Читать книгу A Cowboy At Heart - Angel Smits - Страница 13

CHAPTER TWO

LISA SLIPPED HER PHONE back into her purse just as Trudy came out the front door. As Lisa had, she carried a battered box of belongings—the contents of her desk crammed into a single square foot of space. Her purse, the suitcase version, hung off her shoulder. Where was her coat? Did she even have one?

The older woman looked as lost as Lisa felt. Lisa couldn’t let her leave without a decent goodbye.

Despite the cold wind, Lisa climbed out of her finally warm car and hurried over to where Trudy struggled to heft the box into her trunk. A faded brown coat nestled on the floor of the trunk.

“Let me help.” The wind tried to rip her words away, but Trudy’s nod told Lisa she’d heard. Together, they managed to get the box settled in the trunk.

The older woman forced a smile through her slowly freezing tears. “Thanks, hon. I’m just so—”

“I know.” She got Trudy’s arms into her coat and helped her zip it up. “Where are you going now?”

Trudy shrugged and looked out over the nearly empty parking lot. Marco’s car was the only other one left. “I guess...home.”

“So, you do have one.” Lisa joked, trying to make the woman smile. It almost worked. “How about I buy you a coffee?” She pulled her own coat closer around her. “I’m—I’m not ready to be alone yet.”

Trudy appeared relieved. “Me, either. But I’ll buy my own. We’re both going to be without a paycheck soon.”

“Come on.” Lisa headed to her car. “I’ll drive.”

Trudy shook her head. “I’ll take my car.” She looked back over her shoulder. “I don’t want to come back here to get it.”

“I understand.” Lisa headed to her car and they each drove to the coffee shop down the street. Lisa pulled into her usual spot, her eyes taking in the familiar facade. How many times had she come here on break or for lunch? This might be her last visit. Lisa blinked her eyes. It wouldn’t do any good to sob in her coffee.

Trudy pulled up beside her, and they braved the weather again to step into the warm, coffee-scented café. It was busy—the whirr of the coffee machines, the soft conversations and the piped-in music filled the air around them. So familiar.

Trudy squared her shoulders and shoved the gigantic purse up more firmly on her shoulder. “I don’t know about you,” she looked sideways at Lisa, “but I’m going to just pretend this is my lunch break.”

“Denial sounds like a lovely plan.” Lisa nodded and followed Trudy to one of the back booths. It might be a long lunch break today.

“Hey, ladies.” Mindy, the young waitress who worked here most days, carried the coffee carafe to the table with a smile. “The usual?” she asked Trudy.

“I—I’m not sure yet.”

Mindy’s smile faded. “Are you okay?”

Trudy’s eyes filled with tears, and Lisa put her hand over Trudy’s. She looked up at Mindy. “Yes, the usual for Trudy. And I’ll take...” She glanced at the menu in front of her. “I’ll take a number three.” It was a big meal but why not? She had to eat today. They both did.

“Sure.” Mindy nodded. “I’ll get those started.” She left and headed to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” Trudy whispered. “I’m being silly. It’s not as if I can’t afford to retire or take some time off.”

That didn’t surprise Lisa. Trudy worked constantly. When did she have time to spend any of the money Marco had paid her? And he’d paid her well.

“But?” she prompted.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself.” She shrugged. “Work is all I have. My kids have scattered around the country. My husband is gone. I’m—” Trudy picked up her napkin and wiped her eyes. “I’m all alone.”

That explained why Trudy was always at work. “No, you’re not. You’ve got me.”

“Thank you, dear, you’re sweet, but you have your own life. You have things to do. I’m sure you’ll get another job soon.”

Mindy appeared just then, setting tall ice waters in front of them. Once she left again, Trudy tried to smile at Lisa.

“You’ll be busy job hunting yourself,” Lisa pointed out.

“I doubt I’ll have much luck. Few companies want to hire someone over fifty, much less over sixty.”

“There’s a lot to be said for experience.”

“I agree. But they don’t always think like we do.”

