Tiger cate, p.5
Tiger Cate, page 5
Chapter 9
A woman of Amazonian proportions opened the front door of the main ranch house and peered down at Cate with a hint of amusement. Jet black hair captured in a tight chignon, impressively drawn black eyeliner rimming ice blue eyes, makeup base a little too dark for her skin tone, and deep crimson matte lipstick. A black blazer partially concealed a frilly magenta blouse that emphasized her substantial breasts. Below that, skin-tight English riding breeches wended their way down long, if plumpish legs and disappeared into knee - high black riding boots. It struck Cate as way too formal for Cabeza Valley. More like suburban realtor meets Olympic equestrian.
“Can I help you?” The woman asked in a contralto voice that sounded comfortable with wielding power. Her smile was dazzling, jaw jutted forward, both upper and lower teeth exposed.
Cate stood in silence for a moment, so startled she thought she might forget her own name.
“I’m Cate … Cate Finley. Margaret’s sister. Who are you?”
The woman’s expression barely changed save for a slightly raised eyebrow and a muscle flexing in her jaw. Cate felt her own jaw beginning to tense in response.
“Hello, Cate … Cate Finley … Margaret’s sister,” came the flat reply. Had the woman just mocked her? “I’m your cousin, Estelle Parker — Margaret’s ranch manager. What brings you back to the homestead? New York — isn’t that where you were last bound?”
Cate felt warmth creeping up her neck and wasn’t sure why. Clearly this woman knew of her, but she couldn’t remember ever hearing of a cousin named Estelle. Should she ask more about that?
Without being unfriendly, the woman was managing to make her feel like she’d come to the door selling something. As Cate struggled for words that wouldn’t make her sound loony, Estelle discreetly checked her watch.
“Look, I’m here because — I got a text that Margaret is, well, has gone missing.” Cate scanned the woman’s face for signs of understanding but found none — just a blank stare in return. Mortified, Cate gestured at the open door. “Do you, uh, live here at the ranch?”
Estelle had been gazing at her intently, eyes narrowed and with a slightly puzzled frown as if Cate were speaking with a thick accent. Suddenly she threw her head back and laughed. An open - throated, high -vspirited laugh that made Cate chuckle along uneasily. Oh, my gosh, yes. Hilarious.
The woman was leaning over now, still laughing, holding her stomach and shaking her head. Cate pressed on.
“So … what, not missing, then?”
Estelle caught herself in mid-guffaw and reached forward to pat Cate’s shoulder comfortingly. “You poor thing! Who … who told you that? That’s … ” She was trying to control herself now. “That’s rich … so,” she took a breath, “so very funny, ha - ha … ,” and another fit of laughter.
Cate felt irritation watching the woman struggle to gain control of her giggles. It was starting to seem, well, excessive.
“Then, Margaret is here at the ranch?” she asked, leaning forward to peer at Estelle’s downturned face.
If she was here, Cate realized she would have to explain this sudden return to the ranch. But Margaret would have to explain why Leelee Ruiz and this other person — Brownie or Bronnie — were worried about her. Either way, it would be an uncomfortable reunion.
Estelle was recovering, straightening to her lofty height and her tone changing to gentle sarcasm. “So, has the town started to form a search party? Bronnie Taylor and her cronies? What a scare you must have had, poor dear. Come in, come in.” She gestured grandly for Cate to cross the threshold. And as she did, family memories flooded back.
Here was the worn Persian carpet in the foyer, where her mother had taught countless rescued puppies not to make deposits. Along the hallway hung empty wrought iron wall holders that had once carried different candles depending on the season. Green and blue in the spring and summer, orange and yellow in the fall, and red and green at Christmas.
As they stepped into the great room, Cate recalled the eight-foot-tall pine trees her father would drag in for the Finley women to decorate before hosting the community holiday party. So would begin the annual making and stringing of colored popcorn, the wrapping of twinkling light strands, and the placing at the top, not a star or angel but a tiny hand-carved cowgirl on her horse. Because Margaret had insisted, and they couldn’t say no to Margaret. Not after her favorite horse — a golden palomino like the one in the tree ornament — had the misfortune to break his leg one Christmas morning.
