Читать книгу Maddie Inherits a Cowboy - Jeannie Watt - Страница 12

THE DRIVE DOWN THE mountain was more difficult than the trip up had been yesterday, giving Madeline no time to dwell on either the ranch or Dr. Jensen. The ruts in the snow had frozen overnight and kept unexpectedly catching her tires, yanking the car to the side of the road and the snowbanks there. But as she had told Ty, Madeline was no rookie at driving in the snow. Her grandmother, after retiring from her teaching job, had lived at the end of a particularly nasty road in northern Maine, close to where she had grown up.

After a few close calls—closer than Madeline was entirely comfortable with, since she didn’t want to hike back up the mountain and ask Ty to pull her out of the ditch—she arrived at Barlow Ridge. Unable to wait any longer, she stopped at a crossroad and dialed Connor’s number. He didn’t answer, even though it was close to noon back home.

Madeline stared at the phone. Connor always answered. His phone was practically embedded in his palm. Was he not answering on purpose? Was this his way of not enabling her obsession over the investigation?

She tried again, then fired off a text.

I want to talk about the ranch. Pick up.

Nothing.

Madeline ground her teeth, then shoved the phone into her pocket and pulled the car back out onto the road.

She drove from snowy gravel onto cleared pavement as she passed the first houses.

The town was tiny, and while there were many communities this size scattered throughout the northeast, the sheer isolation of this one made it seem even smaller.

Madeline estimated the population at less than five hundred. She had to estimate, since for some reason towns in Nevada didn’t boast population—they announced altitude. So while she was happy to know that the reason she couldn’t breathe was because she was at 5,160 feet above sea level, from an anthropological point of view, population was a much more interesting statistic.

Fields and ranches bordered the paved streets until she reached the nucleus, which consisted of a mercantile, a bar, a post office, a school and a prefab metal building that appeared to be the community center. At the far end of town, on the road leading to civilization, was another metal building, red. Perhaps a fire station?

Madeline parked in front of the mercantile, which had an honest to goodness hitching post in front, festooned with garlands and red ribbons. Sleigh bells hung on the door, jingling merrily as she let herself into the store, which seemed to be deserted. Madeline didn’t mind.

She stood for a moment, studying the wild variety of merchandise crammed into too small a space.

Holy smoke. Where did she begin? The aisle with the small artificial Christmas tree, or the one with the saddle?

Madeline pulled her list out of her jacket pocket and unfolded it. It appeared that whatever she could possibly want—a jar of mustard or a bag of hog chow—was here.

She picked up a plastic basket, since there were no carts, and slowly started down the first aisle, cataloging what was where, since she’d a feeling she would be back.

“Can I help you?”

Madeline nearly jumped out of her skin at the accusing growl from behind her. She whirled and saw a small gray-haired woman at the counter. She hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. Where had she been? Crouching down, maybe?

Madeline automatically moistened her lips as the woman glared at her. “I just needed a few things. You are open, aren’t you? The door was unlocked so I assumed—”

“I’m open,” the woman said flatly. “Where’d you come from?”

“New York. A little town near—”

“Here.”

Madeline cocked her head. “Excuse me?”

“Since this town is at the end of the road, you aren’t traveling through. Where are you staying while you’re here?”

“Oh.” Madeline forced the corners of her mouth up even though she didn’t feel at all like smiling at this crabby woman. “I’m half owner of…” Damn. Why didn’t the place have a name? “…that ranch up Lone Sum Road.”

“Lonesome Road?” the woman asked with a mystified expression. “You mean Lone Summit Road?”

“Uh, yes,” Madeline said stiffly. “That’s exactly what I mean. Ty Hopewell is my partner. Actually, he was my brother’s partner, but my brother passed away.”

“You’re Skip’s sister?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be.” She shook her head again, frowning at Madeline as if she were a particularly nasty specimen.

“Why?” Madeline made no further attempt at politeness. She wanted an answer. Why was it so incredible that she was Skip’s sister?

