From the Boots Up (4 page)

Her thoughts drifted yet again to Gina, as they had
on Wednesday when she met her, and all day yesterday. And more today. Maybe she
worked for the Forest Service or the BLM, which meant she might be in the area
for the summer. She could ask some people, see if anyone knew her. Maybe check
in at the Forest Service district office in town. After all, Gina had said that
maybe she’d see her around. Why would she say that if she was just passing
through?

She adjusted her weight in the saddle, trying to
think about something else. But she kept seeing Gina’s eyes, kept feeling the
warmth she sensed there, and the sparks her handshake had generated. Wasn’t
that kind of weird, to keep thinking about someone she’d only met once, and
briefly?

Whatever. Like having a crush was a bad thing. If she
saw Gina again, it would add another thrill and if she never did, then the
crush would fade and she’d go back to school in August, no big deal. Just a
nice fantasy for the summer.

But how could you have a crush on someone you’d
barely interacted with? An attraction was one thing. She’d had those to women she’d
met in the past. But this was a bit stronger than just an attraction, which was
why she figured it was a crush. Or were attractions stronger than crushes?
Whichever. Maybe she was just feeling a little bit lonely. After all, she
hadn’t dated anyone since Amanda. That was about eight months ago, and here was
a good-looking stranger with great eyes and a nice smile who she’d chatted with
for a bit. No big deal.

So why couldn’t she stop thinking about her?

Dammit barked and nipped at Bugoff and they raced
straight down the path, yelping and whining at each other. Meg laughed and
nudged Rusty into a trot as they crested the last rise and headed down toward
the spread. Ninety minutes later she clunked down the steps of the lodge and
entered the kitchen through the back. She had showered and changed into clean
jeans and a Colorado State University tee.

“Hey, Alice. Hi, Dad. Hey, Anna.”

“There’s my darling daughter,” he said in greeting.
He was leaning against one of the counters going over menus with Alice. “Did
you find any naked calves up there?”

An image of what Gina might look like in shorts
flashed through Meg’s mind and she stifled a giggle. “Nope. You want me to go
up tomorrow? I’ll take Mark, if you don’t have him doing anything.”

He straightened. “I’ll see if Mark and Davey can go.
I’d like you to stick around. We’ve got fifteen arriving tomorrow. And that’ll
be the first full day with the reporter. I need a native Diamond Rocker on hand
for questions if I’m not around.”

“Diamond Rocker, huh? Maybe we should get some new T-shirts
made with that on it.” She ran a hand through her still-damp hair.

“Not a bad idea,” he said with a grin. “We could
offer them to people who survive at least a week with us.”

Alice laughed. “A week with Meg’s nothing. A week with
you, however—” she gave him a look and he pretended to be offended.

“Are you saying I’m difficult to get along with?”

Alice caught Meg’s eye and they both grinned. “Yes,”
they said together. Stan gave Meg a mock glare that she responded to with one
of her own. They held the stare-down for another few seconds before she burst
out laughing and he smiled.

“You look more like your dad every day,” Alice said
with a chuckle.

“That’s okay, as long as I don’t grow a mustache.”

“I don’t know, hon. You might look good with one,” he
teased. “I’d teach you how to trim it and you’d be just as handsome as me.”

Meg rolled her eyes as the door swung open from the
dining room and Alice’s kitchen help appeared.

“They’re comin’ in,” Troy announced. He was on the
cusp of fifteen, and his voice was deeper than what his wiry, awkward frame
suggested he should sound like. Jenny was right behind him, all business, hair
pulled up into a tight little bun. She was a student at the University of
Wyoming, a little younger than Meg, but from a nearby ranching family herself.

“Well, all right. Let’s eat.” Stan clapped a hand on
Meg’s shoulder and steered her into the dining room. She filled a plate from
the buffet and took a seat on the bench at the middle table, across from the
young married couple that had arrived yesterday, Tim and Laura. Tim’s parents
sat at another table talking to Jackson and Mark. Meg glanced around the room,
but didn’t see any strangers who might be a reporter. She was a little
relieved, since she wanted to eat first. Maybe she could avoid dealing with the
reporter until tomorrow. She had just taken another bite of chicken when
Marjorie, the artist from St. Paul, appeared with a plate piled high with food.
She sat on Laura’s left and they all greeted each other.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so hungry,” Marjorie
said. She had a nice matronly way about her, like Alice. Except Alice had a 40s
actress thing going while Marjorie was kind of plump and solid.