Trudy’s sadness gave Lisa something to focus on, to work on. So, for the next hour as they ate, she tried to cheer the other woman up.

Finally, when Mindy had brought their checks and cleared away most of the dishes, they couldn’t stall any longer. Trudy sighed and glanced out the window. “I guess I should be getting home to Fred and Ethel.”

Lisa nearly gave herself whiplash staring at the woman. “Who?” Trudy didn’t have any family at home—hadn’t she just said as much?

Trudy hesitated only an instant before the words spilled from her lips. “My prize-winning cockatoos.” For the first time all day, a genuine smile formed on Trudy’s face. She reached for her phone. “Here.” She turned the screen toward Lisa.

Two big white birds, with bright blue rims around their eyes and a plume of feathers on each of their heads, posed for the camera. “I—” Lisa was stunned. “You never even mentioned them before.”

“Oh, dear, of course not.” Trudy’s smile faded, and she leaned closer to Lisa, lowering her voice. “The competition is fierce, and my pair are now quite valuable. I couldn’t risk anything happening to them.”

“Oh.” Lisa frowned, too. “Why are you telling me now?”

Trudy shrugged. “I’m so proud of them. And it is hard to stay quiet about something this exciting. I trust you. You’ve really helped me today. Thank you.”

Trudy slid her finger over the screen. “Here we are when I won Grand Champion with them last year.”

“That’s stunning.” And they were. But so was the fact that Trudy had never said a word about them.

Lisa smiled. “You asked me what you should do now?” She pointed at the phone. “Focus on that.” She reached out and squeezed the woman’s hand. “Do what you enjoy. You’ve earned it.”

Trudy nodded, and this time her smile didn’t fade. “Thank you, dear. I’m going to miss you.”

“Oh, you’re not rid of me yet. But I need to get going, as well. My mom asked me to help her with something.”

“What’s that, dear?”

“My grandfather lives up in Telluride. This is a good excuse to go see what he’s up to. She hasn’t heard from him for a while and she’s a bit concerned.” That was putting it mildly.

“Oh, my dear, I hope he’s okay.”

Lisa smiled. “I’m sure he is. My mother worries about him, but he loves those mountains. Me, too.”

Trudy gathered up her purse. “That sounds like a great idea.” She stood, and Lisa followed. “I’m so glad we did this.”

After a heartfelt hug, they settled their bills and headed to their cars. Lisa watched until Trudy had left the parking lot before she started her car.

Looking in her rearview mirror to back out of the parking spot, Lisa met her own gaze. “At least I know you,” she said aloud. Maybe she should be more like Trudy. Less open.

She frowned. She wasn’t a liar, and wasn’t a lie of omission just as bad? Confused, she put the car into gear and got moving. Maybe a trip up to the mountains would do her good. It would help her clear her mind, and, once Grandpa came down from the hills, he’d help her focus on where to go next. He’d always been a good sounding board for her.

Four hours later, when Lisa finally reached Telluride, she walked between the piles of snow on either side of her grandfather’s sidewalk. Someone with their trusty snowblower had come through here, clearing a path from house to house. Nice of them, since she knew her grandfather didn’t have a snowblower. The mystery scooper had even cleared the walk going up to Grandpa’s front step. Only the last dusting of snow covered the stone.

But where the neighbors’ walks were packed down from footsteps, the walk to Granddad’s was still somewhat pristine. Her footsteps were the first ones there. Halfway up the sidewalk, she reached into her purse and pulled out the single key she kept in the inside pocket. A cowboy-boot-shaped key ring saved it from disappearing into the depths.

She pulled the screen door open and put the key into the lock. The little pressure she used was just enough to nudge the door to creak open slowly. She stared. What the—

Darkness was all that lay beyond.

Stale, closed-up air wafted out, bringing warmth out against the cold afternoon. But it wasn’t the usual warm, welcoming scent of her grandparents’ house. This scent held time in it.

