Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel) (17 page)

The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save.

He will take great delight in you,

He will quiet you with His love,

He will rejoice over you with singing.

Zephaniah 3:17

There was no question whose home this was. She turned to Dymple. “I like your house. It’s unique.”

“I think I need more pictures of flowers, don’t you?”

Kate laughed. “Definitely.”

Dymple indicated a large parcel on the couch. “As you can see, Mike, I haven’t even opened the box. I was afraid I’d break the computer, so I left it on the cantaloupe.”

Kate saw Mike struggle to suppress a grin.

He picked up the box. “Do you mind if Tramp wanders around your yard, Dymple? He’s been cooped up in the truck all morning.”

“Just make sure the garden gate is latched. I put up a higher fence this year to keep the deer out. However …” She scowled. “It doesn’t discourage the rabbits one iota.”

***

Mike switched on Dymple’s stereo and lowered the volume. After yet another run-in with Tara Hughes, he needed something to mellow him out. He opened the box. Hats off to Dymple. Not many women her age would build a fence or buy a laptop without knowing how to use it. Maybe in some crazy way the computer would be good for her brain farts—as she termed her mixed-up words.

He inserted a disk to install the first program and looked out the window as the disk began to whir. If Dymple hadn’t come to his rescue, Tara would still be ranting at him. Maybe he should quit going to church. The woman sucked the love of God right out of him when she showed up at a service.

Then there was Kate. What was the deal with her? At first, she seemed to like his company, but now she acted distant. Why wouldn’t she go out with him? Was it his breath or something he said?

He heard his mom talking in the kitchen, her voice low. “What in the world did you say to break up that argument, Dymple?”

Mike grinned. When it came to Tara Hughes, his mom always needed to know what was going on.

“I was a bit feisty, wasn’t I?” Dymple snorted. “But I’ve had enough of that shrew ranting and raving at Mike. He’s like a grandson to me.”

He nodded.
Yeah.
She’d been a grandma to him as long as he could remember.

“I told Tara the church parking lot was no place for a hissy fit and she should hightail it on home. And I told Mike I couldn’t use my calendar until he programmed it, something he promised to do before I ordered it.”

Mike chuckled, thinking he’d be happy to program Granny Dymple’s calendar on her cantaloupe anytime she asked.

***

Though she and Mike had nothing to say to each other, Kate enjoyed lunch on the patio with Dymple and the Duncans. The food was delicious and the weather perfect. When they finished, Dymple took Laura to tour her vegetable garden. Kate started after them, but Mike stopped her. “Could you come inside with me? I need your help with the computer set-up.”

“I don’t know anything about computers.”

He opened the patio screen for her. “You know more than you think.” They stepped inside. He pointed to the couch. “Have a seat on the cantaloupe.”

“I’ll stand.”

“No, please. Please sit.” He sat at the far end and placed the computer on his lap.

She edged onto a cushion. “Okay. But I don’t understand how I can help.”

He shifted to look directly at her. “I’d like to know why you can’t go out with me.”

“So this isn’t about the computer.”

“I thought we could talk while I install programs. Why can’t you go out with me?”

She rubbed her temples. “Why are we having this conversation again? It should be obvious.”

“It’s not obvious to me.”

“I don’t know how they do things in Wyoming, but in Pennsylvania, engaged people don’t date other people.”

He sat back. “I’m sorry. I had no idea you were engaged.”

“I am
not
engaged.” Kate pounded the cushion. “You are, for Pete’s sake!”

“No, I’m not.”

They both turned at the sound of the patio screen opening.

Laura walked over to the couch. “I’m going home now. If Kate wants to stay, can you give her a ride back to the ranch, Mike?”

“Sure. I have another half hour or so to go with the programming. Then I want to show Dymple how to run this machine.”

Laura rested her hand on Kate’s shoulder. “It’s up to you, Kate. You can ride with either of us.”

Mike waggled an eyebrow. “I promise not to mistake you for my dog again.”

In spite of the tension between them, Kate laughed.

Dymple and Laura looked puzzled.

He grinned at them. “Long story.”

Kate twisted to look up at Laura. “I’m supposed to help with the trail ride later today, but I’d like to hang around for the computer lesson. I might learn something.”

