Shadows from the Past

CHAPTER THREE

“IRIS, I want you to meet Kamaria Trayhern.”

Kam smiled as she approached Iris Mason, who sat on a stool in front of her baker’s table. In her hand she held dark, rich soil that she was putting into a small clay pot. The woman was about five feet six inches tall with short silver hair that seem to glow around her head like a halo. Her blue eyes were lively and sharp. Kam could easily see the Native American features in her deeply wrinkled, copper-colored face.

“Hello, dearie,” she said, holding out a long, lean hand caked with soil.

Kam didn’t hesitate but grasped her hand. “Hello, Iris. Just call me Kam. What are you planting?”

Iris chuckled and released her hand. “Not afraid of a little dirt, are you?” Kam took in the woman’s dress. She wore a T-shirt covered with a white blouse and a very old denim jacket adorned with Indian beading on the back.

Rudd stood behind his mother, hands on his hips as the two women conversed.

Kam knew he watched and assessed their interaction. However, Iris was the one in charge. “I love gardening. Mr. Mason said you had a huge plot and I got excited. I grew up with one about half the size of yours in Montana.”

“Maybe we got lucky, son?” Iris quipped, looking up at him and grinning.

“I hope so, Iris,” Rudd rumbled good-naturedly.

Iris gave Kam a keen, long look. “Ever since my head decided to get slightly addled, my son has been trying to fix me up with a babysitter. I’ve chased all of ’em off. I’m only eighty-two and I’m not in diapers—yet.”

Chuckling, Kam enjoyed the feisty elder and hoped they were related. Iris was small but mighty. She kept putting soil in each of the six pots in front of her. Several packets of flower seeds sat on the table. “I hope you won’t see me as a babysitter, Iris. I’ll be here to help you when you need it. Otherwise, I’ll stay out of the way. How does that sound?”

“Oh, you mean you aren’t going to tail me around like a proverbial shadow, waiting for me to stroke out? You aren’t going to jaw me to death for not taking a high blood pressure pill? Complain that you’re outside too long with me in the garden? Whine about pulling weeds?”

Kam grinned. “No, ma’am, I won’t. I grew up in the wilds of the Rocky Mountains. My mother always had a huge garden and I loved weeding it. We froze and canned everything we grew. My mother believes in living organically off the land.”

“You’re a healthy-looking specimen, I’ll give you that,” Iris said, raising her thinned, arched silver brows. She twisted a look up at Rudd. “Since you insist upon me having a babysitter, this one looks hopeful compared to the others you’ve dragged kicking and screaming in here.”

Kam noted the relief on Rudd’s weathered features. He touched his handlebar and smoothed it between his thumb and index finger. “So you’ll give Kam a whirl, Iris?”

Shrugging, the old woman eyed Kam slyly and winked. “Oh, I might just do that, son. Why don’t you fetch Wes and let him know I need to go into Jackson Hole later for a few things from the feed and seed store? Kamaria can ride along and get used to my routines.”

Hands slipping off his hips, Rudd nodded. “I’ll do that, Iris.”

“I can get my bags. Just tell me where I’ll be staying,” she said to him.

“Oh, you’ll be right across the hall from me, Kamaria. A nice suite with a lovely bedroom,” Iris said. “I made the quilt you’ll see on your bed. And the curtains, too. The other room is an office and living room. I think you’ll like the suite,” Iris said.

“I’m sure I will.” Kam watched Iris open up the first packet of seeds. “After I get my bags in the suite, would you like me to come out here and help you?”

Iris shook her head. She looked at the watch on her thin right arm. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” Kam said, grateful for the woman’s consideration. “I ate before I drove out here.”

“Rudd, you need to tell Hazel that we have one more for dinner tonight.”

Kam saw his face go tight, his eyes flash with shock.

“Iris? You never wanted your caregiver to eat with the family before.”

“Well, I do now,” she snapped, giving her son a look of finality. Iris poked her finger into the soft soil and then dropped in two seeds and patted more soil over them.

“I’ll tell Hazel,” he said abruptly, then turned to Kam. “Come with me. I’ll show you where your quarters are located.”

Kam felt the tension between mother and son. One moment there was warmth and then, just as suddenly, it was as if a storm had arrived. Iris seemed to be smiling over some secret known only to her as she focused on her seed pots in front of her. Rudd appeared suddenly nervous and began to twist the ends of his handlebar. What was going on? There was no way to tell. She’d just have to wait and find out.

“Meet me out front at 2:00 p.m.,” Iris called to Kam. “Wes will take us into town. I can fill you in on a lot of things at that time.”

