Little Red's Riding (Seven Ways to Sin 4)

She beamed as though she had never seen a basket before. She put her hands to her cheeks and exclaimed, “Oh, my. That’s so sweet of you!”

“Actually, Mom made the cookies. I helped, or more like I watched her make them and I offered to help.”

“And you walked all the way here to give them to me. Come. Sit. You must be tired. I’ll put the kettle on, and we can have tea with our cookies.”

As she turned from me, I could see her wince.

I put a hand on her back. “How are you holding up, Gran?”

She shooed me away. “Sit. Sit. Your Gran’s doing fine. I’ll just run to the kitchen for a minute. Go, make yourself comfy in the living room.”

Reluctantly, I obeyed. As soon as I sat down I realized how sore my feet were. I groaned, took off my shoes, and gave my feet a rub.

“Oh, and pickled peppers, how lovely!” Gran called out from the kitchen. “And pickled beets, my favorite.”

I laid my head down, just for a second, but I must have faded because when I opened my eyes Gran was putting the yarrows in a vase on the center of the table, and before me was a cup of steaming tea and a plate of cookies.

“The flowers are lovely. I just love wild yarrows, don’t you?”

“Sure,” I said, though in truth I couldn’t recall ever having paid yarrows much mind before.

Gran took a seat opposite me. “Oh, dear, look at you.”

I put a hand to my cheek. “What? What is it?”

She chuckled. “You look exhausted. Which way did you come by? You didn’t go down by the ranch did you?”

I couldn’t lie to Gran, so instead, I just bit my lip and helped myself to a cookie.

Gran wasn’t letting me off that easily. She didn’t move, just kept her eyes on me waiting for an answer.

“My, what big eyes you’ve got, Gran.”

“Big enough to tell when my Ruby is trying to avoid a simple question,” she said with a knowing grin.

“And what a big grin.”

“Big enough to eat you all up, swallow you whole, if you don’t come out with it!”

I laughed then covered my mouth to stop the crumbs from coming out.

Gran adjusted the yarrows in the vase. “I suppose it can’t be helped. You love horses and whatnot, can’t be blamed for wanting to go down to the ranch and take a gander.” She looked at me, serious this time. “But your mother’s right, that rodeo’s no place for a girl to be going on her own.”

I pointed to the yarrows. “Those flowers are from one of the cowboys. He said he’d heard you weren’t feeling in top form. He said to send you his best from the boys at the rodeo.”

She eyed the flowers suspiciously. “Is that right?” she mumbled.

“His name is Wyatt. Do you know a Wyatt?”

She furrowed her brow and rubbed her chin. “I know a Wyatt. Wyatt Standhill.” She looked at me and pantomimed her description. “Was he yea tall with a bushy white beard, missing half his upper teeth?”

I laughed. “Um, not exactly. More like my age, tall, dark ruggedly handsome.”

Now it was me she eyed suspiciously. “Sounds dangerous.”

I hope so!

“Nah.” I swatted down her objection dismissively. “He seemed quite sweet, actually. But he told me something about you wanting to shut down the rodeo? I thought you liked rodeos.”

Gran straightened her shirt and straightened her posture. “I like rodeos when they’re done right. Like when Ed Grimsman used to run it.”

“Yeah, whatever happened to him?”

“Ed Grimsman.” She shook her head. “Good man. Good with the horses, not so good with the books. He had to sell. Last I heard he’d gone off to Cheyenne to stay with some kin he got living there.”

I took a sip of tea, scalding hot, but it woke me up.

“Some out-of-towner bought it from him. Real nasty fella.” She twisted her lips and wrinkled her nose. “They call him Wolf.” She looked at me wide-eyed. “And he ain’t in sheep’s clothing, believe you me!”

I chuckled.

“It’s no joke, young lady. You ever see Wolf, you better high tail it out of there. I don’t think he got his name because he’s good at pulling sleds.”

I took another cookie. “Delicious. Mmm, mmm. My compliments to the chef, and to her little helper.” I leaned back in the couch. A dangerous move, because it was so comfy, I very easily could have fallen asleep again. But a loud noise, like bowling pins knocked about, came from just outside the window and startled me upright.

“What was that?”

Gran didn’t look too surprised, though I did see her wince again. “I had Ryder clear out the brush. He gets the work done, but he’s always clumsy about it.”

My jaw dropped. “Ryder? As in Ryder Cook?”

Gran pursed her lips and eyed me with a mix of sympathy and disappointment. “Are you two still not speaking?”