Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel) (40 page)

“I came to Wyoming to forget my past and start a new life. But now I realize God is the one who renews my heart and my head, not my environment.”

Dymple’s other fist lifted high. “Yes, yes.”

Kate looked from face to face. “I am who I am because of where life has taken me. When I first came to Copperville, I chose to hide my past. But now I choose to embrace all of life—my past, my present and my future—and grow into the woman God wants me to be.”

Below her, Kate saw Dymple’s fists open and her fingers begin to dance.

A male voice hollered, “Ouch. She bit me!”

Before Kate realized what had happened, Tara was climbing onto the back of the truck bed. She stomped toward Kate, hands tensed as if she could already feel her nails digging into her rival’s throat.

Chapter Thirty-Three

JACKSON DROPPED HIS GUITAR
and grabbed Tara’s arm. Monty jumped up from behind the drum set to grasp her other arm. Yanking his guitar strap over his head, Mike rushed to join the struggling trio.

Tara kicked and screamed. “Don’t let her fool you. She stole over six thousand dollars from the Whispering Pines office. Arrest her!”

Guitar in one hand, Mike did an about-face back to his microphone.

Kate swiveled on her crutch, turning from Tara to watch Mike rip the microphone from the stand and shove it at his mouth.

His voice boomed between the buildings as he stabbed a finger at Tara, his jabs emphasizing his words. “Other than the Sheriff’s Department, only two people—” He thrust two fingers into the air. “
Only two people,
my Mom and I, knew the amount of cash stolen from our ranch. Until this moment.”

She gaped at him for an instant before frantically searching the faces of the spectators. “Daddy …?”

A tall man with white hair standing at the back of the crowd raised his hands. “Don’t involve me in your craziness. I told you to stay away from the Duncan ranch.”

“But, Daddy, you and Darryl were—”

Mike shouted into the microphone. “Get him, Clint!”

Kate twisted in time to see Darryl, the WP ranch hand with the bad attitude, race across the parking lot toward a fence. Clint and a deputy followed, clambering over the pickets right behind the fugitive.

“Mikey …” Tara now pleaded in a little girl voice. “Please tell them they have the wrong woman. Please …”

Kate turned from watching the men back to Tara, but seeing her grovel was almost more than she could bear.

“Please, Michael,” Tara begged. Help me.”

“You’re so far gone, nobody can help you but God.”

She spat at him. “Go to Hell!”

Two policemen mounted the truck bed. “We’ll take her from here.”

Tara sneered and swore, her mascara-ringed glare drilling Kate with a depth of abhorrence Kate had never before experienced, not even from her worst enemy at Patterson. “I hate you, slut!” Tara kicked a cop in the kneecap, but Kate was the obvious object of her fury.

Two deputies jumped onto the truck bed. It took all four officers, but eventually they removed the flailing woman from the float, minus a boot.

Legs trembling, Kate fell into her chair, grateful she had somewhere to sit.

All was quiet for a moment. Then someone clapped. Others joined, and the applause grew until it seemed she was surrounded by cheering, grinning people.

Wanda knelt next to Kate. “Are you okay?”

Kate nodded, unable to speak.

Chuck stepped onto the truck’s running board. “Let’s all sing
This Land is Your Land
for Kate Neilson!” He slid inside the cab, and the truck began to move again, the band playing with fresh exuberance.

A giddy group of Highway Haven friends followed, singing and clapping and dancing with Dymple, who threw kisses to Kate between twirls.

Kate blew kisses back and vowed to rub her sweet friend’s feet when they got home. Huge smiles spread across every face she saw, including that of the waitress from Grandma’s Café and Cyrus, whose wrinkled cheeks were puckered in a happy, lopsided grin. She glanced at Mike.

He looked away.

She blinked back tears. His indifference hurt, but in the long run, it didn’t matter what he thought of her. She’d done what she had to do, what God wanted her to do. Yes, this land, this beautiful land—the land of the brave and the free—was her land, too. Maybe Dymple was right. She was a statue, a statue of liberty.

***

Ramsey released the slat he’d been pressing downward and stepped back. Why hadn’t Tara told him about the money? Probably how she paid for that rock on her finger. Duncan obviously didn’t give a plugged nickel for her. And her dad—he hadn’t stood by her. Wasn’t that what fathers were supposed to do? Stand by their kids? Maybe it was good he never had one.

