From the Boots Up Page 3

  “Oh, yeah,” came the response. “Just toss it onto the seat.”

  Meg leaned in and hefted the two big duffel bags over the back seat. She flipped the mat back and unfastened the panel that would reveal the spare. She pulled it off and leaned it against the right side of the vehicle, glad that the stranger used a full-sized spare. She appreciated that, too. Practical, especially out here. She hooked her hand into the rim and hauled it out.

  “It occurred to me that I did this backward,” the stranger said from her position on the ground, an undercurrent of laughter in her tone.

  Meg looked at her, still holding the tire, and a little spark bounced around her stomach. She liked her strong features, and the little crinkle lines at the corners of her eyes when she smiled. And she liked the way her dark hair fell past her ears and brushed her neck, and she especially liked her eyes. Almost black. Mysterious but welcoming, an invitation in their depths to give them a long, slow look. She caught herself staring and managed a nervous smile.

  “Well, it is easier if you get the tire out before you jack the side up, yeah. No problem, though.” She lowered the spare to the ground and rolled it around the side. Before the Pathfinder’s driver could protest, Meg picked up the lug wrench and set to work.

  “You didn’t get this part backward,” she said, laughing a little, still nervous because she imagined the stranger’s warm, dark gaze on her and it made her heart beat a little faster. Fortunately, she’d already loosened the nuts. With quick motions, she removed them and put them in her shirt pocket then eased the tire off and leaned it against the side of the Pathfinder. She turned to get the spare, but the stranger was already moving it into place.

  “Nice work,” Meg said as she handed the other woman the nuts out of her pocket. She watched as the stranger tightened them a bit before she lowered the jack. When the vehicle’s full weight was on the ground again, the stranger tightened the nuts further.

  “Thanks,” she said as she stood. “Is there any place I could take that—” she gestured with one hand at the flat, “and get it fixed?”

  “Yep. Jim’s Auto. And they’re open for another two hours.” Meg gave her directions, which wasn’t hard because everything was relative to Highway 130. “It’s not far. It’ll be about fifteen bucks and they’ll cut you a little deal for cash.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  “Sure. Ask for Jim or Buck. Tell ’em Meg sent you.”

  She chuckled. “So I take it you’re local.”

  “For the most part. When I’m not at school.”

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Meg. I’m Gina.” She extended her right hand and Meg took it, and her hand was warm and strong in hers, and another spark kicked around her stomach. They were about the same height, which made it that much easier for her to lose a few seconds in Gina’s eyes. She reluctantly released Gina’s hand and slid her own nervously into the front pockets of her jeans. Her palm seemed to tingle.

  “In town for a bit?” she asked.

  Gina started to respond when Chet called from the door of the feed store. “Meg, Mark’s on the phone. He needs to check with you about something.”

  Meg sighed. She’d talked to him before she left Laramie and he said they didn’t need anything else. “Be right there.” She turned back to Gina. “Sorry. You got this?” She pointed at the tire.

  “Not a problem. And yes, I can handle it. Thanks again.” A slow smile tugged at the right side of her mouth. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  Something in her voice made Meg’s heart rate speed up again, and sent more sparks down her spine. “Yeah. Take care.” She gave a little half-wave and went back into the store, forcing herself not to look back and seem overly eager or something. She finished with Mark and asked Chet for a few more bags of feed, chafing at what seemed his slow pace. He printed out another invoice and she took it and almost ran out of the store.

  The Pathfinder was gone.

  She stood looking at the spot where it had been parked, disappointed. The faint marks in the dirt where Gina had kneeled were still visible, as well as a few scuffed tracks from both of them. “Damn,” she said under her breath. She hadn’t even looked at her license plate, so she didn’t even know where she was from.

  She waited for the guys to bring the feed and put it in the back of the truck and then she got in and headed home. She almost turned and headed over to Jim’s, but thought that might make her look like a stalker. And besides, what would she say? Hi. Me again. Are you single? Better yet, are you into women? I know this is a little forward, but I—she stopped. What? Really like your eyes? Think there’s something about you? Lame. Beyond lame. She grimaced and turned the volume up and sang along with Martina McBride, still thinking about the all-too brief encounter with a stranger in a parking lot.