“Of course,” Kam murmured. She smiled at Iris, said goodbye for now and followed Rudd out of the large, airy greenhouse. The glass panels were set into a steel frame. Across the roof, thicker glass handled the snow’s weight during the winter. Some of the panes were louvered to allow fresh air into the area. Everywhere Kam looked small pots of young, green plants sat on every available space. Iris obviously started her garden in here early so she could get a leap ahead for the June planting time. Kam knew from experience living in the Rockies that the growing season was short. Iris was smart and got around that by starting her veggies in the greenhouse.

As she followed Rudd down the immaculately clean concrete floor toward the ranch house through a screen door, Kam smiled to herself. She liked Iris a lot. Her next adventure would be with this guy called Wes who was Iris’s driver. One by one, she was meeting the people who made this beautiful ranch what it was. In so many ways, Kam felt at home. The only question left to ask was whether this was her real father and grandmother—or not?

“HEY, SHERIDAN,” the ranch manager called at the opening to the main horse barn, “Mrs. Mason wants you at the main house.”

Wes was unsaddling his big gray gelding when he heard Chappy Andrews’s booming voice echo down the concrete walkway between the airy box stalls. Bolt, his ten-year-old gelding, a mix of quarter horse and Thoroughbred breeding, stood quietly in the cross ties in the center of the barn. Wes had just taken off the saddle, brushed him down and was getting ready to let him out into a nearby pasture filled with spring grass. Lifting his head, brush in hand, Wes called back, “Okay, I’ll be right there.”

What now? He’d seen that blue Toyota Prius hybrid come crawling down the hill. After working with a bunch of cows and newly born calves in the pasture, Wes was hurrying to grab a bite to eat before Hazel, the cook, refused to let him in the bunkhouse kitchen between meals. He’d galloped past the parked car but liked what he saw as the driver had emerged from it. Wes figured she was the next applicant for the caregiver’s job.

Unsnapping the ties from Bolt’s halter, Wes turned the tall, rangy gelding around and led him out the end of the barn. A small corral nearby, containing several cow horses, was used by the wranglers during the day. The sun was warm and felt good across his shoulders. Bolt whinnied anxiously to a group of horses who eagerly munched on newly sprouted grass.

Smiling, Wes opened the latch on the gate and released Bolt’s halter. The gelding galloped into the pasture, silver tail held high as he hurtled toward the small waiting group. Horses were herd-oriented animals, and Bolt would slow down and pretty soon have his nose to the ground munching away. Horse heaven. Wes grinned wider as he watched his favorite cow horse slow and then drop his long, thin neck to grab at the grass. If only his life was this simple. But it never had been for him.

After closing the gate, Wes took off his elkskin gloves and tucked them in his belt. He walked back to the barn to put his gear in the tack room, unbuckled his chaps and hauled them off from around his hips and legs. Even though Rudd Mason had four-wheel ATV vehicles to herd the cattle, Wes preferred being in a saddle with a good horse under him. And he was thankful that his boss gave him that choice.

Once he finished his duties in the barn, Wes knew that Iris wanted to go to town. She did every day unless the dude ranch was in session, and right now it wasn’t. He always enjoyed the crotchety old matriarch even though she was hated by Rudd’s entire family. Iris was not tactful nor was she tolerant of fools. Wes liked those attributes in her.

He took long strides across the graveled ground and resettled the tan cowboy hat on his head. He made sure his dark blue shirt was tucked neatly into the waist of his Levi’s. He kicked off the worst of the mud and crud his boots had picked up, wanting to look somewhat presentable. Iris didn’t like sloppy-looking cowboys working for the Elkhorn. He didn’t, either. Rudd might be the day-to-day boss running this huge operation, and Chappy was the field boss, but Iris was the actual owner and creator of this viable and robust ranch. At eighty-two, the matriarch was the brains of the operation despite what Rudd’s Hollywood wife might like to think.

As he took the steps up to the office, Wes removed his hat and kicked his boots on a hog-hair brush anchored to the porch. This kept most of the mud and dust and manure out of the house. Feeling happy for no discernible reason, Wes entered.

“There you are!”

Iris stood near the entrance to the sitting room opposite the office. She was dressed in her fringed buckskin jacket, a pair of cranberry slacks, a pink sweater and the beat-up straw hat that rarely left her head. It had a chunk missing from the brim where a horse had taken a chomp. Iris said it gave the hat character. He smiled and nodded.

“Hi, Iris. We going into Jackson today?”

“Yep, we are.” Iris motioned for him to come into the sitting room. “Come here, I want you to meet my latest babysitter.”

Wes moved into the large room, admiring the white lacy curtains on all the windows. The room was filled with turn-of-the-last-century oak furniture over a large and century-old oriental rug that covered part of the blond oak floor. And then he saw her.