“Mike’s pretty savvy when it comes to technology, which is a good thing at our house. I have yet to understand the difference between ROM and RAM.” She started for the door, but stopped. “Isn’t this your day off, Kate?”

“It is. But I haven’t been on a horse for years, so I asked Clint if I could help. I thought it would be a good way to get back in the saddle again, literally.”

“We discourage employees from working on their day off.”

“I love to ride. If I can help the wranglers, all the better.”

“Okay.” Laura smiled. “Have a great time.” She hugged Dymple. “Thanks for lunch, dear. Delicious, as always.”

After Laura left, Dymple sat in a chair across from Kate. “Did you learn to ride in Pennsylvania?”

Kate rearranged her awkward position to a more comfortable one. “My dad made the mistake of buying me cowboy boots when I was young. I loved those boots and desperately wanted to wear them while riding a horse. I begged and begged my mom for riding lessons. Finally, she gave in, and my brother and I had lessons twice a week for an entire summer.”

“Have you ridden since then?”

Kate shook her head. “The lessons came to a rather abrupt halt when my family was killed in a car accident.”

Dymple’s wrinkles contorted with compassion. “I had no idea you lost your family. Were you raised in a children’s home or by relatives?”

“I wish. No orphanage or relatives—just a whole bunch of foster homes.”

Dymple winced. “Oh, you poor dent. Is that why you left Pennsylvania? Because you don’t have a real home there?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw Mike grin, which made it doubly hard for her to keep a straight face. “Like I told you when we first met, I’m here to do an internship at the ranch, so I can fulfill my marketing program requirements at the university.”

Kate toyed with the sofa’s arm cover. “But I suppose I also came for nostalgic reasons. My dad bought me those boots while he was on a Wyoming business trip, and my mom ordered a matching outfit from a western store in Cheyenne. Plus, I loved the book
Katrina’s Wild Pony
, which you probably know is a story about a girl who lived on a Wyoming horse ranch. I must have read it fifty times.”

Dymple nodded. “One of my favorites. I read it to my students every year I taught school.”

“I took the book from my first foster home and carried it with me from place to place. When I was sad and lonely, it always had the power to transport me to a happier world.” She shrugged. “I guess all that coalesced into a lifelong desire to visit Wyoming.”

“You’re living your dream, Kate.”

She nodded. Even though she’d lost her family and never saw her dog—or her boots—again, and the book disappeared, she was living her dream. She glanced at Mike, whose eyes were focused on the computer screen. No doubt he’d heard every word. She wanted to kick herself for saying she stole the book, but at least she didn’t mention prison.

***

Mike dropped the tailgate for Tramp. The dog hopped up into the bed of the truck, put his paws on the side and licked Kate’s cheek.

She scratched his neck. “Poor puppy. You got kicked out ‘cause of me.”

“He’ll be fine.” Mike latched the tailgate and opened the passenger door. He slid across the seat. “If Tramp rode in the cab, he’d want to sit on your lap and hang his head out the window. Last I knew he weighed around seventy-five pounds.”

She climbed inside and pulled the door shut.

Mike started the engine. “Where were we?”

“I think we were trying to decide which one of us is engaged.”

“Oh, yeah. Where did you get the idea I’m engaged?”

“I ran into Tara Hughes at the grocery store. She told me the two of you are planning to get married.” Kate gave him a sideways glance. “She also told me to keep my distance from you. She’d be furious if she saw us in this truck together.”

Mike clenched his teeth, fearing unChristian words would erupt. He blew out a breath. “I am
not
and never have been engaged to Tara Hughes.”

“She seems convinced.”

A car drew even with them to pass.

“Idiot.”

“Tara?”

“No. Yes. No. I meant this driver who’s trying to pass on a hill
and
a curve.” He slowed to give the other driver room to steer the car back into the correct lane. “I dated Hughes for a short time in high school. But that’s all it took. She’s been on my case ever since, even when I was in college. She was always mailing me stupid letters or showing up at my dorm.”

He downshifted to power up the long hill. “I never once, not once—” He pounded the dashboard. “Not
once
did I even
mention
marriage to her.” He released an exasperated sigh and looked at Kate. “I hope you believe me, because that’s the truth.”

