the elderly lady. Iris liked him, that was for sure.
As Wes backed the big Suburban out of the parking area and headed up the dirt road to the main highway, Iris was constantly touching his arm and chatting away. The big, wide SUV negotiated the muddy tracks a lot better than her Prius had, but then, Kam told herself, the Prius was not an SUV. She bet this big hog of an SUV got very poor gas mileage in comparison to the fifty miles to the gallon her trusty Prius hybrid gave her.
In no time, they were in Jackson and parked at Hardy’s Feed and Seed Store. Iris climbed out with vigor from the Suburban before Wes could come around and open her door. Kam was out, too, and following Iris. The midafternoon was a tad warmer in the town, Kam noted. There were a number of ranchers in pickup trucks getting feed for their stock. It was a busy place.
“I need some peeps,” Iris told her as they walked down the creaky wooden floor between two aisles. “I’d told Chappy there was a sly ol’ red fox getting my hens. He needed to repair a tear I saw in the fence, but he didn’t assign a cowboy soon enough. That fox got in my henhouse and killed ten of my best girls.” She shook her head and made a right turn to the corner.
“That’s sad,” Kam said. “I hate to see anything killed.”
Iris grunted. She led Kam to the corner where heat lamps were suspended and about a hundred fluffy yellow baby chicks chirped away. “Listen, you live in the natural world with life and death. We’re all gonna die some day.” She stopped and placed her hands on top of the board that surrounded the area to keep the peeps warm and protected from any cooler breezes. There were plenty of feeders and water bowls for the young chicks.
Kam joined her and enjoyed the little babies. “I’ve seen life and death in Africa and Eurasia,” she said. “It’s still hard to accept.”
“At my age, you do because you don’t have a choice.” Iris chuckled as she eyed the milling chicks. “I come from tough stock. My grandmother lived to be a hundred. It’s the Indian blood in us. They knew not only how to live on the land, but how to care for it. We lost all these things when Columbus came here, the bastard.”
Laughing softly, Kam enjoyed Iris’s honesty. If this was her grandmother, Kam would love to have her in her life. Suddenly, she felt very lucky. Iris was a hoot. Wes was—well, damned good-looking, very quiet, introspective, but sensitive to the needs of others. And the romanticism of him being a hardworking cowboy didn’t hurt, either. Kam had always been drawn to men who challenged nature on a regular basis.
“How many peeps are you going to get, Iris?”
“Hmmm, probably thirty.” She looked up and pointed toward the office on the opposite side of the feed store. “Go get Susan, the office manager. She always helps us.”
Nodding, Kam walked toward the office. Most of the people in the store were rugged cowboys. The lifestyle in Wyoming seemed to keep everyone fit. There was plenty of walking, riding, fence-building and hay-moving. She spotted Wes over in the cattle feed section. He was taking down one-hundred-pound sacks of grain as if they were featherlight. He looked masculine and strong, and her heart fluttered again.
Tearing her gaze from him, she went into the office and found Susan. Together, they got the items for Iris to pick out her chicks.
Iris tittered indulgently as she chose her thirty peeps. Some weren’t as plump or as large as others, but Iris left the scrawnier ones behind and chose only the healthiest among them. This was a woman who missed nothing. Kam liked learning from Iris by simply watching her.
Kam put the box of chicks on the backseat beside her. Wes had the rear of the Suburban open and carried sacks of grain over his shoulder with ease. He could have slammed the grain sacks down on the floor of the SUV, but he didn’t. He saw Kam putting the box of chicks on the seat and gently placed the grain inside. Kam liked that about him.
“Don’t want to shake up the peeps?” she called, smiling at him. His face gleamed with sweat and it made his gray eyes look even more arresting. Flat black brows above them emphasized his large, dark pupils. His mouth twisted into a slight grin.
“Iris wouldn’t like her chicks upset by earthquakes,” he teased, meeting her gaze. Wes was having a helluva time keeping his eyes off Kamaria. The breeze had tousled her hair. Her cheeks were flushed and Wes liked the soft smile across her full lips. That was a mouth made for kissing and loving. Abruptly, Wes redirected the thought as he straightened, took off his hat and wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his arm. After a disastrous marriage to Carla, Wes didn’t want to tangle with another woman for a long time to come. And chances were Iris would dump Kamaria just like she did all the rest within a month. So, there was no reason to see Kamaria as anything other than a transient among the Mason family.
“Still,” Kam said, making sure the cardboard box was stable on the seat, “it’s nice that you realized the situation. A lot of men wouldn’t.”
Nodding, Wes settled the hat back on his head. “That’s true,” he said.
“How long have you worked for the Masons?” Kam’s curiosity got the better of her. She saw him frown and wondered if she’d gone too far.
“I’ve been a wrangler at Elkhorn for two years now.”
“And before that? Did you always work as a wrangler?”
Uncomfortable, Wes put his hands on his narrow hips. “I worked at the Bar S over in Cody, Wyoming, before that. And yeah, I was born and raised on a ranch.” He managed a smile. “I can’t see being anything else.” Turning, he left the vehicle and headed back into the feed store to retrieve the four other sacks of grain that Chappy needed for the brood mares.
Kam stood simply watching Wes walk away. His grace was confident and smooth. What a hunk of a man. She hadn’t come here expecting to be drawn to anyone.
“Now there’s a man to be proud of,” Iris said, coming up behind her. “Any woman worth her salt would chase Wes Sheridan down and hog-tie him right and proper.”
Coloring fiercely, Kam turned to Iris. She was at the door grinning, her blue eyes sparkling with humor. “Oh…”
Iris patted her arm. “That’s okay, dearie, you’re young, and why shouldn’t you salivate after a man like that?”
Kam choked as she opened the door for Iris to climb in. “Where I live there aren’t many cowboys. I love the iconic symbol of them. They stand for the rugged independence that made America what it is today.”
Strapping herself in, Iris said, “I love cowboys, too. I married one. Trevor was born and raised on the Elkhorn. He was a man’s man.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “He died too damned young. It was Rudd’s wife, Allison, that gave him that heart attack, damn her. I miss Trevor so much. You know we made the Elkhorn what it is today?”
Kam climbed in and kept the door open to allow the breeze to flow through the vehicle. The peeps were cheeping contentedly next to her. She tried to keep the shock out of her voice over Iris’s accusations about Rudd’s wife. At Iris’s upset expression, Kam tried to divert her. “Tell me about how you built the ranch, Iris.”
“Trevor was a cowboy through and through. I have the Sight, dearie,” and she tapped the middle of her brow. “That was passed on to me through my Native American blood. I saw that whites were spoiling and poisoning our land and water. I saw them poisoning the food we ate. I told Trevor twenty years ago to switch to organic beef. He stopped giving
