The Wrangler. Lindsay McKenna
an excited child. He smiled a little hesitantly and said, “That’s very decent of you, Miss Gus. I’ll try not to get underfoot. And I’ve never smoked.”
“I do the cookin’ around here,” Gus warned. “And I’m a darned good cook, too. But I do expect you to wash and dry dishes every other night. And you’ll do vacuuming and dusting once a week in this house. You got a problem with that?”
Grinning, Griff said, “Miss Gus, if those cookies are any indication of your cooking ability, then I’m in hog heaven. And I don’t mind cleaning up after myself or doing housework. It’s all the same to me. Just tell me what you want, when you want it, and I’ll be happy to do it.”
Giving him a keen look, Gus asked, “You got any plans to leave Wyoming anytime soon, young man? Once this economy staggers back to its feet, are you going to leave and go make your millions again on Wall Street?”
“No, ma—I mean, no, Miss Gus, I won’t.” Griff looked around the warm, beautiful cedar kitchen. The cabinets shined red and gold in the afternoon sun that poured in through the large windows. “I’m home for good. I don’t want to go back to Wall Street.”
Gus slapped the table. “Okay. Good!
“You can move your gear in. Val will get the room ready for you. Tomorrow morning, you start your new job with the Bar H, Mr. McPherson.”
Joy skittered through Griff. The old woman’s blue eyes glinted with elfin exuberance. He was elated over the job opportunity. Finally, someone was going to give him a chance! “Thank you, Miss Gus. I will do everything in my power to never disappoint you.”
Shaking his hand firmly, Gus grinned. “Sounds good to me. Val will be your everyday boss. We’ve written up a very long list of things that need to be done around here. She’ll go over that with you this evening after dinner. “You like pot roast with potatoes, onions, carrots and gravy?”
Griff got up and carefully pushed his chair back into place. “Miss Gus, that sounds wonderful. I don’t want to tell you what I tend to fix for myself if I’m left to my own devices.”
“Just don’t go gettin’ fat on me,” Gus warned, grinning.
Touching his hard, flat stomach, Griff said, “Oh, with all the work to be done around here, I don’t think that will happen. I have a feeling I’ll be putting in dawn to dusk days around here.”
Val got up to show him to the door. “Those are the hours we’ll both work.” She tried to remain immune to the happiness dancing in his green eyes. He held the Stetson in his left hand as he followed her out of the kitchen.
As they stepped onto the porch, Val gazed around the broken ranch. Everywhere she looked, there was fence line begging to be fixed. She watched Griff settle the Stetson on his head and hoped his proud stance would work out for them and their ranch. Lowering her voice, she said, “I hope you meant every word you shared with my grandmother in there, Mr. McPherson. What she didn’t tell you is that if you don’t do the work and do it right, I’ll fire you myself.”
Griff stared over at Val’s set face. She was deadly serious. “I’ll make every effort to prove my worth to you and your grandmother every day.”
His deep voice moved through her like music. Val fought to ignore it. 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.