The Wrangler

Griff made quick work of packing. Hefting both pieces of luggage and his weapons case to the downstairs door, he went in search of the owner so he could pay her. Getting free room and board at the Bar H was a huge leap in resolving Griff’s money problems.

What lay ahead for him? Above all, Griff didn’t want to disappoint or anger Miss Gus. She was clearly on his side. Val was another situation, however. Griff knew she’d be watching him critically for any mistake he made. And he knew that if he couldn’t do the work, she’d get him fired in an instant.

Losing this job was the last thing Griff wanted. Somehow, he had to understand Val and make her a team player and not his enemy. Even if she disliked his New York roots, Griff knew that his hard work and attention to detail would prove to her once and for all he was the right person to be hired. Above all, he had to make sure no one ever found out he was eyes and ears for the FBI. Not only would it turn the people of Jackson Hole against him, he’d been sworn to total secrecy. And you didn’t mess with the bureau. If he was going to find the goods on Downing, the FBI felt he was the perfect foil. After all, he had been born here and was now returning home. A lot of children came back to their parents’ nest these days. Downing would never suspect him. Nor would anyone else. And if Griff had any hope of keeping his dream of life as a wrangler alive, he had to keep his secret safe.

CHAPTER FOUR

SITTING DOWN TO a home-cooked dinner felt like going to a five-star restaurant to Griff. He’d come down from his room at the Bar H promptly at six, as Gus had ordered. Inhaling, he could smell apples and cinnamon in the air. The rectangular cedar table had six chairs, one of them placed at the head of it. Gus and Val were bringing the steaming plates of food to the table. Griff had had enough time to take a shower and throw on some clean clothes. He stood uncertainly at the opening to the kitchen.

“Would you ladies like some help?”

Gus poured applesauce from a pan into a bright green ceramic bowl. “No, you go ahead and sit down. Take that chair to the left of the one at the end of the table.”

“Yes, Miss Gus.” Griff couldn’t help but notice how beautiful Val looked. She’d put her thick red hair into a ponytail and tied it up with a bright green ribbon. She wore a faded apron of green and white checks across her slender waist, which reminded him more of the 1950s than present day. In fact, everything about the home shouted of that earlier era. Somehow, it was comforting to Griff.

As he sat at the table, Val brought over a bowl of mashed potatoes with a huge chunk of butter in the center. It was melting quickly, creating yellow rivers flowing down the mound of hand-whipped potatoes.

Gus hobbled over on her cane. “Now, young man, I hope you have an appreciation for organic, home-cooked food. These are apples off our trees out back. I have a root cellar and I store the potatoes, yams and apples down where it’s dark and cool. That way, they last a long time without rotting.”

Griff took the bowl of applesauce from her. “I have vague memories of doing something similar at our ranch when I was kid.”

“Good, then you’re not a complete loss.”

Chuckling, Griff saw the old woman crack a grin.

He watched as Val brought over a huge platter that contained the beef roast.

“Will you slice it up?” she asked, setting it down in front of him. She walked to the counter, grabbed a carving knife and fork, and brought them over to Griff. As Val handed him the utensils, she tried to ignore his looks. His hands were rough with many small, white scars across the backs of them. He was darkly tanned, which spoke of the time he spent outside. Why did he have to look like dessert to her?

“I’m not the world’s best at this,” he said, “but I’ll give it a go.”

“That’s the kind of attitude I like,” Gus praised, setting down a bowl of streaming carrots that had been drizzled with butter and wildflower honey.

Griff quickly stood and pulled out the elder’s chair for her.

“At least some of your Western protocols are still workin’, Mr. McPherson,” she teased, slowly sitting down. Hooking the cane over the edge of the table, Gus added, “Thank you.”

Val carried the gravy boat over to the table. Griff walked around the table and pulled out her chair. She gave him a pained look, set the gravy down in the center of the table and sat down.

Griff sliced into the thick, well-done roast beef. “Everything smells so good.”

Val smiled a little. Once he’d sliced the beef, she took Gus’s plate and added a dollop of mashed potatoes to it. “Home-cooked food is the best.” Avoiding Griff’s gaze, she smiled over at her grandmother.

“Better than military food,” Gus grumped, taking the plate. She set it down and reached for the gravy ladle. “I know you said you loved the Air Force, but I’ll bet the chow-hall food paled in comparison.”

Griff looked across the table at Val, raising his eyebrows. She wore a pale green blouse that showed off her slender figure. “You were in the Air Force?”