The right wall of the great room was still devoted to Margaret’s winnings in the horse show ring. Twin glass - fronted trophy cases held several dozen trophies of all shapes and sizes. A sea of blue ribbons, a few red, and even fewer yellows hung on strands at the back of each case.
Flanking each side of the displays were photos of the dozen horses Margaret had taken from yearling futurity to senior championship by the time Cate left. There didn’t seem to be many recent photos in the collection.
Estelle had turned her back and was furiously tapping at her phone. Cate crossed the room to stand next to Estelle and gaze out the floor - to - ceiling window that offered a panorama of the horse stables, pasturelands, and the Cabeza Rock Monument looming in the south. Sensing her presence, the Amazon clicked off her phone and turned to Cate with her hostess smile in place.
“Well! … I, uh, just texted your sister that you were here. She is de - lighted. Yes, ma’am, just tickled. She’s actually been in Albuquerque all week at a horse sale of some kind. Getting,” she glanced at her phone screen, “some new prospects — always so exciting for her.”
“Oh, really? Leelee seemed to think—”
“Oh, little Leelee’s doing some thinking, is she?” There was a sharp edge to the dismissive smile. “Well, no worries. Margaret will be hauling back,” she flicked her phone back on to check, “tomorrow night. Right. Monday at the latest.”
“Hauling horses?” Cate turned her gaze down to the stable yard where a six-horse living quarters trailer sat hooked up to a dually hauler with the Finley Ranch brand emblazoned on the cab door. Why hadn’t her sister taken that nice rig on her horse-buying trip? Maybe she had another rig … maybe.
She looked to see whether Estelle had followed her gaze, but the woman was oblivious, stabbing out more texts and pausing to read. Unsure what to do next, Cate scanned the room for familiar artifacts of her own childhood achievements. Nowhere in sight were her art awards or even any photos of her. Had every scrap of her existence been purged from the house?
“So, can I get you something to drink?” Estelle asked, snapping her phone case shut. “I usually have a glass of wine in the afternoons. Or we have beer from the local microbrewery.”
A more sociable person might have said yes to alcohol—a lot of it — at this point, but all Cate craved was some alone time with her memories.
“Um, could I just get some water?
“Fizzy or flat?”
“Not carbonated if that’s — ”
“Flat it is. Coming right up.”
A few minutes later, they were sipping their drinks, seated opposite each other in the leather loveseats that flanked the enormous sofa in front of the picture window.
“Well, then, I’m so curious where you’ve been all this time, Cate. With a c or a k? I want to get it right.”
Cate peered back at her and thought, Why don’t you know this if you’ve been texting with my sister?
“Um, it’s Cate with a c, and Caitlyn with an i and a y,” she said with a tight smile. This whole conversation was setting off bull crap alerts in her brain. But maybe it was best to go along with the charade until either her sister came home or this Bronnie person turned up. “And, as you said at the door, I left to go, um, study in New York.”
“Wow, Cate in New York Ci - tay … That must have been a shock. Was it a shock, Cate?”
The name repetition was getting annoying. She wondered if the woman had already been drinking when she knocked on the door.
“Um, there was an adjustment period. I learned … some things.”
“About survival, I bet.” The woman took a giant slug of wine and broke into her charming smile again. In a softer voice, she asked, “Did you learn to survive there, Cate?”
Cate chuckled despite herself. Oh … hell … yeah.
“I held my own. But enough about me. What’s your story, Estelle?”
“My story?”
“Uh huh, where did you come from? You’re whose cousin? Or niece? Because I don’t think I ever heard about you from either of my parents.”
Their eye lock was brief but intense. Estelle looked away first. She dropped her gaze to her wine glass as if in grief over such a tragedy.
