скачать книгу бесплатно
Kam waited until Rudd picked up his soupspoon and then she followed suit. “Are you going to plant Hubbard squash in your garden this year?” she asked Iris. The soup tasted heavenly. The salty bacon enhanced the nutty flavor of the squash. The sour cream melted and swirled in the golden contents and reminded her of an abstract painting. It was a beautiful presentation.
“Absolutely,” Iris gushed, excitement in her voice. “In fact, I’m going to add another squash this year, a Lakota squash. This kind has orange and green vertical stripes. Some of my friends tell me it has the same firm consistency as Hubbard. You need a good, meaty flesh for a good squash soup.”
“Good to know,” Kam said, finishing off her soup. She glanced over at Allison who seemed bored, her soup untouched.
“Just because Ms. Trayhern is here you trotted out your squash soup. You know I hate squash, Iris,” Allison said defiantly.
Rudd sighed. “Allison, Hazel always cooks one soup a day and you know that. And we have squash soup at least once every two weeks.”
Kam could feel Rudd’s concern that his wife’s petulance would ruin the festive atmosphere. Iris slurped down the soup with relish and seemed content, her appetite clearly in place. Kam felt she had to speak up. “I thought the soup was wonderful, Becky. Thank Hazel for me. I’d love to get this recipe.” She almost added that her mother would love to have it. She certainly didn’t want them to get entangled in her family background. At least not until the time was right.
“Thank you, Kamaria,” Becky said, adroitly moving around the table and removing soup bowls. “Hazel loves to have feedback on her meals. She wants to make people smile over her creations.”
Iris smacked her lips, drank a bit of her red wine and patted her mouth with the white linen napkin. “Now, that’s a great start to a great meal, Kamaria. You see? Food like this is a special treat and I can see you appreciate it.”
“I do,” Kam said. “At home, my mother uses all the veggies from her garden to cook with, too.”
“Oh,” Allison groaned, shooting a look at Kam. “Don’t tell me you’re into gardening, too?”
“Yes, ma’am, I am.” Kam felt the only way to deal with Allison, who wanted to be queen bee, was to treat her with respect.
Allison sighed. “Well, Iris, this will be your first caregiver who loves gardening.” Then she looked at Kam. “You know, every caregiver we’ve hired has left a month after arriving here.”
Iris gave Allison a narrow-eyed look. “And I wonder why?”
Kam felt the tension sizzle between the two women.
“No, Iris,” Rudd rumbled, “let’s not go there. I want a peaceful meal for once. Kamaria is our guest. Can we table some of our conversations at least for tonight?”
Kam saw the faces of the three players. Iris looked incensed. Allison became smug. Rudd appeared frazzled, as if playing the referee between two boxers. Of course, with the dissension here between Allison and Iris, Kam could see how the family dynamic drove off previous employees.
Becky brought out a small garden salad drizzled with buttermilk dressing. The portions were small and she was glad.
“I’m leaving for L.A. tomorrow, Rudd. My friends are throwing a party at the Beverly Hills Hotel and they want me to attend.” Allison smoothed her hair and affected a matter-of-fact tone. “I’ll be gone for five days.”
Rudd nodded and handed Becky his emptied salad bowl. “Is Regan going along?”
“Probably. She hasn’t made up her mind yet. You know she has that Goth boyfriend in Jackson Hole.” She smirked. “I’m trying to pull her away from that slovenly thing. I checked on him and his parents are truckers. Trash, Rudd. Regan needs to understand she has to get into her own class and not go to the belly of the whale for friends or relationships. It’s so frustrating!”
Kam glanced over to Iris, who shook her head in dismay.
“No one is trash, Allison,” Iris shot back. “Classism didn’t build this ranch, you know. A lot of people worked untold hours. Truckers are very important people to us. And I’ve found them to be more than honorable folks. Charlie and Rose Burger do a lot for the poor of that town. He’s with the Elks and she’s with the Soroptomist Club. They raise a lot of money for the needy. I don’t see them bein’ called trash by the likes of you.”