  Three

  Meg wheeled Rusty around and started back toward the lodge. Mark said he’d seen a few unbranded calves with Diamond Rock cattle in this vicinity, so she’d tracked a portion of the herd along the eastern border of the Medicine Bow National Forest, but all those calves had brands. If she had time tomorrow, she’d take Mark and see if they couldn’t find the strays and brand them. They’d also need vaccinations. Damn. It’d be half a day to cut them from the herd and bring them down. Easier to just chase after them, maybe.

  She whistled sharply, and looked back over her shoulder. Dammit and Bugoff tore out of a stand of pine, racing each other to get to Rusty’s side. Dammit was a mixture of border collie and Australian cattle dog. Bugoff was a blue heeler. They were the best-trained of the four dogs at Diamond Rock and Meg took them with her whenever she thought she might have to cut a cow from the herd to check it for something. They didn’t have to do much work today since she was able to get close enough to check the cattle with a visual, but the dogs did keep her amused with their antics.

  She clicked her tongue softly and gave Rusty’s neck a pat. They’d be home in a half-hour. She glanced toward the sun. Late afternoon. Plenty of time to get Rusty squared away, clean herself up, and be at dinner to meet the reporter and make nice for a good impression. She hoped the reporter wasn’t completely annoying. The week was going to be long enough.

  The next round of guests had started to arrive yesterday. They included a young newlywed couple from Chicago that had brought the groom’s parents for some bonding. Another, an older woman from St. Paul, drove in from Denver. She was an artist, she said, and was looking to “clear her head.” She seemed nice.

  The dogs raced back and forth across the cow path in front of Rusty, who diligently ignored them with calm, equine patience, his hooves following the familiar track home over the rolling prairie. She inhaled deeply, the smell of pine, sage, and tall grass filling her nostrils. No matter what was going in her life, she always found peace here.

  Her thoughts drifted yet again to Gina, as they had on Wednesday when she met her, and all day yesterday. And more today. Maybe she worked for the Forest Service or the BLM, which meant she might be in the area for the summer. She could ask some people, see if anyone knew her. Maybe check in at the Forest Service district office in town. After all, Gina had said that maybe she’d see her around. Why would she say that if she was just passing through?

  She adjusted her weight in the saddle, trying to think about something else. But she kept seeing Gina’s eyes, kept feeling the warmth she sensed there, and the sparks her handshake had generated. Wasn’t that kind of weird, to keep thinking about someone she’d only met once, and briefly?

  Whatever. Like having a crush was a bad thing. If she saw Gina again, it would add another thrill and if she never did, then the crush would fade and she’d go back to school in August, no big deal. Just a nice fantasy for the summer.

  But how could you have a crush on someone you’d barely interacted with? An attraction was one thing. She’d had those to women she’d met in the past. But this was a bit stronger than just an attraction, which was why she figured it was a crush. Or were attractions stron
ger than crushes? Whichever. Maybe she was just feeling a little bit lonely. After all, she hadn’t dated anyone since Amanda. That was about eight months ago, and here was a good-looking stranger with great eyes and a nice smile who she’d chatted with for a bit. No big deal.

  So why couldn’t she stop thinking about her?

  Dammit barked and nipped at Bugoff and they raced straight down the path, yelping and whining at each other. Meg laughed and nudged Rusty into a trot as they crested the last rise and headed down toward the spread. Ninety minutes later she clunked down the steps of the lodge and entered the kitchen through the back. She had showered and changed into clean jeans and a Colorado State University tee.

  “Hey, Alice. Hi, Dad. Hey, Anna.”

  “There’s my darling daughter,” he said in greeting. He was leaning against one of the counters going over menus with Alice. “Did you find any naked calves up there?”

  An image of what Gina might look like in shorts flashed through Meg’s mind and she stifled a giggle. “Nope. You want me to go up tomorrow? I’ll take Mark, if you don’t have him doing anything.”

