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“I expect that. Now we got a problem. The wrangler’s bunkhouse was destroyed by a fire. One of the wranglers my daughter hired burned it down smoking in there one night. I ain’t hirin’ anyone who smokes. Too darned dangerous. Anyway, I hope to get that bunkhouse rebuilt next summer and you can move into it then. Meantime, we’ve got no bunkhouse for you. But, if you’re okay with it, I have another bedroom upstairs with its own bathroom and shower. It’s yours if you want it. I won’t charge you rent.”
Surprised, Griff looked over at Val. She looked displeased but refused to meet his gaze. Gus, on the other hand, looked like an excited child. He smiled a little hesitantly and said, “That’s very decent of you, Miss Gus. I’ll try not to get underfoot. And I’ve never smoked.”
“I do the cookin’ around here,” Gus warned. “And I’m a darned good cook, too. But I do expect you to wash and dry dishes every other night. And you’ll do vacuuming and dusting once a week in this house. You got a problem with that?”
Grinning, Griff said, “Miss Gus, if those cookies are any indication of your cooking ability, then I’m in hog heaven. And I don’t mind cleaning up after myself or doing housework. It’s all the same to me. Just tell me what you want, when you want it, and I’ll be happy to do it.”
Giving him a keen look, Gus asked, “You got any plans to leave Wyoming anytime soon, young man? Once this economy staggers back to its feet, are you going to leave and go make your millions again on Wall Street?”
“No, ma—I mean, no, Miss Gus, I won’t.” Griff looked around the warm, beautiful cedar kitchen. The cabinets shined red and gold in the afternoon sun that poured in through the large windows. “I’m home for good. I don’t want to go back to Wall Street.”
Gus slapped the table. “Okay. Good!
“You can move your gear in. Val will get the room ready for you. Tomorrow morning, you start your new job with the Bar H, Mr. McPherson.”
Joy skittered through Griff. The old woman’s blue eyes glinted with elfin exuberance. He was elated over the job opportunity. Finally, someone was going to give him a chance! “Thank you, Miss Gus. I will do everything in my power to never disappoint you.”
Shaking his hand firmly, Gus grinned. “Sounds good to me. Val will be your everyday boss. We’ve written up a very long list of things that need to be done around here. She’ll go over that with you this evening after dinner. “You like pot roast with potatoes, onions, carrots and gravy?”
Griff got up and carefully pushed his chair back into place. “Miss Gus, that sounds wonderful. I don’t want to tell you what I tend to fix for myself if I’m left to my own devices.”
“Just don’t go gettin’ fat on me,” Gus warned, grinning.
Touching his hard, flat stomach, Griff said, “Oh, with all the work to be done around here, I don’t think that will happen. I have a feeling I’ll be putting in dawn to dusk days around here.”
Val got up to show him to the door. “Those are the hours we’ll both work.” She tried to remain immune to the happiness dancing in his green eyes. He held the Stetson in his left hand as he followed her out of the kitchen.
As they stepped onto the porch, Val gazed around the broken ranch. Everywhere she looked, there was fence line begging to be fixed. She watched Griff settle the Stetson on his head and hoped his proud stance would work out for them and their ranch. Lowering her voice, she said, “I hope you meant every word you shared with my grandmother in there, Mr. McPherson. What she didn’t tell you is that if you don’t do the work and do it right, I’ll fire you myself.”
Griff stared over at Val’s set face. She was deadly serious. “I’ll make every effort to prove my worth to you and your grandmother every day.”
His deep voice moved through her like music. Val fought to ignore it. Why did Griff have to be this easy on her eyes? It would be so much easier to dislike him if he was unattractive. “Better get going, Mr. McPherson. Gus sets the table at six o’clock sharp. She hates when people are late.”
Grinning a little, Griff said, “Fair enough. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Thank you for the opportunity.”
