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“But Jean-Marie and her friend don’t do that?”
“It’s a long way around. It’s two-and-a-half, three hours in summer. Figure you’d be pushing five hours with good weather and no events in winter. Add those in and no telling. To get there, you’d have to first drive to Red Lodge, then make that round-about trip.”
Every time I thought had the Wyomingness of Wyoming figured out, it revealed a new layer.
Though in fairness, this time was more the Montananess of Montana.
His phone rang.
“Will you check that?” He held up his hands, indicating the impracticality of picking up the phone.
Though we both know he would have if he’d been alone, in case it was Tamantha.
“Sure.” It was no hardship sliding my hand into his pocket for the phone. “It’s your parents.”
Our eyes met for a moment.
I accepted the call. “Hi, it’s Elizabeth. Tom’s here, too, but he, um, has his hands full. I’ll put you on speaker.”
“Oh, Elizabeth. I’m glad you’re there.” That was his mother, alone. No hint of his father in view. Plus a further hint that he wasn’t there in her lighter than normal voice. What a sad commentary that was.
“Hi, Mom,” he called.
“He’s, uh, doctoring a horse, but I can get closer so you can hear him.” I kept my back to his doings.
“I just heard about Keefe Dobey and was so shocked. Do they know anything more? Have they arrested anybody?”
Tom didn’t answer, so I said, “Not yet. It seems to be a mystery to them.”
Us, too, but I didn’t say that.
“Of course it is. Can’t imagine why anyone in this world would want to harm that sweet man. And poor Wendy Barlow — she’s had enough hard knocks, and now this.”
“Hard knocks?”
“Mm-hmm. She had to sell her lovely home down here and rent a much smaller place. It was either sell this one or the ranch and everyone knew she’d never sell Elk Rock Ranch. And all because her brothers resented how the uncle left her the ranch in his will and they tightened the purse strings on her income that comes from the family business, while they get plenty.”
They all worked for the family business, as I knew from Matt Lester in Philadelphia, so they might be justified in that.
“You must be good friends with Wendy Barlow,” I said mildly.
“I wouldn’t say that.” She looked slightly puzzled, then it cleared. “It was after a lunch we’d happened to attend together. I suppose I was a connection to home amid all those other strangers. We sat next to each other and... well, she did have a number of glasses of wine. She didn’t even seem to remember telling me the next time we saw each other, because she pretended she was still living in the same place, when I knew she wasn’t.”
She shot a quick over her shoulder, as if checking for her husband, but he wasn’t there.
“Thomas always liked Keefe. Said he was restful. Didn’t talk your ear off.”
“But that sad topic wasn’t why I called. We received the wedding invitation today and it’s beautiful. We’re so touched the way you included us and your parents in the information for the reception.”
That had been one of the surprisingly easy decisions.
Invitations for first-time weddings usually included the parents, especially if they footed the bill. Since this was a second marriage for each of us and we were paying, the wedding invitation came from us. On the invitation for the reception, we’d included language about joining our families... and named Tamantha, my parents, and his parents.
“We? Speak for yourself, Mom,” Tom said loud enough for her to hear.
A wince flickered across her face. “We — I... I appreciate you keeping us updated on the wedding preparations, Elizabeth. I do so hope to come.”
“Then come,” Tom said. “I’ll get you a plane ticket. If he doesn’t want to come—”