He wrenched open the drawer where Tara had dropped her purse. What about their partnership? Hadn’t she said they couldn’t be partners if he was in jail? Now
she
was in jail. He dropped the purse on the desk and opened it. Stupid broad. That was a fool thing to do. Good thing he wasn’t stuck with her. But he regretted not finding a way to slip the ring off her finger.

After removing the cash and credit cards, he tossed the purse aside. Though he longed to take the keys to the Humvee, the big yellow box was too obvious and ate too much gas. Back to Plan A. Neilson was the woman he really wanted, the tramp who belonged with him. Maybe God, if there was a God—which there wasn’t—had forgiven her for killing his child. But he hadn’t. She was his, and she would pay for her crimes against him.

***

Crutches under her arms, Kate floated from one friendly face to the next, receiving hug after hug and more “Welcome to the Valley” greetings than she could count. Laura stayed at her side, but Dymple flitted through the crowd as fast as her arthritic feet would carry her, bringing her friends, including Sheriff Gilmer, to meet Kate.

When he left, Dymple nudged Kate. “You’re about to become a free woman, sweetie. He says it could take a few weeks, but he’ll look into your case and clear this mess up.”

Kate hugged her. “Thank you, Dymple.”

Dymple pointed upward. “Don’t thank me. Thank him.”

As she hobbled away, Cyrus and Clint appeared with the young woman she’d seen earlier.

“Hi, Cyrus.” Kate extended her hand, wondering if he’d take it. “It’s good to see you again.”

He grabbed her hand with a surprisingly firm grip. “I have to say Miss Kate, that was a brave speech you made.” Squeezing her hand, he added, “I owe you an apology and a thank-you.” He looked at Laura. “I already apologized to Mrs. D for taking off without an explanation.”

Laura smiled. “I like having the old Cyrus back, that happy-go-lucky guy I remember from the WP’s early days.”

Kate glanced from Cyrus to Laura and back to Cyrus. “What’s this about?”

He released her hand and peered at her, his eyelids crinkling the way she remembered. “I didn’t treat you right. You look too much like my daughter here—Susan.”

Kate and Susan studied each other. Kate thought she saw a vague similarity. Slender build. Shoulder-length brown hair. Dark eyes.

“Susan and I hadn’t talked for some time—years, really. My fault.”

Susan touched her dad’s shoulder.

His eyes were sad. “I was a terrible father after your mom died. And an old grouch to everyone else.”

He winked at Kate. “But thanks to you, I couldn’t tolerate myself any longer. I headed off to California to find my daughter. Kate, meet Susan. Susan, meet Kate.”

Kate shook Susan’s hand. “I am so pleased to know you. Will you be staying long?”

“I’m just here for the holiday weekend.”

Half dancing, half shuffling, Dymple approached again, another friend in tow.

Kate grinned. “You’ve been jiving all day.” Her sweet friend needed more than a foot rub. By nightfall, her joints would be screaming for a long soak in a deep tub of hot water.

“God outdid himself this morning!” Waving her arms above her head, Dymple spun a slow-motion circle. “The angels are still dancing and shouting at the top of their lungs. Why shouldn’t I?”

***

Exhausted, sunburned and haunted by a sense of being watched, Kate nevertheless enjoyed her first rodeo with her Whispering Pines friends. She cheered for Clint and Manuel, who won second place in team calf-roping, and for Bethany, who barrel-raced on Honey. She laughed when big, bald Fletcher, acting as the rodeo clown, soaked Pastor Chuck with a water gun, and gasped when a young man was thrown from a bucking bull. But Fletcher helped him to his feet, dusted off his backside, and walked him to the sidelines as the crowd applauded and shouted words of encouragement.

Later, she and Dymple, Laura and Judith shared a blanket and listened to Mike’s band while they waited for the fireworks to start. She’d been relieved to learn the group didn’t need her for the evening performance. Her legs were tired and sore.

Kate bent her good leg and rested her chin on her knee. Staring down at the quilt, she contemplated the incredible day she’d just experienced. Even with Aunt Judith’s incessant complaints and Mike’s indifferent attitude, she had much to celebrate. But still, there was that nagging feeling …

She placed her hands behind her hips for support and shifted to inspect the stands behind them. No one stared back. She shrugged and turned around.
Relax, Kate. They’ve probably found him by now
. The sheriff had said Ramsey was injured and couldn’t get far.