“Skip was laid-back. Not an uptight bone in his body.” The woman’s eyes traveled over Madeline in a way that made her back stiffen. Okay, maybe she was wearing her black pants rather than jeans, but she was saving the jeans to clean in, since without a washer and dryer she had no clothing to spare. And perhaps a tastefully belted, knee-length navy blue wool coat wasn’t the norm in extremely rural Nevada, but it didn’t cry out uptight…unless it revealed a prim white blouse collar beneath it. She should have worn her red sweater.

“Yes. My brother was quite a relaxed individual.” She held up the list. “Would it be all right if I continued to shop?” The woman’s response shouldn’t have stung. Skip had always charmed people, whereas she’d had to resort to dazzling them with logic or impressing them with her academic prowess. The shopkeeper didn’t look as if she would be wowed by either. She made a dismissive gesture and Madeline walked down the nearest aisle with slow, deliberate steps. She would not be intimidated. But if this woman was representative of the local population, she wouldn’t be spending too much time in town, either.

Madeline eventually stacked three loaded baskets on the counter, along with a broom, a mop and two bottles of cleaning solution. She’d be returning a full bottle to Ty.

She’d eventually found everything on her list, with no help from the retailer, who’d sat silently behind her counter as Madeline shopped. It had taken a while to find ketchup that wasn’t laced with hot sauce, and the only wine she could find was red with a homemade label, which seemed to indicate that it, too, was home made. She didn’t think it was legal to sell home brew to the general public, but figured it wouldn’t be for sale if it was a health hazard, so what the heck? Wine helped on those nights when she suffered from insomnia, and given her situation, she may be facing some of those nights in the near future.

“By the way, I’m Madeline Blaine,” she said as the woman started ringing up her purchases.

“Anne McKirk,” the woman snapped.

“…McKirk is an unusual name. I’ve never heard it before.”

“Short for McErquiaga.”

“Basque?” Madeline guessed.

“Bingo,” Anne replied as she waved at the canned goods she’d rung up. “We load our own bags here.”

“Oh.” Madeline shook out a large paper bag and started loading. “Are there many Basque here?”

“Hmm.”

Possibly an affirmative. Madeline had never met a person of Basque descent before. Fascinating culture, though.

After paying for her groceries, she tried one more time to be friendly, primarily because the mercantile was the only game in town. “I’m impressed with the wide array of merchandise you have here.”

“I do try to keep an array,” the woman agreed sourly. She handed Madeline her change, then stepped out from behind the counter and headed for the back of the store without another word. Madeline watched her go.

Tough crowd.

A few minutes later, Madeline stepped inside the post office cautiously. But unlike Anne McKirk, the postmistress beamed when she saw a new face cross the threshold. A Christmas wreath pin blinked on the woman’s green sweater as she opened the gate separating the business area from the lobby.

“Hi,” Madeline said, taking advantage of the first sign of friendliness she’d encountered since arriving in the eastern part of Nevada. “I’m Madeline Blaine, Ty Hopewell’s ranching partner.” It sounded ridiculous coming from her lips, but it was the truth. She was a partner and their business was ranching.

“You must be Skip’s sister. I’m so very sorry about your loss.” The woman instantly closed the distance between them and enveloped her in a hug.

“Uh, yes. Thank you.” Madeline wasn’t a big hugger, except with close friends and family under highly emotional circumstances, but she appreciated the sentiment behind the gesture.

“We all liked Skip very much.” She ran a quick eye over Madeline, making her once again aware how out of place her teaching clothes were and how little she resembled her brother, both physically and psychologically. But this lady didn’t seem to find as much fault with her as Anne McKirk.

“Thank you,” Madeline repeated. “How would I go about getting mail while I’m here. I’ll probably only be here a matter of weeks, so if I could rent a box for a month—”

“Oh, good heavens, no.”

“Uh…”

“All the boxes are rented. You simply have your mail sent here to general delivery and I’ll make sure you get it. If you leave your phone number, I’ll give you a call whenever you get something.”