She touched his arm. “I believe you. You two never seemed like a good match to me, but I didn’t want to flat-out ask you about your relationship with her. Then I saw her with someone else, which didn’t make sense.”

He felt a happy lift in his stomach.

“And for the record …” Kate lifted her eyebrows. “I’m not engaged, either.”

He grinned. “Good. Glad we got that straightened out. So,
now
will you go riding with me?”

“I’d love to.”

“If you weren’t helping with the trail ride, I’d ask you to go this afternoon. How about Friday evening I grab some grub, and we’ll have a campfire on the canyon rim?”

“That sounds wonderful, if we can get away.”

“We can do it. I’m the boss, remember.”

“Which means you’ll feel guilty every moment we’re gone.”

“Nope. I plan to forget the WP and have a good time. Clint has the trail ride under control, and Mom has a cowboy poet scheduled to entertain the guests afterwards.”

He studied Kate’s face as she watched a herd of elk race across a hillside, her hair floating on the breeze from the open windows. Friday couldn’t come soon enough in his book.

She turned to him.

He looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring, and checked Tramp in the mirror. As usual, the big dog clung to the side, his tongue hanging out, and his golden fur ruffling in the wind.

Kate cocked her head. “What’s that noise?”

“What noise?”

She leaned out the open window. “Sounds like something’s wrong with your tires or your wheels.”

He slowed the pickup. “You mean that gritty sound?”

”Uh-huh.”

“That’s the sound of studded snow tires on dry pavement. A lot of folks around here run studs in the winter, but my dad kept them on all year long. He was convinced they got Old Blue places regular tires couldn’t go. I’m not sure what I’ll do when these wear out.”

“I’ll have to remember that the next time I buy tires.”

“Depends where you live. Studs are legal year-round in Wyoming, but that’s not the case in most states.” He jerked the wheel to avoid a jackrabbit that chose that moment to bound across the highway.

“Interesting.” She leaned her elbow on the seatback. “Have you heard anything from the sheriff about the dead buffalo?”

“No, not a word.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

“Nope. Nothing adds up.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Me, too. I just hope it doesn’t happen again.”

“But it could ...”

Mike raised an eyebrow.

“I was in the lobby yesterday when Minnie and Mamie came in. Remember them?”

“How could I forget those two? Dad always said there are no twins on the face of the earth as unique as the Curtis pair.” Whether the women were throwing horseshoes or sitting outside their cabin, everyone within a hundred yards was well aware of their presence.

Kate leaned toward Mike. “I heard one of them tell your mom they plan to hunt bison this summer. Did you know about that?”

He nodded. “Mom told me.”

“Where did they get the idea they can shoot your buffalo?”

“Probably from our e-mail newsletters. Or our latest brochure.” He glanced in the mirror again. “We decided to add bison hunts to our activity list this year to attract hunters. But I’d never have guessed the twins might be interested. What are they? Seventy-five, eighty? They probably can’t even hold a gun up long enough to get off a decent shot.”

Kate gaped at him. “Are you saying people will walk into a pasture full of defenseless animals and kill them while they’re peacefully grazing, for no reason other than pleasure?”

“Not just pleasure. Their meat sells for a premium, their horns and hides are worth quite a bit, and—”

“Why don’t you just sell them to the slaughterhouse? The poor things won’t have a chance to run and hide or protect themselves from your so-called hunters.” She raised her hands. “I thought you loved your herd.”

Mike frowned. “I don’t love them the way I love my dog. They’re a marketable product, every inch of their body. The guests will pay us for the privilege of shooting bison.” His voice rose. “The
privilege
. This is a
unique
opportunity for hunters. In the eighteen hundreds, bison roamed the West in huge herds that darkened the prairies as far as one could see … but not anymore.”

He stabbed the air with his forefinger. “In addition to the hunt, our patrons will pay us to deliver the carcasses to a butcher, to ship the meat wherever they ask, to take the hide or the head or the horns to a taxidermist for them, and on and on. This could be very profitable for the ranch.” He dropped his hand onto the steering wheel. “You should understand that with your marketing degree.”