Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel) (14 page)

“Feel free to write your friend. But remember, the bank closes at four-thirty.” Laura glanced at the clock on the wall. “Our mountain cloudbursts are usually short-lived, so you should have plenty of time.” She stood. “I need do a final check of the cabins. I’ll see you later—when you return from town, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Before leaving, Laura picked up a thick manila envelope from her desk, unlocked a drawer and slipped it inside. She relocked the drawer and dropped the key into the top drawer. “I need to get down to the bank, too.”

Coach left shortly after Laura. Kate tried to concentrate on the database, but the image of the serpent in her sink returned again and again. Was it still there, or was it crawling around her bathroom? Maybe it had already moved the towel aside and was slinking through her cabin, hunting for a place to—

She glanced about the room, searching for a diversion, and saw the drawer Laura had just locked. How much cash did the ranch keep on hand? She stepped into the hallway and checked both directions.

Back at Laura’s desk, she sorted through the contents of the top drawer. Not a paperclip out of place. However, the key was not immediately apparent. She dug into the stickpins. They poked at her fingers, but she burrowed until she felt the cool metal of the key. Plucking it from the tray, she opened the locked drawer, slipped the key into her pocket, and picked up the envelope. She was about to open it, when she heard a knock.

Jerking her attention to the doorway, she saw Manuel eyeing her, a quizzical expression in his dark eyes. Her stomach lurched. “Uh … Hi, Manuel.” She dropped the envelope back into the drawer and closed it. She’d lock it later. “Just looking for a pencil. Be right there.”

By the time she’d shut down the computer and secured the door that led to the lobby, her heartbeat had almost returned to normal. She followed Manuel out of the office. “I need your help at my cabin.” She turned to lock the door. “It’s a unique problem, but I think you’re the man to tackle it.”

***

Kate watched Manuel dig a hole beneath a lilac bush at the back of the Blue Jay.

It wasn’t long before he straightened. “I think that’s deep enough.” Still holding the shovel, he scraped his boots on the edge of her stoop and stepped into the cabin to retrieve the snake.

Rain drizzled down Kate’s back, but she didn’t mind. Manuel was dealing with the snake, and the storm provided a modicum of privacy. She wasn’t anxious to explain their actions to anyone.

Manuel returned with the snake balanced on the shovel blade.

She backed away, despite the fact he’d already told her the reptile was dead.

He laughed at her. “Bullsnakes are good snakes. Good for eating mice and rats—and rattlesnakes, too.”

She shuddered. “You’ll never convince me there’s such a thing as a good snake.”

He slid the reptile into the hole, covered it with the damp dirt and tapped the shovel against a rock to knock off a mud clump. “There you go, Kate. No more bullsnake.”

She patted his arm. “Thank you, Manuel. I owe you, big time.”

He shouldered the shovel and shook his head. “Naw. You don’t owe me nada.”

“Please don’t tell anybody. I’m sure the snake was just a silly prank, but it could upset guests if they hear about it.”

“Seems like a mean joke to me.” He wiped water from his forehead.

She shrugged. “Maybe someone has a sick sense of humor.”

After Manuel left to return to his work, Kate found disinfectant in the housekeeping supplies and scoured the bathroom from floor to ceiling. The third time she scrubbed the sink, she admitted to herself it probably wasn’t necessary. But it made her feel better.

***

The rain stopped just before Kate drove down the mountain. Moisture-fringed clouds scuttled ahead of her car, leaving behind green hills and a double rainbow to guide her to town. The fresh smell of the rain-cleansed countryside and the sight of the creek dancing alongside the highway soon washed the events of the morning from her mind.

She pulled into the bank parking lot, thinking she’d arrived in the little community less than a week ago, yet it felt much longer. She opened the envelope and took out the paycheck. Even before Coach handed it to her, all her needs had been met—without her stealing Highway Haven money.

She stared at the clean blue sky.
Thank you, Jesus, for providing all my needs and for protecting me from myself. Forgive me for today, and help me stay away from the cash drawer
. She opened the door.
And please don’t let Ramsey see me here
.

The bank’s two friendly employees welcomed her to Copperville and set up an account for her. When she finished at the bank, she drove to the gas station to fill the Honda’s tank. Afterward, she stopped at the hardware/grocery store to purchase gloves, Ritz crackers and a book.