Kam gritted her teeth and stared down at her salad bowl. Did they spar like this at every meal? Iris took no prisoners, but then, Allison seem to delight in dropping bombs to goad the old woman. Conversation like this was murderous to sit through, Kam decided.
“Regan’s boyfriend, Justin, is a good enough boy,” Rudd said. “He’s hard-working, Allison. Charlie and Rose raised him right.”
Allison sniffed. “I just don’t want our daughter hanging around with the likes of him. She’s better than that. I’m hoping she’ll meet an actor to marry.”
Iris snickered. “Oh, yeah, that’s right—marry an egotistical monster who can’t do without bright lights, fawning people and a bunch of hangers-on. Right.”
Allison glared at Iris, then looked down the table at Rudd, as if to say silently that he should protect her from his mother’s acidic comments.
Rudd did nothing but scowl, and spread butter across a warm biscuit.
Kam remained silent. How lucky she had been to have Morgan and Laura as parents! Their dinner table was full of lively conversation, searching talks, excitement about things each family member was doing—never this kind of nastiness. First of all, they would not have allowed these types of personal attacks at the dinner table. Secondly, this was a place to meet and talk and catch up on what everyone else was doing. She wiped her mouth with the linen napkin and thanked Becky as she came by to pick up the bowl.
“Hollywood is much more than that, Iris,” Allison sniffed. She saw Becky coming with the main course and halted her tirade.
A delicious stew was placed in front of Kam, along with some freshly steamed asparagus bathed in cheese sauce.
“Now, Kamaria, this is our own buffalo meat,” Iris crowed proudly. She swept her hand down toward her plate. “Do you know I’ve got a Web site where we sell our bison products? Allison said going online was a bust but I proved her wrong,” Iris gloated and grinned over at Allison, who pointedly ignored her. “We make five hundred thousand dollars a year off Internet orders from folks around the world. Isn’t that something? I might be old, but I sure like the gizmos we have at our disposal for marketing and advertising on the Net. You on the Net at all?”
Smiling, Kam swallowed her food. “Yes, I am. I’d love to see what you’ve done with your Web site, Iris.”
“My geek guy, Tom Courtland, takes care of my server in Jackson Hole. He’s a peach. I give him fresh veggies and fruit from our orchard every year. Of course, he’s well paid for what he does and he’s endlessly creative. I’ve asked Tom to bring a computer into your suite tomorrow. Then you and I can have some fun.”
Kam warmed to Iris even more. She was passionate, unafraid to try out new things and was obviously inventive in her businesses. “I’d love to sit down with you, Iris.”
“She’s the geek in our family,” Rudd said, smiling. “I don’t care for the darned things. Never could warm up to them. Can’t hardly use my cell phone, but I’m forced to in today’s world.”
Kam understood his complaint. “A lot of people are turned off by computers.”
“It’s the e-mails,” Rudd complained.
“Well, I told you to hire an office assistant who could field all the e-mail requests for information on our dude ranch,” Iris chastised him. “But you won’t do it. Sometimes I think you like to be miserable, Rudd. Just getting a young person in there for at least the summer dude-ranch time to help you seems like a better way to go. Instead, you sit in that office fuming and cursing under your breath as you use two fingers to try and type out a message.”
Kam tried to squelch her chuckle but couldn’t. “Hey, my sympathy is with Mr. Mason,” she teased Iris. “A lot of people are ham-handed when it comes to computers. Not that I’m a geek, but I practically grew up using a computer.”
Giggling, Iris nodded. “And some people just don’t want to learn new tricks. My son has a stubborn streak. One of these days when he’s bald after pulling out what’s left of his hair, he’ll see the wisdom of hiring an office assistant.”
Rudd grinned. “I don’t want to go bald, Iris.”
“Well, then, let me put out feelers to the employment office in Jackson and let’s see what I can scare up for you.”
“Maybe it’s time,” he agreed. “Besides, I’m better served dealing with daily ranch life. I hate the office.”
“Not much of a saddle to sit in, is it?” Iris quipped with a laugh.
Shrugging his broad shoulders, Rudd smiled sheepishly. “No, it isn’t.”
