Читать книгу Wind River Ranch - Jackie Merritt - Страница 8

One

Returning to Wyoming was traumatic for Dena. It was something she had wanted to do for so long, and to be going now under these conditions was almost incomprehensible. Anxiety ate at her during the flight from Seattle to Casper, and again on the much smaller plane bound for Lander. For some reason, she couldn’t picture the ranch without her father. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe Ryson Hardin—no one would be so cruel as to call a woman with a lie of that nature—but envisioning the place without Simon was next to impossible.

At the same time, sitting stiffly in her seat, Dena wondered why she wasn’t weeping. Her throat had felt tight and achy since Mr. Hardin’s call, but she had not shed one tear. Unquestionably she suffered the sorrow one would expect to feel from such news, and yet she wasn’t able to release the tight grip she had on her emotions. In truth, she felt as though she were trapped in some sort of terrible nightmare, and in the back of her mind was the childlike knowledge that nightmares lasted only a short while. It was such an inane sensation—she was an intelligent woman and fully cognizant of the difference between a nightmare and reality—and yet she couldn’t eradicate it.

The plane landed at the Lander airport at three in the morning. She should have been exhausted and wasn’t; obviously she was running on adrenaline.

Deplaning with the handful of other passengers arriving in Lander at this unholy hour, Dena walked through the gate and glanced around, ardently hoping to see Nettie. She had called the ranch, once she’d known her flight schedule, and Ry Hardin had answered almost immediately, as though he’d been sitting near the phone waiting for it to ring. Dena had been hoping to hear Nettie’s voice, but when she’d asked about the older woman, Hardin had said she was in her room, ostensibly lying down.

“This has hit her pretty hard, Miss Colby,” he’d said.

“Maybe...maybe she will feel up to meeting my plane,” Dena had said unsteadily. But then she’d told Ry Hardin her arrival time, and he had said that he would be at the terminal.

Nevertheless, the hope that she would see Nettie instead of a stranger waiting for her was still with her. That hope faded away as she saw a man walking toward her. Without a dram of genuine interest in Hardin himself, she took in his physical appearance. He was a tall, rugged-looking man with dark hair and eyes. His clothing was jeans, boots and a hat that he removed and held in his right hand as he approached her. He looked as much like a rancher as any man she’d ever seen.

“Dena Colby?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Ry Hardin. Do you have luggage?”

“One bag.”

“We’ll collect it and be on our way. You must be tired.”

“No...no, I’m fine.”

Ry looked at her curiously. She was an attractive woman, small and slender, dressed in navy slacks, a white blouse and a navy cardigan sweater, unbuttoned. She did not appear to be devastated, as he’d thought nught be the case, although her eyes were a little too bright. Feverishly bright, he amended in his private assessment of Simon’s daughter.

They walked to the baggage department, and Dena’s one suitcase appeared almost at once. Ry carried it and escorted her outdoors to his vehicle. Rather, it was a ranch vehicle, Dena realized when she read the sign on the door: Wind River Ranch. It was then she remembered that all of the ranch’s vehicles bore that same sign.

She also realized there were many details about her home that she hadn’t thought of in years. Her concentration regarding anything in Wyoming had been focused almost entirely on her father. She bit down on her bottom lip painfully hard. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to walk into the house she’d grown up in and feel its emptiness.

They were well under way before either said anything. Ry spoke first. “Nettie said you’re a nurse.”

Dena jumped and turned her gaze to the man behind the wheel. She had actually forgotten he was there. “Pardon?” she said.

Ry repeated himself and added, “Nursing is an admirable profession. One of my sisters in Texas is a nurse.”

Dena tried to think of a response. She liked making new friends, and Ry Hardin seemed like a nice guy. But these were not ordinary circumstances, and there was no way she could concentrate on small talk.

She quietly murmured, “That’s nice,” and then unconsciously turned her face to the side window, again immersed in the agony of why she was in Wyoming in the middle of this dark night.

Her spiritless reply relayed her state of mind to Ry, who decided to say no more. If she instigated a conversation during the drive, he would, of course, participate. But he didn’t expect that would occur, and he drove with his gaze straight ahead on the road.

After a few miles, however, he did say something else. He’d gone through the same shock and grief that Dena Colby was suffering right now with each of his own parents, and he wanted to let her know that he, too, was affected by Simon’s sudden death. “I’m very sorry about your father, Miss Colby. I liked working for him. And I respected him.”

Drawing a breath, Dena pulled herself out of the doldrums enough to answer. “Thank you. And call me Dena,” she said. Colby was her legal name again, as she had petitioned the court for resumption of her maiden name at the tune of her divorce, which had further infuriated the Hogans, who had already been incensed over the divorce. That was when she’d started hearing some of the completely groundless lies they had been spreading around town about her, and it was also when she’d made her decision to leave Wyoming. There’d been no chance of a career in any field in Wmston, and she had wanted to make something of her life. She remembered now that she had also hoped that her leaving the area would shake her father’s determination to disown her.