She wandered the aisles, thinking she’d also buy a few items for her refrigerator, in case she missed another meal or wanted a snack. She couldn’t bring herself to carry leftovers from the dining room back to her cabin. Prison rules against removing anything from the mess hall, even a sugar packet or a napkin, were forever branded in her brain.

The tiny store’s variety amazed her, but she was confused by the arrangement of the products. Flasks of motor oil flanked toilet paper rolls. Coffee canisters lined the shelf above canned peaches. Finding what she needed could be a challenge.

She rounded an end cap display and found herself almost nose to nose with Tara Hughes.

Tara looked her up and down. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Ms. Pennsylvania.” Her presence, though slight, seemed to fill the aisle.

“Hi, Tara.”

“I thought that was your rattletrap car parked out front.”

Kate folded her arms. This was evidently not her day to win points with either Cyrus or Tara.

A pudgy woman pushing a cart filled with bread loaves and egg cartons turned into the aisle.

Kate glanced at her. The waitress from Grandma’s Café. Of all people to see her in another confrontation.

The woman looked from her to Tara and back again, all the while twiddling an earring with her finger. Finally, she moved on.

Tara stepped closer. Her perfume was as strong and noxious as Ramsey’s aftershave.

Kate sneezed and backed into the cereal shelf.

“This is a good opportunity for us to understand each other better.” Tara’s coral-tinted lips thinned into a weak smile.

Kate grabbed a box of Raisin Bran. “What are you talking about?” She fanned the air with the box.

“Well, let’s just put it this way.” Tara sighed and dropped her shoulders as if exasperated to have to explain the obvious. “Michael Duncan is a friendly sort of guy. And you’re the pathetic type of employee he’ll pity …
but
…” She pointed a long, orange fingernail at Kate’s chest. “You need to remember he’s engaged—we’re engaged—and everything will be
all right
.”

“‘All right’? What does that mean?”

Tara hooted. “As they say, for every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction. I’m good at reacting. I’ll be even better at it when I become your boss.”

Kate sucked in a quick breath.
Boss?

“Here’s how it is with Michael. You’ll flirt with him. I’m sure you’ve already tried. He might appear to flirt back, but it’s not flirting on his part. He just feels sorry for you. I mean, look at you. The old barn could use a couple thick coats of heavy-duty paint.”

Kate dug her fingernails into the box. “I get your drift, Hughes. You’re engaged. You’re the jealous type. But I don’t know why you’re so concerned about me, rickety old barn that I am.” She sneezed. “Nothing is happening between us, so get off your high horse.”

Clutching the box with both hands to keep from shoving Tara into the dog food cans, Kate wheeled, marched to the cash register, paid for the cereal and hurried to her car.

She steered the Honda onto the highway, fighting the impulse to stomp the gas pedal. Thanks to Tara Hughes, she’d purchased Raisin Bran cereal, which she detested—and hadn’t gotten the things she wanted. God help Whispering Pines when Mike Duncan married the arrogant woman.

***

After dinner, Kate stopped on the verandah to listen to the music she’d heard from inside the dining hall. Mike sat at the far end with a horse wrangler named Dillon, both strumming guitars. Other men, including Clint, lolled about the porch, some sitting, some leaning against the railing.

“Have a seat, Kate.” Clint got up from a rocking chair and moved to a nearby bench.

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

The others smiled and nodded as she joined the group.

Clint indicated the circle of men. “These guys are putting together songs to sing around our campfires with the guests. Something new Mrs. D wants to add this year. Do you know any campfire songs?”

Kate laughed. “We didn’t have many campfires in Pittsburgh, unless you count the time my brother burned a pile of comic books in the backyard. The only song I can think of is
Row Row Row Your Boat
.”

Dillon turned to Mike. “What do you think? It’s short and easy.”

Mike chuckled. “So easy it only has two chords. But our guests are probably expecting to hear cowboy songs.”

Clint lifted a finger. “How about
Home on the Range
?”

Mike gave him a thumbs-up. “That’s what the guests want to hear—songs about buffalo.”

Dillon rolled his eyes. “In your dreams.” But he began to strum and the men sang along.

