Читать книгу Wind River Ranch - Jackie Merritt - Страница 10

Three

There were three Parks listings in the telephone book, two with a rural address, one in Winston. Dena tried the town number first. A female voice sang out a cheery, “Hello?”

“Hello,” Dena said. “I’m trying to locate Sheila Parks, secretary to John Chandler. Is there any chance I might have reached her home?”

“Sheila’s my mother-in-law, so you didn’t miss it by much. Actually all three Parks in the directory are related. But that’s beside the point, isn’t it? Getting back to Sheila, she’s not in the area right now. I’d be happy to take your number and have her call you when she returns.”

Disappointed, Dena pressed on. “Would it be possible for you to tell me where she is, and if she can be reached by telephone?”

The woman was still friendly, but Dena noticed that a bit of reserve had entered her voice when she said, “Sheila’s on vacation. Who did you say you are?”

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t say. My name is Dena Colby, and it’s really Mr. Chandler I need to speak to. I called his office and apparently he, too, is on vacation. Do you know where he went, by any chance? I wouldn’t be bothering anyone about this if it wasn’t extremely important. You see, Mr. Chandler is...was my father’s attorney, and Dad...passed away quite...suddenly.” It was so difficult to say, and Dena hadn’t thought of that in advance. She cleared her throat and continued. “I really need to talk to Mr. Chandler about...well, several things.”

“Please accept my condolences, Ms. Colby. I believe Sheila mentioned John and his wife vacationing in England. As far as reaching Sheila, she and Doug, my father-in-law, are traveling in their motor home. They could be almost anywhere, although they did talk about exploring the New England states. I’m sorry I can’t be more help, but that’s really all I know. Oh, except that they’ll be back soon. Shall I ask Sheila to call you when she gets home?”

Dena thought a moment. “No, that won’t be necessary. Mr. Chandler will be back on the fifteenth, and I’ll wait and talk to him. Thank you for speaking to me.”

“You’re quite welcome. You said your last name is Colby. I just remembered reading Simon Colby’s obituary. Is he your father?”

“Yes. Goodbye, Mrs. Parks.” Dena put the phone down before Mrs. Parks could get in any more questions. Dena appreciated the woman’s friendliness and trust, but the conversation had started getting uncomfortably personal.

She sighed heavily. Merciful God, how was she going to cope with it all?

But it wasn’t a matter of merely coping as far as the ranch went, was it? No one could pay bills or write payroll checks. That was much more than an emotional upheaval. And what about supplies? Groceries?

Too worried to sit still, Dena left the office to find Nettie. The housekeeper was still in the kitchen.

“Nettie,” Dena said, walking in. “I’m afraid we have a real problem. How are you fixed for groceries?”

Nettie looked at her with some surprise. “Land sakes, honey, you had me alarmed for a second. The cupboards, freezer and pantry are loaded with groceries. Why would you think that’s a problem?”

“Because no one on the place can sign checks.”

“Oh. Well, everyone will still have plenty to eat. You see, when I run short of supplies I drive to town and shop at Whitman’s Food Mart. Simon arranged a charge account with Whitman’s, so I wouldn’t have to bother him about kitchen money. Land sakes, it’s been that way for years and years. Don’t you remember?”

“No, I don’t remember.” She still didn’t. It hurt to think how self-centered she’d been in her teens, but facts were facts. Small wonder she and Simon had butted heads so often.

Dena rubbed the back of her neck. “Is there anything you’d like me to do, Nettie?”

“You mean help with the cooking?”

“Or anything else.”

“No, honey. Don’t concern yourself with the household chores. You have enough on your mind.”

“I also have a splitting headache. I think I’ll lie down for an hour or so.”

“You go right ahead and do that.”

Dena went to her bathroom, swallowed two over-the-counter headache pills with a drink of water, then continued on to her bedroom. Lying on her bed, she closed her eyes and slept.

The next morning Dena didn’t even wonder if she would get through the funeral without falling apart. That soothing numbness had returned in the night, and she showered, dressed and ate a light breakfast on automatic pilot.

