Wind River Ranch. Jackie Merritt

walked in. Rather, she stepped just inside the doorway and stopped. In the years since she’d left, not one single thing had changed in this room. It was the same as the house, she realized, in need of a thorough going over.

      Her gaze moved to Ry, and she suddenly felt accusatory. He was the foreman and certainly could have fit a little tack room cleaning into his work routine. Even if he hadn’t had the ambition to do it himself, he could have assigned the job to one or more of the other men.

      “This place could use a good cleaning,” she said flatly.

      Ry was in no mood for snide remarks. Rather than agree with her, which he most certainly did, he drawled, “Seems fine to me.”

      “Are you saying you don’t see anything that could use some improvement in here?”

      Because she sounded sarcastic, Ry took his time in looking around. When he finally brought his gaze back to her, he said, “I’m surprised you care about clutter and dust in here when you don’t give a damn about the overall operation of the ranch. Must be the female in you.”

      Dena’s face colored, but she shot back, “A sexist remark if I’ve ever heard one.” Her mind, she realized, was shockingly dull, and for a few moments she couldn’t remember why she was even in the tack room. Why on earth was she standing here and trading insults with this man?

      Then it came to her. “The tack room is more your business than mine. Clean it or wallow in the dirt, it’s all the same to me. The only reason I came out here was to find out if you knew where John Chandler went on his vacation.”

      “Didn’t know he took one. I’ve only talked to him a couple of times. He’s not my lawyer.”

      A dead end. Dena frowned and turned to leave.

      “Hey,” Ry called. “If you really want to run him down, you might try calling his secretary. Her name is Sheila Parks. It’s possible she left town, too, but who knows?”

      Dena stopped, one eyebrow raised. “Meaning she took her vacation the same time as her boss?”

      Ry shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”

      It did make sense. “I would imagine Ms. Parks is listed in the telephone book.”

      “Beats me,” Ry said. “And it’s Mrs. Parks, but I don’t know her husband’s first name. Can’t be that many Parks in the area, though.”

      “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome.” Ry didn’t like the way they’d talked to each other about the tack room. There was no earthly reason for them to bicker, and he decided then and there to turn things around. “Dena. I agree with you about cleaning up this place,” he said quietly. “I’ve wanted to do it since I started working here.”

      Relief flooded Dena’s system over the drastic change in Ry’s voice and demeanor. The last thing she wanted was to be at odds with anyone right now. “But Dad wouldn’t let you, would he?”

      Her perception surprised him, but why should it? If anyone had ever really known Simon Colby, it would be his daughter.

      Ry took a step closer to her. “There’s something else I’d like to say. I’m not normally short-tempered, and I’ve snapped at you more than once. I’m sorry for it and it won’t happen again.”

      She looked into his dark eyes and felt the sting of tears in her own. Her voice was husky when she spoke. “There’s really no reason for you and me to disagree about anything. I’m sorry I was so sharp-tongued about the condition of this room. If I’d thought at all before sniping at you about it, it never would have happened.”

      Ry nodded in understanding. “You’re going through a bad time, and I guess you’re entitled to a little sniping.”

      “I’m not sure that even grief entitles a person to treat other people rudely.” She managed a brave little smile that nearly broke Ry’s heart. He had to forcibly stop himself from moving closer to her and pulling her into his arms. Strictly to comfort her, of course.

      “See you later,” she said then, and turned and left.

      Ry walked to a window and watched her leave the barn and head for the house. Dena Colby aroused a complexity of emotions within him. Was it all because of the tragedy she was having to face more or less by herself, or was there more to it?

      He wished he knew the answer to that question, because it suddenly seemed very important.

      Three

      There were three Parks listings in the telephone book, two with a rural address, one in Winston. Dena tried the town number first. A female voice sang out a cheery, “Hello?”

      “Hello,” Dena said. “I’m trying to locate Sheila Parks, secretary to John Chandler. Is there any chance I might have reached her home?”

      “Sheila’s my mother-in-law, so you didn’t miss it by much. Actually all three Parks in the directory are related. But that’s beside the point, isn’t it? Getting back to Sheila, she’s not in the area right now. I’d be happy to take your number and have her call you when she returns.”

      Disappointed, Dena pressed on. “Would it be possible for you to tell me where she is, and if she can be reached by telephone?”

      The woman was still friendly, but Dena noticed that a bit of reserve had entered her voice when she said, “Sheila’s on vacation. Who did you say you are?”

      “I’m sorry, but I didn’t say. My name is Dena Colby, and it’s really Mr. Chandler I need to speak to. I called his office and apparently he, too, is on vacation. Do you know where he went, by any chance? I wouldn’t be bothering anyone about this if it wasn’t extremely important. You see, Mr. Chandler is...was my father’s attorney, and Dad...passed away quite...suddenly.” It was so difficult to say, and Dena hadn’t thought of that in advance. She cleared her throat and continued. “I really need to talk to Mr. Chandler about...well, several things.”

      “Please accept my condolences, Ms. Colby. I believe Sheila mentioned John and his wife vacationing in England. As far as reaching Sheila, she and Doug, my father-in-law, are traveling in their motor home. They could be almost anywhere, although they did talk about exploring the New England states. I’m sorry I can’t be more help, but that’s really all I know. Oh, except that they’ll be back soon. Shall I ask Sheila to call you when she gets home?”

      Dena thought a moment. “No, that won’t be necessary. Mr. Chandler will be back on the fifteenth, and I’ll wait and talk to him. Thank you for speaking to me.”

      “You’re quite welcome. You said your last name is Colby. I just remembered reading Simon Colby’s obituary. Is he your father?”

      “Yes. Goodbye, Mrs. Parks.” Dena put the phone down before Mrs. Parks could get in any more questions. Dena appreciated the woman’s friendliness and trust, but the conversation had started getting uncomfortably personal.

      She sighed heavily. Merciful God, how was she going to cope with it all?

      But it wasn’t a matter of merely coping as far as the ranch went, was it? No one could pay bills or write payroll checks. That was much more than an emotional upheaval. And what about supplies? Groceries?

      Too worried to sit still, Dena left the office to find Nettie. The housekeeper was still in the kitchen.

      “Nettie,” Dena said, walking in. “I’m afraid we have a real problem. How are you fixed for groceries?”

      Nettie looked at her with some surprise. “Land sakes, honey, you had me alarmed for a second. The cupboards, freezer and pantry are loaded with groceries. Why would you think that’s a problem?”

      “Because no one on the place can sign checks.”

      “Oh. Well, everyone will still have plenty to eat. You see, when I run short of supplies I drive to town and shop