“Look, Miss Secretary, or whoever the hell you are, sit down and shut up. This doesn’t concern you.”
Shocked at the woman’s crudeness, Marla shouted, “No, lady, you look here!” She startled herself with her angry reaction. “I’m no secretary. I own this property, and you are trespassing. I suggest you leave now before I call the county sheriff and press charges against you.”
Francine shoved Cluny in the chest to clear a path to the door. He staggered back and raised his arm.
“Cluny!” Marla grabbed the back of his shirt. “Don’t give this disgusting person any reason to come back here.” To her grateful surprise, he lowered his arm and gulped a big breath. Francine slammed out the door, leaving both of them temporarily mute.
Marla sat in Dwayne’s chair before her knees gave out. She hated ugly confrontations. Head spinning, she waved her hand. “Cluny, sit down. What should we do? We have to do something.”
He reached in his pocket and removed his phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“I’d call Gunny, but cell phones don’t work worth a crap in Wyoming. I’ll call Kathleen Burwell, his mom. He should be there later today.” He waited. “Kate? This is Cluny McPherson. I’m fine, ma’am, and you?” He nodded and ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Look, ma’am, I need to give Dwayne a heads-up about a situation here. No, no accidents. Everybody’s good. It’s a legal matter. Okay, have him call me on my cell no matter what time he gets there. Thanks.” He clicked off, set the phone and his elbows on the table, and lowered his head in his hands.
“You okay?” She thought she should pat his shoulder or something, but she didn’t know the man that well, didn’t know how he’d take it.
“Yeah, thanks to you.” He raised his head and held up a fist, his thumb and forefinger a fraction apart. “I was this close to picking her up by her scrawny neck and tossing her boney ass out the door.” He blew a breath between tight lips. “Close, too close.”
She didn’t disagree. “How did he ever get mixed up with that hard-looking psycho shrew?” It wasn’t really any of her business, but she knew Dwayne better now. He was a steady man and good father. She couldn’t imagine him ever being attracted to a hellcat like Francine Henry.
“Time hasn’t done her any favors. She’s changed a lot, used to be a cute and sassy party-hearty cowgirl. Dwayne met her when we were home in Wyoming, on leave from our first tour of duty in Iraq. He fell like a lead weight, and she got her hooks into a big tough Marine. They ran off to City Hall in Sheridan and got married. I tried to talk him out of it, told him he could get her in the sack without a wedding ring, but he wouldn’t listen to me, to his mom, to anyone.”
Marla reached for the water thermos, poured a cup, and handed it to Cluny.
“Thanks.” He took it with trembling fingers.
She poured a cup for herself then sat in the swivel chair to face the door again. “This entire episode is upsetting. Why do you suppose she showed up after all these years?”
Cluny shrugged. “She’s up to something.”
“You think she wants money?”
“She’s out of her freakin’ mind if that’s what she’s after. Gunny doesn’t have any money. Anything he has is tied up in Big D Construction.”
This was a revelation. Cluny apparently didn’t know Dwayne owned all that prime ranch land. Why would he have told her and not Cluny, his closest friend? She had a sneaking suspicion Francine somehow knew.
Marla had to talk to Dwayne.
“I don’t know anything about his finances, Cluny. I’m grasping at straws. Wondering what she’s all about. If he calls before we close shop today, would you tell him I need to talk to him?” She tapped her fingers on the invoices. Cluny didn’t need to know the real reason she wanted to speak to Dwayne.
He gave her a Dwayne’s-got-more-important-problems frown. “Yeah, sure. I gotta get back to work.”
Dwayne slowed to a crawl to keep the truck from shaking apart on the last mile to the ranch after they passed through the arches sporting the rustic sign, Big D Cattle-Horses-Dogs. He’d see to getting some of these potholes filled with fresh gravel before he left.
“Are we there yet?”
“Almost.” Dwayne grinned and ruffled Amber’s hair. “See that big line of cottonwoods up ahead?”
She sat as far forward as she could, straining against the seat belt, and pointed. “There?”
“Yep. Soon as we get past those tall trees, you’ll be able to see over the rise to the ranch house.”
“Cows!” Amber bounced with excitement and pointed out the side window. “Look Miss Emmaline, cows!”
Dwayne and Emmaline laughed at the child’s excitement. The fatigue of the tedious drive from California faded the closer he got to his teenage home.
“Daddy? Do you think Grammakat will remember me?”
“Of course, squirt. It’s only been a year since you were here. She can’t wait to see you.” He glanced to the backseat. “How you doin’ back there, Miss Emmaline?”
“Don’t you worry about me, youngster. The closer we get to that ranch house the younger I feel. The air here is bracing.”
“Yes, it’s still early enough in the year so it cools off fast when the sun goes down.” He pointed ahead. “There’s still snow on the Bighorn Mountains.”
“There’s always snow up there,” Amber said.
“You’re right. Some of what looks like snow is glaciers. They never melt.” He grinned. “There’s the house.” He leaned on the horn to alert his mother. He took the circular drive to the front of the weathered ranch building.
The screen door flew open and Kathleen, followed by an ambling, old golden Lab, stepped onto the long, covered wooden porch.
“Jarhead!” Amber bounced and pointed. “Look, it’s Jarhead. He remembers me.”
Dwayne doubted Jarhead, a boyhood pet, remembered much of anything and was half blind to boot, but why spoil