This was the woman he’d noticed emerging from her car. Now, as he drowned in her large blue eyes, his heart thudded, underscoring how her beauty affected him. Her slightly wavy hair was short and black like a raven’s wing. Her oval face, high-set cheekbones and olive complexion made him think she might have some Indian blood. Even better, he liked her full lips that made him think of lush tulips in bloom.

“Wes Sheridan, meet Kamaria Trayhern,” Iris told him with a cackle.

Wes moved forward, his hand extended toward the tall, lean woman. She was dressed casually but tastefully in a dark brown pantsuit that emphasized her natural carriage, her head held high. “Hi, I’m Wes. Welcome to the Elkhorn Ranch, Ms. Trayhern.”

The moment his hand slid into hers, Wes felt his world had been rocked. Her hand was warm and firm. He saw her eyes widen momentarily and those soft, petal-like lips part. Yes, she was definitely eye candy.

“Call me Kamaria or Kam,” she responded a little breathlessly.

Reluctantly, Wes removed his hand from hers. “Kamaria? That’s an unusual name. What does it mean? Is it Native American?”

“No, it’s African,” Kam said. “My mother chose a Swahili name for me.”

Iris nodded, properly impressed. “Our family has plenty of Native American blood in it and we always gave our children meaningful names. So what does Kamaria mean in Swahili?”

With heat tunneling up into her face and two pairs of interested eyes on her, Kamaria said, “It means beautiful, like the moon.” She didn’t know why divulging this personal piece of information made her feel so vulnerable, but it did. Iris’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. And Wes seemed awed by the information.

“You are a pretty-looking little thing,” Iris agreed. She glanced over at Wes and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “You see, Wes? Here I thought she was Indian like us. The color of her skin? Her broad face and high cheekbones?”

Kam moved tensely. Iris was getting too close to her family situation, the fact she’d been adopted. Kam didn’t want to go there with them just yet. “How did you get your name, Iris?” Desperate, Kam shifted focus back to them and away from her. Right now, she felt like the proverbial bug under their collective microscope. And, if she was honest, she found Wes Sheridan devastatingly handsome. He was lean and just a little bit dangerous to her. There was no wedding ring on his left hand, either. Maybe it was his wide-spaced eyes, their gray depths and large black pupils that held her in thrall. Or, maybe it was his square, broad tan face that drew her. As her gaze flitted from his straight nose to his mouth, she felt hot and shaky inside. Few men had that kind of effect on her.

“Oh, I got named early on by my mother,” Iris told her. “I had a deep love of irises. And that’s how I received my name.” Iris motioned toward the east side of the ranch building. “I’ve got about fifty different types of irises planted out there. Pretty soon, they’ll be coming up and you’ll see.”

Wes smiled. “We have a standing joke around here, Kamaria. If it’s early June, we know where to find Iris—in the iris beds.”

Kam laughed politely, noticing more how Iris beamed up at the tall, athletic cowboy. The red bandanna around his throat only emphasized the proud breadth of his shoulders and the well-sprung chest beneath his blue canvas shirt. In his belt was a leather sheath with a knife, along with well-used leather gloves. Indeed, Wes Sheridan was a stud of a man. And she felt her body respond to him whether she wanted it to or not. Kam cautioned herself against relationships. Her only reason for being here was to find her father. Until that was settled, Kam couldn’t get involved.

“Let’s go, young ’uns.” Iris lifted her hand and shooed them out the door. “Wes, I need you to drop us off at the feed and seed store. I gotta get some items.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, going to open the front door for them. As he held the screen wide open, Iris went through first and then Kamaria followed. For a moment, Wes swore he could smell her feminine scent. Was she wearing perfume? She seemed like a no-frills type. There was a naturalness to Kamaria Trayhern that Wes liked a lot. Maybe too much. She seemed very confident in herself and he liked that, too. But she wasn’t pushy like his ex-wife, Carla, had been.

Releasing the door, Wes hurried down the steps to the white Chevy Suburban and opened the passenger door for Iris. He helped the woman negotiate the high climb into the front seat, and, once she was in, he opened the door behind for Kamaria.

“Thanks,” she said, climbing in. The inside of the cabin was warm and snug. Sunlight lancing through the darkened windows made it pleasant on the coolish May day. Kam watched Wes as he walked around to the driver’s seat and slid in. He had an unconscious grace, almost as if he were boneless. As Kam sat in the back, the vision of a wolf sitting on a rock watching the world came to her. Wes seemed as one with the land and moved with it naturally. If he was arrogant, it didn’t show. No, he was quite gentle toward Iris, and Kam sensed he liked the elderly lady. Iris liked him, that was for sure.

