Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel) (7 page)

“I’m fine. Just tripped—that’s all.”

He swept the beam across her body. “You’re bleeding. If you can hang on a minute, I’ll get the first-aid kit.”

Her knees and palms were already burning, but she didn’t need a man to take care of her. Kate pushed to a sitting position. “No thanks. I just got a few scrapes. Nothing serious.”

“Are you sure? The kit is hanging on the barn wall, right around the corner.”

After what she’d heard, she didn’t want anything to do with the barn. “I’ll be fine.”

He held out his hand, which smelled of gasoline, and aimed the flashlight beam at the ground. “Here, I’ll help you up.”

Kate held her palm under the light and saw blood and dirt. “I don’t want to smear blood on you.”

“I’ve had worse stuff than blood smeared on me, but that looks painful. Here, I’ll grab ahold of your upper arm.”

She let him pull her upright, though the pain nearly took her breath away.

“You think you can walk?”

“Uh-huh.” She tasted blood on her lip.

He took her arm, and with his free hand, aimed the flashlight beam at the trail. “Where you headed?”

Tempted to jerk away, Kate reminded herself she wasn’t being manhandled by a correctional officer. She shivered, hating the involuntary sign of weakness. “The Blue Jay.”

“It’s not far.” He took off his jacket and laid it across her shoulders.

She looked at him, wishing she could see his face more clearly. “But, the blood—”

“It’ll wash. I get all kinds of crud on this thing, and it always washes out.”

Warm and soft against her skin, the flannel-lined jacket smelled like soap mixed with hay and horses and … she didn’t know what else. Maybe the fresh aroma of clean, outdoor air, something she hadn’t experienced often in Pittsburgh.

He took her arm again, and they began to walk. Though her scraped knees rebelled at each step, she tried not to shuffle. Then, almost as soon as they started, he stopped.

Kate stumbled.

His grasp tightened. “Sorry. I just remembered I owe you an apology.”

What was he talking about? Oh … She tensed and stepped to the side. She should have known he was one of the guys who mocked her in the barn.

He dropped his hand. “I was a jerk this afternoon.”

“This afternoon?” She tilted her head. Who was he? Not Cyrus or Fletcher. She could see the outline of his face and hat in the starlight, but that was all. And smell his aftershave.

“Yeah. When you drove up to the office—that was me on the porch. I’d just had words with my mom, and I wasn’t feeling very friendly. I apologize for being rude.”

Oh, yes. The grouchy guy with the friendly collie. But at least he could say he was sorry. She hadn’t met many men capable of regret. “Thank you. Is Laura Duncan your mother?”

“Yep. I need to apologize to her, too.” He took her arm again.

She didn’t resist.

Within minutes, they were at the Blue Jay. Kate was surprised by the disappointment she felt, knowing they’d soon part ways.

He helped her up the single step to the stoop.

Kate was glad she’d thought to flip on the porch light before she left the cabin.

He opened the door for her, said, “Have a good night,” and touched his hat brim. “I’ll see you around the ranch …” He hesitated. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

Kate handed him his coat. “My name is Kate. Thank you for helping me—and for lending me your jacket …” She laughed. “I don’t know
your
name.”

“Mike. Mike Duncan.” He turned to go but stopped, a half grin creasing his face. “Welcome to Wyoming—and the Whispering Pines. Call the house if you need anything. Band-Aids or whatever.”

“Thank you.” Though she hurt all over and had started to shiver again, she watched him leave before stepping inside the cabin. She ran her fingers across the bumpy log wall and felt for the light switch. Finally she had a place of her own, a place to call
home
. It wouldn’t be long before finding the light switch in every room was second nature. She turned the porch light off and the ceiling light on before closing the door.

“Hey, lil’ darlin’.”

Kate gasped and whirled.

Jerry Ramsey sat at her kitchen table, a whiskey bottle and a half-filled glass in front of him. “Knew you’d be lonesome for me tonight.”

Kate stared at him. This couldn’t be happening. She tightened her grip on the doorknob.

He lifted the bottle. “Remember our good buddy Jack?” He snickered. “The three of us will have a fine time. We’ll be a sweet threesome, same as old times.” His lip curled. “Too bad your fridge is empty. With a little Coke, we could a made it a foursome—Jack ‘n’ Coke an’ me ‘n’ you.”