Standing on the porch, Val watched the tall wrangler walk down the slight slope to his beat-up Ford truck. It was painfully obvious that McPherson didn’t own a dime. Her heart finally settled down after he drove away. Turning, she looked toward the dirt road that led to Long Lake. It was half a mile away. The green of the surrounding mountains made her feel suddenly hopeful. Maybe she was wrong and Gus was right about this city slicker. Time would tell….
* * *
THE SUN SHONE ACROSS the mountains as Griff drove back toward Jackson Hole. The evergreens were dark and lush. He had rolled down his window, his arm resting on the door frame. Few people used air-conditioning in Wyoming. And his truck’s compressor had died long ago. The fresh air filled his lungs and it felt good to be alive.
He had a job! His heart swelled with hope. The past few months had been hard. Griff was barely able to pay his room rent and grocery bills. Now he was going to live with a feisty grandmother who probably cooked like an angel—he had a real ranch job and a roof over his head.
His mind and, if he were honest, his heart, turned gently back to Val Hunter. She was a beautiful, accomplished woman. She wasn’t happy that her grandmother had hired him, but Gus was in charge, that was clear. He looked forward to seeing that list of to-dos tonight after dinner. Hands on the steering wheel, Griff felt something flow through him like the river that paralleled the highway. Happiness. He was actually happy for the first time since returning to Wyoming!
At first, after the crash and losing his job, Griff had felt hopeless. Coming home was his only option. He’d thought Slade would welcome him with open arms, but he hadn’t. His sibling had worked hard all his life to keep the family ranch from going under. And Slade had lost all respect for him because he was a city slicker.
Was Val seeing him through similar eyes? His gut told him that she was. Mouth tightening, Griff slowed the truck as he entered the outskirts of Jackson Hole. It was a busy town during the summer months. Millions flocked here on their way to Yellowstone National Park, which lay fifty miles north of the cow town. A few tourists stopped first at the closer, magnificent Grand Teton National Park. It was his favorite place and Griff enjoyed hiking when he got the chance. Now he’d have no time for such activities.
As he continued into town, Griff’s cell phone rang. He picked it up and saw it was Josh Gordon. Grimacing, Griff answered the FBI agent’s call. “Hello, Josh.”
“I’m checking in to see if you’ve gotten anything on Curt Downing yet.”
Griff pulled off the road and put the truck in Park. “No, I haven’t.”
“I thought you might get something on him at the Horse Emporium. You said he picks up his feed supplies there.”
“Yes, he does, but I haven’t seen him. He sends a kid who works for him, Zach Mason, to fetch the supplies.”
“Look, we need your full attention on this. I know we’re not able to pay you anything for your help, but if we could prove Downing and his trucking company are moving drugs or guns, it would be of great help to our ongoing regional investigation. You know I can’t get authorization to send an undercover FBI agent there until I can prove that there’s good reason to do it.”
“I understand,” Griff said, his frustration bubbling up at the situation he was in.
The FBI had first approached him shortly after the Wall Street crash. They’d needed someone on the inside to help them understand the derivatives schemes. Griff felt guilty that he’d contributed to the economy’s downfall, and had agreed to help them. When that assignment was over, the FBI had called him into their office in Washington, D.C. They knew he was going back home to Wyoming, and Josh had asked if he’d be a mole for them on Curt Downing. And, of course, they couldn’t pay him a dime for his help. All the same, Griff readily agreed to the task because it was Downing’s father who had killed his parents.
“You said you hear all kinds of gossip at the hay and feed store. Haven’t you gleaned anything there?”
“Josh, I can’t force information out of people. If I go around asking a bunch of questions, I’ll blow my cover. And that’s not what you want. I have to be patient and cultivate relationships over time. Wyoming people tend to distrust outsiders for a long time until they can prove themselves. I’m still trying to fit in.” And then he told the FBI agent about being hired to work at the Bar H.
“But that takes you out of the Horse Emporium.”
“Yes, it does. But I need to pay my bills, somehow. And I’ll be in town several times a week running errands. Gus gets her hay and feed at the Horse Emporium, too.”
