LITMIR.BIZ

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frowned. “Are you saying that if Dad didn’t leave the ranch to me, the court will take over?”

      “The state, Dena, and only if there’s no will. As methodical a man as Simon was, I can’t believe he didn’t have a will. Have you talked to John Chandler yet?”

      “He’s out of town until the fifteenth.”

      “Well, that’s only a few days away.”

      “But I might not be here.”

      Ry looked startled. “You’re not thinking of leaving so soon, are you?”

      “I have a job in Seattle.”

      “You have a lot more than a job here.”

      “You’re only surmising that.”

      “True, but it doesn’t make sense that you would leave before knowing exactly what Simon had in mind for the ranch.”

      “If he had anything in mind for the ranch.” Even if there’s a will, I won’t be in it. Dena had a sudden strong impulse to explain everything to Ry, but she was so ashamed of the rebellious behavior that had caused the rift between her and her father that the impulse vanished with her next breath.

      Ry’s information was disturbing. She couldn’t picture the ranch in the hands of a court-appointed stranger.

      Neither could she imagine her father being negligent about a will. She didn’t believe that she was the recipient of Simon’s earthly possessions, but if there was a will, someone was. Her eyes narrowed slightly on Ry Hardin, who had finished the cookie and was dusting crumbs off his hands. Maybe Simon had left the ranch to him? Just how close had he and Ry gotten during their three-year association?

      The question came out of her mouth almost as soon as it appeared in her mind. “Were you and Dad close?”

      Ry gave his head a slight shake. “Not personally, no. He was my employer, and I respected his knowledge and abilities with the ranch. I believe he respected me in the same way.”

      “And that was the extent of your relationship?”

      Ry raised an eyebrow, giving her a questioning look. “Were you thinking there was more?”

      “I never thought about it one way or the other.”

      “Until now,” Ry said softly. “Now, why would that idea even cross your mind? And what difference would it make if Simon and I had been the best of friends?”

      “No difference at all,” Dena answered quickly. But he was surprisingly perceptive, and she was embarrassed that he had so easily grasped the motivation behind her question. Nettle walked in then, which put an end to Dena’s and Ry’s conversation.

      “Everyone’s gone,” Nettie announced, looking at the food on the table and counters. “Goodness, I won’t have to do any cooking for a week.”

      Dena took advantage of Nettie’s intrusion. “I’m going to lie down, so if you’ll both excuse me...”

      “Of course, honey,” Nettie said sympathetically.

      “Sure,” Ry said. “We can talk again later.”

      Dena had no intention of picking up their discussion where it had left off. If her father had left the ranch to Ry, so be it. Speculation on that subject was a useless endeavor, and she wished she hadn’t given Ry the impression that she was concerned about it.

      But as she left the kitchen and walked down the hall to her bedroom, she knew that she was going to still be here on the fifteenth. It wasn’t that she wanted the ranch for herself, but she had to know who was going to end up with it. In truth, she would much prefer Ry owning it than the state.

      She prayed her father had left a will.

      

      Dena came wide awake and was startled to see that her bedside clock flashed only 10:43 p.m. She lay there doubting that she would get back to sleep for hours, and wished that she hadn’t come to bed so early in the day.

      At least she had gotten through the worst of it without uncontrollable anguish, she told herself. There was an acute ache in her heart that she suspected would be there for a very long time, but she would have to learn to live with it.

      “Oh, Dad,” she whispered into the darkness of her room. An overwhelming sadness enveloped her. He was gone, forever out of reach. She would write no more letters and pray for an answer. She would do her job, see her friends and try to fill the void in her life with something other than the hope that would no longer be a part of her.

      She would never have the chance to say, “Dad, I love you,” or hear from him, “Dena, I love you now and always have. Let’s forgive each other, forget the past and go on from here.”

      She started sobbing into her pillow, so overcome by grief and remorse that she wondered if she would ever get over it. How could he have not answered her letters? How could he have held on to anger for so long? She was his only child. Was it possible that he had never loved her?

      I can’t lie here and think about it. I can’t let go like this. Throwing back her blankets, Dena jumped out of bed. Hastily she shed her nightgown and put on a sweat suit and sneakers. Then she made her way through the dark house and went outside through the back door.

      The night air was cool and refreshing. She breathed in huge gulps of it. The yard lights made an after-dark stroll possible, and she began walking. There were sounds other than her footsteps and breathing—the chirping of crickets, the distant bawling of cattle, the stamping of the horses in the corrals—comforting, familiar sounds. A yellow dog that belonged to one of the men came up and sniffed her. Dena looked down at him. “Hi, boy.” She kept on walking. The dog wandered off. Going beyond the glow of the yard lights, she stopped to look up at the stars. It was a beautiful night, cloudless and clear, and the millions of brightly shining stars was a moving sight.

      After a few minutes, she sighed, turned back and started hiking around the lighted compound. The exercise felt good. She’d been functioning in a fog, which was fine, as it had helped her get through the most emotionally devastating experience of her adult life, but that was over now. Her mind was clear again, and she had only herself to rely on to pick up the pieces. She would stay in Wyoming through the fifteenth, then go home.

      But Seattle didn’t feel like home anymore, and the ranch and Wyoming did.

      “Damn,” she whispered, brushing away a tear. She had cried enough for tonight.

      “Dena?”

      She nearly jumped out of her skin. With her heart pumping hard and fast, she turned to face the voice. Relieved to see it was only Ry, she said, “Oh, it’s you. I thought everyone was sleeping.”

      “I think everyone else is.”

      “Why aren’t you?”

      “I’d throw that question back at you if I didn’t already know the answer. I’m sorry you’re having trouble sleeping, but I guess it’s understandable.”

      “So,” Dena said, “what’s your excuse for scaring the living daylights out of me?”

      “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

      “No, well, I suppose not, but do you usually wander around in the dark?”

      “It was a difficult day, Dena, not only for you.”

      “Are you worried about your job?” Are you so anxious to find out if you inherited the Wind River Ranch that you can’t sleep?

      “I’ve never had any trouble finding work, Dena. No, I’m not worried about my job.”

      “You strike me as the sort of man who falls asleep before his head hits the pillow, so something must be on your mind and keeping you awake.”

      Ry looked off into the night. “I honestly don’t know what’s bothering me.”

      Dena

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