Why did Griff have to be this easy on her eyes? It would be so much easier to dislike him if he was unattractive. “Better get going, Mr. McPherson. Gus sets the table at six o’clock sharp. She hates when people are late.”
Grinning a little, Griff said, “Fair enough. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Thank you for the opportunity.”
Standing on the porch, Val watched the tall wrangler walk down the slight slope to his beat-up Ford truck. It was painfully obvious that McPherson didn’t own a dime. Her heart finally settled down after he drove away. Turning, she looked toward the dirt road that led to Long Lake. It was half a mile away. The green of the surrounding mountains made her feel suddenly hopeful. Maybe she was wrong and Gus was right about this city slicker. Time would tell….
* * *
THE SUN SHONE ACROSS the mountains as Griff drove back toward Jackson Hole. The evergreens were dark and lush. He had rolled down his window, his arm resting on the door frame. Few people used air-conditioning in Wyoming. And his truck’s compressor had died long ago. The fresh air filled his lungs and it felt good to be alive.
He had a job! His heart swelled with hope. The past few months had been hard. Griff was barely able to pay his room rent and grocery bills. Now he was going to live with a feisty grandmother who probably cooked like an angel—he had a real ranch job and a roof over his head.
His mind and, if he were honest, his heart, turned gently back to Val Hunter. She was a beautiful, accomplished woman. She wasn’t happy that her grandmother had hired him, but Gus was in charge, that was clear. He looked forward to seeing that list of to-dos tonight after dinner. Hands on the steering wheel, Griff felt something flow through him like the river that paralleled the highway. Happiness. He was actually happy for the first time since returning to Wyoming!
At first, after the crash and losing his job, Griff had felt hopeless. Coming home was his only option. He’d thought Slade would welcome him with open arms, but he hadn’t. His sibling had worked hard all his life to keep the family ranch from going under. And Slade had lost all respect for him because he was a city slicker.
Was Val seeing him through similar eyes? His gut told him that she was. Mouth tightening, Griff slowed the truck as he entered the outskirts of Jackson Hole. It was a busy town during the summer months. Millions flocked here on their way to Yellowstone National Park, which lay fifty miles north of the cow town. A few tourists stopped first at the closer, magnificent Grand Teton National Park. It was his favorite place and Griff enjoyed hiking when he got the chance. Now he’d have no time for such activities.
As he continued into town, Griff’s cell phone rang. He picked it up and saw it was Josh Gordon. Grimacing, Griff answered the FBI agent’s call. “Hello, Josh.”
“I’m checking in to see if you’ve gotten anything on Curt Downing yet.”
Griff pulled off the road and put the truck in Park. “No, I haven’t.”
“I thought you might get something on him at the Horse Emporium. You said he picks up his feed supplies there.”
“Yes, he does, but I haven’t seen him. He sends a kid who works for him, Zach Mason, to fetch the supplies.”
“Look, we need your full attention on this. I know we’re not able to pay you anything for your help, but if we could prove Downing and his trucking company are moving drugs or guns, it would be of great help to our ongoing regional investigation. You know I can’t get authorization to send an undercover FBI agent there until I can prove that there’s good reason to do it.”
“I understand,” Griff said, his frustration bubbling up at the situation he was in.
The FBI had first approached him shortly after the Wall Street crash. They’d needed someone on the inside to help them understand the derivatives schemes. Griff felt guilty that he’d contributed to the economy’s downfall, and had agreed to help them. When that assignment was over, the FBI had called him into their office in Washington, D.C. They knew he was going back home to Wyoming, and Josh had asked if he’d be a mole for them on Curt Downing. And, of course, they couldn’t pay him a dime for his help. All the same, Griff readily agreed to the task because it was Downing’s father who had killed his parents.
“You said you hear all kinds of gossip at the hay and feed store. Haven’t you gleaned anything there?”
“Josh, I can’t force information out of people. If I go around asking a bunch of questions, I’ll blow my cover. And that’s not what you want. I have to be patient and cultivate relationships over time. Wyoming people tend to distrust outsiders for a long time until they can prove themselves. I’m still trying to fit in.” And then he told the FBI agent about being hired to work at the Bar H.
“But that takes you out of the Horse Emporium.”
“Yes, it does. But I need to pay my bills, somehow. And I’ll be in town several times a week running errands. Gus gets her hay and feed at the Horse Emporium, too.”
“Damn, Griff, this is a real setback.”
Raising his brows, Griff said nothing for a moment. Did Josh expect money to fall from the heavens? The agent was being ridiculous. “I know I’m out of the mainstream because of my new job, but I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.”
“All right, good. Because I’m positive Downing is behind the movement of drugs through Wyoming. We have agents in Idaho, Montana and Colorado, and they’re picking up noise on the main hub that the drug dealer is located in Wyoming. It has to be Downing. We just can’t prove it yet. We also suspect a Guatemalan drug cartel called Los Lobos is moving into your area. They’re gunrunning from what we’ve been able to ascertain.”
“Is Downing mixed up in both?”
“Not that we know of,” Josh said. “Not yet, anyway. Guns and drugs don’t usually mix. But I want you to see if you hear anything on either of them.”
The exasperation was evident in the agent’s voice. “Well, if that’s so, then shouldn’t these two separate reasons be enough to bring an undercover ATF and FBI agent in here to get the goods on Downing? Or the Los Lobos cartel?”
“You don’t understand, Griff. Everyone’s budget has been slashed. My boss is turning down all kinds of requests from his field agents. Until we can get proof of some kind, my hands are tied.”
“I’ll do what I can, Josh, but I have to eat and pay my bills first.”
“Yeah, yeah, I understand. Okay, stay in touch.”
Griff hung up and made his way to the MacMurray house, a turn-of-the-century home painted a turquoise-blue. It was a haven for people like him. He could rent a room, have a small hot plate and a bed. Apartments in Jackson Hole were way out of his reach, as they were for most people who worked in the town. Even the sheriff’s deputies had to live in Star Valley fifty miles south of Jackson Hole because they couldn’t afford the high-priced housing in the “Palm Springs of the Rockies.” And the ranchers, only a small handful of whom were rich, continued to lead hardscrabble lives.
Getting out of his truck and remembering what good today had brought, his tension from the phone call dissipated. He’d pack up his room here, pay his last rent and drive back to the Bar H. A real home. Griff liked the idea of staying in the main ranch house. The kitchen reminded him of the Tetons Ranch kitchen. It was almost like being home. Not quite, but close.
Feeling