As she’d suspected, hordes of people attended the service. She had told the funeral director to make it as short and emotionless as possible. No singing, she’d said adamantly. No sad songs or eulogies. Simon Colby would not have wanted an emotion-filled service, with people weeping their hearts out because of soul-wrenching music, and neither did she.

To her chagrin, most of the attendees reconvened at the ranch to eat and talk about Simon. Everyone that came brought something, a cake, a casserole, a ham. It all passed in a blur for Dena, except for a few stand-out incidents. For one, she could hardly believe her eyes when Tommy was suddenly standing before her.

“Hello, Dena. Sorry about your dad, even if the old guy did give you and me a hard time.”

She stared at the man to whom she’d once been married. Tommy was as handsome as ever, reeked of cologne and looked prosperous. But she would bet anything that he had either borrowed the money for the new clothes he was wearing, or he’d charged them. In her experience, Tommy had never set a dollar aside for an emergency, and she couldn’t believe that irresponsible trait had evolved into thriftiness during her absence. What if she hadn’t had a savings account when the call came about Simon’s death? How would she have paid for her flight home?

“Hello, Tommy,” she said, while marveling that she had once believed herself to be madly in love with this man. Of course, in those days she hadn’t known that a handsome face was Tommy’s one and only asset. In fact, looking at him now, she felt pity. It was an impersonal pity and in no way touched her soul. But it was sad that he had no ambition to better himself. She would be surprised if he even had a steady job.

He grinned at her, that cute grin that used to give her goose bumps. “You’re looking good.”

She smirked because she couldn’t look worse if she’d tried. Oh, her black dress was attractive and her hair was nicely arranged, but her face was puffy and the tastefully small amount of makeup she had put on this morning was long gone.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” she said. Recalling his initial remark about Simon giving them a hard time, she added, “Especially in light of your dislike of Dad.”

“Hey, you didn’t like him very much, either. And you had good reason. We both did. If he would have shelled out a few bucks when we needed it, we might still be married.”

“It was not his place to ‘shell out a few bucks,’ Tommy. And if you care to remember, we always needed money. What did you expect him to do, give us a weekly paycheck? If you have the gall to blame Dad for the breakup of our marriage, don’t tell me about it. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

She wound her way through the crowd, stopping briefly to accept condolences and words of sympathy, some of which she appreciated as they were from old friends of her father’s, neighboring ranchers, for instance. Eventually she reached the other side of the room. She was glad to see Tommy leaving through the front door, and wondered why he had bothered to get all dressed up and attend the funeral of a man he’d despised. Surely he hadn’t supposed she would be thrilled to see him. And how dare he make derogatory remarks about Simon, today of all days?

Had Tommy married her because he’d thought her father would support him? What a ghastly idea that was, but it probably should have occurred to her before this.

Still, it was water under the bridge and totally immaterial to not only today’s events but to her life in general. She really had no feelings at all for Tommy. There were memories, of course, some good, some bad, but feelings? No, there were none within her.

Another incident that stood out occurred when most of the crowd had dispersed and only a few people remained in the living room. They were talking to Nettie. Dena hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and she went to the kitchen. Nibbling on a piece of ham, she stared out the window over the sink with her back to the room.

She felt drained and empty. For years she had been passionate about reconciling with her father. Without that driving force gnawing at her vitals, life seemed rather purposeless. Could she simply go back to Seattle, her job and friends, and act as though she hadn’t received the worst possible blow fate could have dealt her?

“Dena?” She turned slightly. Ry was standing there. “Are you all right?” he asked.

For the first time since she had met this man, she really saw him. He looked clean and crisp in his dark gray Western pants and shirt. There was a black string tie at his collar, and his black leather boots looked smooth as satin and shiny as a mirror. He wasn’t as handsome as Tommy. Rather, his features weren’t as perfectly arranged as Tommy’s. But he was tall and strongly built, and there was a mature, outdoorsy handsomeness to his face that Tommy would never attain. Tommy relied on being cute and thought the world owed him a living; Ry earned his own way and would probably be insulted if anyone referred to him as cute.

“I’m okay,” she told him. Ry had spoken to her before this today, but she honestly couldn’t remember what he’d said. In fact, much that had occurred—at the cemetery, especially—had seemed to vanish from her mind. Temporary memory loss, she thought. A measure of self-protection. It was natural and normal, and she was glad she didn’t recall every painful detail of the day.