“Damn, Griff, this is a real setback.”
Raising his brows, Griff said nothing for a moment. Did Josh expect money to fall from the heavens? The agent was being ridiculous. “I know I’m out of the mainstream because of my new job, but I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.”
“All right, good. Because I’m positive Downing is behind the movement of drugs through Wyoming. We have agents in Idaho, Montana and Colorado, and they’re picking up noise on the main hub that the drug dealer is located in Wyoming. It has to be Downing. We just can’t prove it yet. We also suspect a Guatemalan drug cartel called Los Lobos is moving into your area. They’re gunrunning from what we’ve been able to ascertain.”
“Is Downing mixed up in both?”
“Not that we know of,” Josh said. “Not yet, anyway. Guns and drugs don’t usually mix. But I want you to see if you hear anything on either of them.”
The exasperation was evident in the agent’s voice. “Well, if that’s so, then shouldn’t these two separate reasons be enough to bring an undercover ATF and FBI agent in here to get the goods on Downing? Or the Los Lobos cartel?”
“You don’t understand, Griff. Everyone’s budget has been slashed. My boss is turning down all kinds of requests from his field agents. Until we can get proof of some kind, my hands are tied.”
“I’ll do what I can, Josh, but I have to eat and pay my bills first.”
“Yeah, yeah, I understand. Okay, stay in touch.”
Griff hung up and made his way to the MacMurray house, a turn-of-the-century home painted a turquoise-blue. It was a haven for people like him. He could rent a room, have a small hot plate and a bed. Apartments in Jackson Hole were way out of his reach, as they were for most people who worked in the town. Even the sheriff’s deputies had to live in Star Valley fifty miles south of Jackson Hole because they couldn’t afford the high-priced housing in the “Palm Springs of the Rockies.” And the ranchers, only a small handful of whom were rich, continued to lead hardscrabble lives.
Getting out of his truck and remembering what good today had brought, his tension from the phone call dissipated. He’d pack up his room here, pay his last rent and drive back to the Bar H. A real home. Griff liked the idea of staying in the main ranch house. The kitchen reminded him of the Tetons Ranch kitchen. It was almost like being home. Not quite, but close.
Feeling like crowing to the world, Griff quickly made his way up the carpeted stairs.
In his room, he threw two pieces of luggage from the closet onto the bed. He was a champion pistol shot and all his weapons were in a special wooden case, under lock and key. His uncle had recognized his interest in shooting. Griff had risen quickly in the world of pistol shooting in his twenties. As he placed it next to the door and began to pack his clothes, his heart centered back on Val. The coverlet of freckles across her high cheeks. Her blue eyes the color of the deep Wyoming sky. As he packed, he couldn’t put his finger on why she appeared to feel so sad. Was it that she was unhappy Miss Gus had hired him? Or was it something else?
Griff made quick work of packing. Hefting both pieces of luggage and his weapons case to the downstairs door, he went in search of the owner so he could pay her. Getting free room and board at the Bar H was a huge leap in resolving Griff’s money problems.
What lay ahead for him? Above all, Griff didn’t want to disappoint or anger Miss Gus. She was clearly on his side. Val was another situation, however. Griff knew she’d be watching him critically for any mistake he made. And he knew that if he couldn’t do the work, she’d get him fired in an instant.
Losing this job was the last thing Griff wanted. Somehow, he had to understand Val and make her a team player and not his enemy. Even if she disliked his New York roots, Griff knew that his hard work and attention to detail would prove to her once and for all he was the right person to be hired. Above all, he had to make sure no one ever found out he was eyes and ears for the FBI. Not only would it turn the people of Jackson Hole against him, he’d been sworn to total secrecy. And you didn’t mess with the bureau. If he was going to find the goods on Downing, the FBI felt he was the perfect foil. After all, he had been born here and was now returning home. A lot of children came back to their parents’ nest these days. Downing would never suspect him. Nor would anyone else. And if Griff had any hope of keeping his dream of life as a wrangler alive, he had to keep his secret safe.
