Shadows from the Past
“I’ve been a wrangler at Elkhorn for two years now.”
“And before that? Did you always work as a wrangler?”
Uncomfortable, Wes put his hands on his narrow hips. “I worked at the Bar S over in Cody, Wyoming, before that. And yeah, I was born and raised on a ranch.” He managed a smile. “I can’t see being anything else.” Turning, he left the vehicle and headed back into the feed store to retrieve the four other sacks of grain that Chappy needed for the brood mares.
Kam stood simply watching Wes walk away. His grace was confident and smooth. What a hunk of a man. She hadn’t come here expecting to be drawn to anyone.
“Now there’s a man to be proud of,” Iris said, coming up behind her. “Any woman worth her salt would chase Wes Sheridan down and hog-tie him right and proper.”
Coloring fiercely, Kam turned to Iris. She was at the door grinning, her blue eyes sparkling with humor. “Oh…”
Iris patted her arm. “That’s okay, dearie, you’re young, and why shouldn’t you salivate after a man like that?”
Kam choked as she opened the door for Iris to climb in. “Where I live there aren’t many cowboys. I love the iconic symbol of them. They stand for the rugged independence that made America what it is today.”
Strapping herself in, Iris said, “I love cowboys, too. I married one. Trevor was born and raised on the Elkhorn. He was a man’s man.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “He died too damned young. It was Rudd’s wife, Allison, that gave him that heart attack, damn her. I miss Trevor so much. You know we made the Elkhorn what it is today?”
Kam climbed in and kept the door open to allow the breeze to flow through the vehicle. The peeps were cheeping contentedly next to her. She tried to keep the shock out of her voice over Iris’s accusations about Rudd’s wife. At Iris’s upset expression, Kam tried to divert her. “Tell me about how you built the ranch, Iris.”
“Trevor was a cowboy through and through. I have the Sight, dearie,” and she tapped the middle of her brow. “That was passed on to me through my Native American blood. I saw that whites were spoiling and poisoning our land and water. I saw them poisoning the food we ate. I told Trevor twenty years ago to switch to organic beef. He stopped giving his cattle all those hormone shots, antibiotics and other crap and got the herd cleaned up. I worked with high-end restaurants on both coasts and convinced them that clean beef was the only way to go.”
“That was farsighted,” Kam said, impressed. She saw Iris turn around and look between the seats at her.
“Not only that, but I got him to buy a buffalo herd and we started selling buffalo meat long before it was popular. That meat is low in cholesterol and lean. Right now, I make five million dollars a year selling our clean beef and buffalo meat to restaurants all over the U.S. We’ve made a name for ourselves and my husband and me did it all.” She scowled. “And stupid Allison kept whining that we were throwing good money after bad as we made the switch. She kept filling Rudd’s head with dire predictions that no restaurant owner in his or her right mind would ever buy our clean beef. She’d be snarky at the dinner table and ask who would ever buy buffalo meat?” Chuckling darkly, Iris said, “Allison is the kind of person who tells you what you can’t do. Not what you can do.”
“I see…”
Waving her hand, Iris said, “Anyway, the Elkhorn is known for its clean beef and buffalo meat. Then, I told Trevor ten years ago to start a dude ranch. I saw so many American families losing touch with the earth. If we can’t get these families and especially the children back and connected to her, we’re going to kill this planet. My dude-ranch idea was not just the normal hayrides and trail-riding, but also providing lots of fun things for the kids to do with nature. For example, we just harvested about twenty thousand acres of timber. We have our own mill and we sell the wood to suppliers. Children can choose to go with the wranglers assigned to replanting the hills with new pine-tree babies. We teach them that everything has to be sustainable. We care for the land and we take, but we give back. Those are Native American attributes and we teach them that.”
“I love the idea,” Kam said, meaning it. She saw the liveliness in Iris’s eyes and heard the passion in her husky voice. Truly, she was the matriarch of the ranch in more than one way. “Kids do need to be reconnected with the earth. Especially city children.”
“Yes, and I developed a program—despite Allison’s objections—to pay for inner-city children from all over this country to come here, free of charge, for seven days to work with us and the land. I got several corporate sponsors to pay for their flights and we pick ’em up at the Jackson Hole airport and truck them out here. These are children of all colors and from all backgrounds, all poor, who have never seen a horse, much less a buffalo or a herd of cattle. We spend a lot of time teaching them about nature and how to live in harmony with it. My husband, bless him, had faith in me and my Sight. He backed me every time. We were a good team…” Her voice trailed off in sadness.
