Page 43 of Wyoming Tough

He finished his salad. “I’d be lynched,” he mused. “Everybody’s crazy about her. Even old Mavie, who hates most people.” It made him feel an odd sense of pride that the people who worked for him valued Morie. He didn’t know why.

Gelly’s blue eyes glittered. “She’s going to cause big trouble if you let her stay. You already told me what happened with your brothers when she started playing that piano. How did she learn, do you think? Maybe she played piano in a bar,” she suggested with just the right note of suspicion. “What do you really know about her? You should check her out. You really should. I’ll bet she has a really terrible background.”

“I wonder,” he said. It was their policy to check out new hires, and he had. But the detective had run into a stone wall about her family background. She seemed to be without any family in Wyoming. But his investigation had noted that she’d worked for two other ranches and had glowing recommendations from the owners. He couldn’t have known that Morie had provided those references deliberately and made sure the people involved were coached in what information to give out. She’d hoped the detective would do only a surface scan and not use her social-security number to derive damaging information. But, then, the privacy laws would prevent most of that incursion without proof of criminal intent. And she’d never broken the law. She didn’t even have a parking or speeding ticket to her name.

“I think she’s trying to trick you into having a relationship with her,” Gelly suggested. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She wants you.” She leaned forward earnestly. “She would love to be pregnant. You’d have to support her and the child or she’d go to the authorities. Maybe even the television stations! What a pathetic picture she could paint, about being victimized by her boss!”

He took that with a grain of salt. But what Gelly said made sense, especially in light of his last, urgent moment with her, the hired help. He felt shamed by his lack of control, and he was still suspicious about Morie’s whispered desire for a child.

Gelly saw his indecision. She would have to act. The woman was getting to Mal, and she was going to lose him if she didn’t get her off the place. She had plans, big plans, for Mal and this ranch. All she needed was a little more time. She had a friend who wanted to make a huge development on land Mal owned. She was being cut in for a small fortune. All she had to do was ease Mal into a nice relationship and then convince him to give up those few worthless acres to her for a pittance. After all, it was scrubland; he didn’t even run cattle on it. Her friend had connections to the gas industry and he wanted the land for fracking, to drill through shale deposits to force oil to the surface. He’d checked out geological surveys, and that land was rich in oil and gas deposits, worth a fortune, in fact!

It was a controversial technique that had, on occasion, polluted local water tables to the extent that water could be set on fire with a match, because of the gas that infiltrated the water. But that wasn’t Gelly’s concern; she only wanted the kick-back she was promised. It would be formidable. Then she could buy anything she wanted, instead of wearing things from a consignment shop. Fortunately for her, the brothers knew nothing about fashion and didn’t realize that she was only pretending the sophistication they saw. She had other plans, even bigger ones, once she cajoled Mal into marrying her. That would take more time. But Morie was a threat and she had to be removed.

It would be easy enough. Mal already distrusted the new hire, and Morie was as dim as a low-battery flashlight. All Gelly had to do was play up to one of the young cowboys who liked her and watched her whenever she was around. A few sweet words, a few kisses, and he’d do whatever she asked. She’d already gained his confidence, pretended affection and concern for him, brought him presents. Little presents, cheap ones, like a ring with his initials on it. But they did the trick. She could use him to help her.

Mal hated a thief more than anything. She smiled. It would be easy.

MORIE WAS HELPINGDARBYdoctor a sick bull. The bull didn’t want help and made his resistance obvious by trying to kick both of them.

“Come on, now, old fellow,” Darby said gently as he turned the bull around. “That sore place is infected, and it’s not going to get better without help. The vet said to put this on twice a day and we’re doing it, whether you like it or not!”

“He really doesn’t like that salve.” Morie chuckled. “Oof!” she exclaimed when he shifted and knocked her down into the hay.

“You okay?” Darby asked, worried.

“Sure, just winded.”

“Hey, Bates, come over here and help us!” he called to a young cowboy who’d just entered the barn.

“Sure thing,” he called. “Just let me put away this horse. Ms. Bruner went riding and I showed her some of the good paths.” He flushed, remembering how sweet that ride had been. “She’s a real nice lady.”

Darby and Morie gaped at him. He didn’t notice. He was still floating. Gelly had kissed him and whispered that she would do anything he liked if he would just do one little thing for her. All he had to do was place a priceless jeweled egg she’d taken from the Kirks’ living room in Morie’s rucksack. Such a small favor. She wasn’t going to get the girl in trouble; it had been Cane’s idea. It was a practical joke, nothing more…would he help? Of course he would!

He chatted to Morie as he helped them with the reluctant bull. Boy, was Miss Morie in for a surprise, he thought merrily. She was a good sport. He didn’t know why Cane wanted to play a trick on her, but then, he didn’t understand rich people and their senses of humor in the first place.

“Thanks, Bates,” Darby told him when they were finished. “You’re a good man.”

“No problem,” he replied. “I love ranch work, even the dirty bits.”

“Me, too,” Morie agreed, laughing. “It’s nice to be out in the open and not to work a nine-to-five job shut up in an office somewhere.”

“That’s why I like it here so much.” Bates nodded. “Good land, fine cattle, nice people.”

“Lots of nice people,” Morie agreed, and smiled at Darby.

He returned her smile. “Okay, back to work. We’d better leave before Old Stomper here finds a way to corner us and kick us. Had that happen before. He sure hates being touched.”

“Old Stomper?” Morie questioned when Bates had gone back to the horses.

“He likes to step on cowboys,” he explained. “Broke a man’s foot during roundup.” He shook his head. “He’s one bad customer. But he’s the best breeding bull we’ve got, so he gets pampered.”

“That’s Kirk’s Ransom 428, isn’t he?” she wondered aloud.

His eyes almost popped. “Yes, how did you know?”

“I, uh, look at sales papers.” She faltered. “I recognized him from his conformation.”

Darby was speechless.

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