Читать книгу Winterkill - P.H. Turner - Страница 8

4

I drove into the wide-open spaces of Wyoming deciding to quit rehashing my old relationships. I wasn’t missing any of them. Or Andy either.

What I needed was a house.

I picked up the phone and called my go-to person. “Julia, did that guy call you back about the house?”

“Finally. I hope you’re gonna like this place. It’s a restored farmhouse ten miles north of Cheyenne. Probably bigger than you need, but it’s nice and it’s available. He’s offering a twelve-month lease and the price is good.” I sensed her excitement and pictured her flushed face and bright eyes.

“Great! Tell him I’ll take it. I’m excited about seeing you. I’ll call the movers now to give them my new address so they won't put my stuff in storage.”

“When are you getting here? I can meet you out at the place after four.”

“I should be in town by then. I don’t mind waiting at the house for you. Give me the directions again.”

“Head north on I-25. Take exit 233 for Horse Creek Road. It’s about nine miles from town. Turn right at the exit and then turn right again. Keep going until you see the first stone house on the right. You can’t miss it. See ya.”

A couple of hours later, I turned into the drive. A rural mailbox decorated with horseshoes sat sentinel at the entrance. Great. Yard art. The house was set at the end of a small well-kept green yard. I took the three steps up the broad porch. “Hello?” I called into the screen door. No answer. I peered into the dimly lit house. Nails scratched and clattered on the hardwood floors. I jumped back as the screen banged open. A big black and tan dog planted his feet in front of me, barking furiously. I backed cautiously down two steps, the dog matching me step by step. Behind me, I heard a male voice ask, “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, call your dog off.” I didn’t take my eyes off the madly barking animal.

“Chet! Come!” he commanded in a deep baritone.

Chet brushed past me and ran down the steps. Only when he was behind me did I turn around.

A tall man with longish dark hair and a good set of cheekbones looked mildly amused.

“Sit, Chet,” he said. “Good boy. You’re a good boy aren’t you?” He ruffled the head of the fawning dog. “May I help you? I’m Jake Spooner and that’s my porch you’re standing on.”

“Sawyer Cahill,” I said, extending my hand. The touch of his firm handshake sent a frisson of warmth up my arm. We stared at each other for a nanosecond too long. I loosened my hand. “Thanks for calling your dog off. I’ve rented a house out here somewhere. Supposedly, it’s the first stone house on Horse Creek Road. Obviously not. Sorry for the intrusion.”

“No problem.” He flashed a warm smile. “Yours would be the second stone house about a half mile from here on the right side. If you like, I can show you the way. I heard Sam had rented the place. Met him?”

“Not yet. I’ll take you up on the offer to lead the way. Thanks.”

Chet’s tail was thumping and he was wriggling his way closer to me. I showed him the flat of my palm. He sniffed, woofed his approval and sat on my foot.

“No problem.” This guy had some seriously gorgeous gray eyes. He stepped aside for me to join him. “Sam Jordan is the local vet. Where are you moving from?”

“San Antonio.”

Chet jumped in the back of Jake’s truck.

“I hope you’ll be happy here.”

“I will be. I grew up here.”

“Really? We might have met. I used to come up from Denver to spend the summers with my grandparents when I was a kid.”

His hand grazed my forearm when we walked to my Jeep. I wouldn’t have forgotten that face. “We moved away when I was twelve and I don’t think we’ve met.”

He flashed a great smile. “We’ll have time to get know each other. Is Sam meeting you at the house?”

“I don’t know. Julia’s meeting me.”

He opened the door of my Jeep. “Who’s Julia?”

“Julia Graham. My childhood friend.”

“I know them. I’ve done some business with her husband, Dave, at the bank. You’re lucky to get anything to rent in Cheyenne right now. Follow me down the drive and we’ll turn right.”

When I got into my car, I called Julia. “You there at the house?”

“Yeah, I just got here. Sam’s here too. You’ll see my blue Toyota from the road,” Julia said.