Ry walked over to the table and took a cookie from a container. There was a lot of food left, and some plates and bowls to be returned to their owners when Nettie got her kitchen organized again.

Munching on the cookie, Ry looked at her. “I wanted to commend you for planning a sensible service.”

“A funeral is bad enough without wringing every drop of emotion out of everyone attending it,” she said quietly.

“Agreed. I arranged similar services for my parents.”

“You’ve lost your parents, too? Do you have any other family?”

Ry recalled mentioning one of his sisters the night he’d picked her up at the airport, but saw no good reason to remind Dena of it. “Two sisters,” he said. “They both live in Texas. I guess you’re an only child.”

“Yes.” Dena was suddenly choked up. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

Ry nodded. “Then we won’t. Dena, about the ranch...”

She cut in. “I’d rather not talk about that, either, if you don’t mind.”

“All I was going to say was that you can count on me to be here for as long as you might need my help. It’s pretty apparent that you don’t know what’s coming next, and while I feel Simon left you the ranch, I guess anything is possible. Whatever happens, I’ll hang around until you know your next move.”

“The other men won’t.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Can they work without paychecks? I don’t think so.”

“You just might be surprised about that. Besides, someone will have the authority to keep the ranch going, either you or a court-appointed manager.”

Dena frowned. “Are you saying that if Dad didn’t leave the ranch to me, the court will take over?”

“The state, Dena, and only if there’s no will. As methodical a man as Simon was, I can’t believe he didn’t have a will. Have you talked to John Chandler yet?”

“He’s out of town until the fifteenth.”

“Well, that’s only a few days away.”

“But I might not be here.”

Ry looked startled. “You’re not thinking of leaving so soon, are you?”

“I have a job in Seattle.”

“You have a lot more than a job here.”

“You’re only surmising that.”

“True, but it doesn’t make sense that you would leave before knowing exactly what Simon had in mind for the ranch.”

“If he had anything in mind for the ranch.” Even if there’s a will, I won’t be in it. Dena had a sudden strong impulse to explain everything to Ry, but she was so ashamed of the rebellious behavior that had caused the rift between her and her father that the impulse vanished with her next breath.

Ry’s information was disturbing. She couldn’t picture the ranch in the hands of a court-appointed stranger.

Neither could she imagine her father being negligent about a will. She didn’t believe that she was the recipient of Simon’s earthly possessions, but if there was a will, someone was. Her eyes narrowed slightly on Ry Hardin, who had finished the cookie and was dusting crumbs off his hands. Maybe Simon had left the ranch to him? Just how close had he and Ry gotten during their three-year association?

The question came out of her mouth almost as soon as it appeared in her mind. “Were you and Dad close?”

Ry gave his head a slight shake. “Not personally, no. He was my employer, and I respected his knowledge and abilities with the ranch. I believe he respected me in the same way.”

“And that was the extent of your relationship?”

Ry raised an eyebrow, giving her a questioning look. “Were you thinking there was more?”

“I never thought about it one way or the other.”

“Until now,” Ry said softly. “Now, why would that idea even cross your mind? And what difference would it make if Simon and I had been the best of friends?”

“No difference at all,” Dena answered quickly. But he was surprisingly perceptive, and she was embarrassed that he had so easily grasped the motivation behind her question. Nettle walked in then, which put an end to Dena’s and Ry’s conversation.

“Everyone’s gone,” Nettie announced, looking at the food on the table and counters. “Goodness, I won’t have to do any cooking for a week.”

Dena took advantage of Nettie’s intrusion. “I’m going to lie down, so if you’ll both excuse me...”

“Of course, honey,” Nettie said sympathetically.

“Sure,” Ry said. “We can talk again later.”

Dena had no intention of picking up their discussion where it had left off. If her father had left the ranch to Ry, so be it. Speculation on that subject was a useless endeavor, and she wished she hadn’t given Ry the impression that she was concerned about it.

But as she left the kitchen and walked down the hall to her bedroom, she knew that she was going to still be here on the fifteenth. It wasn’t that she wanted the ranch for herself, but she had to know who was going to end up with it. In truth, she would much prefer Ry owning it than the state.

