their clientele.
Rudd nervously moved his work-worn fingers across his red handlebar mustache, now sprinkled with gray. At forty-eight years old, he didn’t think much about the gray at his temples, either. His red hair was cut short and mostly hidden beneath his beat-up black Stetson. His wife, Allison, continually chided him about wearing the hat inside the house, telling him he should remove it since it was the gentlemanly thing to do. Well, he was a cowboy, from the bloodlines of trappers who had discovered this area and eventually settled it long before the pioneers had arrived. His blood was connected to the pulse of the earth where he’d been born. It felt good to be so deeply rooted when most people never knew much about their family history. Such ignorance was unforgivable in Rudd’s mind.
Watching out the window of his corner office, Rudd felt a frisson of tension. Few applicants had responded to his ad to take care for his ailing mother. Jackson Hole, Wyoming, wasn’t exactly Grand Central Station. In fact, just the opposite—it was out in the middle of some of the most beautiful landscape and mountains the U.S.A. had to offer. But not much city, that was for sure. Would this woman, Kamaria Trayhern, be a city slicker in disguise? Unable, like the others, to adjust to ranch life and his mother’s pace? Her résumé was interesting and, as an EMT, she’d be perfect for his mother’s needs. What was Kamaria really like? Only a face-to-face meeting would tell the tale. Fretting, Rudd tugged at his long handlebar mustache and waited the long hour.
KAM UNCONSCIOUSLY rubbed her tightened stomach as she drove slowly through the sleepy Western town of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. The sky was cloudy and threatened rain. Maybe snow? Here and there on her way up to the small town that was the gateway to the Grand Teton and Yellowstone national parks, Kam had seen patches of snow across the rolling green hills. She crawled along at twenty-five miles an hour in the early-afternoon Monday traffic. The town seemed clean, neat and very Western. She had stayed at the Wyoming Inn of Jackson Hole on the main drag and been treated like royalty. Not only had the staff provided her with a delicious breakfast but they had gone out of their way to help her with directions to the Elkhorn Ranch.
She’d found many quaint establishments off the four-lane highway. One that caught her attention was Jedidiah’s Restaurant, which, she’d been told, served the best sourdough pancakes. Kam loved sourdough and made a note to herself to go back real soon.
As she climbed the hill out of town, Kam was not prepared for what she saw at the top. On the left the dragon-teeth Grand Tetons emerged. Wreathed in winter snow, their cragginess evident, the mountain chain resembled the sharp scales on the back of a sleeping dragon. The mountains soared upward out of the flat plain, which made them even more dramatic and spectacular. The beauty of the early afternoon was enhanced by a line of thick, fluffy white clouds scudding across the sharp peaks like soldiers on a march.
To her right was a long rolling valley. The Hole in Jackson Hole was an early trapper word that meant valley. Kam spotted many herds of elk who were leaving their wintering ground for the higher reaches of the hills and mountains that surrounded the valley.
The friendly staff at the Wyoming Inn had told her that as many as ten thousand elk wintered in this long, wide valley just outside of town. Now that spring had come and the snow melt at the higher elevations was in full swing, the herds were leaving their valley digs. They would go to their homes high above that were covered with thick stands of willows, deciduous trees and pines.
The four-lane highway narrowed into two lanes. The beauty of the Grand Tetons kept calling to her. Kam wanted so badly to stop and park off to the side and photograph the majesty of these incredible mountains. But not today. She had an appointment to keep for an interview. She wondered idly who would conduct her interview. An office manager? From what Kam could find out from the staff at the Wyoming Inn, this was the largest ranch in the state. Plus, her research had told her that the Elkhorn Ranch was one of the most popular dude-ranch destinations, as well.
Moose Junction came up. It was one of the entrances to Grand Teton National Park. Kam sped on by the turn. The junction looked enticing and Kam longed to make that right turn and put on her backpack and hiking boots and take off with her camera in hand. The beauty of the area was overwhelming and deserved to be captured in photos. According to all the warning signs along the highway, moose were prevalent in the area. Kam had never seen one. Wyoming wildlife was all around her and she smiled a little. This was the first time she’d been to this state and she was beginning to realize how much she’d missed by not visiting it sooner.
In the back of her mind she never stopped wondering if Rudd Mason was her father. All she had was a photo, a memento of her mother’s life before the quake. Mason might have been at the right place at the right time. For all she knew, this trip might be a big waste of time. Did other orphans or adopted children go through this pattern of fear and questioning? They must.
Frowning, Kam pushed strands of her wavy hair off her brow. Lucky for her the weather in Wyoming was very similar to that back home in Montana. She wore a conservative dark brown wool pantsuit with a tasteful white blouse beneath the jacket. Her mother had given her a strand of pink pearls when she was twelve years old. Kam had loved pearls ever since she could remember. They were her favorite gem. Touching them briefly, Kam felt Laura’s steadying presence. On her thirteenth birthday, her adopted parents had given her a pair of pink pearl earrings to go with the necklace. She wore them today, maybe for luck in her interview, or maybe it was a way to have Morgan and Laura close to her on one of the most important days of her life.
Up ahead, Kam noted a huge sign indicating that Elkhorn Ranch was a mile away. The bolo-tie symbol stood out in the carved-pine rectangular sign. Fear shot through Kam and she gulped unsteadily. Her hands tightened on the wheel. All her sense of inner peace fled. The sign might as well have read: This is your life. Are you ready for it? That’s how she felt deep inside. What if Rudd Mason really was her father? What if he recognized her? The questions pummeled at Kam until she felt like a badly beaten-up boxer in the last round of a fifteen-round match.
The asphalt road stopped where the turnoff for the Elkhorn Ranch began. Two pine poles sat on either side of the road with a sign running across the middle: Elkhorn Ranch. There were elk antlers on either side of the sign, anchored into place with unseen wires or bolts. The road was rutted and still muddy from recent rains. She had rented a Toyota Prius and now wondered about the wisdom of the choice. The car had a very low clearance and some of the ruts looked a lot deeper than it could handle. Well, too late. Somehow she had to crawl down the long, wide dirt road.
Weaving around so that she wouldn’t bottom out, Kam tried to take in some of the scenery. The sides of the road were fenced. The wire on the left was a good ten feet high, and considerably thicker than that on the right. In a bit, Kam saw why as a herd of shaggy buffalo, numbering close to one hundred, foraged on the green grass. Here and there, newly born buffalo calves raced around like roadsters. Again, she wanted to stop and take photos, but she didn’t dare give in to that need.
On the right, as she approached the horizon line, Kam noted hundreds of white-faced Herefords. Buffalo on the left. Cows on the right. Kam recalled that Buffalo carried some disease that could infect cattle, but it seemed that the owners of the ranch kept them well separated. She wondered why there was such a large herd of buffalo. Coming over the slight hill, Kam gasped and stepped on the brake.
Below her on a gently rolling road stood a sprawling ranch. Men rode on horseback, some of them herding groups of cows to other pens, others walking with brooms and buckets toward a row of small cabins below the main area. There was a single-story ranch house made of pine logs and plaster. The structure must easily have been ten thousand square feet. The ranch house seemed to have been built in sections over time. The sheen of the timber contained color changes, which indicated a gradual build. As Kam eased her foot off the brake and allowed the Prius to amble down the slight incline, she wondered just how old the structures were.
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