Free Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel) by Rebecca Carey Lyles Page A

“To the office. You told me I was supposed to see Mrs. Duncan after breakfast.”
    “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
    “Like what?” Her tone was defiant, and she knew it.
    “Warshin’ the dishes.”
    She hesitated. “I didn’t realize I was …”
    Cyrus hooked his thumbs into his belt loops and raised both crumpled eyebrows. “As they say, men may work from sun to sun, but women’s work is never done.”
    Kate clenched her fists. She’d had enough of the sarcastic old man. She stepped toward him just as a young cowboy peeked in the serving window.
    “Cyrus Moore, you ornery old codger. You know Mrs. D says there’s no such thing as women’s work or men’s work around here. And those who help fix a meal stay to do the clean-up afterwards.”
    He grinned at Kate. “In case no one told you, kitchen duty includes the clean-up afterward.”
    “Just pullin’ her leg.” Cyrus stomped past Kate on his way to the sink, a smirk tugging at his creased cheeks. “Gotcha.”
    Kate grabbed an apron. What an ornery old man. At what point had she forgotten that people outside penitentiary walls could be just as disgusting as those on the inside? And why had she’d expected Wyoming men to be different than Pennsylvania men?
    ***
    The ranch office was located off the hallway between the lobby and the Duncan’s living quarters.
    “Hi, Kate.” Laura rose to her feet. “Oh, my goodness. Mike told me you fell, but I didn’t realize … How do you feel?”
    “Okay. Just a little sore.”
    “If you say so.” Laura didn’t sound convinced. “Let me know if you need something—aspirin, time off, anything.” She gestured toward a man seated in a wheelchair at a desk near the back of the room. “Coach, come meet Kate Neilson.”
    The brawny man sported a salt-and-pepper buzz cut and a black tee-shirt with the words “Copperville High School Cougars” emblazoned in gold across the front. The muscles in his forearms rippled as he spun his chair toward them.
    “Welcome.” His handshake was painfully firm. “We’re glad to have you on the team.” His boyish grin convinced her he meant his words.
    “Thank you. Do I call you Coach or …?”
    “My name is Rob Murphy, but—”
    Laura spoke for him. “But everyone calls him Coach . He heads up the sports at Copperville’s elementary, middle and high schools.”
    “So you coach and work here?”
    Laura placed her hand on his shoulder. “Coach also teaches business classes at the high school. Knowing it would be tough this first summer without Dan, he offered to come in a couple days a week to help us with the bookkeeping.” She paused. “I am more grateful than words can express.”
    He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Glad to help.” He turned to Kate. “You must have taken quite a tumble.”
    “I learned my first lesson about mountain living—carry a flashlight at night.”
    He chuckled. “I know what you mean. I have a flashlight in the glove compartment of my car, but the last time I needed it, the batteries were dead. Better add extra batteries to your list.”
    “Thanks, I’ll remember that.”
    He swung his chair toward a third desk. “This will be your computer. I’ve got you set up on our network.”
    Laura returned to her work.
    Kate followed Coach and sat at the desk, savoring the moment. Her own desk. Her own computer. A real job on the outside.
    He clicked on the screen. “Your e-mail account address is [email protected] .” He turned to face her. “My niece’s name is Katelyn Newport, but I call her Katy-N. Maybe that’s what I’ll call you, too.”
    Kate smiled. She hadn’t had a nickname—well, a nice one—since her dad called her Joy Bug years ago . Okay by me.”
    He grinned. “What do you want to use for network and e-mail passwords?”
    “How many letters do I need?”
    She heard the lobby screen door squeak open and slam shut followed by the sound of footsteps tapping down the hallway toward the office.
    “A