She prayed her father had left a will.

Dena came wide awake and was startled to see that her bedside clock flashed only 10:43 p.m. She lay there doubting that she would get back to sleep for hours, and wished that she hadn’t come to bed so early in the day.

At least she had gotten through the worst of it without uncontrollable anguish, she told herself. There was an acute ache in her heart that she suspected would be there for a very long time, but she would have to learn to live with it.

“Oh, Dad,” she whispered into the darkness of her room. An overwhelming sadness enveloped her. He was gone, forever out of reach. She would write no more letters and pray for an answer. She would do her job, see her friends and try to fill the void in her life with something other than the hope that would no longer be a part of her.

She would never have the chance to say, “Dad, I love you,” or hear from him, “Dena, I love you now and always have. Let’s forgive each other, forget the past and go on from here.”

She started sobbing into her pillow, so overcome by grief and remorse that she wondered if she would ever get over it. How could he have not answered her letters? How could he have held on to anger for so long? She was his only child. Was it possible that he had never loved her?

I can’t lie here and think about it. I can’t let go like this. Throwing back her blankets, Dena jumped out of bed. Hastily she shed her nightgown and put on a sweat suit and sneakers. Then she made her way through the dark house and went outside through the back door.

The night air was cool and refreshing. She breathed in huge gulps of it. The yard lights made an after-dark stroll possible, and she began walking. There were sounds other than her footsteps and breathing—the chirping of crickets, the distant bawling of cattle, the stamping of the horses in the corrals—comforting, familiar sounds. A yellow dog that belonged to one of the men came up and sniffed her. Dena looked down at him. “Hi, boy.” She kept on walking. The dog wandered off. Going beyond the glow of the yard lights, she stopped to look up at the stars. It was a beautiful night, cloudless and clear, and the millions of brightly shining stars was a moving sight.

After a few minutes, she sighed, turned back and started hiking around the lighted compound. The exercise felt good. She’d been functioning in a fog, which was fine, as it had helped her get through the most emotionally devastating experience of her adult life, but that was over now. Her mind was clear again, and she had only herself to rely on to pick up the pieces. She would stay in Wyoming through the fifteenth, then go home.

But Seattle didn’t feel like home anymore, and the ranch and Wyoming did.

“Damn,” she whispered, brushing away a tear. She had cried enough for tonight.

“Dena?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin. With her heart pumping hard and fast, she turned to face the voice. Relieved to see it was only Ry, she said, “Oh, it’s you. I thought everyone was sleeping.”

“I think everyone else is.”

“Why aren’t you?”

“I’d throw that question back at you if I didn’t already know the answer. I’m sorry you’re having trouble sleeping, but I guess it’s understandable.”

“So,” Dena said, “what’s your excuse for scaring the living daylights out of me?”

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, well, I suppose not, but do you usually wander around in the dark?”

“It was a difficult day, Dena, not only for you.”

“Are you worried about your job?” Are you so anxious to find out if you inherited the Wind River Ranch that you can’t sleep?

“I’ve never had any trouble finding work, Dena. No, I’m not worried about my job.”

“You strike me as the sort of man who falls asleep before his head hits the pillow, so something must be on your mind and keeping you awake.”

Ry looked off into the night. “I honestly don’t know what’s bothering me.”

Dena studied his profile. He seemed troubled, and the day had been difficult. As painful as it was to admit, he’d known her father better than she had. Her memories of Simon were years old; Ry’s were as fresh as the night air.

Ry’s gaze came around to land on her face. “You bother me.”

“Me!” she exclaimed incredulously. “Why on earth would I cause you any sleeplessness?”

“Don’t know. Maybe I’m worried about your attitude toward the ranch.” And maybe you’ve gotten under my skin for some unfathomable reason. He’d noticed her pretty face and good figure, but only as he noticed most pretty women—impersonally. He wasn’t a man to go after every attractive woman he met, and, in fact, it had been some time since he’d had any real interest in a member of the opposite sex. There were several good arguments against opening that particular door with Dena Colby. One: he suspected very strongly that she was going to be his employer. Two: she was not a naturally open and friendly person. Even in grief one’s true personality came through, and Dena struck him as a loner.