As Wes backed the big Suburban out of the parking area and headed up the dirt road to the main highway, Iris was constantly touching his arm and chatting away. The big, wide SUV negotiated the muddy tracks a lot better than her Prius had, but then, Kam told herself, the Prius was not an SUV. She bet this big hog of an SUV got very poor gas mileage in comparison to the fifty miles to the gallon her trusty Prius hybrid gave her.

In no time, they were in Jackson and parked at Hardy’s Feed and Seed Store. Iris climbed out with vigor from the Suburban before Wes could come around and open her door. Kam was out, too, and following Iris. The midafternoon was a tad warmer in the town, Kam noted. There were a number of ranchers in pickup trucks getting feed for their stock. It was a busy place.

“I need some peeps,” Iris told her as they walked down the creaky wooden floor between two aisles. “I’d told Chappy there was a sly ol’ red fox getting my hens. He needed to repair a tear I saw in the fence, but he didn’t assign a cowboy soon enough. That fox got in my henhouse and killed ten of my best girls.” She shook her head and made a right turn to the corner.

“That’s sad,” Kam said. “I hate to see anything killed.”

Iris grunted. She led Kam to the corner where heat lamps were suspended and about a hundred fluffy yellow baby chicks chirped away. “Listen, you live in the natural world with life and death. We’re all gonna die some day.” She stopped and placed her hands on top of the board that surrounded the area to keep the peeps warm and protected from any cooler breezes. There were plenty of feeders and water bowls for the young chicks.

Kam joined her and enjoyed the little babies. “I’ve seen life and death in Africa and Eurasia,” she said. “It’s still hard to accept.”

“At my age, you do because you don’t have a choice.” Iris chuckled as she eyed the milling chicks. “I come from tough stock. My grandmother lived to be a hundred. It’s the Indian blood in us. They knew not only how to live on the land, but how to care for it. We lost all these things when Columbus came here, the bastard.”

Laughing softly, Kam enjoyed Iris’s honesty. If this was her grandmother, Kam would love to have her in her life. Suddenly, she felt very lucky. Iris was a hoot. Wes was—well, damned good-looking, very quiet, introspective, but sensitive to the needs of others. And the romanticism of him being a hardworking cowboy didn’t hurt, either. Kam had always been drawn to men who challenged nature on a regular basis.

“How many peeps are you going to get, Iris?”

“Hmmm, probably thirty.” She looked up and pointed toward the office on the opposite side of the feed store. “Go get Susan, the office manager. She always helps us.”

Nodding, Kam walked toward the office. Most of the people in the store were rugged cowboys. The lifestyle in Wyoming seemed to keep everyone fit. There was plenty of walking, riding, fence-building and hay-moving. She spotted Wes over in the cattle feed section. He was taking down one-hundred-pound sacks of grain as if they were featherlight. He looked masculine and strong, and her heart fluttered again.

Tearing her gaze from him, she went into the office and found Susan. Together, they got the items for Iris to pick out her chicks.

Iris tittered indulgently as she chose her thirty peeps. Some weren’t as plump or as large as others, but Iris left the scrawnier ones behind and chose only the healthiest among them. This was a woman who missed nothing. Kam liked learning from Iris by simply watching her.

Kam put the box of chicks on the backseat beside her. Wes had the rear of the Suburban open and carried sacks of grain over his shoulder with ease. He could have slammed the grain sacks down on the floor of the SUV, but he didn’t. He saw Kam putting the box of chicks on the seat and gently placed the grain inside. Kam liked that about him.

“Don’t want to shake up the peeps?” she called, smiling at him. His face gleamed with sweat and it made his gray eyes look even more arresting. Flat black brows above them emphasized his large, dark pupils. His mouth twisted into a slight grin.

“Iris wouldn’t like her chicks upset by earthquakes,” he teased, meeting her gaze. Wes was having a helluva time keeping his eyes off Kamaria. The breeze had tousled her hair. Her cheeks were flushed and Wes liked the soft smile across her full lips. That was a mouth made for kissing and loving. Abruptly, Wes redirected the thought as he straightened, took off his hat and wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his arm. After a disastrous marriage to Carla, Wes didn’t want to tangle with another woman for a long time to come. And chances were Iris would dump Kamaria just like she did all the rest within a month. So, there was no reason to see Kamaria as anything other than a transient among the Mason family.

“Still,” Kam said, making sure the cardboard box was stable on the seat, “it’s nice that you realized the situation. A lot of men wouldn’t.”

Nodding, Wes settled the hat back on his head. “That’s true,” he said.

“How long have you worked for the Masons?” Kam’s curiosity got the better of her. She saw him frown and wondered if she’d gone too far.

“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…”