Allison shook her head and rolled her eyes again. She’d played with the food on her plate. “If you’ll excuse me…”
“You’ve barely eaten a thing,” Iris said.
“I like keeping my svelte figure. If Hollywood calls asking me to fly in to try out for a part, I can’t look fat.”
“Hazel made a special dessert tonight,” Iris said, ignoring her response. “Your favorite.”
Groaning, Allison rose with grace and placed her napkin on her plate. “Thank you, Hazel, but I simply can’t do it.” She turned and left the room.
Kam took note that Allison didn’t deign to look at her or say, “It was nice to meet you,” or anything else. She had a gut feeling that the woman didn’t like her and would just as soon see her leave the ranch in a month.
“Son? I think you hit pure gold when you hired Kamaria. I’m pleased as punch.”
“I’m glad, Iris. She seems a good fit for you. I just hope she wants to stay for more than a month.”
“Why would I ever want to leave after a month?” Kam asked politely. Based on the family drama, she knew the answer.
“Your predecessors just didn’t seem to fit into our laid-back ranch lifestyle,” he said uncomfortably.
“Actually,” Iris said darkly, “Allison chased all of ’em off. She’d just as soon see me die of a stroke and be out of the picture so she can take over.”
“Iris…” Rudd protested, frowning. “That’s not so. Allison does not want to see you die. And I really don’t think she chased off the other caregivers.”
Snorting, Iris said, “Well, I know better, son. And you’re just gonna have to take my word for it.” She cut Kam a sharp look. “You seem pretty smart. And you seem to see through people quickly. I’m sure you’ll ask questions before jumping to conclusions if Allison starts stirring the pot again.”
“Of course I would,” Kam reassured her. She saw Becky coming around to pick up their emptied plates. “I work for you. My only focus is you, Iris. You and your health. That’s why I’m here. Mr. Mason made it clear that I was to be with you most of the time.”
“And you’ll help me plant and weed the garden?”
Grinning, Kam said, “Wild horses wouldn’t stop me from helping you do that.”
“Music to my ears,” Iris sighed, giving her son a beaming smile of pure pleasure.
Rudd smiled. “Mine, too,” he told Kam, gratitude in his tone. “I think you’re going to fit in well here, Kamaria.”
“Call me Kam, if you want,” she told them. “Most people do.”
“Kam it is,” Rudd said, raising his head to see Becky coming out with dessert.
Patting her arm, Iris said, “Tomorrow is a bright new day around here with you being on board. I have a nice feeling about you, Kam. You’re fun to be around, you’re prudent and you’re a good judge of character, unlike some of the family.”
“Thanks, Iris. I’m really looking forward to being here.” Kam felt a warmth in her heart toward the older woman. Iris was a kick-butt, take-names-and-no-prisoners kind of lady, but she had values, morals and integrity, too. In contrast, Allison was a woman in a mask, playing a part. At least Rudd and Iris were real, down-to-earth people who weren’t narcissistic. Kam figured she could avoid Rudd’s wife most of the time. Or, at least she hoped she could.
“Tomorrow afternoon,” Iris told her, “I want you to take a ride with Wes and start familiarizing yourself with the Elkhorn Ranch. Sound exciting?”
“Yes, it does. I love riding horses.”
“Ah,” Iris sighed, “yet another plus in your column with me. I have a black Morgan mare that I ride almost daily. I’ll tell Wes to assign you a nice horse that you can use as your own. I often ride out into the hills to gather my flower essences and you can tag along.”
“Sounds great,” Kam murmured. Her heart skipped a beat. Wes. She gazed at Iris whose features looked perfectly innocent. And yet, Kam knew this woman had acumen when it came to evaluating people. Did she see something between her and Wes? Could she be aware of how Kam’s heart beat a little harder when she saw that lanky, wolflike cowboy? Tomorrow was going to be an exciting day for her in many ways, Kam suspected.