Wow. Talk about service. Only one small problem. “My phone doesn’t work at the ranch.”

“Do you have an iPhone?” the postmistress guessed. “You must, because that service provider isn’t available in this area. If it was, I’d have one of those phones in a heartbeat.”

“Yes, they are nice,” Madeline agreed. Just not around here.

“I’ll call Ty if you get mail.”

“Thanks,” Madeline said, realizing this was her only option. It wouldn’t kill Ty to let her know if she had mail, and she didn’t foresee getting any. All she was doing was covering her bases, just in case Everett needed to send legal documents or something related to the case.

“So, how is Ty doing?” There was obvious concern in the postmistress’s voice.

“Umm, he seems…” Cranky? Off-putting? Madeline shrugged helplessly, hoping it was answer enough. The postmistress appeared satisfied.

“We’ve been worried about him. His dad lived in the area and Ty used to visit during the holidays while he was growing up.”

“His father’s a local?”

“Ty’s family has a long legacy here. In fact, your ranch was one of the original Hopewell properties. I know he was happy to buy it back.”

“I bet he was,” Madeline said drily, tucking that in formation away.

“He attended community functions when he first moved here, but after the accident…well…like I said.

We’ve been worried.”

“I’ll pass that along.”

The postmistress’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. Don’t do that. We’ll never see him if you do. Ty’s shy, you know.”

No, she didn’t know. Did shy people snap at their business partners and accuse them of going for the jugular—which was a ridiculous accusation? Madeline faked a smile. “Mum’s the word,” she agreed.

“Thank you.” The woman beamed, satisfied that her concern was still a secret. “By the way, my name is Susan. Why don’t you take a look at our community bulletin board over there by the window and see if there’s anything that might interest you while you’re here. We’re going to have our school Christmas pageant in two weeks and then there’s the community Christmas party in the park. That’s always a lovely event.”

Madeline did peruse the board, which was neatly organized, each flyer and card carefully dated. There were items for sale—a goat that was specifically noted as being a pet goat, not an eating goat; an aluminum fishing boat that needed to be patched; a barely used dinette set that hadn’t fit into the newlyweds’ small trailer. A guy named Manny would clean your chimney and someone named Toni would tutor kids in math. There was a quilting club and a crafts club—new members welcome. Madeline wondered how many new members there could be in such a closed environment.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, causing Susan to look up at her. “I need to find some firewood.”

The postmistress shook her head. “You’ll have to go to the feed store in Wesley for that.”

“I can’t order and have it delivered?”

Another shake of the head. “Not unless you want to pay an arm and a leg.”

An arm and a leg didn’t sound like such a bad asking price for warmth.

“No one local has wood?”

Susan reached under the counter and pulled out a 4x6 card. “Let’s make an ad.” She passed the card and a marker to Madeline, who hesitated for only a moment before writing “Wanted: firewood. Half a cord will suffice.”

As soon as she’d done so, she wished she hadn’t written the word suffice. “I don’t know Ty’s phone number.”

Susan smiled as she handed her an oversize, laminated paper that apparently served as the local phone book. There were approximately a hundred names in alphabetical order. Madeline wrote Ty’s number on the ad.

“Shall I hang it?”

“No. I’ll do that. You’d better get back up that mountain if you’re going to beat the storm.

“I will. Thank you for all your help.”

“Oh, Madeline…” Susan called from behind the counter. “Ty has some mail. Would you like to take it to him?”

“Sure.” What else could she say? But as Madeline took the bundle, she couldn’t help but wonder if she and Susan were committing a federal crime. Could mail be released to just anyone? If Susan wasn’t going to tell, neither was she.

TY CHECKED THE COW TWICE before Sam finally showed up—thankfully, an hour early.

“Did you happen to see a small car in a snowbank on your way up?” he asked the vet conversationally.

“No, but there was a strange car in front of the post office. A blue Subaru.”

So she’d made it to town. Would she make it back before the snow started? He hoped so. He had stuff to do, a cow to move.

