Page 2 of Wannabe in Wyoming
Howard opened the screen door and pushed open the, in fact, unlocked front door. Stale air wafted out into her face in an unpleasant rush, and she turned her head to get one last breath of fresh air before entering. “If there is, I wouldn’t know the first thing about using it. I’ve never fired a gun in my life.”
Stepping inside, Howard peeked behind the door, and sure enough, he lifted up and showed her a shotgun, painted a garish camo. “This is decent enough for home defense and has the bonus of being useful for the occasional critter.”
Willow froze and gaped at him. “Critter? Um, could you, maybe, be more specific?”
“Raccoons, coyotes, and the like. If they wander too close to the house or barn, you can chase them off with this. You can also use it to kill a rattler if need be.” He set the shotgun back where he’d gotten it from. “But until you learn how to properly and safely use a firearm, I’d strongly suggest banging loudly on a pot with a spoon for the ’coons and coyotes and using a shovel to take care of the rattlers. We wouldn’t want any accidents, especially not all the way out here. The clinic in town isn’t exactly equipped to handle gunshot wounds.”
Horrified at the thought of doing battle with a rattlesnake, or any other animal for that matter, she blinked several times before simply saying, “Noted.”
She followed the lawyer into the house, ignoring the stagnant smell of the place. Dust coated every surface in a thick grey blanket. Some of the furniture had been covered with sheets, but she wasn’t about to lift them off until she got some windows opened. The living room was typical, about what she’d expected from a life-long bachelor. Her upper lip twitched when she spotted two deer heads hanging on one wall. A very old grandfather clock, that’d apparently stopped working at some point, and a creepy painting of some old dude, whose eyes seemed to follow Willow as she moved about the room, completed the simple and unappealing décor. The portrait hanging above the fireplace mantle couldn’t be her father, since he’d only been fifty-six when he passed away, and the gray-haired person looked to be around seventy-five or eighty.
She’d keep the clock, if it could be repaired, but the rest of that stuffhadto go. “I think I’ll need to rent a dumpster or something, if I’m going to stay here for any length of time.”
Howard nodded as if he agreed with her. “I can recommend someone for that, and if you need help hauling stuff, there are always a few guys around town looking to pick up some extra work on the side.”
“Can you leave me a list of numbers or something?”
“Sure. Let’s go into the kitchen and get those papers signed too, and then I can get out of your hair.”
The kitchen was in a similar state of filth and disarray. Dated appliances and stained countertops greeted them. She’d never seen a fridge in that shade of puke green in real life before, having only seen ones like it in the movies. She shuddered at the thought of what it might contain. When Howard flipped a switch on the wall and an overhead light illuminated the room that was shaded from the mid-day sun, she was grateful to realize the electricity was on. Hopefully, that meant cleaning out the refrigerator wouldn’t require a HazMat suit.
Howard pulled the sheet off the table, and a cloud of dust flew into the air around them. “Whoops. Sorry about that.”
Coughing and waving a hand in front of her face, Willow crossed the kitchen, pulled open a sliding doorthatwas also unlocked, and peeked out. There was a small deck that looked newer than its front counterpart and in decent shape at least. With a gentle breeze wafting in, the air in the kitchen soon began to clear, and they took a seat at the small rickety table. As Howard opened his briefcase and pulled out a folder, thick with papers, the mental list Willow had started of things she would need to replace was getting longer by the minute. A lot of it would need to be taken care of whether she sold the house or not, especially if she wanted to get a decent price for it. The only things she had going for her were that she lived alone and was used to not having much. The living room and kitchen of this house alone was bigger than her apartment in Philly.
Howard got right down to business. “The will is pretty straight forward. Your father left you this house, the surrounding land, twelve-hundred acres, and all his assets. You’re his only living heir. The estate includes the remaining twenty head of cattle and two horses Jason owned at the time of his death, which are being temporarily cared for at the neighboring JP Ranch. I also have an offer for their purchase from Jeremiah Urban, who owns the JP. If you don’t wish to sell them, he’ll transport them back here for you when you’re ready for them. Personally, I’d recommend selling them to him. This place isn’t in good enough shape to house, care, and feed one cow let alone twenty steers and a couple of horses, if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Is his price fair? I know the difference between a cow and a heifer, a steer and a bull, but that’s the extent of my knowledge.”
He nodded. “Yes, his price is more than fair. Especially considering he’s been caring for them along with his own herd for some time now, even before your father’s death. If you need me to, I can have my paralegal do some quick research and show you the current market value, so you can compare them to his offer.”
