as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world. He also was smart enough to know a woman didn’t want snow tires on Valentine’s Day, she thought as she again touched the tiny heart-shaped silver locket he’d given her. It felt cold against her bare skin.
“I have to work a double shift at the café tomorrow,” she said and groaned at the thought. She’d worked at the café through high school and thought those days were behind her once she married Clete. She’d been wrong about that, too.
“I’m sorry, Sweetie, but I’m going to be busy for a few days myself.”
She turned to look at him, a little surprised by his words. He always had more free time than she did. Lately, she’d felt as if he was losing interest in her and that scared her.
“Oh, and don’t forget to take that off before you go home, will you,” he told her, motioning to the locket resting against her skin.
The locket, like their affair, was their secret. “I won’t forget.”
* * *
DESTRY COULDN’T WAIT to ride horseback up in the high country above the ranch. She did her best thinking on the back of a horse. Or no thinking at all, which would have been fine with her this afternoon.
When she stopped by the house on her way to the barn, Cherry was lying by the pool.
“Is it always this quiet here?” Cherry asked.
“Always,” Destry said, looking toward the spectacular Crazy Mountains.
“Where do you shop?” Cherry asked.
“Nettie at the Beartooth General Store sells the essentials, food, supplies, even some clothing and muck boots.”
“Muck boots. You have a lot of use for those?” Cherry smiled up at her.
“Actually we do, especially in the spring and during a winter thaw when you’re out feeding the animals.”
“I can’t imagine,” Cherry said with a shake of her head. “Carson said there are grizzlies and they sometimes come down in the yard?”
Destry could tell that the thought had been worrying her. “Occasionally.” She didn’t add that this time of year bears were fattening up for the winter and stuffing themselves before going into hibernation.
Cherry sighed. “I have to tell you, this place gives me the creeps. It’s too...isolated.”
Destry thought about what her brother’s fiancée had said as she prepared for her trip up into the mountains. She’d noticed that Carson had spent little time with Cherry and suspected he was seeing her differently against the Montana backdrop. Cherry was like a fish out of water—and clearly unhappy being here.
Inside the big house, Destry followed a familiar, alluring scent as she walked down to the kitchen to find Margaret making fried pies. A dozen of the small crescent shaped pies were cooling on a rack next to the stove. Against the golden brown of the crusts, the white frosting drizzled over them now dripped onto a sheet of aluminum foil.
“You’re just in time,” Margaret said, smiling, as she lifted two more pies from the hot grease and put them beside the others.
“They smell wonderful.” Destry picked up a still warm pie and took a bite. The crust was flaky and buttery and delicious. She licked her lips, closing her eyes as her taste buds took in the warm cinnamon apple filling and sweet icing.
“Do they meet your satisfaction?” Margaret asked with a smile as Destry groaned in approval.
“I swear they’re the best you’ve ever made,” she said between bites.
Margaret laughed. “You always say that.”
Even with fried pies cooling nearby, Carson sat at the counter in the kitchen with nothing but a cup of coffee in front of him, looking miserable.
“Why aren’t you out by the pool?” she asked.
“I’m showing Carson around the ranch,” their father said as he wheeled into the kitchen. “He’s been gone so long he doesn’t know anything about the operation. I planned to take him out first thing this morning, but apparently he went fishing.”
Carson grunted as he stared down into his cup. “And didn’t catch a darned thing.”
WT ignored him, shifting his gaze to Destry instead. “Where are you going dressed like that?”
“Riding up to collect the rest of the cattle from summer pasture,” Destry said as she poured herself a half cup of coffee.
“I thought we had ranch hands for that,” her father said.
She merely smiled. It was an old battle between them. He made little secret of the fact that he didn’t like her actually working the ranch. But she’d always loved calving on those freezing cold nights in January when she could see her breath inside the barn. There was nothing like witnessing the birth of a new calf, branding to the sound of bawling calves, the feel of baking sun on your back or riding through cool, dark pines gathering cattle in the fall.
He had the idea that marriage would change her. It often amazed her that her own father didn’t know her at all.
“On your way out you might tell your brother’s fiancée that at this altitude she’s going to get burned to a crisp out there,” WT said to her.
“Don’t bother,” Carson said. “Cherry likes to find out things on her own. Anyway, she can take care of herself.”
As her father and brother left, Destry grabbed a couple of Margaret’s famous fried pies, wrapped up a couple for Russell Murdock, their ranch foreman, and finished her coffee. She was on her way out when the phone rang.
She picked it up to save Margaret the effort. “W Bar G, Destry speaking.”
The voice on the other end of the line was low and hoarse. It could have been a man or a woman’s. “You tell that brother of yours we don’t want the likes of him around here.”
“Who is this?” she demanded, but the caller had already hung up. As she returned the receiver, she saw Margaret looking at her and knew it wasn’t the first time someone had called threatening Carson.
“People who call making threats hardly ever do anything more,” Margaret said, turning back to her fried pies. “I’d be more afraid for anyone who tries to come on this ranch. Your father’s been carrying his .357 magnum since your brother came home.”
So he’d been expecting trouble. That made her all the more worried for her brother. She scooped up the pies, said goodbye to Margaret and headed for the barn. Since his accident, her father had put in a paved path down to the barn, even though he no longer rode.
As she saddled up, she promised herself that for a few hours, she was going to put all of her worries aside. She loved the ride up into the high mountain meadows and the feel of the horse beneath her. So many ranches now used everything from four-wheelers to helicopters to round up their cattle, leaving the horses to be nothing more than pasture ornaments.
She much preferred a horse