It hadn’t worked.

As for Ry Hardin liking and respecting Simon, she didn’t doubt it. If memory served her correctly, Simon had usually gotten along with his hired hands. In fact, he had gotten along with most people. It was only with her, his daughter, his only child, that he’d been so hard and unyielding.

Dena released a long sigh of utter anguish and stared through the window again. The countryside was familiar even in the dark, and she attempted to force herself to concentrate on landmarks. Anything was better than thinking of her reason for at long last coming home.

But thoughts of home and the past would not be squelched, and she finally stopped fighting them. Besides, not all of her memories were painful. Her mother, for instance, had been completely kind and loving. While Opal Colby had been alive, Dena had been a happy child.

And Simon had been a happier, more just man. Yes, now that she thought about it, he hadn’t been so strict and demanding while his wife had lived.

And neither had Dena been so rebellious, she had to admit. In retrospect it seemed that once Opal’s sweet and gentle ways were no longer a buffer in the family, there was no family. Simon went his way every day, detouring only long enough to make sure Dena was behaving herself, which meant no makeup, the right kind of reading material and television programs—only his opinion counted, of course—very little time on the phone and a dozen other symbolic slaps in the face.

At least that was the way Dena had interpreted her father’s harshly issued orders and oft-repeated remarks of disapproval. For a girl in the throes of puberty who had so recently lost her mother, life was miserable. Many times she had muttered to herself that she hated her father, which had not been the truth at all. What she’d wanted so much she had ached from it was for him to hug her, speak kindly to her, tell her he loved her and even tuck her into bed at night as he had sometimes done before her mother’s death.

Now, as an adult with medical training, Dena knew that when her mother died Simon hadn’t been able to overcome his grief. He’d become hard because of internal misery, and as he hadn’t understood the emotional ups and downs of a teenager, he had continued to treat Dena as the child she had once been. He could handle a child; he hadn’t known how to deal with a budding woman. Dena had written of these things in her letters, but to her knowledge Simon had never read one of them. It was heartbreaking to envision him having destroyed or discarded her letters without opening them, but what else could she think?

The lights of Winston—still some miles ahead—gave her a jolt. She sat up a little straighter, wishing there was a way to reach the ranch without driving through the town. There were so many bad memories connected to Winston—her marriage, the Hogan family and their lies, her divorce, the fact that everyone in town knew her father would not say hello to her should they meet on the street. It was the way of small towns everywhere: everyone knew everyone else’s business. She had not once missed Winston or anyone living there, and she felt no guilt over feeling that way, either.

Ry noticed her more alert attitude and thought it a good sign. With her having been raised on a ranch, Winston was the closest thing she had to a hometown. His own past was similar; he’d grown up on a ranch in Texas near a town that was about twice the size of Winston, and he had many fond memories of his school years in that town.

Ry slowed down to the speed limit as they passed the town limits. Not a car was moving on the main street, not a person was in sight. The windows of some buildings were lighted. Winston was beginning to wake up, but it was still so very early, just approaching dawn.

“You must have gone to school here,” Ry said.

“Yes,” Dena said, offering no further information.

Ry sighed inwardly, but he couldn’t take offense at Dena Colby’s reticence. She had to be hurting, and since she hadn’t come home to visit her father during Ry’s employment at the Wind River Ranch, he really couldn’t begin to guess what was going on in her mind. Guilt, perhaps? He was suddenly curious about something he’d never even thought about before. Why hadn’t Dena come home for three years? It might have even been longer than that, as his knowledge of Dena’s absence was limited to his employment on the ranch.

In the next instant he realized that her dignity was very much like Simon’s. Had he ever seen Simon Colby lose control of his temper, for example? Or let anyone into his inner thoughts? Yes, Ry thought, he had liked and respected his employer, but he had never felt close enough to the man to call him a friend.

The ranch lay twenty miles on the other side of Winston. Dena felt the rigidity of her body relax some when they were again on the open road, although she was still tenser than normal. She gulped hard. It wouldn’t be long now, less than a half hour, and then the true nightmare would begin. She tned to think of something else. The question of how many times she had traveled the distance between the ranch and Winston came to mind. She knew every inch of this stretch of road, every curve and dip, except for—

“The road has been paved,” she said in surprise, more to herself than to Ry.

But he heard and thought she was speaking to him. “Wasn’t it paved when you lived here?”

“It was gravel.”