CHAPTER FOUR
SITTING DOWN TO a home-cooked dinner felt like going to a five-star restaurant to Griff. He’d come down from his room at the Bar H promptly at six, as Gus had ordered. Inhaling, he could smell apples and cinnamon in the air. The rectangular cedar table had six chairs, one of them placed at the head of it. Gus and Val were bringing the steaming plates of food to the table. Griff had had enough time to take a shower and throw on some clean clothes. He stood uncertainly at the opening to the kitchen.
“Would you ladies like some help?”
Gus poured applesauce from a pan into a bright green ceramic bowl. “No, you go ahead and sit down. Take that chair to the left of the one at the end of the table.”
“Yes, Miss Gus.” Griff couldn’t help but notice how beautiful Val looked. She’d put her thick red hair into a ponytail and tied it up with a bright green ribbon. She wore a faded apron of green and white checks across her slender waist, which reminded him more of the 1950s than present day. In fact, everything about the home shouted of that earlier era. Somehow, it was comforting to Griff.
As he sat at the table, Val brought over a bowl of mashed potatoes with a huge chunk of butter in the center. It was melting quickly, creating yellow rivers flowing down the mound of hand-whipped potatoes.
Gus hobbled over on her cane. “Now, young man, I hope you have an appreciation for organic, home-cooked food. These are apples off our trees out back. I have a root cellar and I store the potatoes, yams and apples down where it’s dark and cool. That way, they last a long time without rotting.”
Griff took the bowl of applesauce from her. “I have vague memories of doing something similar at our ranch when I was kid.”
“Good, then you’re not a complete loss.”
Chuckling, Griff saw the old woman crack a grin.
He watched as Val brought over a huge platter that contained the beef roast.
“Will you slice it up?” she asked, setting it down in front of him. She walked to the counter, grabbed a carving knife and fork, and brought them over to Griff. As Val handed him the utensils, she tried to ignore his looks. His hands were rough with many small, white scars across the backs of them. He was darkly tanned, which spoke of the time he spent outside. Why did he have to look like dessert to her?
“I’m not the world’s best at this,” he said, “but I’ll give it a go.”
“That’s the kind of attitude I like,” Gus praised, setting down a bowl of streaming carrots that had been drizzled with butter and wildflower honey.
Griff quickly stood and pulled out the elder’s chair for her.
“At least some of your Western protocols are still workin’, Mr. McPherson,” she teased, slowly sitting down. Hooking the cane over the edge of the table, Gus added, “Thank you.”
Val carried the gravy boat over to the table. Griff walked around the table and pulled out her chair. She gave him a pained look, set the gravy down in the center of the table and sat down.
Griff sliced into the thick, well-done roast beef. “Everything smells so good.”
Val smiled a little. Once he’d sliced the beef, she took Gus’s plate and added a dollop of mashed potatoes to it. “Home-cooked food is the best.” Avoiding Griff’s gaze, she smiled over at her grandmother.
“Better than military food,” Gus grumped, taking the plate. She set it down and reached for the gravy ladle. “I know you said you loved the Air Force, but I’ll bet the chow-hall food paled in comparison.”
Griff looked across the table at Val, raising his eyebrows. She wore a pale green blouse that showed off her slender figure. “You were in the Air Force?”
Unwilling to say much, Val filled her plate. “Yes, I was.” She didn’t feel comfortable confiding her life to a wrangler. He felt like an outsider in her kitchen, even though she knew McPherson wasn’t to blame. She hadn’t been home long enough to come to terms with her fate, much less deal with an attractive stranger now living among them.
Gazing at Val with newfound respect, Griff put a couple of slices of steaming beef on his plate along with heaps of mashed potatoes. He found he was starving, but it was as much for the company as the food. “How long were you in the Air Force?”
Val was hesitant. “I enlisted after college.”