“How long ago did your husband leave you?” Kam asked her gently.
“Five years ago. He was too young to die. Allison drove him to it,” she said bitterly. “She hated us. Rudd had the damned bad luck of falling for her Hollywood starlet background and married her on impulse. When he brought her home to the Elkhorn, she hated it and us.”
“That’s so sad,” Kam said, noting the agony in Iris’s eyes and face. “Surely Allison has adjusted to life at the ranch now?” Kam tilted her head and searched Iris’s angry features.
“Humph. Never. She doesn’t even try,” Iris stated flatly. “Oh, you’ll meet her soon enough. Tonight at dinner I’m sure she’ll be in fine form. You’re new meat to brainwash.”
“What do you mean?”
“Allison runs Rudd. She’s the queen bee. Or she thinks she is. She forgets who I am. I still own the ranch.” Her lips flattened. “Which is why Allison keeps trying to have a doctor and a judge rule me mentally incompetent. Once I had that mild stroke, she became obsessed with having me taken down.”
Frowning, Kam said, “What do you mean taken down?”
“Trevor left the ranch to me in his will. If I’m ruled incompetent and need a power of attorney—that’s Rudd—then the ownership is transferred to him and Allison. I know her. The bitch wants to dismantle and destroy everything that Trevor and I did to build this ranch into what it is today. She’ll sell it off. She keeps nagging at Rudd to get me to sell off five thousand acres so a developer can come in and set up condos. She keeps telling him that we’ll make millions. But we make millions now, the right way. I told her I don’t want a bunch of condos on our ranch. It will pollute the water system. I don’t want more people out here. If I wanted city life, I’d have moved to the city. I don’t want five thousand people on one-acre lots to deal with. But Allison is riding Rudd about this all the time. Any opportunity she gets, she sticks it to me about the development.”
“But she can’t do anything about it because you own the ranch, right?” Kam said.
Iris gave her a triumphant look. “That’s right, dearie. As long as the ranch is in my name, and I’m alive and kicking, I can keep the vision for this ranch alive and viable. The day I die, this ranch is going to hell in a handbasket because Allison runs Rudd. He can’t say no to her and gives her anything she wants. Never mind her two spoiled children, my grandchildren. Humph!”
Kam sat back digesting all the information. Clearly, she had walked into a hornet’s nest. Iris turned around as Wes shut the back of the SUV. The look he gave Kam was warm and inviting. The slight smile on his mouth made her go hot with longing once more. And then, as quick as the look was there, it was gone.
They drove back to the ranch, and Kam began to dread the family dinner tonight. What would happen next?
CHAPTER FOUR
IRIS OFFICIALLY DECIDED to hire Kam as her caregiver. It was a relief. Kam had overcome one obstacle, one of many. The tension leading up to the family dinner became her focus. Her upbringing as a Trayhern hadn’t prepared her for this family, which seemed built on politics, intrigue and power struggles. Where was the love between them?
Kam sat at Iris’s elbow while Rudd was at the head. The rectangular maple table was covered with an old-fashioned hand-crocheted white cloth across its gleaming surface. Hazel, their chef, had her assistant, Becky Long, a smiling young woman, help serve the meal. The plates were blue and white and Iris told Kam that she and Trevor had bought them shortly after their wedding. They were used to this day, a sign of her love for him.
Above the table hung a massive elkhorn display with lights. No matter where she looked, there were elkhorn tables, chairs and lamps. Soft classical music, the same kind that her mother Laura loved, played softly in the background. That was Iris’s doing, too. She proudly informed Kam that at one time, she’d played classical piano. After trying to break a horse, she’d broken her hand and had suffered a fracture that prevented her from going on to a career in piano. Kam wondered how such things would steer a person’s life. If not for the finger fracture, Iris would have never stayed in the Wyoming area to meet Trevor several months later. They had met, fallen in love and begun this ranching empire. Kam’s respect for the elder Mason grew by the hour as Iris let her into her inner world of business and personal information.
The crystal water and wineglasses were old and hand-cut. Kam felt as if she’d stepped back into the 1870s of Western America. It was comforting to her in one way because she loved antiques. The rug on the blond oak floor beneath the massive table was from Turkey, Iris had told her. It had been bought by Trevor on a business trip to the Middle East shortly after their were married.
