manuel has been punished for his crime. Why do people treat him like he has leprosy?”

Bethany lifted her chin. “Because he’s a criminal.

“He committed a single crime. And he paid the penalty, did his time. Has he continued to commit crimes?”

“Not that we know of.”

“So, he’s no longer a criminal.” And neither was she.

“But …”

“But what?”

Trisha curled a strand of hair around her finger. “He’s a Mexican.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“My grandpa says you can’t trust a Spic.”

“You believe that?”

Bethany checked her watch. “We’d better go.”

Kate stood, blocking their exit from the gazebo. Though she was not normally an in-your-face person, their indifferent attitudes troubled her. “Your skin is almost as dark as Manuel’s, Trisha. Should I distrust you?”

Trisha averted her gaze. “That’s different. I’m part Italian.”

“Where I come from, some people would call you a
Wop
, which is just as bad as calling a Mexican person a
Spic
.” She picked up the bottle and rag. “I don’t mean to lecture. I just hope you’ll give Manuel a chance. He needs friends, just like you and I need friends.”

***

Whistling a nameless tune, Mike loaded his pickup with supplies from the barn. Seeing Kate always put him in a good mood. She’d had a tough life, yet she had a ready smile. A beautiful smile.

He tossed a saddle into the bed of the truck and was about to head back into the barn, when he saw Tara strutting toward him. He grunted. Why didn’t the woman find someone else to pester?

She leaned against the pickup, one hand on her hip. “What were you grinning about?”

He maneuvered the saddle toward the front of the bed. The biggest mistake—well, the second biggest mistake—he’d ever made in his life was going steady with her for a month when he was a junior and she was a sophomore in high school. She’d been on his case ever since. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember what he saw in her, other than her body. Appalled at the notion he’d been governed more by hormones than good sense back then, he braced himself for whatever nonsense was on her mind. “What brings you over to the WP today?”

She jutted out her hip and batted her false eyelashes. “I asked you a question first.”

“I forget. What was it?” He picked up branding equipment from the ground and tossed it into the bed with a noisy clatter.

“I asked you what you were grinning about.”

“Oh, that was a real question.” He thought for a moment. “I don’t remember. Whatever was on my mind, I suppose.” He took a quick look around. Funny how everyone disappeared when Tara Hughes came on the scene. “What’s your answer to my question?”

“What am I up to? Let’s see, about five-foot-five and a hundred …”

“You know what I mean.”

She pouted. “You don’t want to know my measurements?”

Elbows locked, Mike gripped the tailgate and clamped his teeth together to keep from shouting at her to get off his property.

With a melodramatic drop of her shoulders, Tara sighed, but then she perked up. “I suppose my more desirable features are obvious.” She shifted her weight to the other hip.