Jackie Merritt - Wind River Ranch

She started sobbing into her pillow, so overcome by grief and remorse that she wondered if she would ever get over it. How could he have not answered her letters? How could he have held on to anger for so long? She was his only child. Was it possible that he had never loved her?

I can’t lie here and think about it. I can’t let go like this. Throwing back her blankets, Dena jumped out of bed. Hastily she shed her nightgown and put on a sweat suit and sneakers. Then she made her way through the dark house and went outside through the back door.

The night air was cool and refreshing. She breathed in huge gulps of it. The yard lights made an after-dark stroll possible, and she began walking. There were sounds other than her footsteps and breathing—the chirping of crickets, the distant bawling of cattle, the stamping of the horses in the corrals—comforting, familiar sounds. A yellow dog that belonged to one of the men came up and sniffed her. Dena looked down at him. “Hi, boy.” She kept on walking. The dog wandered off. Going beyond the glow of the yard lights, she stopped to look up at the stars. It was a beautiful night, cloudless and clear, and the millions of brightly shining stars was a moving sight.

After a few minutes, she sighed, turned back and started hiking around the lighted compound. The exercise felt good. She’d been functioning in a fog, which was fine, as it had helped her get through the most emotionally devastating experience of her adult life, but that was over now. Her mind was clear again, and she had only herself to rely on to pick up the pieces. She would stay in Wyoming through the fifteenth, then go home.

But Seattle didn’t feel like home anymore, and the ranch and Wyoming did.

“Damn,” she whispered, brushing away a tear. She had cried enough for tonight.

“Dena?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin. With her heart pumping hard and fast, she turned to face the voice. Relieved to see it was only Ry, she said, “Oh, it’s you. I thought everyone was sleeping.”

“I think everyone else is.”

“Why aren’t you?”

“I’d throw that question back at you if I didn’t already know the answer. I’m sorry you’re having trouble sleeping, but I guess it’s understandable.”

“So,” Dena said, “what’s your excuse for scaring the living daylights out of me?”

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, well, I suppose not, but do you usually wander around in the dark?”

“It was a difficult day, Dena, not only for you.”

“Are you worried about your job?” Are you so anxious to find out if you inherited the Wind River Ranch that you can’t sleep?

“I’ve never had any trouble finding work, Dena. No, I’m not worried about my job.”

“You strike me as the sort of man who falls asleep before his head hits the pillow, so something must be on your mind and keeping you awake.”

Ry looked off into the night. “I honestly don’t know what’s bothering me.”

Dena studied his profile. He seemed troubled, and the day had been difficult. As painful as it was to admit, he’d known her father better than she had. Her memories of Simon were years old; Ry’s were as fresh as the night air.

Ry’s gaze came around to land on her face. “You bother me.”

“Me!” she exclaimed incredulously. “Why on earth would I cause you any sleeplessness?”

“Don’t know. Maybe I’m worried about your attitude toward the ranch.” And maybe you’ve gotten under my skin for some unfathomable reason. He’d noticed her pretty face and good figure, but only as he noticed most pretty women—impersonally. He wasn’t a man to go after every attractive woman he met, and, in fact, it had been some time since he’d had any real interest in a member of the opposite sex. There were several good arguments against opening that particular door with Dena Colby. One: he suspected very strongly that she was going to be his employer. Two: she was not a naturally open and friendly person. Even in grief one’s true personality came through, and Dena struck him as a loner.

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