Oh, give me a home, where the buffalo roam,

where the deer and the antelope play …

Kate rocked her chair to the beat of the music and watched the pond below the dining hall mirror the sunset, which had begun to fill the evening sky with a kaleidoscope of color. She’d had a crazy day, but this was a perfect, peaceful way to end it. She glanced from face to fading face as the clouds dimmed into reds and purples. A few short months ago, she wouldn’t have dared to dream she’d soon be sitting on a Wyoming mountainside listening to cowboys sing—and breathing air that smelled so sweet she could almost taste it.

As the sky darkened, crickets and pond frogs joined the concert. Finally, Mike turned to Dillon. “I don’t know about you, but my fingers are sore. This is the most I’ve played the guitar in a long time.”

“I know what you mean.” Dillon rubbed his fingertips together. “Let’s call it a night and figure our guests won’t expect us to be professionals.”

“I hope not.” Mike put his guitar down. “Or they’ll be disappointed.”

Kate stood. “Thanks for the concert.”

“You’re welcome.” Mike smiled and winked, making her heart skip. But Kate bit her lip and willed her heartbeat to slow down. Tara had made it clear this afternoon that she and Mike were engaged.

Dillon turned his cowboy hat upside down. “Drop your tips here, folks. Just bills. Coins not accepted.”

Clint took Kate’s arm. “Can I walk you to your cabin?”

She smiled. “Maybe you can keep me from falling on my nose again.”
And help me forget about Mike
.

***

Early the next morning, Laura and Mike joined the staff in the dining hall. Kate noticed that Mike waited in line for breakfast and sat at a table with a group of men. She also noted he no longer limped.

After everyone was served, someone tapped a juice glass, and the room quieted.

Laura stood. “Good morning!” She smiled. “Mike and I extend a warm welcome to all of you. We’re so grateful you’ve joined us for a summer of serving Whispering Pines guests. As most of you know, my husband, Dan, who used to make this welcome speech, is no longer with us.” She swallowed and took a ragged breath. “Things may not flow as smoothly without his leadership, but we’ll learn, and we’ll help each other.” She paused.

Kate saw Mike nod at his mom as if willing her to go on.

Laura stood taller. “Each one of you has already stepped up to the plate in innumerable ways. This ranch glows. Thank you for cleaning, fixing, raking, trimming, scrubbing, painting, grooming, mucking—and dozens of other duties that help uphold our standard of service.”

She motioned toward Manuel. “A special thank-you goes to Manuel Ortega for brushing Trudy and cleaning her pen on his own time. I believe that little calf will be a real hit with the guests, young and old.”

Manuel ducked his head, looking embarrassed.

Cyrus, seated behind Kate, grunted his displeasure.

Laura continued. “Keep up the good work. Our first guests arrive this evening, so gear up for action tomorrow. We’ll have a wonderful season together. Thanks again from the bottom of my heart for all you do.”

She looked around the room. “That’s all I have to say. Any questions?”

Kate joined in the applause that circulated through the dining hall. It was obvious the employees respected their boss.

A man in the middle of the room raised his hand.

Laura pointed to him. “Hold that thought, Sean.” She raised the envelopes she held in her hand. “I almost forgot the paychecks. Mike, will you please distribute these while I take questions?”

When he came to the table where Kate sat with Trisha and Bethany, he gave the girls their checks then rifled through the envelopes again, a frown on his face. He leaned down to murmur in her ear. “Sorry, Kate. I don’t see yours here. But I’ll make sure you get one today.”

Ignoring the thump of her heart, she turned to whisper in his ear, smelling his spicy aftershave. “Coach gave me mine yesterday.”

“Oh, good. Glad you got it.” He winked and moved to the next table.

Bethany elbowed Kate.

Kate wrinkled her nose and shook her head. Bethany had the wrong idea. Like Tara had said, Mike was a friendly kind of guy, but did he really think she was pathetic? And why did he keep winking at her? Obviously, he didn’t realize what it did to her insides. She turned her attention back to Laura. It didn’t matter what Mike thought. He was taken.

From across the room, Clint caught her eye, his wide grin sweetening the bitter pill she’d just swallowed.

Chapter Twelve