Laura stood. “Any of you ladies care for something to drink from the concession stand? I’m buying.”

Judith slapped at a mosquito on her arm. “They’re eating me alive.” She sprayed herself again. “Large Diet Pepsi with chipped ice. No cubes or chunks.”

Laura coughed and fanned away the repellant. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Same for me, please.” Dymple spoke with far less energy than she’d exhibited earlier. “Any shape of ice will do.”

Using her crutches, Kate got to her feet. “I’ll help you carry the drinks.”

“On crutches?”

“I’ll just use one. That’ll leave a hand free.”

Near the concession stand, Kate saw a light-haired man leaning against a light pole. He wore sunglasses, even though it was dark enough the field lights were on. Odd. But then, the world was filled with odd people, including herself.

She and Laura joined the line for refreshments. They were quiet until Laura laughed out loud. “You were amazing today, Kate. I was so proud of you.”

“It wasn’t me. I’ve been trying to hide my past all summer, so it took God to make me spill my guts in front of that crowd.”

A blast erupted from the arena and the lights clicked off. Kate jerked, nearly losing her balance, as the sky exploded with a shower of color accompanied by frenzied pops and bangs. The crowd cheered. People milling between the concession stand and the bleachers stopped to look up.

She glanced at the light pole. The man with the sunglasses was gone. Another boom filled the air and shook the ground.

Kate felt a presence behind her and was about to turn when she smelled Brut aftershave. Her breath caught in her throat. Praying it wasn’t Ramsey, she looked over her shoulder. It was the light-haired man. Sparkles from the latest explosion shimmered on his sunglasses. He lowered the glasses—and she knew. He’d found her again.

Ramsey grabbed Laura’s arm. His voice hissed above the noise. “Behind the stands.”

Laura pivoted. “What—?”

Ramsey spun her back around, knocking her against Kate.

Kate wobbled on the crutch.

Laura grabbed her arm.

Regaining her balance, Kate said, “Do what he says, Laura.”

Blackness descended on them again.

Ramsey’s voice hissed in her ear. “I’ve got a weapon. Walk straight ahead to the parking lot. Any false moves, your friend gets a knife in the kidney.”

Kate hopped as fast as she could around the grandstands to the parking lot behind it. She caught a glimpse of the Whispering Pines truck, which was parked behind the bleachers. The frightened calves in the back were bawling and skittering about in their pen.

Laura and Ramsey came up beside her.

Kate stopped. “Let Laura go. This is between you and me.”

Ramsey wrapped an arm around Laura’s collarbone. “Don’t tell me how to do my business, Neilson.” He swiveled toward the bison. “Shut up!”

Another detonation and eruption of color, green this time. Kate could see the reflection glitter on the knife at Laura’s throat. “Jerry, please—” Somehow, she had to get the knife away from him.

“I’ll be pleased when—and only when—you and me are back in Pittsburgh where we belong.”

Laura squeaked and rasped, “Don’t go …”

The light fizzled.

***

Mike thought he heard his bison calves bawling between explosions. He should have driven them home before the show. They had to be terrified, traumatized even worse by the detonations than the parade noise. But he’d been so caught up by events of the day he hadn’t thought about them, except to move the pair to the shade of the stands.

He looked toward the blanket where Dymple and Aunt Judith sat. What had happened to his mom and Kate? He strummed the final chords of
God Bless America
, doubting anyone could hear. But that’s what the committee had asked the band to do—play through the fireworks using music-stand lights to see their music and conclude the evening with the national anthem.

***

Kate prayed Ramsey wouldn’t hurt Laura. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just let her go.”

In the next light, she saw him shove Laura aside. “You’d better not be playing games with me, Neilson.”

The calves moaned, and their frantic feet trampled the truck bed.

Kate felt their fear. She switched to her street voice. “You’re right, Jerry. I’ve had enough cowboys and Indians. Let’s go home.” She’d find a way to escape—and call the Carbon County sheriff to explain her actions. He might understand. If not …

Laura whispered, “Don’t do it, Kate.”

Another flare of light erupted above them.

“Don’t return to your old life.”

Ramsey swore, shoved Laura aside and slugged her.