Everything that Kam could see had a history. Had importance to the Mason family. Her heart swelled with incredible emotion as she sat with her hands in her lap quietly waiting for the rest of the family. There were three empty chairs. Becky stood near the kitchen door, a frown on her round face.
Rudd kept looking up from his place at the head of the table toward the entrance.
Kam could see annoyance in his features although she suspected that he was trying to hide it. Iris, however, was not so cloaked.
“I’m eating, Rudd. I’m hungry.” Iris took a soft, warm sourdough biscuit from the basket at the center of the table. “If they can’t be on time, I’m not waiting for them!”
Giving her a pained look, Rudd said nothing. He tried to smile but failed. “Kamaria, if you want to start eating, go right ahead. Sometimes, my family arrives late. We don’t want the food to go cold.”
Kam nodded and took a biscuit. She slathered butter, hand-churned from their dairy-cow herd, across the fragrant, steaming surface. Iris proudly told her they had sourdough starter a hundred years old. Kam knew her mother Laura just loved baking with sourdough starter. She made a mental note to ask for a jar of it and transport it back to Laura, who would be thrilled.
“Starting without us?”
Kam looked up at the dripping, husky voice at the entrance. A woman in her mid-forties, her hair dyed blond, stood there with her hands resting imperiously on her thick hips. She was dressed like a Hollywood goddess, Kam thought as she put the biscuit down on her plate. This had to be Allison Dubois-Mason. She was short and shapely, her breasts as ample as her hips and thin-waisted. She had the coveted hourglass figure from a bygone era. Her blond hair was coifed and swept up on her head and glittering diamond earrings and necklace set it all off. Her green eyes were heavily made up and Kam thought the false eyelashes looked more like caterpillars crawling across them. Her rouge was too bright, making her resemble one of those Kewpie dolls at carnivals.
“Come in,” Rudd said, standing. He moved around to the chair at the opposite end of the table. Pulling it out, he waited for his wife to approach. “Allison, I want you to meet Kamaria Trayhern. We’ve just hired her as caregiver to Iris. Kamaria, this is my wife, Allison.”
Kam nodded in the woman’s direction. She walked like a queen gliding down an invisible red carpet. The dress she wore was out of place for this rugged Western setting. It was a ball gown made of gleaming gold silk that showed off her considerable cleavage and swathed around her ankles. Her heels were a good three inches high and Kam winced inwardly. The woman obviously didn’t care about her feet.
Kam felt the glare from the mascara-framed green eyes. It was not a welcoming gaze at all and her gut tightened.
Halting at the chair, Allison flashed daggers at Rudd.
“And just what is she doing at our table? Hired help does not eat with us. Ever.”
The venom seemed to drip from her mouth like acid. Kam started to rise.
Iris clamped a hand over her arm and stopped her.
“Stay right where you are, Kam,” Iris growled. And then, the senior shot a poisonous look at her daughter-in-law. “Since when do you care who sits at this table, Allison? On most nights, we wait a half hour for you to appear. Your children never show up. Regan’s too busy to sit down with us, and Zach has his head in computer games. So don’t go getting high and mighty saying who can or can’t be at our dinner table.”
Laughing liltingly, Allison waved her bejeweled hand toward Iris. She batted her eyes at Rudd and smiled. “And here I thought you were the boss, Rudd.” She sat down with aplomb and Rudd pushed the chair toward the table.
Iris glared at Allison. “Maybe you need reminding that I’m the owner of this ranch, Allison, and I’m not dead yet. Until I am, I’m the one who decides who will have dinner with us or not. Rudd has nothing to say about this and you know it.”
Allison took her white linen napkin and smiled fully. Becky came over and poured her some red wine. “Oh, you never allow me to forget that you’re the boss, Iris.”
Kam watched the maid pour the red wine and thought that blood had been drawn symbolically between Iris, the matriarch, and Allison, the upstart. What a group! She couldn’t believe the rage behind the words of the two women. It made her evening meals with her parents in Montana look alien in comparison to this family.
Iris said nothing. Becky gave her a pained look.
“Miss Iris? Should I serve dinner? Or wait?”
Iris addressed Allison. “Are Zach and Regan comin’ or not?”
Shrugging, Allison said, “They’re busy.”
