Wyoming True - Diana Palmer Page 0,46
“Finish packing and we’ll be off,” he said softly.
“Okay.” She smiled. “Thanks, Jake. I’m not comfortable staying here by myself, but I’d never have asked you...”
“I know that,” he interrupted.
“But what about the rest of my horses?” she worried. “The part-timers go home at night.”
“I’ll take care of that. You just pack, okay?” he asked gently.
She smiled. “Okay.”
He took out his cell phone and called his foreman, who said he’d have a man out at Ida’s place within the hour, armed and ready.
* * *
IDA WENT SLOWLY back into the bedroom, puzzled by Jake’s odd behavior when she was talking to the investigator. He couldn’t possibly be jealous of him, of course. She felt a wave of pleasure wash over her as she processed the unlikely thought. No, she told herself firmly, he was only being kind. Of course.
She got together enough clothes for a few days and packed them in a suitcase. It was heavy.
She went out into the hall, grimacing as she walked. “Jake, can you get the bag for me?”
“Sure thing.” He glanced around the bedroom as he picked up the piece of luggage. No frills, nothing fancy at all. The room was spartan. There was a bed and a chest of drawers, a bedside table with a lamp, several throw rugs, and a vanity with a mirror and a little chair. Nothing else. Not even a picture on the wall.
“You live simply,” he remarked.
She shrugged. “I have paintings that I’d like to put up, but they need to be matted and framed first, and it’s a long way to Casper.”
His eyebrows arched.
“I can’t really drive that far,” she confessed. “And there’s no frame shop in Catelow.”
“I get it.” He led the way into the living room, noting that she’d retrieved her cane and was using it. Most likely bad weather was on the way. People with joint injuries had a lot of pain just before a low-pressure system moved in.
“Can you make it all right?” he asked, concerned.
“I’m doing fine,” she lied. The ibuprofen was wearing off. She stopped. “Jake, my ibuprofen is in the cabinet in my bathroom...”
He put down the suitcase and went to get it. The medicine cabinet had Band-Aids, antibiotic cream and ibuprofen. He palmed the bottle. “No toothbrush?” he asked when he rejoined her.
She laughed. “Packed,” she said, indicating the luggage.
On his way back he noticed a box, open, with leads in it. “What the hell is this?” he asked.
“It’s my TENS unit,” she said.
“Come again?”
“It has electrodes. You put them where the pain is and turn on the power. It pulses electric shocks into the muscle to help relax it. Works pretty good, but it’s uncomfortable to wear.”
He smiled. “You learn something new every day,” he chuckled.
“So you do.” She smiled back.
“Okay. If that’s the lot, let’s go.”
He led her out the door and she locked up.
The driver, Fred, was standing at the back seat of the limousine with the door open, smiling at them. “Everything okay?” he asked. “I hope they get the person who hurt your cat, miss,” he added. “I have cats of my own.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
Jake put her inside and climbed in behind her.
* * *
HIS RANCH WAS BIG. The limo drove down a paved driveway with white fences on either side of it. Even at night, it was impressive. The house sat far back off the highway in a grove of aspens and cottonwood trees. It was yellow brick with graceful arches and a lot of black wrought iron trim. There were two balconies. On either side of the house were what looked like flower gardens.
“It must be gorgeous here in the spring,” she said as he helped her out of the car. “My goodness, it looks like it should be in Texas or Arizona...”
He chuckled. “It’s called Spanish House locally,” he told her, watching his driver get her bag out of the boot. “My grandfather was married to a Spanish lady. She was related to most of the royal houses of Europe, although her family shunned her when she came to the wilds of Wyoming to live on a poor cattle ranch. She was my mother’s mother. My grandfather remodeled the house for her after some stocks he’d invested in made a huge profit. It was the only time he had money, but he never regretted spending it. He loved my grandmother to the end of his days. So did I,” he added curtly, pushing back emotion. “When she died, my mother inherited a