  He straightened. “I’ll see if Mark and Davey can go. I’d like you to stick around. We’ve got fifteen arriving tomorrow. And that’ll be the first full day with the reporter. I need a native Diamond Rocker on hand for questions if I’m not around.”

  “Diamond Rocker, huh? Maybe we should get some new T-shirts made with that on it.” She ran a hand through her still-damp hair.

  “Not a bad idea,” he said with a grin. “We could offer them to people who survive at least a week with us.”

  Alice laughed. “A week with Meg’s nothing. A week with you, however—” she gave him a look and he pretended to be offended.

  “Are you saying I’m difficult to get along with?”

  Alice caught Meg’s eye and they both grinned. “Yes,” they said together. Stan gave Meg a mock glare that she responded to with one of her own. They held the stare-down for another few seconds before she burst out laughing and he smiled.

  “You look more like your dad every day,” Alice said with a chuckle.

  “That’s okay, as long as I don’t grow a mustache.”

  “I don’t know, hon. You might look good with one,” he teased. “I’d teach you how to trim it and you’d be just as handsome as me.”

  Meg rolled her eyes as the door swung open from the dining room and Alice’s kitchen help appeared.

  “They’re comin’ in,” Troy announced. He was on the cusp of fifteen, and his voice was deeper than what his wiry, awkward frame suggested he should sound like. Jenny was right behind him, all business, hair pulled up into a tight little bun. She was a student at the University of Wyoming, a little younger than Meg, but from a nearby ranching family herself.

  “Well, all right. Let’s eat.” Stan clapped a hand on Meg’s shoulder and steered her into the dining room. She filled a plate from the buffet and took a seat on the bench at the middle table, across from the young married couple that had arrived yesterday, Tim and Laura. Tim’s parents sat at another table talking to Jackson and Mark. Meg glanced around the room, but didn’t see any strangers who might be a reporter. She was a little relieved, since she wanted to eat first. Maybe she could avoid dealing with the reporter until tomorrow. She had just taken another bite of chicken when Marjorie, the artist from St. Paul, appeared with a plate piled high with food. She sat on Laura’s left and they all greeted each other.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been so hungry,” Marjorie said. She had a nice matronly way about her, like Alice. Except Alice had a 40s actress thing going while Marjorie was kind of plump and solid.

  “It’s the fresh, clean air,” Tim said, laughing as he reached for the basket of rolls in the center of the table. “Right, Meg?”

  “That’s what they say. So what’d you do today?” She set the chicken bone on her plate and picked up her fork to dig into her potato salad. Conversations, laughing, and the clink of silverware on plates filled the room. She glanced around again. Thirty people. There’d be more coming in tomorrow. The ranch was finally full up, and she knew that always put her dad in a good mood.

  “Took a great hike,” Tim said. “You’re so fortunate, to live in such a beautiful place.”

  “Oh, it is truly lovely,” Marjorie added. “All I did this afternoon was read and watch the horses in the paddock and I don’t think I’ve been so relaxed in months. Did you grow up here, Meg?”

  She nodded and swallowed before responding. “Born and raised.”

  “Did you ever feel isolated?” asked Laura as she reached for the small bowl of butter.

  “Sometimes. But I went to school in Saratoga, so I had friends from school I’d hang out with. And I did a lot of 4-H stuff and horse events here and in Colorado.” She smiled. “Come to think of it, I was pretty busy as a kid.”

  “When did you learn to ride a horse?” Laura looked at Meg with interest.

  She thought for a few moments. “I started with my dad when I was probably two or three. But he’d take me with him, too, even when I was still a baby. I’ve spent a lot of time on a horse.”

  Laura sighed wistfully. “I envy you. I’ve always wanted to live on a ranch.”

  “Keep saying that, and my dad’ll put you to work.”

  Jim and Marjorie laughed.

  “Hey, Meg, your dad wants to know if you can help get some guests settled. A bunch just got in. He’s at the office.” Troy gestured at the door as he replaced the basket of rolls with a full one.