Kate yanked the door open. “Out!”

He picked up the glass and drained it. “Get real, baby.” “You know you want—you
need—
Jer an’ Jack.”

“How did you find me?”

“Like I’ve always told you, sweetheart—I have my ways.” His dark eyes were as flat and empty as one-way mirrors. “You owe me. Big time especially after I just caught you whoring around with someone else.”

His aftershave stabbed at her sinuses. How could she not have smelled him before she saw him? “Out. Get out of my cabin!”

He jumped to his feet and was across the small room in two strides. He grabbed her arm, but she jerked from his grasp.

He swore, kicked the door shut and threw her onto the couch. “I’m done being nice.”

She rolled away from him and grabbed the floor lamp beside the couch, ripping the cord from the wall.

Ramsey seized the lamp pole and twisted, but Kate held tight.

Someone pounded on the door. “Everything okay in there?”

“No!” Kate yanked at the pole.

Ramsey released his hold, and she fell onto the couch. He whipped a gun from beneath his jacket flap and dashed for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Mike burst into the cabin. He glanced at Kate, who was on her feet again, then at the bathroom door.

They heard a bolt being shoved into place. Mike charged across the room, his boots hammering the floorboards, Kate right behind him. “Open up!” He rattled the doorknob. At the sound of breaking glass, he spun on his heels and hurried out the front door.

Kate ran to the doorway, calling, “He has a gun!”

The only response was the thump of running feet receding to silence.

She locked the door and fell onto the couch, staring at Ramsey’s empty glass. He’d contaminated her cabin before she’d spent a single night in it. She had to find Uncle Dean’s hunting knife before she went to bed—or some form of protection.

A loud rap sounded on the door. She sprang to her feet, clenching the lamp like a battering ram. “Who is it?”

Chapter Seven

“IT’S MIKE. CAN I
come in?”

Kate set the lamp down and hurried to open the door.

He staggered in, chest heaving. “The guy headed toward the highway. Probably parked up there.” He bent over, hands on his knees, sucking in air. “I would have followed him, but I thought he might circle back. Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head and sank onto the couch. Her legs felt like boiled noodles.

He dropped into the recliner and pointed at the bathroom. “I’ll figure out how to unlock that door before I nail a couple boards across the window.” He drew another breath. “It won’t look all that great, but at least the hole will be covered until we replace the glass.”

“Thanks for chasing him. How did you know he was in here?”

“I didn’t know. I was on my way to the barn to check on a mare that’s about to foal and heard yelling.” He reached for the telephone. “I’d better call the sheriff.”

“No!”

He raised an eyebrow.

Whoops. Maybe that was a bit strong.

“You can’t be serious.” His hand hovered above the handset.

“Please don’t call.” The sheriff would figure out how she knew Ramsey. Then Laura would fire her and she’d have to go back—

“Why not?” He stared at her, the eyebrow still cocked.

“They can’t find him in the dark.”

“Finding people is what the officers are trained to do, no matter the time of day or night.”

She was exhausted and afraid of what she might reveal if she talked about her relationship with Ramsey. She showed Mike her raw palms. “I just want to clean my wounds and go to bed. I’ve been driving for days.”

He dropped his hand to his knee. “Sorry, I forgot. But still, you can’t stay here. He might return. You can sleep in our guest room.”

No, she couldn’t. Laura would ask questions she didn’t care to answer. “You scared him away. He won’t be back tonight.”

“I’d like to believe that, but—”

“I’ll be okay, really.” If he returned, she’d be ready for him.

“This is the first time we’ve had anything like this happen on the ranch. Had you ever seen him …” He tilted his head and sniffed. “Booze. Is that what I smell?”

All she could smell was Brut aftershave. But she was grateful for the change of subject. “He’d been drinking …” She pointed to the empty glass. “But he was sober enough to grab the bottle on the way out.” Typical
.
He’d always had fast, sticky fingers. The other officers never caught him stealing their stuff.

He dug a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and studied it for a moment. “Receipt for work gloves. Shouldn’t need it again.” He felt another pocket before picking up the pen she’d placed by the phone. “Okay if I use this?”

“Sure.”

