The Wrangler. Lindsay McKenna
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Gus grinned savagely. “That, Downing, is my granddaughter, Val Hunter.”
Downing pretended to be as shocked as he was at the Emporium earlier. “What? I thought she was in the Air Force? Is she on leave to visit you?”
“No, you fool, she’s home for good!” Gus pointed to her hip. “And it’s not gone past your nose to know I can’t handle this ranch by myself any longer because of my broken hip. Everyone in town knows it never healed right. Val has come home to help get the ranch back up to an operational level.”
“I see….” Downing choked and nervously coughed. His mind spun with shock. He’d been expecting Gus to put up the For Sale sign any minute precisely because she was now crippled and no longer able to work. This was a definite setback. “But…what about McPherson? Yesterday, he worked at the Horse Emporium.”
Giving him an irritated look, Gus barked, “Well, he’s now our wrangler. With Val and Mr. McPherson’s help, the Bar H is going to be just fine. How about that, Mr. Big Shot?” Gus waved her cane in his face. “I know your type. You’re like a snake that slinks through the bushes just waiting for the right moment to lunge out and bite someone on the ankle. But you ain’t gettin’ our ranch. So don’t even think you can!”
Standing there, Curt felt like the world had fallen out from beneath him. Damn! He desperately needed this ranch! Of course, he couldn’t tell the angry old woman why. Even if he could, it’d only raise her hackles more. “I’m so glad to hear you got help once more, Miss Gus,” he murmured in a placating tone, trying to ratchet down her anger toward him. Walking over to the table, Curt picked up the sack. Turning, he said, “I really hope that your granddaughter can stay.”
“Oh, she’ll stay. This is her home!” Gus said, jabbing her finger down at the porch. “You know ranch families stick together. And I know you’re wantin’ to buy up any ranch land you can get your filthy hands on. Well, it won’t be our ranch. Git goin’, Mister. I have cookies to bake and I don’t like talkin’ to the likes of you!”
Moving down the porch steps, Downing turned, doffed his hat again and said, “I wish you a good day, Miss Gus. I’m here for you in case you need any help. The Bar H has a wonderful history and I know with your granddaughter home, things will get better. Good day.”
Gus snorted, breathing raggedly as she watched the bastard climb into his big gussied-up truck. The damned pickup held so much chrome it glittered like a Christmas ornament. But that was Downing. She’d watched him grow into a bully through the twelve grades of school. His father, Red, had been a bully, too. An abusive drunk always causing havoc for people in the valley. There were times when she’d hear that Curt had a black eye at school. And a small part of her felt sorry for the younger Downing. Well, minus the drunkard part, the kid had grown up to be just like his daddy.
Gus watched the truck pull out of the driveway. And then she saw that Val and Griff had returned. The two trucks passed one another on the road into the ranch. She watched Griff drive the truck around to the barn. Hobbling off the porch, Gus went to greet them.
Val climbed out of the truck as Gus approached. “Was that Curt Downing we just passed?”
“Sure as hell was.” Gus looked up at the bales of hay tied down on the flatbed.
“What did he want?”
Griff came around the truck to hear the conversation. Gus was clearly upset, her eyes narrow along with her pursed lips. He saw Val was concerned because she tugged at her ponytail. It was a habit he’d seen before and finally recognized it for what it was.
Gus told them what had transpired. She patted Val’s arm. “Now, get that worry wiped off your face. He’s gone and out of our lives.”
Griff pushed his hat up on his head. “Downing was surprised that we’re here?”
Cackling, Gus said, “Oh, it looked for a moment like he was going to fall through the porch. He was that surprised!”
Griff grinned a little. Gus got pure pleasure out of meeting Downing head-on. He liked her backbone. She might be small but that didn’t stop her from taking on the likes of Downing. Most of the town was afraid of him, but Gus was not. “Are you okay?”
“Ohhh,” Gus said, reaching out and patting Griff’s arm, “I’m fine, son. Not to worry. I’m not afraid of that bully!”
Val frowned. “He came out to ask about me?”
“Yep,” Gus said. “He’s a nosy son-of-a-gun.”
Mouth quirking, Griff said, “I’m going to start moving this hay inside, ladies.”
Val was pleased to see the wrangler move into action. She placed a hand on Gus’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go in? You look like you’re in pain, Gus. Do you need some aspirin?”
Moving her hand over her hip, Gus muttered, “Yeah, Downing got my dander up for sure. I was waving my cane around instead of using it to support myself.”
Smiling gently, Val said, “Come on, I’ll walk you back into the house.”
Nodding, Gus gripped her hand. “You’re a good granddaughter. Do you know that? It’s nice to be taken care of every once in a while.”
Laughing a little, Val escorted Gus back toward the house. The morning sun was warm, the sky blue and there was a pine scented breeze. “Oh, Gus, I always worry about you. You’re like a little banty rooster. I agree, Downing is dangerous and I don’t trust him. But you don’t need to get your blood pressure up because of him.”
“He’s a snake snoopin’ around, Val. You can’t ever trust a snake!”
Gus was moving very slowly and in obvious pain. “You know, I heard a commercial for the Scooter Store on the radio this morning when we were driving into town, Gus. A power chair could get you around here much more easily, even outside.”
“Oh, don’t you start jawin’ about a scooter for me. Cowgirls ride horses. What an embarrassing comedown.”
Chuckling, Val knew it would take a while to get her grandmother to consider another type of transportation. She was a proud, tough, Wyoming rancher woman who was used to using her two legs to get where she was going. Helping her slowly negotiate the stairs to the porch, Val replied, “Maybe we can talk about it another time.”
Gus snorted. She rested a moment at the top of the stairs. “I’ll bet Downing’s heading for Gwen Garner’s quilt shop. He’s gonna ply her with questions about you.”
Unconcerned, Val opened the screen door for Gus. “Gwen is a trusted friend to our family. I’m not worried about her. Come on, I’ll make us some coffee and you can sit down and give that hip of yours a rest.”
“Might help me finish those cookies, too?”
Grinning, Val said, “Absolutely.”
CHAPTER SIX
GWEN GARNER STOOD at the rear of her quilting store next to a grocery cart filled with new fabrics that had to be placed out for sale. The store was busy and she had her head down, tucking a bright, colorful Hoffman batik fabric into place when someone tapped her smartly on the shoulder.
Looking up, Gwen scowled. “Mr. Downing.” She continued placing the fabric into the end cap.
“Mrs. Garner, how are you today?” Curt tipped his tan Stetson hat in her direction. He saw her face turn sour. Curt didn’t like having to come into the quilt shop and beg for information. And by the look in Gwen’s narrowing eyes, he wondered if coming here was smart. He added a hopeful smile and settled his hat on his head. “I was just over at Andy’s Horse Emporium getting hay for my horses when I saw Val Hunter.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Did you know she was in town?”
Gwen pushed her cart to the next island of fabrics. “Of course I did, Mr. Downing.”
Curt