CHAPTER FIVE
WES SHERIDAN felt antsy as he waited for Kam Trayhern at the main stables. Why? Not wanting to look too closely at the reason, Wes reminded himself that his ex-wife, Carla, was enough of a deterrent to getting involved with another woman. Carla had been an alcoholic and he’d blindly walked into the marriage, completely ignorant of her disease. Even though his father was an alcoholic, Wes didn’t detect Carla’s symptoms until a year into their marriage. Suffice it to say, he had a knack for choosing the wrong women. Even though Kam Trayhern strongly appealed to him, Wes was certainly not going to allow her into his heart. Not a chance.
Besides, he ruminated, standing at the entrance to the horse barn, Kam probably had a steady relationship with some very lucky man. Then, she really would be off-limits to him. Wes found himself hoping like hell she was engaged. He spotted Kam skipping down the steps of the ranch house.
In vain he tried to ignore the way her jeans fitted her long, beautiful legs. She’d traded in her sensible Echo shoes for a pair of newly purchased cowboy boots so that she could ride. In the May afternoon, her short, slightly curled hair glinted with blue highlights. There was such excitement in her features as she spotted him. She eagerly waved.
Wes lifted his hand but without the same exuberance and joy. She was just too damn pretty for him. The way she moved her tall, lithe form, the way that pink T-shirt fitted her and outlined her small breasts—it all conspired against him. Kam wore a red bandanna around her throat and it only enhanced the elegant lines of her neck. In her hand was a tan Stetson cowboy hat. He wondered if Iris had given it to her as a gift. Wes was glad that Kam and Iris were getting along. That was a good sign. He sincerely loved Iris because she was a no-nonsense, down-to-earth woman who had always made positive and healthy decisions for the ranch.
Frowning, Wes thought of his father, Dan Sheridan, who owned the Bar S in Cody, Wyoming. Because of his alcoholism and his refusal of intervention, the once-prosperous cattle ranch was in decline. Just like his father. There was nothing Wes could do about it. He had tried over the years, only to be angrily rebuffed and eventually disowned. That had hurt then as it did now. Wes tried to redirect the thought but it did no good. He watched Kam’s approach, melting inwardly over her sparkling blue eyes. She was a salve to his wounded spirit.
“Hey,” Kam called gaily, “you got a horse for me, Wes?”
An unwilling grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as she plunked the cowboy hat down on her head. “I think I do. Chappy told me you were a beginning rider, but that you’d ridden off and on when you were a kid.”
The friendly nicker of horses in box stalls echoed down the wide, concrete aisle between them. The May breeze was gentle and invigorating to Kam. What was there not to be joyous about? She was with Wes, who was too handsome for words. Kam had been looking forward to this moment. “Yes, as a kid I rode, but my big sister Kathy was really the horsewoman. She had a horse and every once in a while I’d get to sit in the saddle as she led him around. I’m a real amateur, Wes. I hope you got me a nice, gentle, slow-moving horse.”
“I think I have.” He turned and motioned her to follow him down the aisle. “Let’s see how you and Freckles get along.”
Kam absorbed his powerful masculine nearness. “Has anyone ever told you that you walk like a wolf on the prowl?”
Startled, Wes glanced over at her. “Why…no.”
Laughing and embarrassed, Kam held up her hands. “It must be me, then! Don’t pay any attention to my creative meanderings. As a professional photographer I see things differently than most people. When I noticed you walking yesterday, you had such an easy grace that you reminded me of a wolf. That was a compliment, by the way.” She laughed nervously.
Wes found himself charmed by Kam’s innocence and the way she saw her world. Just as abruptly, he yanked himself from her spell. “Well, I’ve been called many things in my life, but never a wolf. Thank you.”
