Lindsay McKenna

Shadows from the Past


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      Iris patted her arm. “That’s okay, dearie, you’re young, and why shouldn’t you salivate after a man like that?”

      Kam choked as she opened the door for Iris to climb in. “Where I live there aren’t many cowboys. I love the iconic symbol of them. They stand for the rugged independence that made America what it is today.”

      Strapping herself in, Iris said, “I love cowboys, too. I married one. Trevor was born and raised on the Elkhorn. He was a man’s man.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “He died too damned young. It was Rudd’s wife, Allison, that gave him that heart attack, damn her. I miss Trevor so much. You know we made the Elkhorn what it is today?”

      Kam climbed in and kept the door open to allow the breeze to flow through the vehicle. The peeps were cheeping contentedly next to her. She tried to keep the shock out of her voice over Iris’s accusations about Rudd’s wife. At Iris’s upset expression, Kam tried to divert her. “Tell me about how you built the ranch, Iris.”

      “Trevor was a cowboy through and through. I have the Sight, dearie,” and she tapped the middle of her brow. “That was passed on to me through my Native American blood. I saw that whites were spoiling and poisoning our land and water. I saw them poisoning the food we ate. I told Trevor twenty years ago to switch to organic beef. He stopped giving his cattle all those hormone shots, antibiotics and other crap and got the herd cleaned up. I worked with high-end restaurants on both coasts and convinced them that clean beef was the only way to go.”

      “That was farsighted,” Kam said, impressed. She saw Iris turn around and look between the seats at her.

      “Not only that, but I got him to buy a buffalo herd and we started selling buffalo meat long before it was popular. That meat is low in cholesterol and lean. Right now, I make five million dollars a year selling our clean beef and buffalo meat to restaurants all over the U.S. We’ve made a name for ourselves and my husband and me did it all.” She scowled. “And stupid Allison kept whining that we were throwing good money after bad as we made the switch. She kept filling Rudd’s head with dire predictions that no restaurant owner in his or her right mind would ever buy our clean beef. She’d be snarky at the dinner table and ask who would ever buy buffalo meat?” Chuckling darkly, Iris said, “Allison is the kind of person who tells you what you can’t do. Not what you can do.”

      “I see…”

      Waving her hand, Iris said, “Anyway, the Elkhorn is known for its clean beef and buffalo meat. Then, I told Trevor ten years ago to start a dude ranch. I saw so many American families losing touch with the earth. If we can’t get these families and especially the children back and connected to her, we’re going to kill this planet. My dude-ranch idea was not just the normal hayrides and trail-riding, but also providing lots of fun things for the kids to do with nature. For example, we just harvested about twenty thousand acres of timber. We have our own mill and we sell the wood to suppliers. Children can choose to go with the wranglers assigned to replanting the hills with new pine-tree babies. We teach them that everything has to be sustainable. We care for the land and we take, but we give back. Those are Native American attributes and we teach them that.”

      “I love the idea,” Kam said, meaning it. She saw the liveliness in Iris’s eyes and heard the passion in her husky voice. Truly, she was the matriarch of the ranch in more than one way. “Kids do need to be reconnected with the earth. Especially city children.”

      “Yes, and I developed a program—despite Allison’s objections—to pay for inner-city children from all over this country to come here, free of charge, for seven days to work with us and the land. I got several corporate sponsors to pay for their flights and we pick ’em up at the Jackson Hole airport and truck them out here. These are children of all colors and from all backgrounds, all poor, who have never seen a horse, much less a buffalo or a herd of cattle. We spend a lot of time teaching them about nature and how to live in harmony with it. My husband, bless him, had faith in me and my Sight. He backed me every time. We were a good team…” Her voice trailed off in sadness.

      “How long ago did your husband leave you?” Kam asked her gently.

      “Five years ago. He was too young to die. Allison drove him to it,” she said bitterly. “She hated us. Rudd had the damned bad luck of falling for her Hollywood starlet background and married her on impulse. When he brought her home to the Elkhorn, she hated it and us.”

      “That’s so sad,” Kam said, noting the agony in Iris’s eyes and face. “Surely Allison has adjusted to life at the ranch now?” Kam tilted her head and searched Iris’s angry features.

      “Humph. Never. She doesn’t even try,” Iris stated flatly. “Oh, you’ll meet her soon enough. Tonight at dinner I’m sure she’ll be in fine form. You’re new meat to brainwash.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Allison runs Rudd. She’s the queen bee. Or she thinks she is. She forgets who I am. I still own the ranch.” Her lips flattened. “Which is why Allison keeps trying to have a doctor and a judge rule me mentally incompetent. Once I had that mild stroke, she became obsessed with having me taken down.”

      Frowning, Kam said, “What do you mean taken down?”

      “Trevor left the ranch to me in his will. If I’m ruled incompetent and need a power of attorney—that’s Rudd—then the ownership is transferred to him and Allison. I know her. The bitch wants to dismantle and destroy everything that Trevor and I did to build this ranch into what it is today. She’ll sell it off. She keeps nagging at Rudd to get me to sell off five thousand acres so a developer can come in and set up condos. She keeps telling him that we’ll make millions. But we make millions now, the right way. I told her I don’t want a bunch of condos on our ranch. It will pollute the water system. I don’t want more people out here. If I wanted city life, I’d have moved to the city. I don’t want five thousand people on one-acre lots to deal with. But Allison is riding Rudd about this all the time. Any opportunity she gets, she sticks it to me about the development.”

      “But she can’t do anything about it because you own the ranch, right?” Kam said.

      Iris gave her a triumphant look. “That’s right, dearie. As long as the ranch is in my name, and I’m alive and kicking, I can keep the vision for this ranch alive and viable. The day I die, this ranch is going to hell in a handbasket because Allison runs Rudd. He can’t say no to her and gives her anything she wants. Never mind her two spoiled children, my grandchildren. Humph!”

      Kam sat back digesting all the information. Clearly, she had walked into a hornet’s nest. Iris turned around as Wes shut the back of the SUV. The look he gave Kam was warm and inviting. The slight smile on his mouth made her go hot with longing once more. And then, as quick as the look was there, it was gone.

      They drove back to the ranch, and Kam began to dread the family dinner tonight. What would happen next?

      CHAPTER FOUR

      IRIS OFFICIALLY DECIDED to hire Kam as her caregiver. It was a relief. Kam had overcome one obstacle, one of many. The tension leading up to the family dinner became her focus. Her upbringing as a Trayhern hadn’t prepared her for this family, which seemed built on politics, intrigue and power struggles. Where was the love between them?

      Kam sat at Iris’s elbow while Rudd was at the head. The rectangular maple table was covered with an old-fashioned hand-crocheted white cloth across its gleaming surface. Hazel, their chef, had her assistant, Becky Long, a smiling young woman, help serve the meal. The plates were blue and white and Iris told Kam that she and Trevor had bought them shortly after their wedding. They were used to this day, a sign of her love for him.

      Above the table hung a massive elkhorn display with lights. No matter where she looked, there were elkhorn tables, chairs and lamps. Soft classical music, the same kind that her mother Laura loved, played softly in the background. That was Iris’s doing, too. She proudly informed Kam that at one time, she’d played classical piano. After trying to break a horse, she’d broken her hand and had suffered