Page 52 of Wyoming True

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.

HISRANCHWASBIG. 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 great deal of money and property. My father was dead by then.”

“It’s lovely,” Ida said. “Are there flowers in the spring?”

“Oceans of them,” he replied. “My mother loved them.” He made a face. “My father mowed down every one of them, every single spring. I replaced them when he was finally gone, and it was just my mother and me. I’ve kept them just the way she left them.”

“What a terrible man,” she said.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he returned.

The driver opened the door, and Jake led her gently down the cobblestone path that led to the front door.

She was unwieldly on the uneven surface, depending on the cane to get her safely through what felt like a maze as she avoided the more prominent stones.

Jake looked back and realized belatedly how difficult it was for her.

“Here,” he said, taking her cane and tossing it to the limo driver, who caught it neatly in the air.

Jake swung Ida up in his arms and carried her to the door, which was opened by his little housekeeper, Maude Barton.

She smiled at Jake and nodded curtly at Ida.

“I’ve brought Mrs. Merridan home with me for a few days, Mrs. Barton,” he said. “Is the bed in the guest bedroom made up?”

“Yes, sir,” was the guarded reply.

Ida sighed. Apparently, her reputation had preceded her. She just smiled sadly at the older woman as Jake turned and carried her back down the hallway to an open door.

Beyond it was the sort of luxury she’d become accustomed to over the years. The guest room was done in soft pastels, peach and beige, with powder-blue walls and a matching carpet. The bed, king-size, was covered with a patterned blue-and-beige duvet.

“It’s beautiful,” she said quietly as Jake put her back on her feet.

“I’m glad you like it. Why don’t you lie down for a bit, while I go over some paperwork and talk to my stock manager?”

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