Lindsay McKenna - The Wrangler

Laughing a little, Val escorted Gus back toward the house. The morning sun was warm, the sky blue and there was a pine scented breeze. “Oh, Gus, I always worry about you. You’re like a little banty rooster. I agree, Downing is dangerous and I don’t trust him. But you don’t need to get your blood pressure up because of him.”

“He’s a snake snoopin’ around, Val. You can’t ever trust a snake!”

Gus was moving very slowly and in obvious pain. “You know, I heard a commercial for the Scooter Store on the radio this morning when we were driving into town, Gus. A power chair could get you around here much more easily, even outside.”

“Oh, don’t you start jawin’ about a scooter for me. Cowgirls ride horses. What an embarrassing comedown.”

Chuckling, Val knew it would take a while to get her grandmother to consider another type of transportation. She was a proud, tough, Wyoming rancher woman who was used to using her two legs to get where she was going. Helping her slowly negotiate the stairs to the porch, Val replied, “Maybe we can talk about it another time.”

Gus snorted. She rested a moment at the top of the stairs. “I’ll bet Downing’s heading for Gwen Garner’s quilt shop. He’s gonna ply her with questions about you.”

Unconcerned, Val opened the screen door for Gus. “Gwen is a trusted friend to our family. I’m not worried about her. Come on, I’ll make us some coffee and you can sit down and give that hip of yours a rest.”

“Might help me finish those cookies, too?”

Grinning, Val said, “Absolutely.”

CHAPTER SIX

GWEN GARNER STOOD at the rear of her quilting store next to a grocery cart filled with new fabrics that had to be placed out for sale. The store was busy and she had her head down, tucking a bright, colorful Hoffman batik fabric into place when someone tapped her smartly on the shoulder.

Looking up, Gwen scowled. “Mr. Downing.” She continued placing the fabric into the end cap.

“Mrs. Garner, how are you today?” Curt tipped his tan Stetson hat in her direction. He saw her face turn sour. Curt didn’t like having to come into the quilt shop and beg for information. And by the look in Gwen’s narrowing eyes, he wondered if coming here was smart. He added a hopeful smile and settled his hat on his head. “I was just over at Andy’s Horse Emporium getting hay for my horses when I saw Val Hunter.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Did you know she was in town?”

Gwen pushed her cart to the next island of fabrics. “Of course I did, Mr. Downing.”

Curt followed her, keeping his voice low and always scanning the store. “Val was in the Air Force. She was making a career of it. Why would she return home?”

Raising an eyebrow at him, Gwen said, “It ought to be pretty obvious, Mr. Downing. After Gus broke her hip, she couldn’t maintain the Bar H by herself. She asked her granddaughter to come home and help.”

“Wow,” Curt said, “that’s asking a lot.”

“Ranching families stick together,” she retorted, iciness in her tone as she picked up another bolt of fabric and slid it into place.

Continuing to follow her, Curt asked, “Then, she’s here for good?” That made him anxious. The old biddy wouldn’t sell no matter what.

“As far as I know, yes.”

“A shame to throw away her career like that.”

“And an even bigger shame if a family ranch goes belly-up, don’t you think?”

Curt tried to hide his irritation. Gwen obviously didn’t want to talk to him, her voice sharp with rebuke over his questions. “I mean,” he said, “why not hire a wrangler or two?”

“Enough of this, Mr. Downing.” Gwen jammed her hands on her hips. “I don’t pretend to know what’s in the mind of anyone, but the facts are in front of your nose. Val Hunter has come home for good.” She gave him a frosty smile. “Guess that sort of stops your plan to steal the Bar H out from under Gus, doesn’t it?”

Curt felt heat sweeping up from his neck and into his cheeks. He clenched his teeth for a moment, his jaw becoming hard. This bitch of a woman was too powerful in Jackson Hole. He hated her, but he needed her. If she only knew what he could do to her and her family… Forcing a thin smile, he continued, “You have to admit, the Bar H is a very nice property. With Long Lake on half of it, I could see bringing in a realty development to build a lot of condos. It could be a great place for tourists and their families. And it would help the town’s economy.”

Nostrils flaring, Gwen said, “Gus knows you would never honor the ranch or its land. Frankly, I’m glad Val is home.”

Curt watched as Gwen turned around and pushed the cart down another aisle. He didn’t follow her this time. Hiding his anger toward the woman, he strolled out of the quilt shop. On the wooden porch, Curt looked around. He decided to go visit his Realtor, Bobby Fortner. It was a mere walk around the corner to Raven Realty.

Fortner was at his desk when Curt entered his office. Instantly, the short man was on his feet.

“Mr. Downing, an unexpected pleasure.” Fortner scuttled around his massive oak desk and gestured to the chair in front of it. “Please, have a seat. May I get you some coffee?”

This was more like it. Curt secretly reveled in Fortner’s beta wolf reaction to him. He should. Over the years, he’d made this plain man with squinty brown eyes and lifeless black hair very rich. “Thank you, Bobby. And no, I’ll pass on the coffee.”

Quickly running his short, thin fingers through his hair, Bobby sat down. “What can I do for you, Mr. Downing?”

“Well,” Curt said, leaning back in the chair and crossing one leg over the other, “I need more in-depth information on the Bar H.”

“Oh, yes sir.” Bobby quickly typed the name into the computer in front of him. “What would you like to know?”

“First, is it completely paid off? Or is there a still a mortgage on it? Any liens?”

“No, it’s paid in full and no liens, sir.” Fortner’s brow scrunched. “They continue to be up-to-date with their property taxes, too.” He peered around his computer. “Is this what you needed?”

Mouth thinning, Curt growled, “Yes, I suppose so. If that crusty old woman wasn’t so damned stubborn, the Bar H would have been easy to snap up.”

“I know you’ve wanted the property for a long time. You’re looking for ways to get Miss Gus to hand it over.” Fortner shrugged. “Realistically, unless she wants to sell it, there’s nothing else that can be done.”

Snarling out of frustration, Downing said, “She’s eighty-four years old, for God’s sake. You’d think she’d die. I need that ranch, dammit!” Curt clenched his fist. Fortner had no idea he moved drugs for a Mexican cartel, but he didn’t seem suspicious of why Curt wanted the land so badly.

“Short of a forest fire or an earthquake taking the ranch down,” Bobby said in jest, “I don’t know what else could be done.”

Curt thought about the Realtor’s offhand remark but said nothing further about it to Fortner. The Bar H stood in a clearing and was surrounded by heavy forest. “I want you to go out and visit Miss Gus. Be nice to her. See if she’ll bite on my offer again. Up the bid to one point five million dollars. That should get her attention.”

“I’ll try, but she always turns me down,” Bobby said, giving him a helpless look.

“Take a box of chocolates to the old dame. Just get her talking and see what her ideas are for the ranch. But call ahead and make an appointment. She hates someone showing up unannounced.”

Flustered, Bobby wiped his perspiring brow with his handkerchief. “Er…you want me to just drop by, chat and find out what I can?”