Halting at a box stall on the right, Wes opened it and took the halter of a small pinto and led him out to the cross ties. After he quickly hooked the horse’s halter into the metal panic snaps, the gelding stood quietly between them. “This is Freckles. He’s a mustang, very small but tough.” Wes ran his hand over the paint’s brown-and-white body near the withers. “Chappy thought Freckles would be ideal for you. He’s fifteen years old, savvy about things and will keep you out of trouble on the trail if you’ll let him.” Ruffling his hand through Freckles’s chestnut-and-white silky mane, Wes added, “Freckles is used for the kids who come here to the dude ranch over the summer. He’s one of our safest horses because he was a wild mustang as a youngster. Mustangs are a lot smarter because their wild nature is close to the surface. For instance, if you’re riding down a trail and he spots a rattlesnake, he’ll stop in his tracks and won’t move. He’ll let you have the time to look ahead of him to spot the snake. Some horses will bolt. Others won’t even see the snake and will step on it or get too close and get bitten. But Freckles won’t.”
Kam nodded and moved to where Wes was resting his hand on the horse’s withers. Freckles had big brown eyes set in his small, short head. She liked the alert look in them. Running her hand down his smooth, silky neck, she said, “He sounds perfect. I’m glad he’s not a real tall horse. I have this fear of falling and killing myself. At least if I fall off Freckles, it’s a short trip to the ground.” She grinned.
Wes nodded. “I’m sure Chappy can set up some riding lessons for you when Iris gives you time off.”
Patting Freckles, Kam marveled over the patterns of chestnut and white across his body. “He’s beautifully marked, Wes.”
Standing opposite her, the mustang between them, Wes was glad Freckles was where he was. It would be too easy to reach out and graze Kam’s hand as it rested on the horse’s neck. No, he had to keep his hands off Kam. “Yeah, he’s what they call a Medicine Hat mustang. They have a very special set of markings.” He showed her the brown color across the top of Freckles’s head. “You see this brown that looks like a hat over the top of his head and ears?”
“Yes.”
“That’s called a Medicine Hat pattern. The Native Americans valued a horse with this bonnet because it had powerful medicine. Many of these marked mustangs were kept as breeding stallions to the Native American herds. Iris has a medicine hat stallion named Lightning Bolt. She started a mustang-breeding program on this ranch about forty years ago. We have a paint mustang herd that’s internationally known. Iris sells medicine hat babies all over the world.”
“She’s an amazing woman,” Kam said. “What foresight to save a valuable animal and its genetic line.”
Wes nodded. “Believe me, you’ll find Iris the heart and soul of Elkhorn Ranch.” He walked to the tack room and found a blanket and saddle. Coming back, he set them on the floor and quickly brushed Freckles. “This is what you’ll do before riding him. A horse needs to be well-brushed.” He took a hoof pick from his back pocket. “You need to clean his hooves and pick out any stones or stuff that might be trapped inside the clefts of his hoof. Let me show you how.”
Kam came over and watched Wes pick up one of Freckles’s front legs. He held the horse’s pastern in his large, rough hand. Their heads almost touched as Kam observed him expertly pulling out debris from the two clefts on the hoof. His masculine scent dizzied her, acting like an aphrodisiac.
“See?” Wes said, allowing Freckles to set that leg down once more. He could feel Kam’s warmth, she was that close to him. Gulping, he handed her the hoof pick. “Your turn. I’ll guide you in cleaning his other three hooves.”
Wes’s fingers were rough and Kam’s hand tingled as he dropped the hoof pick into her palm. “Right. Okay, here we go.” She walked to the other side of Freckles, patted him and said, “Be kind to me, Freckles. I’m a rank beginner.”
Once again, Wes stood within inches of her as she lifted the mustang’s front leg. He took her hand and repositioned it so that Freckles’s hoof was cradled comfortably in her palm. Just the act of touching her sent a thrill through him. “Okay, now you can clean his hoof,” Wes told her, his voice slightly off-key. Would she notice how she affected him?
“Good work,” he praised. “Now, watch how I move beside Freckles to lift his back leg. You always stay close to the horse. Should one kick, they won’t have the arcing power to really hurt you if you’re close to them. The farther you stand away from them, the more they can injure you. Now, Freckles is not a kicker, but any horse under certain circumstances might become one. If threatened they will automatically kick to defend themselves. Stay close, put your left hand on his rump to let him know where you’re at. Keep the left side of your body in contact. Then, gently run your right hand down his hock here to his pastern just above his hoof.”
