Read Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel) for Free Online Page B

done, Cyrus, I need your opinion on a couple things down at the barn.”
    Laura folded her arms around the file. “I get the feeling you’re hiding something, Michael. Are you injured?”
    “I’m fine. I just need to talk to Cyrus about some stuff.”
    “I don’t buy it. You’re coated with mud, you’re limping, and your voice sounds the way it did when you called home after you broke your collar bone at that rodeo in Montana.”
    Mike sighed. His mom was a bulldog. Once she locked on, she didn’t let go. “Okay—if you have to know. I wrecked Old Blue.”
    She tossed the file on the table. “We should get you to a doctor, now.”
    “I’m fine, Mom, really.” He spread his arms. “I’m breathing, walking, talking. I wasn’t in the truck when it crashed, or when it got crashed into—” He saw the looks on their faces and dropped his hands. “I know. It doesn’t make sense.”
    Laura stepped closer to wrap her arms around his ribs. “I’m so glad you weren’t hurt.”
    He returned the embrace, though he wished she hadn’t hugged him in front of Cyrus.
    She released him and brushed the dust from her blouse. “You two go find a chair on the deck. I’ll bring out something to drink and you can tell us all about it.”

Chapter Five
     
    MIKE HUNG HIS MUDDY cowboy hat on a railing post before settling into a patio chair.
    Cyrus eyeballed the hat. “You’ll have to drive clear to Laramie or Rawlins to get that bonnet cleaned.
    “Yeah, I know.”
    “Cost you an arm and a leg.”
    Mike eyed Cyrus’s bedraggled Stetson with its grease-rimmed crown. “That why you never get yours cleaned?”
    Cyrus clamped his jaw and looked away. “Don’t need to.”
    Laura opened the screen door. “Mike, can you take this?”
    He stood and held the door for her.
    She handed him a plate of cookies. “Hang on. I’ll get the lemonade.”
    She returned, carrying a pitcher in one hand and three glasses in the other. “I added lots of sugar to the lemonade—just for you, Cyrus.”
    “’Preciate it, ma’am. That stuff’s so potent it could make your earlobes shrivel.”
    “Well, we certainly wouldn’t want that.”
    Mike studied Cyrus’s long, creased earlobe and decided it could use some shriveling. He reached for a cookie, though he wasn’t hungry. All he wanted to do was change his clothes and drive back down to the pasture to fix the fence before the bison got wise to the temporary fix. But his mom would worry if he didn’t eat at least one.
    Laura filled their glasses and sat down.
    Tramp laid his chin in her lap, his gaze focused on the cookies. She gave him one—which he consumed in a single bite—before turning to her son. “Tell us what happened today.”
    He described the ATV trail and the damaged fence.
    Cyrus’s eyelids narrowed into raisin-like clumps. “Lowdown dirty scumbag.”
    Mike told them about Tramp and the stray calf—and the buffalo that rammed Old Blue.
    Laura’s eyes widened. “Oh, my goodness. I’m glad you jumped out.” She leaned toward Mike. “Don’t worry about Dad’s truck. You are far more important than that beat-up old thing.”
    Mike shook his head. “How many times did he say he’d never sell or trade Old Blue? It was the best truck he ever had. He loved it.”
    “He loved you infinitely more than that pickup. If he was here, he’d say you did the right thing.”
    “Nuh-uh.” Mike tapped an angry rhythm on the table. “He’d be upset about the way I handled the situation.”
    Tears dampened her eyelashes. “Your father is gone.” She waited a moment before speaking again. “He is not a part of this conversation.”
    “You don’t get it, Mom.” Mike jumped to his feet. “I ruined Dad’s truck, plus I left a big gap in the fence. Yet, I’m sitting here sipping lemonade while thousands of dollars of bison burgers walk through that hole and God only knows how many other holes. Do you have any idea how hard it’ll be to find those animals and move