“No. Understandable. I’m your dad’s second cousin. Our families were estranged a generation back.”
“I see.” Although not at all convinced, Cate did know a little something about estrangement. “And your family’s name is Parker?”
“What? Oh, no. That’s my married name. Rest in peace, Rudy. Poor dear.”
“And where are you from, Estelle?”
“Nevada, most recently.” Estelle gave an abbreviated version of The Smile and launched into her cheerful hostess voice.
“Listen, Cate, I’ve got to make a call. You’re staying here tonight, right? Rosa will cook us up something for dinner if I ask her por favor.”
“That’s very kind of you and Rosa.” Regardless of how hungry she felt, Cate didn’t think she could keep up what was feeling like a cat-and-mouse game with Estelle for a whole evening. “I’m pretty beat from travel and all. I think I’d just like to turn in early tonight.”
For the first time, Estelle looked genuinely sympathetic and a little relieved. Maybe Cate had just come at an inconvenient time.
“Oh, absolutely, Cate. Pick any of the spare bedrooms upstairs. That one at the east end was yours, I believe. I’ll have Rosa leave a sandwich for you on the kitchen counter.”
Then, like a queen rising from her throne, Estelle stood and strolled out of the room.
How easily this woman directed her around her own family’s house, authoritative in her role as hostess. Estelle had … charisma — that’s what they called it, right? Charisma, and all that height. In her flat-heeled riding boots, she was at least six feet. Was that what made her so intimidating?
Oh, shut up. You worry too much, said a nagging voice in Cate’s head.
“Maybe I do, but that woman’s got a strange vibe.” Suddenly drained, she rose and crossed the room to the stairs. On the upstairs landing, she pulled out her phone to try Bronnie’s number again. She needed to talk to the woman who had lured her back here. It went to voicemail immediately, and this time she left a message.
“Hi … um, this is … this is Cate Finley. You … texted me — yesterday? Okay, anyway … I’m — ”
But the recording had cut off, probably due to all her pauses. Suddenly she was too tired to pursue anything but a nap. When she opened the door to her old room, nothing registered except the softness of the bed as her body plopped down on it.
Later that night, refreshed from a few hours of sleep and one of Rosa’s delicious chicken salad sandwiches, Cate luxuriated in the privacy of a full - sized private bathroom. After a long soak in the tub, during which she laundered her underwear and t - shirt, she studied her naked body in the mirror.
Her tanned arms and legs evidenced the hours spent climbing the sides of buildings in t - shirts and running shorts. She still had a runner’s body, with decent muscle tone and barely any fat. But her thin, weary face showed the stress of a nomadic life. Too many sleepless nights and restless days spent looking over her shoulder. And now she was home at last, but did it feel like home? It did not. In fact, there were no signs that she’d ever lived there.
Yawning, she slipped on a clean t-shirt and shorts and headed for the bed. On the way, she opened the window facing the eastern pasture and the valley beyond that. Crickets chirped in the nearby brush. Faint snuffling sounds of horses came from the stables. A distant coyote yipped, and a baying dog responded. Under it all, the frogs’ song droned at the flowing creek. All were a welcome respite from the harsh traffic noises she’d grown used to in the city. Climbing into bed, Cate soon drifted off to this concert of nature.
Chapter 10
She startled awake from a dream with a sickening sense of violation. A hotel room bed, on a different morning, long ago and across the country. Her naked body aching, injured and woozy under a blanket of fragrant yellow roses. The memory brought her to her feet, poised for flight. Then she saw where she was. A different bedroom in a different world. Relax. You’re safe. Breathe.
Her old room, but not hers. Margaret had completely changed it. Beige. On. Beige. Gone were the orange and magenta swirled walls that her mother had agreed to let her paint after Cate had worked so hard to get A’s on her freshman midterm report card. Gone were the paintings and drawings that had covered the vibrant walls, along with her 4 - H awards for textiles, hand-painted fabrics that had won her first place at the County Fair three years in a row. Most likely, Margaret had fed them to a bonfire when she found out Cate had run off to New York with stolen funds. This was how her sister took revenge? Erase all memory of her from the place?