She appreciated that he didn’t seem to want her to get stiffed due to the fact she had no idea what the cattle and horses were worth. “Okay, yes, that’s fine—thank you. Does he need to meet with me?” She lifted her elbows off the table where they’d been resting, grimacing as they stuck slightly to the surface. “And I’m going to need some directions to the nearest furniture store and grocery store.” She waved a hand, gesturing around the room. “Do these appliances even work?”
“I think so, although the stove and washer/dryer in the mud room might be unplugged. I also have the number for a local, reputable contractor who can come out and give you an estimate on the repairs to the house.”
“Thanks. Looks like I’m going to spend a good part of tomorrow on the phone.”
He chuckled lightly. “Probably. Let’s get these forms taken care of, and I’ll leave you to it.” Flipping open the folder, he handed her a pen and showed her where to start signing her name or initials.
Twenty minutes later, she stood alone in the filthy living room of her new house, a folder of documents clutched in her hand, including a long list of names and phone numbers for services she’d be needing. First things first though, she needed to check the place out and make a list of what she’d need at the store. The line of zeros in her new bank account gave her a sense of freedom she’d never had before. It wasn’t to the point she’d never have to work again, but she was still in shock over the windfall. What a novelty, not worrying about paying rent or waiting for her next paycheck to roll around so she could buy food for the week. She glanced around, trying to decide if she should sell the place or keep it. She wasn’t sure and wouldn’t rush to make a decision either way.
“What the hell have I gotten myself into?” Jerking open curtains and windows, she got to work.
Chapter Two
With a massive grocerylist in hand, Willow headed into town in her father’s late-model, Ford F-350. It was in much better condition than her Chevy and had a full tank of gas. She’d found the keys to it hanging on a hook by the front door and saw no reason why she shouldn’t make use of the nicer vehicle. She slightly hated that it was a Ford, but she wasn’t about to argue with a free truck, even if she cringed a little when she started it the first time. After driving Chevys all her life, it felt like a betrayal to drive anything else, especially something from their biggest competitor.
Her first stop was the cemetery behind the local Protestant church, where Howard had said her father's grave was. For some strange reason, Jason had demanded he be buried without a public funeral and before Willow had been notified of his death. Apparently, he’d paid the church and a funeral home for the grave and their services several years ago. On one hand, she was grateful she hadn’t had to plan a funeral and a burial for a man she’d never met, but on the other hand, she was kind of peeved he hadn’t wanted anything to do with her, even in death. It made her wonder why he’d left her his estate instead of donating it to a charity or something. If he had, she would’ve spent the rest of her life never knowing who he was.
It didn’t take her long to find the fresh grave with a small marker bearing her father’s name, the dates of his birth and death, and the name of the funeral home who’d taken care of the burial. No flowers or mementos had been left on his final resting place, like many of the others around it, and Willow was surprised to feel regret about not bringing anything. The grave was also one of only a few without a headstone, and she wondered if that was something else her father had pre-arranged. She remembered from when she’d interred her mother in a mausoleum at a cemetery that she’d been told it was common to wait a full year before erecting a stone or plaque in memory of a loved one.
Pulling out her phone, she made a note to contact the funeral home and find out if a headstone had been paid for yet. If not, she would arrange to have one made, since it was the least she could do after her father had left her everything he’d owned.
After paying her respects, her next stop was the bank Jason had used. Thankfully, Howard had been nice enough to inform the manager she’d be in today to fill out some forms, order new checks, and get a new debit card connected to the accounts she’d inherited. She’d found her father’s wallet in what had obviously been his bedroom, but the two credit cards and one bank card in it were obviously in his name. Howard had given her copies of her father’s death certificate and some paperwork saying she had power of attorney to deal with any accounts her father still had open at the time of his death. The ranch had only a moderate mortgage still left on it, which she could easily make payments on for the foreseeable future, and he hadn’t left any other outstanding debts, for which she’d been grateful. One less thing to take care of.
Aside from the funny looks she’d gotten from the bank manager, clerks, and a few customers, the errand had been quick and relatively painless. It was evident she was going to stick out like a sore thumb in this tiny town, and she got the feeling that wasn’t going to be a good thing.
She crossed the street to the grocery store where she’d parked her car earlier and grabbed a cart. She couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the name of the place. The Pack & Sack was apparently Antelope Rock’s only supermarket—if you could even call it that. There was nothing “super” about it, considering it was about one-third the size of the Wegmans Willow used to shop at in Philadelphia. However, Howard had assured her they would carry some of what she needed to get started on the housecleaning, and she could get a few more things at Ducky’s Feed & Supply store up the street. Anything else would have to wait for a trip to the nearest Walmart which was about a forty-minute drive away in Ferndale.