“Would have been nice to let Hazel and Becky know ahead of time,” Iris growled. “They aren’t slaves to do our bidding around here.”
Kam couldn’t believe the drama around Allison. Gulping, she realized that if Rudd was her father, this woman was her stepmother. Not exactly a great package. And nothing like Laura, who was the epitome of grace, good manners and kindness. Kam searched the woman’s heavily made-up oval face to see if she could find generosity or kindness. She could not.
“Please serve the meal,” Rudd requested of Becky. “And thank Hazel in advance for her help in makin’ our dinner.”
Kam found Rudd’s sensitivity toward others positive. Becky rushed out of the room, through the swinging oak door. Shortly, she came back with squash soup, which smelled wonderful.
“Now this,” Iris told her, pointing to the yellow soup in front of her, “is from my garden last year, Kamaria. Hubbard squash from last fall’s crop. The best squash in the world to give a nutlike flavor to soup. Hazel always puts on bacon bits and tops it with a tad of sour cream. Makes for a wonderful beginning to our meal.”
Kam waited until Rudd picked up his soupspoon and then she followed suit. “Are you going to plant Hubbard squash in your garden this year?” she asked Iris. The soup tasted heavenly. The salty bacon enhanced the nutty flavor of the squash. The sour cream melted and swirled in the golden contents and reminded her of an abstract painting. It was a beautiful presentation.
“Absolutely,” Iris gushed, excitement in her voice. “In fact, I’m going to add another squash this year, a Lakota squash. This kind has orange and green vertical stripes. Some of my friends tell me it has the same firm consistency as Hubbard. You need a good, meaty flesh for a good squash soup.”
“Good to know,” Kam said, finishing off her soup. She glanced over at Allison who seemed bored, her soup untouched.
“Just because Ms. Trayhern is here you trotted out your squash soup. You know I hate squash, Iris,” Allison said defiantly.
Rudd sighed. “Allison, Hazel always cooks one soup a day and you know that. And we have squash soup at least once every two weeks.”
Kam could feel Rudd’s concern that his wife’s petulance would ruin the festive atmosphere. Iris slurped down the soup with relish and seemed content, her appetite clearly in place. Kam felt she had to speak up. “I thought the soup was wonderful, Becky. Thank Hazel for me. I’d love to get this recipe.” She almost added that her mother would love to have it. She certainly didn’t want them to get entangled in her family background. At least not until the time was right.
“Thank you, Kamaria,” Becky said, adroitly moving around the table and removing soup bowls. “Hazel loves to have feedback on her meals. She wants to make people smile over her creations.”
Iris smacked her lips, drank a bit of her red wine and patted her mouth with the white linen napkin. “Now, that’s a great start to a great meal, Kamaria. You see? Food like this is a special treat and I can see you appreciate it.”
“I do,” Kam said. “At home, my mother uses all the veggies from her garden to cook with, too.”
“Oh,” Allison groaned, shooting a look at Kam. “Don’t tell me you’re into gardening, too?”
“Yes, ma’am, I am.” Kam felt the only way to deal with Allison, who wanted to be queen bee, was to treat her with respect.
Allison sighed. “Well, Iris, this will be your first caregiver who loves gardening.” Then she looked at Kam. “You know, every caregiver we’ve hired has left a month after arriving here.”
Iris gave Allison a narrow-eyed look. “And I wonder why?”
Kam felt the tension sizzle between the two women.
“No, Iris,” Rudd rumbled, “let’s not go there. I want a peaceful meal for once. Kamaria is our guest. Can we table some of our conversations at least for tonight?”
Kam saw the faces of the three players. Iris looked incensed. Allison became smug. Rudd appeared frazzled, as if playing the referee between two boxers. Of course, with the dissension here between Allison and Iris, Kam could see how the family dynamic drove off previous employees.
Becky brought out a small garden salad drizzled with buttermilk dressing. The portions were small and she was glad.
“I’m leaving for L.A. tomorrow, Rudd. My friends are throwing a party at the Beverly Hills Hotel and they want me to attend.” Allison smoothed her hair and affected a matter-of-fact tone. “I’ll be gone for five days.”
Rudd nodded and handed Becky his emptied salad bowl. “Is Regan going along?”