  “Okay. Excuse me,” she said to the others. “Be right back.” To Troy, she added, “Don’t take my plate.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll watch it,” said Marjorie.

  “Thanks.” Meg gave her a smile and left. She crossed the parking lot to the office, where a group of people stood outside chatting. The door was open, and a few more people were inside, talking to Stan. He looked up at her when she came in.

  “That’s the Forster party outside. Could you get them settled? Rooms nine, ten, and eleven.”

  “Will do.”

  “Oh, and while you’re at it, could you please show Ms. Morelli here to room five?” He made a gesture at a woman standing off to the side behind a big guy with a really thick neck and handed her a bunch of hotel-style keys, each on plastic keychains emblazoned with miniature horseshoes and the number of the room.

  “Sure.” She looked past the big guy.

  And froze.

  And wondered if she would have the presence of mind to pick her jaw up off the floor before anybody stepped on it.

  “Hi, again,” Gina said, and the smile on her lips warmed her eyes even more. She was dressed in jeans that fit her much too well for mixed company and a faded gray T-shirt that hung on her like a best friend.

  “Hey,” she responded, hoping she didn’t sound as flustered as she felt. “How are you?” Did she actually say that? How lame could she be?

  “Good. Nice drive up here from Laramie.”

  “Great. I didn’t see your car.” So not cool. She sounded like a stalker, memorizing people’s cars.

  “I parked on the other side of the office. Didn’t want to put it where it might block anything.”

  She hesitated, wondering what to say that wouldn’t sound stupid, but she drew a blank. “Okay.” She made a show of checking the keys. “All right, follow me. Or did you want to get your stuff first?” She tried for nonchalant now, like she always showed super-attractive women who made her insides buck like an unbroken horse to their rooms.

  “I’ll get it after dinner. I didn’t miss dinner, did I?”

  “Nope. There’s plenty.” Oh, real smooth, she thought. She cleared her throat and motioned toward the door.

  Gina smiled again and followed her and Meg tried not to think about her eyes, or how inviting they looked. Or the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth, or how her voice made her think about late nights and candlelight.

  “Thanks, hon,” Stan called
after her as she went outside.

  “Hi,” she said to the Forster party, which was made up of what she guessed were three heterosexual couples and three children who ranged in age, she estimated, from five to ten. “Welcome to the Diamond Rock Ranch. I’m Meg, and I’ll take you to your rooms. Would you like to get your stuff now or later?”

  “Later’s fine,” said one of the men, who looked to be in his mid-thirties and who seemed to have taken on group spokesman duties.

  “All right. Let’s go.” She kept her eyes off Gina, to keep herself from getting distracted, and led them across the parking area to the motel. Stan had put the Forsters on the ground floor, which was what he did when there were kids younger than twelve. “Ground floor, Forsters,” she announced. “Who’s lucky number nine?”

  The man who had spoken up earlier stepped forward. That’s us.” She handed him the two keys to the room. “Same key. Two copies. But seriously, you won’t need the keys out here. It’s a lot easier to just leave your doors unlocked, especially if you’ve got people doing separate things and you’re coming and going. Trust me. Nobody’s casing the joint.”

  The women laughed and the man said, “Thanks.”

  “Room ten?” she asked, still trying to avoid Gina’s gaze. Another of the men took the two keys for that. “Call me crazy, but I’m thinking you’re lucky number eleven.” She handed the keys to the third man, who nodded and smiled.

  “Okay. You’ve already gotten one of our info packets, but here are some quick rules, as a reminder. Mostly common sense. You’ll also find another copy of our lovely information packets in each room. First, although we appreciate parties as well as the next person, please refrain from such after nine p.m. The horses need their beauty sleep.”

  All three of the kids giggled.

  “Please don’t smoke in the rooms. We prefer that they smell like pine smoke from the evening bonfire, which will be starting in two hours.” She pointed at the spot past the dining hall that they used for the nightly socializing around the fire. “Don’t worry. You’ll see it. You won’t get lost.” She glanced at the youngest child, a little girl. “We might even be able to get you some marshmallows, if your folks think that’s okay.”