Diana Palmer - Wyoming Brave

She poked her head into the kitchen, breathing a sigh of relief when she didn’t see him.

Delsey was putting away the dishes. She grimaced when she saw Merrie.

“I know. I came late,” Merrie said softly. “It’s okay. I don’t eat much, anyway.”

The older woman looked hunted. Merrie went close and hugged her. “Thanks for saving me last night. I hope I didn’t get you in trouble with the boss.”

Delsey hugged her back. “Not so much. I’ve been around since he was in college. I guess he’s used to me.” She drew away with a sigh. “He was topping cotton this morning,” she added, using an old Southern term for someone being furiously angry.

Merrie laughed softly. “That’s very Southern sounding,” she commented.

“I was born in Eufaula, Alabama,” Delsey said surprisingly. “I married a cowboy who was traveling through town with his boss on a cattle-buying trip. Met him in a café and went back to Wyoming with him three days later. We were married for twenty-five years before he had a heart attack. I stayed on working for Mr. Ren’s father after he died.”

“I’m sorry.”

She smiled. “It was a long time ago. I still miss him. I wish we could have had children, but that wasn’t in the cards.”

“I would like children, I think,” Merrie said sadly. “I’m just not sure about marriage. My poor mother,” she said softly. “I don’t think she had a single happy day with my father. She lived for Sari and me. Until...” She closed up like a flower and smiled. “Did they get the female vet to come over from Powell?” she asked.

“Yes, they did,” she replied. “Mr. Ren was on his way to the stables.”

“He said they might call me to use some witchcraft on Hurricane so he’d let the vet in the stall with him,” Merrie murmured.

“He says a lot of things he doesn’t really mean,” Delsey said softly. “Mr. Ren’s had a hard life. His father mostly ignored him. Then his mother divorced him to run away with Mr. Randall’s father, and she made Ren go along. He didn’t want to. He wasn’t crazy about his dad, but he loved this ranch.”

“How old was he?” Merrie asked.

“He was ten years old. Mr. Ren’s father went crazy after they left. He got drunk and stayed drunk for years. The ranch was falling apart by the time Mr. Ren graduated and came back here. He sobered up his dad, reorganized the ranch and started making improvements. He let the land stand for loans to improve pasture and fencing, to buy seed bulls, to upgrade the equipment and refurbish the stables and the barn...” She laughed as she finished putting up dishes. “He was like a whirlwind. The ranch got out of the red two years after he started. Fifteen years later, he has an empire here. His dad lived long enough to see a prosperous future, but not long enough to enjoy it.”

“That’s sad.”

“It was. Mr. Ren’s mother wanted to come to the funeral, but he refused to let her near the place.”

Merrie caught her breath. “Why?”

“They’ve had some problems,” Desley said. “Mr. Ren overheard her say something that hurt him real bad. I told you about that. He just left. Never even said goodbye. Hitchhiked out here to his dad, moved in and started to work. He’s like that,” she added. “He doesn’t say what he’s going to do. He just does it.”

“He’s scary, in a way,” Merrie said.

“Lots of people are, until you get to know them,” Delsey told her gently. “He’s not a violent man...”

“...told you to get the damned rope on him first!” Ren was raging outside the window. “Now look what you’ve done, you idiot! I ought to lay you out on the ground, Grandy!”

Merrie held her breath as Ren stormed in the back door, half carrying a man with blood all over one arm.

“Oh, dear,” Delsey said. “Grandy, what in the world?”

“Clean him up, would you, Delsey?” Ren asked, putting the man in a chair. “Probably needs stitches. I’ll get Tubbs up here to drive him into town to the doctor.” He glanced at Merrie coldly. “If you faint, don’t do it in here. I’ve got enough problems.”

“How did it happen?” Delsey asked, while Merrie stood just staring at the bleeding man.

“He was trying to rope a horse. Horse reared up and threw him into a sheet of tin.”

“Was it Hurricane?” Merrie asked worriedly.

“Yes, it was Hurricane,” he shot at her angrily.

She moved closer to him. “Couldn’t I help?”

He hesitated. He didn’t want her near the horse. He was furious at her because he’d been weak the night before. He didn’t want her around, didn’t want her near him. She was Randall’s girl...

“You might let her try before anybody else gets hurt, Mr. Ren,” Delsey intervened.

“Hell!” He tilted his hat low over his eyes. “All right. Come on.”

Delsey washed the deep cut on Grandy’s arm. “Cut a vein, I think,” she told Ren.

“Tubbs is on his way. Wrap a towel around it,” Ren told her.

“Sorry, Ren,” Grandy said sheepishly.

Ren just glared at him. He opened the door, let Merrie out and followed her.

She’d grabbed her light jacket. It was freezing cold outside and flurries of snow touched her face. A dusting of it was on the ground from the day before. She hadn’t had time to really enjoy it. She lifted her face to it and smiled, her eyes closed.

Ren glanced at her, and an unfamiliar tenderness tugged at his cold heart. She was like a child, he thought. She took pleasure in the simplest things.

“Your jacket’s too thin for a Wyoming autumn,” he said, fighting down the feelings she provoked in him.

“It rarely gets much below freezing in South Texas,” she replied, almost running to keep up with his long strides. “This is the heaviest coat I own.”

“Tell Delsey to take you to town and get a warmer one. I have an account at Jolpe’s. It’s a chain department store.” He didn’t add that it was one of the real high-end shops. It catered to movie stars who came to Jackson Hole, which wasn’t too far away.

“I’ll do that. Thanks.” She was going to spend her own money, but he could think what he liked.

“Randall would take you himself, if he was here,” he added deliberately. He had to keep reminding himself that she belonged to his stepbrother.

“Of course he would.”

They walked into the stables, down the stone walkway to the stall where Hurricane was kept. The female vet, middle-aged, with blond hair and blue eyes, glanced at them as they approached.

She grimaced. “I can’t get the stupid tranquilizer gun to work. I should have asked Kells with Game and Fish to show me again how to use it...”

While she was talking, Merrie went right up to the gate of the stall and held her hand out. It contained one of two treats she’d taken from a nearby bag.

She opened her hand, the treat on her palm, and offered it to the nervous gelding.

“Hi, sweetheart. Remember me?” she asked softly, smiling.

Apparently he did, because he came right up to the gate and tossed his mane, whinnying softly.

“That’s a sweet boy,” she said, watching him nibble the treat. She smoothed her bare hand over his head, between his eyes. “What a sweet boy!”

The vet, mesmerized, just stared at her. “He just knocked one of the cowboys into that pile of tin in the aisle,” she pointed out, indicating a small refuse pile from some repairs.

“She has a way with horses, apparently,” Ren said curtly. “Can you keep him diverted while Dr. Branch gets in the pen with him?”

“Of course I can,” Merrie said. She smoothed her hand over the horse’s ears, calming him.

The vet took advantage of the lull to go into the stall and examine the cuts. “I can use a local on these,” she said. “If you can just keep him busy...”