Wyoming Bold. Diana Palmer

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Wyoming Bold - Diana Palmer


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feeling?” Clara asked gently, and now she was frowning, too.

      Merissa relaxed. She laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She turned to Tank. “I rushed you home for nothing!”

      “It’s always good to check,” Tank replied gently. “I’m beginning to put a lot of confidence in your ‘feelings.’”

      She smiled at him warmly. “Thanks.”

      “What sort of feeling?” Clara asked, because she knew that Merissa didn’t give way to panic.

      “I don’t know. Something dangerous. Something planned.” She closed her eyes. “Soon. Very soon.” She opened her eyes. “I don’t know what!” she groaned.

      Clara hugged her. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll be okay.”

      “Just in case,” Tank said slowly, “I’m going to put a man over here, to keep an eye on the place.”

      “That would be so kind of you,” Clara began.

      Merissa frowned. “Do I smell smoke?”

      They split up, going from room to room. All of a sudden, the fire detector in the back bedroom went off like an explosion.

      Tank ran ahead of the women, rushed into the room and stopped dead. There was smoke coming from an extension cord. Beside it, a squirrel was squirming in agony.

      “Oh, dear,” Clara murmured. “I forgot to close the flue in here... Squirrels love to come in the cabin and build nests in the ceiling.” She grimaced. “Is he dead?”

      Tank picked him up. The squirrel was shivering. “He’s not dead, but he’s going to need some attention. I have a friend who’s a wildlife rehabilitator. I’ll call him as soon as I get home. Have you got a shoebox and an old towel?”

      Clara rushed to get them for him so that he could transport the injured squirrel.

      “I’ll unplug it.”

      “Be careful, honey,” he told her.

      She glanced at him and flushed prettily. She laughed and eased the plug out of the wall.

      He loved that blush. He loved calling her pet names. She was the sweetest woman he’d ever known.

      “You think he’ll be okay?” she asked, gently touching the head of the injured squirrel.

      “Careful, he may bite,” he said.

      “Oh, they never bite me. I’ve picked up all sorts of injured things, even a snake, once. I had to put a bandage on his back. Weed eater got him,” she said ruefully.

      “You aren’t afraid of snakes?” he asked, curious.

      “I’m terrified of them,” she said. “But he was bleeding and obviously in pain. So I picked him up. He didn’t seem to mind, even when I started putting antibiotic ointment and a big Band-Aid on him. I had to take him to a wildlife rehabilitator, too. I wonder if it’s the one you know?”

      He chuckled. “Probably. There aren’t too many of them around Catelow.” He paused. “What sort of snake was he?”

      She blinked. “I don’t really know. He was quite large.”

      “Color?”

      She described it.

      He burst out laughing. “I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it. That’s a rattlesnake, you crazy woman! They’re deadly poisonous!”

      “Are they? He was very tolerant. He didn’t even rattle when I put him in the box and took him to the rehabilitator. I guess that explains why he was upset when I wanted him to let the snake go. He didn’t tell me.”

      He was amazed, and it showed. “Truly gifted,” he murmured.

      “Animals like me, I suppose,” she said shyly. “I have to shoo the birds away from the feeders. One stood on my wrist while I filled up the tube feeder.”

      “I like you, too,” he said softly, searching her pale eyes.

      Her lips parted on a quick breath. “You do?”

      He smiled.

      “I mean, you’re not afraid I might turn you into a frog or something in a temper?” she asked, not quite facetiously.

      “You don’t have a cat.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “Everybody knows that witches keep cats,” he pointed out. “Look it up.”

      She burst out laughing.

      “Should I tell him about the two stray cats we feed every morning?” Clara teased as she came back with a shoebox and a piece of towel.

      “Shh!” Merissa said quickly, putting her finger to her lips.

      They all laughed.

      Tank made holes in the top of the shoebox while Merissa held the squirrel.

      “You’re going to be just fine, don’t worry,” she told the little animal. It looked up at her from wide, dilated eyes. It was still shivering.

      “I think it’s in shock,” Tank said. He took the squirrel and put it gently in the box with the towel and closed it up. “I’ll call my buddy right away.”

      “You’ll let us know?” Merissa asked.

      He smiled. “Of course.”

      “I hope they don’t eat the wiring in the attic,” Clara said nervously. “I’m going to close the flue right now!”

      “At least he’s a boy squirrel. We don’t have to worry about any babies in a nest inside that the mother couldn’t get to,” Merissa said. “They say if it’s a mother squirrel and you close her access, the babies will all die. It’s so sad.”

      “True. But so are electrical fires.” Tank glanced at the wall where the cord had been plugged in. “Don’t use that until I can get one of my men over here to check the wiring.”

      “Okay,” Merissa said. “Thanks. I’m terrified of fire.”

      “Me, too,” Clara seconded.

      “Not much danger of that, just from a blown extension cord, especially when you’re standing beside it when it blows. But it’s always best to be cautious. I’ll take our friend home with me. I’ll call you tomorrow,” he told Merissa.

      She grinned. “Okay.”

      He grinned back. “Good night.”

      They went out to the porch to see him off. He waved as he went down the driveway, still covered with the remains of the snowstorm.

      They went back into the living room. The small Christmas tree they’d put up that day was beautiful with its colored lights. Clara didn’t have them set to flash because it gave Merissa headaches. It was pretty just the same. Clara put an arm around Merissa’s shoulders. “So now I can see which way the wind is blowing, and I don’t even need to be psychic.” She laughed.

      Merissa leaned her head against her mother’s. “I’m so happy. I never expected to find anyone who’d like me the way I am.”

      “I thought I had, once,” Clara said quietly. “I made a terrible mistake. And you paid more for it even than I did.”

      Merissa was very still. “Dalton knows.”

      “What?”

      “He knows, about what Dad did. He said if he’d known us back then, my father would have gone to prison for it.”

      “I lived in terror for so many years, afraid that Bill would return, that he’d find us, that he’d want to get even with me for divorcing him,” Clara confessed.

      “Do you know where he


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