“It’s the fresh, clean air,” Tim said, laughing as he
reached for the basket of rolls in the center of the table. “Right, Meg?”

“That’s what they say. So what’d you do today?” She
set the chicken bone on her plate and picked up her fork to dig into her potato
salad. Conversations, laughing, and the clink of silverware on plates filled
the room. She glanced around again. Thirty people. There’d be more coming in
tomorrow. The ranch was finally full up, and she knew that always put her dad
in a good mood.

“Took a great hike,” Tim said. “You’re so fortunate,
to live in such a beautiful place.”

“Oh, it is truly lovely,” Marjorie added. “All I did
this afternoon was read and watch the horses in the paddock and I don’t think
I’ve been so relaxed in months. Did you grow up here, Meg?”

She nodded and swallowed before responding. “Born and
raised.”

“Did you ever feel isolated?” asked Laura as she
reached for the small bowl of butter.

“Sometimes. But I went to school in Saratoga, so I
had friends from school I’d hang out with. And I did a lot of 4-H stuff and
horse events here and in Colorado.” She smiled. “Come to think of it, I was
pretty busy as a kid.”

“When did you learn to ride a horse?” Laura looked at
Meg with interest.

She thought for a few moments. “I started with my dad
when I was probably two or three. But he’d take me with him, too, even when I
was still a baby. I’ve spent a lot of time on a horse.”

Laura sighed wistfully. “I envy you. I’ve always
wanted to live on a ranch.”

“Keep saying that, and my dad’ll put you to work.”

Jim and Marjorie laughed.

“Hey, Meg, your dad wants to know if you can help get
some guests settled. A bunch just got in. He’s at the office.” Troy gestured at
the door as he replaced the basket of rolls with a full one.

“Okay. Excuse me,” she said to the others. “Be right
back.” To Troy, she added, “Don’t take my plate.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll watch it,” said Marjorie.

“Thanks.” Meg gave her a smile and left. She crossed
the parking lot to the office, where a group of people stood outside chatting.
The door was open, and a few more people were inside, talking to Stan. He
looked up at her when she came in.

“That’s the Forster party outside. Could you get them
settled? Rooms nine, ten, and eleven.”

“Will do.”

“Oh, and while you’re at it, could you please show Ms.
Morelli here to room five?” He made a gesture at a woman standing off to the
side behind a big guy with a really thick neck and handed her a bunch of
hotel-style keys, each on plastic keychains emblazoned with miniature
horseshoes and the number of the room.

“Sure.” She looked past the big guy.

And froze.

And wondered if she would have the presence of mind
to pick her jaw up off the floor before anybody stepped on it.

“Hi, again,” Gina said, and the smile on her lips
warmed her eyes even more. She was dressed in jeans that fit her much too well
for mixed company and a faded gray T-shirt that hung on her like a best friend.

“Hey,” she responded, hoping she didn’t sound as
flustered as she felt. “How are you?” Did she actually say that? How lame could
she be?

“Good. Nice drive up here from Laramie.”

“Great. I didn’t see your car.” So not cool. She
sounded like a stalker, memorizing people’s cars.

“I parked on the other side of the office. Didn’t
want to put it where it might block anything.”

She hesitated, wondering what to say that wouldn’t
sound stupid, but she drew a blank. “Okay.” She made a show of checking the
keys. “All right, follow me. Or did you want to get your stuff first?” She
tried for nonchalant now, like she always showed super-attractive women who
made her insides buck like an unbroken horse to their rooms.

“I’ll get it after dinner. I didn’t miss dinner, did
I?”

“Nope. There’s plenty.” Oh, real smooth, she thought.
She cleared her throat and motioned toward the door.

Gina smiled again and followed her and Meg tried not
to think about her eyes, or how inviting they looked. Or the smile that tugged
at the corners of her mouth, or how her voice made her think about late nights
and candlelight.

“Thanks, hon,” Stan called after her as she went
outside.