“Probably been a lot of changes made in the area since you moved to Seattle,” Ry said. He wasn’t trying to be snide or judgmental. His comment seemed perfectly normal to him.

Dena’s head jerked around. “What do you know about my leaving?” She’d been under the impression that he knew nothing of Colby family history, but now she wondered. And if he did know of her and Simon’s sad relationship, who had told him? Was she still the victim of lies and gossip around Winston? She didn’t mind anyone knowing the truth of her past, but she despised the possibility of even a stranger believing some of those lies.

Ry was startled by the defensive tone of her voice and became a little defensive himself. “I don’t know anything about you, so don’t get your dander up at me. Your business is yours and mine is mine. That’s the way I live my life.”

She felt properly chastised and said no more on that subject. Truth was, which she was fully aware of, she was overly sensitive about the past. She should not have spoken to Ry Hardin in such an abrasive manner. Why wouldn’t he snap back at her?

Besides, he’d been nice enough to crawl out of bed in the middle of the night to meet her plane, and she appreciated it.

“I haven’t thanked you for picking me up,” she said. “Let me do so now. I...I haven’t been myself since your call.”

“Forget it,” Ry said quickly. “I know you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

She put her head back and closed her eyes. “Yes, I do,” she said in a near whisper. There was something warm and friendly about Ry Hardin, which she would have been happy to pursue at any other time. But she wasn’t going to be in Wyoming long enough to concern herself with new friendships. She had arranged a week away from her job, figuring seven days should be a long enough time to deal with the morbid and heartbreaking details of burying her father. Her eyes squeezed more tightly shut for a moment. Could she get through the upcoming week without a breakdown? She felt on the verge of one, although she’d never experienced any such affliction before. But she’d worked with patients who had lost every hold on their senses because of a shock or even just the rigors of ordinary, everyday life. The thought of mental incapacitation was horrifying; she had to maintain an even keel, no matter how emotionally devastating the next few days might prove to be.

Ry was surprised and pleased that Dena hadn’t become angry over his defensive comeback. Even more pleasing was her remembering to thank him right after what could have been a serious breach between them. Obviously she was basically a nice person, and he himself would much rather be friends than enemies with anyone. Besides, it wasn’t his intention to alienate Simon’s daughter. It had crossed his mind that Dena could be his boss now. It was certain that someone was going to have to take over Simon’s duties, and why wouldn’t that person be Simon’s only child?

Not that Ry would ever kiss up to anyone to keep a job. But he liked living and working at the six-thousand-acre Wind River Ranch. He liked Wyoming, for that matter, and he would rather stay on at the Colby ranch than start looking for another job, no matter who picked up the reins.

Dena knew the mile-long ranch driveway was fast approaching, and her hands nervously clenched on her lap. Painful thoughts darted through her mind. She should have found a way to force her father to talk to her. Why had it never occurred to her that time might run out? The unhappiness that was so much a part of her life was her fault. If she had returned to the ranch before this, and followed Simon around until he grew weary of the silence between them, she would not be coming home now with such a heavy heart.

“Here we are,” Ry murmured, making the turn onto the ranch road. He sent his passenger a glance, and saw her sitting stiffly still and staring out the front window. His heart reached out to her. Losing a loved one was a hell of a thing to go through. Whatever kind of woman Dena Colby was, she was another human being, and he felt her grief in his own soul.

At first sight of the ranch house and outbuildings, illuminated by yard lights on tall poles, Dena caught her breath and held it. She felt light-headed from a lack of oxygen before she finally breathed again, and by that time Ry had braked to a stop next to the house. He turned off the engine.

“I’ll get your suitcase,” he told her, implying that she should just get out, go inside and not concern herself with her luggage.

“Thank you.” Her hand crept to the door handle. There were lights on in the house, and she suddenly knew that Nettie was waiting for her. Mobility returned in a rush, and she pushed open the door, got out and hurried to the back of the house. Taking the three steps to the porch, she crossed it quickly and opened the door that led to a mud room and then the kitchen.

Nettie materialized, her long, gray hair still in her nighttime braid, and wearing a robe and slippers. With tears running down her cheeks, she opened her arms.

“Child” was all she said.

Dena stepped into the circle of the older woman’s arms, and that was when the dam broke. All of the tears she hadn’t shed seemingly came at once. The two women held each other and sobbed together.

Ry passed them with Dena’s suitcase and they never noticed. Feeling the sting of tears himself, he brought the suitcase to the bedroom that Nettie had told him had always been Dena’s.

Then he let himself out the side door of the house and walked down to the barn. He always got up early; today was just a few hours earlier than usual. Grabbing a shovel, he began cleaning stalls.

Although this was not one of his regular jobs on the ranch, it beat standing around and feeling bad by a mile.