Unwilling to say much, Val filled her plate. “Yes, I was.” She didn’t feel comfortable confiding her life to a wrangler. He felt like an outsider in her kitchen, even though she knew McPherson wasn’t to blame. She hadn’t been home long enough to come to terms with her fate, much less deal with an attractive stranger now living among them.

Gazing at Val with newfound respect, Griff put a couple of slices of steaming beef on his plate along with heaps of mashed potatoes. He found he was starving, but it was as much for the company as the food. “How long were you in the Air Force?”

Val was hesitant. “I enlisted after college.”

“What did you do?” Griff saw the blanket of freckles across her cheeks darken. Was he being too nosy?

Gus chuckled as she ate the carrots with relish. “Val won’t say a peep. Not that it’s a secret. She held a top-secret clearance and was an intelligence officer. She also did fieldwork, finding drug runners. Talk about an exciting life.”

Griff couldn’t help his surprise as he heard that Val had expertise in exactly the area the FBI had enlisted his help for. But somehow, he was glad she wasn’t in such dangerous work anymore.

“Gus…” Val begged. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“I understand, honey.” Gus patted her granddaughter’s hand. She turned her focus on Griff. “What about you, Mr. McPherson? Do you miss Wall Street?”

Griff shrugged. “I’m finding I’m missing it a lot less than I thought I would.”

“Did you really want to come back here?” Gus asked before she spooned some mashed potatoes with gravy into her mouth.

“At first, no. I was in shock, I guess. I thought with my credentials and knowledge, I could easily land another investment job. But that was fool’s gold. When I was running out of money and options, I did what a lot of other people did—I went crawling home.”

“Home isn’t such a bad place.” Gus gave Val a warm look. “I’m very glad to have Val home. But like you, she’s still getting used to it.”

Griff curbed his tongue. He had a hundred questions for Val, but the look on her closed face warned him not to ask them. Her mouth was usually full and shapely. Now, it was thinned with displeasure. “We owe thanks to our troops, no matter what service they’re in,” he said. “You all put your lives on the line for the rest of us.”

Heat nettled Val’s skin. She could feel the warmth creeping up from her neck and flow across her face. She hated blushing, but that’s exactly what she was doing. When she glanced up and saw the sincerity banked in Griff’s green eyes, she nearly choked on a carrot. Coughing, she quickly took a sip of water. Wiping her mouth with the white linen napkin, she managed, “Don’t paint a bigger picture of me than you have already.”

Stung by her gruff response, Griff wondered inwardly how he was going to get along with this woman. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Gus shake her head. For a bit, the clink of silverware against the bright yellow plates was the only sound in the kitchen.

“Before you two go over the to-do list,” Gus finally said, “I made us a special dessert for tonight. Apple pie.”

Val couldn’t help but smile over at her grandmother. “Thank goodness for your cooking. Otherwise, we’d both probably starve,” and she managed a sour smile in Griff’s direction. She saw him respond immediately. There was a sense of abandonment around this man. And she could feel him trying to fit into the awkward situation they were all caught up in at the moment. She felt sorry for him. Val tried to put herself in Griff’s place: suddenly losing his job and all his money. Plus, he had no place to go. Val decided it would be hard. She finished off her carrots and mashed potatoes.

“My pies are famous in these parts,” Gus confided to Griff. “Have you ever tried apple pie with a slice of sharp cheddar cheese melted on it?”

“No, Miss Gus, I haven’t. But I’m willing to try it.” Griff quickly finished off his food. He was like a starving mongrel who’d come upon an unexpected bounty.

“I have a hunch,” Val said in a droll voice, “that you’d eat anything if it was home cooked.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Guilty on all counts.”

Chuckling, Gus said, “You aren’t like most gents I’ve met in my lifetime, Mr. McPherson. Seems you don’t ride a horse named Pride. Although you’re certainly a confident young man.”

Griff warmed to the elder. “My uncle and aunt made sure any pride I had was ironed out of me a long time ago.

“They instilled morals, values and a hard work ethic in me. They opened up their lives to me after our parents died.” His voice lowered with feeling. “And I’ll always be grateful to them for that.”

“They alive?” Gus wondered aloud.

Shaking his head, Griff said, “My aunt died two years ago of a heart attack. No one suspected it. She had complained about a week earlier about pain under her jaw, but we all thought it was a toothache. My uncle begged her to go to the dentist. She booked the appointment, but never made it. My uncle came home that evening and found her dead on the couch.”