I followed Jake’s truck into the drive, parking my dusty black Jeep by Julia’s car. The house had a welcoming wrap-around front porch running across the front and down the east side.

“Welcome home.” Julia ran down the steps grabbing me in tight hug. “Jake, good to see you, too.” She looked at me quizzically.

“I found my way to Jake’s house and he was kind enough to lead me over.”

An older, heavyset man stepped through the front door. “Hi there, you ready for the tour?”

“Yes.” I extended my hand. “I’m Sawyer Cahill.”

He took my hand and it disappeared into his meaty paw. “Good to meet you. Julia has some fine things to say about you.” His eyes crinkled with his grin. “I hope you’ll like the place. I’m sure glad to have you renting it.”

He turned to Jake. “Afternoon, Jake. See you met your new neighbor.”

“I’ve had the pleasure.” Jake grasped Sam’s hand.

“Come on in.” He held the screen door open. “This was my grandparents’ home. They ranched out here in the 1930s. When I was a kid, I used to shoot my twenty-two back in those pastures. You got Jake’s place across the back fence from you.

The house had creamy plaster walls set off by yellow pine floors. A huge brick fireplace with a raised hearth anchored one end of the room. There was a modern kitchen with what looked like the original farm sink. Down the hall were two good-sized bedrooms and a bath.

“Nice restoration Sam. I saw lots of workmen coming down here for months,” Jake said.

Sam nodded to Jake. “Took longer than I thought. I added that insulated garage out back. You can get in and out without getting wet.”

“Is that your cattle herd on the east side of the house, Sam?” I pointed at cattle grazing along the side fence line.

“No, I leased the land to Jake. I lost my herd about three weeks ago now.” Sam’s face was hard. “Jake’s running cattle over there now. Damn glad he leased it.”

“You lost them?” I asked

“The government boys slaughtered them. A couple of my heifers tested positive for brucellosis.” Sam’s fists were opening and closing. “All of them, wiped out in a single afternoon.”

Behind Sam, I saw Julia give a little warning shake of her head.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You couldn’t have known. Lost my whole breeding operation in one afternoon. The genetics of my herd went back years to my grandfather’s time. Anyway, I got the land leased to Jake and the house rented to you. That’ll help me some. I can rebuild me a herd.” Sam’s clenched hands had stilled at his sides.

Jake clamped his hand on his shoulder. “Soon you won’t need to lease me that land. I got just the bull to stand for stud when you get some heifers.”

“I’ll take you up on that bull of yours.” Sam punched Jake’s shoulder.

“Deal,” he said to Sam. “Sawyer, I’m about a half a mile from you. Let me know if you need anything. See you all later.”

“Jake’s a good man,” Sam said as he watched Jake get in his truck. “He inherited his place from his granddad. He’s got fine herds—he’s ranching cattle and buffalo. His buffalo are out of the 1880s Charlie Goodnight herd from down in Texas.”

“I worked a news story about the Goodnight herd in the Panhandle of Texas.”

He grunted. “Yeah, not many of ’em left. He shuffled out the door. “You call me if anything in the place needs fixing.”

Julia sat on the hearth. “No way you could have known about Sam’s herd. Word around town is he’s really hurting for money.”

“Why were they slaughtered? Just a couple heifers were positive.”

“That’s the law. Helps contain the disease, I guess.”

“So, does the rancher get any money for his herd?”

“A pittance. The government comes onto your ranch, loads ’em up and hauls them to slaughter. Once brucellosis is found in a herd, it’s out of the rancher’s hands.”

“So is it catching? Jake put cattle in the same pasture where’s Sam’s infected herd was.”

“I don’t know how it spreads, but it must not be in the dirt or Jake would never have put a herd over there. I just know what I read in the paper and what little I picked up from Sam.”

“Bad for Sam.” Interesting. A possibility for my first story.

Julia changed the subject. “What do you think about the house? The quiet out here will do you some good after seeing that guy murdered in San Antonio. And you have a very handsome neighbor.” Her eyes twinkled.

The rumble of the mover’s truck as he downshifted into the drive sent us both to the porch.