Feeling as grim as the walls, Cate pulled on jeans and a clean t - shirt, tied her running shoes, and went downstairs in search of caffeine.
The house was silent and empty, but the coffee machine had a half-full pot of what turned out to be excellent brew. Next to it, a carton of flavored creamer wallowed in a small ice - filled tray, and a plate of blueberry scones beckoned to her. Heaven.
Standing and sipping at the picture window in the great room, Cate saw some kind of event taking shape down at the stables.
A line of trucks and horse trailers that stretched out past the ranch entrance rolled slowly into the oversized parking lot next to the riding arena. A man, probably Diego, was waving each rig into the spot next to the previous one, making a parallel line of parked vehicles. People were unloading and saddling horses. Far in the distance, a few riders drove a small herd of black calves toward the arena. Clearly, the ranch was hosting a cow horse event, probably roping or team penning.
Although not the true “horsey one” in the family, Cate was enough of a ranch kid to have done her share of team penning. She had often made up the third member of Team Finley, alongside Doc and Margaret. As she recalled, a team of three riders each had to separate their assigned calf from the herd and guide it into a pen on the other side of the arena. Scoring was based on how fast each team could pen all three calves without losing one back to the herd.
Coffee mug in hand, Cate wandered down the stone-lined path to the stable area to get a closer look. Directly in front of her, a familiar figure sat on a stout white horse, poised to ride into the arena. Dressed in a white Stetson hat, a cherry red western shirt, and matching jeans, Estelle Parker sat looking tense and uncomfortable in the saddle.
I’ll bet you wish it came with a seatbelt or handrails, Cate thought.
The arena gate was opened, and Estelle jabbed her horse in the ribs with her spurs. The animal dutifully trotted into the arena while she stood in the stirrups to avoid the bounce.
Behind her followed young D.J. Ruiz on a tall chestnut gelding and his sister Leelee on a prancing cream - colored horse with blue eyes and an abundant mane and tail. Cate drew up to the fence to watch the three riders. Estelle was barking orders at a scowling D.J. while his sister’s shoulders slumped miserably. The siblings could probably have ridden circles around this woman, but she seemed to have some sort of control over them.
“Is that really you, Cate Finley?”
A rider had sidled his horse up to where she was hanging on the fence. When she turned to face him, he took off his cowboy hat and broke into a wide cherubic grin.
“Oh, my God. Jimmy?”
Jimmy Lee Baker had been assigned to the same chemistry lab table as Cate during sophomore year at Copperton High. They had instantly become partners in crime. Their bond solidified after a shared lab experiment had resulted in a small explosion and a 911 call to the Copperton Fire Department. There’d been no injuries but it had made the local news.
“Hey, torched anything lately?”
He hopped off his horse, and she climbed down for an awkward hug, mainly due to a height issue. Jimmy had reached his full stature in middle school — a whopping five-feet-one. While he’d been a superb athlete in individual sports like running, swimming, and diving, his height had made him a lightning rod for all the jocks at Copperton.
At Cate’s suggestion, Jimmy had joined the drama club just in time to be cast as Puck in Midsummer Night’s Dream.
An entire semester of raucous laughter amongst the “drama geeks” had steered him away from sports and into the theater. He’d even found his soulmate, an equally tiny thespian named Marisa.
“What brings you back to town?” he asked, looking her over approvingly.
“Actually, some family business. I guess it was time.” She smiled back at him sheepishly. Really, it was too early to start talking about the mystery texts. She’d wait and see if her sister came home tonight as Estelle had promised.
“Family business with Margaret? I mean, your parents … back then. So sad.” He paused for a moment of respect. “But, in a way, you’re saved from having to watch them go downhill slowly. My dad took early retirement due to ‘old-timers’ disease. Ugh, pretty miserable.”