“What did you do?” Griff saw the blanket of freckles across her cheeks darken. Was he being too nosy?
Gus chuckled as she ate the carrots with relish. “Val won’t say a peep. Not that it’s a secret. She held a top-secret clearance and was an intelligence officer. She also did fieldwork, finding drug runners. Talk about an exciting life.”
Griff couldn’t help his surprise as he heard that Val had expertise in exactly the area the FBI had enlisted his help for. But somehow, he was glad she wasn’t in such dangerous work anymore.
“Gus…” Val begged. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“I understand, honey.” Gus patted her granddaughter’s hand. She turned her focus on Griff. “What about you, Mr. McPherson? Do you miss Wall Street?”
Griff shrugged. “I’m finding I’m missing it a lot less than I thought I would.”
“Did you really want to come back here?” Gus asked before she spooned some mashed potatoes with gravy into her mouth.
“At first, no. I was in shock, I guess. I thought with my credentials and knowledge, I could easily land another investment job. But that was fool’s gold. When I was running out of money and options, I did what a lot of other people did—I went crawling home.”
“Home isn’t such a bad place.” Gus gave Val a warm look. “I’m very glad to have Val home. But like you, she’s still getting used to it.”
Griff curbed his tongue. He had a hundred questions for Val, but the look on her closed face warned him not to ask them. Her mouth was usually full and shapely. Now, it was thinned with displeasure. “We owe thanks to our troops, no matter what service they’re in,” he said. “You all put your lives on the line for the rest of us.”
Heat nettled Val’s skin. She could feel the warmth creeping up from her neck and flow across her face. She hated blushing, but that’s exactly what she was doing. When she glanced up and saw the sincerity banked in Griff’s green eyes, she nearly choked on a carrot. Coughing, she quickly took a sip of water. Wiping her mouth with the white linen napkin, she managed, “Don’t paint a bigger picture of me than you have already.”
Stung by her gruff response, Griff wondered inwardly how he was going to get along with this woman. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Gus shake her head. For a bit, the clink of silverware against the bright yellow plates was the only sound in the kitchen.
“Before you two go over the to-do list,” Gus finally said, “I made us a special dessert for tonight. Apple pie.”
Val couldn’t help but smile over at her grandmother. “Thank goodness for your cooking. Otherwise, we’d both probably starve,” and she managed a sour smile in Griff’s direction. She saw him respond immediately. There was a sense of abandonment around this man. And she could feel him trying to fit into the awkward situation they were all caught up in at the moment. She felt sorry for him. Val tried to put herself in Griff’s place: suddenly losing his job and all his money. Plus, he had no place to go. Val decided it would be hard. She finished off her carrots and mashed potatoes.
“My pies are famous in these parts,” Gus confided to Griff. “Have you ever tried apple pie with a slice of sharp cheddar cheese melted on it?”
“No, Miss Gus, I haven’t. But I’m willing to try it.” Griff quickly finished off his food. He was like a starving mongrel who’d come upon an unexpected bounty.
“I have a hunch,” Val said in a droll voice, “that you’d eat anything if it was home cooked.”
He grinned sheepishly. “Guilty on all counts.”
Chuckling, Gus said, “You aren’t like most gents I’ve met in my lifetime, Mr. McPherson. Seems you don’t ride a horse named Pride. Although you’re certainly a confident young man.”
Griff warmed to the elder. “My uncle and aunt made sure any pride I had was ironed out of me a long time ago.
“They instilled morals, values and a hard work ethic in me. They opened up their lives to me after our parents died.” His voice lowered with feeling. “And I’ll always be grateful to them for that.”
“They alive?” Gus wondered aloud.
Shaking his head, Griff said, “My aunt died two years ago of a heart attack. No one suspected it. She had complained about a week earlier about pain under her jaw, but we all thought it was a toothache. My uncle begged her to go to the dentist. She booked the appointment, but never made it. My uncle came home that evening and found her dead on the couch.”
