“You’ll have to stay in one of the hunting cabins for now,” Woodrow continued. “They’re still updating the wiring in the Garden Cottage. Hope to have it ready in a week or two.”
“How was the funeral?” Aunt Evelyn asked.
“Good turnout,” Scarlett said. “Brody came, but his father didn’t.”
Meaning her aunt and uncle hadn’t come to the funeral because they didn’t want to run into Mr. Wallace? Tandy took a sip of her coffee, eager for breakfast to be over.
“Lynnie Hale was an amazing woman,” Aunt Evelyn said.
“She was stubborn,” Uncle Woodrow mumbled.
Tandy bit back a grin then. She remembered how frustrated Woodrow got with Lynnie the few times his cows brought down her fences or when she’d let him water his cattle at her spring—on her terms.
“She had to be.” Aunt Evelyn sipped her tea. “To hold her own with the men hereabouts.”
Tandy agreed. From Scarlett’s nod, so did she. She wished Renata was here. She made conversation seem easy. But Renata’s hangover had other plans, like staying in a dark, silent room in bed.
“Breakfast was wonderful,” Tandy said, ready to get the day started. “Guess I’ll head out to the hunting cabin and start unpacking.”
“Take her to the south field. Best shape,” Uncle Woodrow said, not looking up from his coffee.
“When he says best shape, that’s not saying much,” Scarlett whispered.
Tandy laughed. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
“Good, good.” Uncle Woodrow nodded. “Dinner is at six, around the campfire. Booked solid, so join us.”
“Thanks for the invite.” Tandy smiled.
Both of her uncles ran successful guest ranches. Most of her summer holidays and school breaks were spent at one of the two places. She knew hard work was required to keep things successful. Uncle Teddy’s Lodge was more a large-scale bed-and-breakfast. They offered low-key excursions like birding and wildlife walks, horseback rides, hayrides and the occasional campfire.
“Bring your guitar, too, Tandy. Nothing says cowboy like a serenade under a sky full of stars,” Uncle Woodrow added. “Should be a clear night.”
“Will do,” Tandy agreed. For some reason, singing to strangers was always easier.
Unlike Uncle Teddy’s Lodge, there was nothing low-key about Fire Gorge Dude Ranch. The large-scale ranch brought people from all over the world to experience the Wild West firsthand. They had over-the-top theme nights, a mock cattle drive, dances and overnight trail expeditions for those who really wanted to “rough it.” The last few years, Uncle Woodrow added upscale dining, yoga and fitness classes, and a spa for those “city folk willing to spend big money for mud baths and fancy food.” It seemed to be working—business was definitely booming.
Tandy suspected the dude ranch existed mostly to keep Evelyn happy. Her aunt loved talking and meeting new people. Her uncle hated travel almost as much as he hated strangers and lengthy conversations. The fact that the dude ranch kept his wife happy and brought in a pretty penny was a bonus her uncle surely appreciated. But their real wealth came from the oil they’d discovered some years back. That and the cattle Uncle Woodrow kept.
“If you need a thing, you let me know,” Aunt Evelyn said.
“I’m sure it will suit just fine.” Tandy smiled.
Scarlett trailed behind her from the dining room, speaking only once they were out of earshot. “Something’s up.”
“I sort of got that,” Tandy said. “As long as I have four walls, running water and some electricity, Banshee and I will be fine.”
“That might be all you have.” Scarlett shook her head. “That cabin is in rough shape.”
Thirty minutes later, she, Scarlett and a bleary-eyed Renata bounced down the rutted dirt road to her new home. Tandy’s enthusiasm nosedived. The cabin was one room—and in need of substantial TLC. But the bed was big and comfy and there were large windows in three of the four walls. The fourth wall was the kitchen, a collection of burnt-orange appliances and curling wallpaper. A pop-up table was built into the wall, collapsing flat when not in use. Two wooden chairs hung on pegs from the wall to prevent overcluttering the space. To say furniture was minimal was an understatement. The only additional piece was a large recliner. She could function with her closet-sized bathroom. At least there was a teeny-tiny shower stall, a toilet and a sink that dripped. None of that was the problem.
What bothered her was the view.
This was the sad cabin she’d spied from Lynnie’s back porch. Now, Lynnie’s house occupied the majority of one window. Not just any window either. If she lay on her big comfy bed, that was her view.
“No curtains?” she asked Scarlett.
“We’ll head into town and shop.” Scarlett shook her head. “Might as well start a list.”