“Grandpa?” she called, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear his voice. If he was in there, with the house shut up like this, so dark and sad, that would not be a good thing.

Slowly, she angled the door just a bit more and called for him again. Still no answer. Then she heard something. Footsteps? Heavy. Quick. Distant. “Grandpa?” She took a couple of steps through the door.

Glass crashed somewhere in the other room. Had he fallen? She rushed inside toward the sound. Please let him be okay. Him falling—even though he was a healthy, agile man for his age—could be disastrous.

She reached the doorway to the living room and stared at the empty room. No one was there. But cold, snowy air was blowing in from the window, making the old-fashioned sheer curtains dance. She hurried over to find the window broken. A movement at the corner of the yard startled her. Someone, certainly not her grandfather, leaped over the back fence. Footprints showed dark across the snow-covered yard.

“Hey,” she yelled, wasting her breath as it fogged in the cold air.

She shivered as much from the cold as the realization that someone had broken into—and apparently out of—Grandpa’s house. Was he okay? Was he here? She ran through the few rooms on the lower level, finding nothing. She hurried up the stairs, checking rooms until she finally reached her grandparents’ bedroom.

It was as deserted as the rest of the house. And cold. The bed looked like it hadn’t been slept in for ages. She frowned, gazing at the old-fashioned dresser and vanity that her grandmother had loved and polished each week with lemon oil. Grandma had been gone over a year now, but that faded sweet/tart scent still tinged the air.

Even though a light coat of dust covered everything and danced in the light that filtered in.

Grandpa wasn’t here. No one was.

But someone, who wasn’t her grandfather, had been.

Hastily, she pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed 9-1-1. Slowly, checking around each corner as she moved, she went back downstairs and waited just inside the kitchen door.

Near the knife rack.

The dispatcher answered, and Lisa gave the address, telling the woman her suspicions that someone had broken in.

“Are they still there?”

“No, but I’m not sure there isn’t someone else hiding somewhere.”

While she waited on the phone, her mind raced. Where was her grandfather? When her mother had mentioned Grandpa had disappeared again, most likely into the hills, she hadn’t seen the house, hadn’t felt the emptiness that permeated it.

Why hadn’t he let anyone know where he was going? Maybe he had, just not them. She’d have to check with his friends.

What if something had happened to him?

* * *

THE THIRSTY EAGLE SALOON sat smack on Main Street. It faced the ski slopes that dominated the view from all over town. Trey stared out the big plate-glass window at those slopes, wishing he was on his new pair of K2s instead of sitting here counting change.

Last night’s snow had put down a good foot of powder, and even from here, the white plumes flying up behind the skiers were clearly visible.

“Hey, boss,” Gabe called from the kitchen. “We’re low on tequila. And there’s only two cases of burgers left in here.” Gabe’s voice sounded muffled so Trey figured he was inside the walk-in freezer.

Trey sighed. Trey couldn’t do much about restocking. He wasn’t the owner.

Hap Southers was. And while the old man loved the place, apparently being a mayor—or former mayor—and a bartender wasn’t a good mix, even in a wild mountain town like Telluride.

Hap relished showing off and one-upping his cronies, but he was cheap. Before anyone could order supplies, they had to call Hap and ask. Hap refused to give any of the staff a budget or any kind of idea what they should spend.

Trey hated having to ask for anything. He was used to being in control. He always had been on the ranch, and when he’d left Texas and his family’s ranch behind, he’d stopped asking anyone’s permission to do anything.

Until he’d started working here, that was. “I’ll ask Hap about the order after I get back from the bank.” He grabbed the bank bag with the deposit he’d already counted and headed out the door. It was a nice day, and the walk to the bank would be good for him.

Even though the sun was still out, the mountain’s shadow had fallen over the town. Sitting in a box canyon, some part of Telluride was always in the shade.

The breeze cut through the afternoon, and he shivered. Lord, this place was so different from Texas.

His phone rang just then, and he pulled it out of his pocket to look at the screen. The ranch. Just the thought of the home he’d left behind seemed to summon his past. He pocketed the phone again, not even bothering to silence the ringer.