“Hi,” she said to the Forster party, which was made
up of what she guessed were three heterosexual couples and three children who
ranged in age, she estimated, from five to ten. “Welcome to the Diamond Rock
Ranch. I’m Meg, and I’ll take you to your rooms. Would you like to get your
stuff now or later?”

“Later’s fine,” said one of the men, who looked to be
in his mid-thirties and who seemed to have taken on group spokesman duties.

“All right. Let’s go.” She kept her eyes off Gina, to
keep herself from getting distracted, and led them across the parking area to
the motel. Stan had put the Forsters on the ground floor, which was what he did
when there were kids younger than twelve. “Ground floor, Forsters,” she
announced. “Who’s lucky number nine?”

The man who had spoken up earlier stepped forward.
That’s us.” She handed him the two keys to the room. “Same key. Two copies. But
seriously, you won’t need the keys out here. It’s a lot easier to just leave
your doors unlocked, especially if you’ve got people doing separate things and
you’re coming and going. Trust me. Nobody’s casing the joint.”

The women laughed and the man said, “Thanks.”

“Room ten?” she asked, still trying to avoid Gina’s
gaze. Another of the men took the two keys for that. “Call me crazy, but I’m
thinking you’re lucky number eleven.” She handed the keys to the third man, who
nodded and smiled.

“Okay. You’ve already gotten one of our info packets,
but here are some quick rules, as a reminder. Mostly common sense. You’ll also
find another copy of our lovely information packets in each room. First, although
we appreciate parties as well as the next person, please refrain from such
after nine p.m. The horses need their beauty sleep.”

All three of the kids giggled.

“Please don’t smoke in the rooms. We prefer that they
smell like pine smoke from the evening bonfire, which will be starting in two
hours.” She pointed at the spot past the dining hall that they used for the
nightly socializing around the fire. “Don’t worry. You’ll see it. You won’t get
lost.” She glanced at the youngest child, a little girl. “We might even be able
to get you some marshmallows, if your folks think that’s okay.”

The girl’s eyes widened and she looked up at a woman
Meg assumed was her mom for an affirmative.

“Now for the really important rule. Breakfast is
seven to nine, lunch is twelve-thirty to two, and dinner is five to seven.
You’ll know when it’s time to eat because we bang the heck out of that metal
triangle hanging over there by the dining room. We do buffet style here, and we
do keep coffee and other beverages and snacks available during the day. If you
signed up for a special diet, when you come in for a meal, you’ll find a stack
of red name cards on the small table to your right as you enter the dining room.”
She gestured at the building that housed that and the kitchen. “Find your name
and give it to one of our fabulous staff and they’ll go get your equally fabulous
meal. Any questions so far?”

The little girl she’d looked at earlier raised her
hand.

“Yes?”

“Are you a cowgirl?”

Laughter rippled through the group and Gina’s smile
widened.

“Do you think I am?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Meg asked, giving her an encouraging smile of
her own.

“’Cause you have cowboy boots on.”

“Hmm. That’s a good observation. But do you have to
be a cowgirl to wear boots?”

The little girl thought about that for a minute. “No.”

“Then maybe I’m not a cowgirl.”

“No, you are,” she insisted.

Meg laughed.

“’Cause you live on a ranch,” she added.

“Well, you’re going to live here for a week. Maybe
you’re a cowgirl, too.”

She smiled and took her mom’s hand.

“Okay.” Meg returned to her introduction. “Last
thing, for now. When you go into your rooms tonight, you’ll see some bottled
water. Drink it. You’re at altitude, now, and to keep yourselves from feeling
funky and weird or developing nasty headaches, get hydrated and take it easy
the first day or so. Oh, and if you need a phone, we keep one in the dining
hall and one in the main office. Mobile phone service varies out here from
spotty to nonexistent, even with roaming. Ask one of us if you need to make a
long distance call and we’ll get you set up.” She stopped and took a deep
breath. “How was that?”

The adults in the Forster party laughed and Gina
smiled. Meg wrenched her gaze back to the Forsters.

“If you need anything, or if you have any questions,
ask me or my dad—that’s Stan—or any of the staff here. And above
all, have fun. That’s a requirement.”