He flipped over the receipt and laid it on the end table. “I’ll give you the house and office numbers. Call anytime, day or night. If I’m not around, have Mom contact me on the radio. I have a nasty bison bull who’d give that snake the ride of his life.”

She couldn’t help but grin. Not quite how they said things in Pennsylvania.

He stood and handed her the paper. “I’m sorry this happened.”

The touch of his fingertips against hers triggered a current she felt all the way to her toes. Kate blinked. She didn’t usually like men touching her.

He slipped her pen into his pocket.

She didn’t say anything. It was just a pen. Besides, he’d rescued her from Ramsey and saved her from a fight to the death. She would have fought with every fiber of her being. One of them would not have survived.

“Too bad this happened to you.” Mike’s forehead furrowed. “Whispering Pines has always been a safe place. We’ve never had to worry about security.”

“It was my fault. I didn’t lock the door.” Thanks to Cyrus Moore.

“You shouldn’t have to lock the door, but you’d better now.” He rubbed his chin. “I’ll warn the others who live on the property to lock their doors to protect their valuables. Mom always tells the guests to lock up, so we’re covered there.”

He sounded tired and discouraged. She could tell by the way he rubbed his leg that it hurt. She wiped blood from her swollen lip, wishing she could explain that the intruder wasn’t looking for valuables. He was looking for her.

***

Kate arrived in the ranch kitchen two minutes before her starting time.

“What in tarnation?” Cyrus stopped what he was doing to stare. “Ya run into a fence post?”

She glared at him. “I tripped.”

“Better take it easy today.” He motioned to Fletcher, who stood at the sink filling a large coffee pot with water. ”We can handle breakfast.”

Sure, and then he’d tell everyone what a slacker she was. “I’m scheduled to work this morning and am quite capable of doing whatever is asked of me.”

“Suit yourself.” He pointed to a rack of eggs on the counter. “How about cracking those eggs into that bowl?”

Her palms burned with each eggshell she broke. But she kept at it. Later, as she whisked cream into the eggs, she watched employees gather in the rustic dining room. She didn’t know much about ranch hands, but these hardy-looking men in plaid shirts and worn Levis looked the part. Their hat-creased hair, white foreheads, tanned faces and scuffed boots spoke of physical labor and life in the outdoors. The air held a hint of hay and soap.

Kate saw two girls about high-school age talking in the corner, the only females she’d seen other than Laura. No wonder Cyrus resented her. She scanned at the men again. Did Mike eat breakfast at home or in the dining hall? She felt a flush climb up her neck. Not that it mattered.

Soon, she was helping Cyrus arrange steaming platters of scrambled eggs, sausage patties and fresh-from-the-oven biscuits on the serving-window ledge. “Any of the other staff members from out of town?”

He leaned across the ledge and called into the dining room, “Come ‘n’ get it.” He nodded to Kate. “Yeah, a couple of ‘em—one guy from the Steamboat Springs college, and another from the university in Laramie. Most all the hands live nearby, except for the occasional drifter Mrs. D hires.”

After they finished serving the crew, Cyrus and Fletcher joined the others in the dining room, where the morning chatter was subdued but congenial. Kate tottered after them, her new jeans chafing her knees through the gauze she’d taped over her wounds. She found the girls and carefully lowered herself into a chair across from them.

“Hi.” The blonde spoke first. “Are you a college student?”

Kate smiled and felt her bottom lip split, again. “I just graduated.” She dabbed the lip with her napkin.

“I’m Bethany.” She had hazel eyes and a splash of freckles across her nose. “And this is Trisha. We’ll be juniors next year.”

“Nice to meet you both. My name is Kate.” She didn’t offer her sore hands for a handshake. Instead, she reached for the butter. “I was glad to see other feminine faces this morning.”

Trisha laughed. “You’ll get used to being a minority.” She had dark brown eyes and hair. “We were, like, the only two girls last summer. But the guys are all nice, even Cyrus. He’s not as mean as he sounds.”

That’s what you think, honey
. Kate held her knife between her finger and her thumb to butter the biscuit. The girl was too young to be labeled an over-educated husband hunter.

Bethany leaned close. “I kind a like it when Cyrus gets mad. Mrs. Duncan doesn’t allow swearing, so he makes up funny words.”

“He does use colorful language.”