He’d only answered a call from the ranch once, the first week he’d been here. He’d foolishly thought there was some emergency. Someone was dying, maybe. But it had just been one of the hands asking for Trey’s input—and for help getting his father, Pal Junior, to change his mind about something. Trey had hung up.

He’d left that all behind.

He needed a life without his grandfather’s legacy or anyone’s influence. If he was going to build a new life, he had to completely leave the old behind.

And the old had to let him go. They, apparently, found that harder to do than he did, since they kept calling. He’d eventually check his voice mail, but not today, and not any time soon.

“Afternoon, Trey,” Linda, the head teller, called from her station as he entered the bank. She didn’t bother to stop counting the stack of twenties in front of her. The woman could, and probably did, count money in her sleep.

“Hey, Linda.” Trey moved to her counter to make the deposit. “How come you aren’t up on the slopes? Looks like a good day for some runs.” Trey and Linda had met on a black diamond ski run his first week here, and had shared several conversations about their love of skiing when he came into the bank.

She was pretty, and he’d even thought for a minute and a half about asking her out. She’d be a perfect fit for him—at least the him he wanted to be. But something didn’t feel right.

In the past, he’d have asked her out without even thinking twice. He liked women but—He stood there watching her...and had no desire to make any move. Dating was a commitment he wasn’t ready to take on yet.

“Yeah.” The rubber band she put around the stack of cash snapped into place, breaking into his thoughts. Thankfully, Linda was oblivious to what he was thinking as she reached for his deposit. “But just like you, I need to eat and keep a roof over my head.”

“I hear you.” He nodded and waited until she’d finished putting all the assorted papers and pieces away before handing him back the bag.

Stepping outside, he gave one last longing glance at the slopes and the skiers flying down the hill. He wished he were there, losing himself in the cold, the sun and adrenaline. But he headed back to the bar.

“Hap’s on the phone,” Gabe called as soon as Trey stepped inside.

He hadn’t even removed his coat, but he took the phone. “Afternoon, Hap.”

“Afternoon, Trey. Gabe said you were ordering supplies?” Trey looked over at his cook, who’d obviously heard and simply shrugged.

“Just got back from making the deposit.” He knew what was really important to the old man. “I planned to give you a call, but yeah, we need supplies.” Gabe deserted him, going into the kitchen.

“Let me see—”

“Big weekend’s coming. New powder made the news. We’ll be swamped.” He knew how to get Hap’s attention. “Could be a profitable week.”

“Hmmm. You think so? I’m not sure.”

Sometimes Hap was too much like Pal Senior—too damned cheap. Trey nearly cursed aloud. No one was as bad as the old reprobate. “Look, I can run this place on a shoestring, but that’s going to make your deposits smaller. Today’s was good. I think you’ll be pleased.”

“I’ll log on.” Through the phone, Trey heard the sound of Hap tapping computer keys. Hap kept tabs on him by checking the bank account online each day. “Well, what do you know. That’s lookin’ good.” A few more keystrokes.

“So, can I get some more supplies in?” Trey hoped Hap didn’t hear the way he gritted his teeth.

“Yeah. Make an order. But don’t make it too big. Just enough to get us through the weekend. Don’t want anything left over to just sit there and go bad or anything.”

Trey refrained from telling the old man that alcohol didn’t go bad sitting for a few days and most everything else would be frozen. Now that he had the go-ahead, he ended the call quickly so he could make the orders before the suppliers closed for the day.

“We getting the stuff?” Gabe ventured back out of the kitchen.

“Thanks for the support there. Yeah.” Trey logged on to the computer. “Ordering now.”

Gabe leaned against the doorframe. “You think he’s greedy or cheap?”

“Who?”

“Hap.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” If Trey could answer that, maybe he wouldn’t be here now. Hap reminded him too much of people and places he wanted to forget. He silently prayed, as his fingers flew over the keys.

Don’t ever let me be like that.