“Probably. She hasn’t made up her mind yet. You know she has that Goth boyfriend in Jackson Hole.” She smirked. “I’m trying to pull her away from that slovenly thing. I checked on him and his parents are truckers. Trash, Rudd. Regan needs to understand she has to get into her own class and not go to the belly of the whale for friends or relationships. It’s so frustrating!”
Kam glanced over to Iris, who shook her head in dismay.
“No one is trash, Allison,” Iris shot back. “Classism didn’t build this ranch, you know. A lot of people worked untold hours. Truckers are very important people to us. And I’ve found them to be more than honorable folks. Charlie and Rose Burger do a lot for the poor of that town. He’s with the Elks and she’s with the Soroptomist Club. They raise a lot of money for the needy. I don’t see them bein’ called trash by the likes of you.”
Kam gritted her teeth and stared down at her salad bowl. Did they spar like this at every meal? Iris took no prisoners, but then, Allison seem to delight in dropping bombs to goad the old woman. Conversation like this was murderous to sit through, Kam decided.
“Regan’s boyfriend, Justin, is a good enough boy,” Rudd said. “He’s hard-working, Allison. Charlie and Rose raised him right.”
Allison sniffed. “I just don’t want our daughter hanging around with the likes of him. She’s better than that. I’m hoping she’ll meet an actor to marry.”
Iris snickered. “Oh, yeah, that’s right—marry an egotistical monster who can’t do without bright lights, fawning people and a bunch of hangers-on. Right.”
Allison glared at Iris, then looked down the table at Rudd, as if to say silently that he should protect her from his mother’s acidic comments.
Rudd did nothing but scowl, and spread butter across a warm biscuit.
Kam remained silent. How lucky she had been to have Morgan and Laura as parents! Their dinner table was full of lively conversation, searching talks, excitement about things each family member was doing—never this kind of nastiness. First of all, they would not have allowed these types of personal attacks at the dinner table. Secondly, this was a place to meet and talk and catch up on what everyone else was doing. She wiped her mouth with the linen napkin and thanked Becky as she came by to pick up the bowl.
“Hollywood is much more than that, Iris,” Allison sniffed. She saw Becky coming with the main course and halted her tirade.
A delicious stew was placed in front of Kam, along with some freshly steamed asparagus bathed in cheese sauce.
“Now, Kamaria, this is our own buffalo meat,” Iris crowed proudly. She swept her hand down toward her plate. “Do you know I’ve got a Web site where we sell our bison products? Allison said going online was a bust but I proved her wrong,” Iris gloated and grinned over at Allison, who pointedly ignored her. “We make five hundred thousand dollars a year off Internet orders from folks around the world. Isn’t that something? I might be old, but I sure like the gizmos we have at our disposal for marketing and advertising on the Net. You on the Net at all?”
Smiling, Kam swallowed her food. “Yes, I am. I’d love to see what you’ve done with your Web site, Iris.”
“My geek guy, Tom Courtland, takes care of my server in Jackson Hole. He’s a peach. I give him fresh veggies and fruit from our orchard every year. Of course, he’s well paid for what he does and he’s endlessly creative. I’ve asked Tom to bring a computer into your suite tomorrow. Then you and I can have some fun.”
Kam warmed to Iris even more. She was passionate, unafraid to try out new things and was obviously inventive in her businesses. “I’d love to sit down with you, Iris.”
“She’s the geek in our family,” Rudd said, smiling. “I don’t care for the darned things. Never could warm up to them. Can’t hardly use my cell phone, but I’m forced to in today’s world.”
Kam understood his complaint. “A lot of people are turned off by computers.”
“It’s the e-mails,” Rudd complained.
“Well, I told you to hire an office assistant who could field all the e-mail requests for information on our dude ranch,” Iris chastised him. “But you won’t do it. Sometimes I think you like to be miserable, Rudd. Just getting a young person in there for at least the summer dude-ranch time to help you seems like a better way to go. Instead, you sit in that office fuming and cursing under your breath as you use two fingers to try and type out a message.”
Kam tried to squelch her chuckle but couldn’t. “Hey, my sympathy is with Mr. Mason,” she teased Iris. “A lot of people are ham-handed when it comes to computers. Not that I’m a geek, but I practically grew up using a computer.”
Giggling, Iris nodded. “And some people just don’t want to learn new tricks. My son has a stubborn streak. One of these days when he’s bald after pulling out what’s left of his hair, he’ll see the wisdom of hiring an office assistant.”