He and Sam rode the tractor out to where the cow lay, and then Sam went to work examining the animal, which still gave no response.

“You’re right. Calving paralysis,” Sam finally said. “Do you want me to autopsy the calf?”

“Not this time.” Madeline probably wouldn’t want to spend the money. Besides, the calf was frozen.

Sam glanced across the field to the barn. “We’ll need to get her somewhere where you can tend to her.”

“Yeah,” Ty said darkly. Tending to her meant either supporting her in a sling or turning her four times a day so that her weight didn’t damage her nerves or lungs. Right now the challenge was getting her to the barn.

“I have a pretty sturdy gate,” he said, shifting his gaze from the cow to the vet. The problem with ranching alone was that there was rarely another pair of hands when needed—that and the very real possibility of getting hurt and not being able to summon help. “I couldn’t come up with a way to manhandle her onto it myself.”

“I’ll lend a hand,” Sam said drily.

Ty grinned. “I appreciate it.”

The two men walked back to the tractor. “So who’s driving the Subaru that isn’t in the snowbank?”

“My late partner’s sister.”

“Is she going to become an active partner?”

“Not if I can help it.” Ty was surprised at the bitterness in his voice. He made a stab at damage control after Sam sent him a questioning look. “She’s a college professor and doesn’t exactly fit in here. Plus…she kind of knows a lot, if you get my drift.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I think I do.”

They drove back to the barn and chained the heavy metal gate to the back of the tractor like a sled, then returned to the cow, where between the two of them they managed to roll the animal onto it and tow her back to the barn. Sam rode with the cow, which acted as if she were pulled through the snow on a makeshift toboggan on a regular basis.

Once the cow was in the barn, Ty and Sam got her arranged on the sling Sam had brought with him, then used the tractor bucket to lift her and attach the sling to supports on the metal rafters. Both men were breathing hard when they got done. The cow, on the other hand, seemed happy to be off the ground.

Ty had only had this happen once before, with an older cow, and she’d regained the use of her hindquarters within a matter of days after calving. That wasn’t always the case, however.

“How long shall I give her?” he asked the vet.

Sam ran a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “If she’s not back on her feet in two weeks, tops, then…” He gestured philosophically.

Ty nodded. This was an expensive cow.

“Let’s go to the truck and I’ll give you the meds. Just yell if you have any more trouble. It’s been pretty slow this month, so I should be available.”

“Thanks.” Ty walked with Sam to his panel truck. “One more thing. If you do happen to see that little car stuck somewhere…”

Sam grinned. “You’ll be the first guy I call.”

CONNOR WASN’T ANSWERING his phone. Madeline closed her eyes, her shoulders sinking as she released a frustrated breath and let her head fall back against the seat rest of her car. Ninety-nine percent of the time, she maintained a high level of self-control, but right now she was edging into one-percent territory.

Right.

Who was she trying to kid? She’d been making regular sorties into one-percent territory since being relieved of her teaching duties. Probably her stupidest move was when she’d ignored Everett’s advice and tried to talk to Dr. Jensen in the staff parking lot. When she’d stepped out from behind her car and into his path, her former mentor’s expression had been first surprised and then cold. All he’d said was, “I can’t discuss the case.”

“It’s not like I’m wearing a wire,” Madeline had replied in as wry of a voice as she could manage, stung that the man who’d helped build her career was treating her like a leper. Surely the coldness was a facade. When Jensen shook his head and pushed past her, though, she’d known he was serious. He couldn’t or wouldn’t discuss the case.

Later, when she’d come to her senses, she was able to see that he’d had legal reasons for not speaking to her, perhaps even for being so cold and unemotional. But all she’d wanted was a bit of reassurance. A look, a wink, a hint that all would be well. He, of all people, knew how important her studies and her job were to her. It wouldn’t have killed him to do something to ease her mind.

She tossed the phone onto the seat beside her and put her idling car into gear. No sounding board today. She was on her own—a feeling she’d become quite familiar with over the past several weeks.