Page 52 of Waiting in Wyoming

Somehow.

“It’s okay, Katie. Daddy’s going to make it better. I promise.”

Sonny’s baby girl just kept fussing, more and more.

When he pulled into the parking lot of Masterson County General Hospital, Sonny’s eyes were wet, too.

He just wanted his baby to be okay.

43

Dylan was workingthe front desk of the inn when Dixie came wandering in after her shift at the hospital. “Hey, big sister number two. You look really tired.”

“So do you. Aren’t you supposed to be resting after what happened? Didn’t Grandma insist you were supposed to take it easy?”

Dylan shrugged. She worked. That meant she got paid. She was saving up all of her pennies and nickels. She had to pay for her college classes—she was going to do it all by herself, no matter what her father or uncle kept saying—and she wanted to buy her own house someday.

Someday really, really soon. The sooner the better.

A little house would be just fine. Maybe two bedrooms. One for her, and one to be a guest room for her sisters if they wanted to spend the night sometimes. Someplace justnotthe Talley Inn.

She’d come to that decision in the night. When she should have been sleeping, but had woken from nightmares about those men instead.

She was going to find herself someplaceotherthan her father’s precious Talley Inn to live. Before she went insane. Her sisters could visit, spend the night sometimes.

If they would. Devaney, Dahlia, and Dorie were settling in just fine with Darcey, Dixie, and Daisy. Right here at Utopia Inn, aka, the Talley Inn.

Well, Dylan wasn’t so sure it was the perfect place. She liked it okay—the work was easy, even kind of fun. She did get to do it with her sisters—all seven of them—but working the inn wasn’t what she had imagined doing with the rest of her life.

Then again, did she even know what she wanted to do with the rest of her life yet? Well, not really. Not really.

She wasn’t even certain who she was right now—how could she know what she wanted from her life, yet? “I did. I covered for Abby when she called off. She had a flat tire, or something.”

“Abby doesn’t even have a car. Her brother brings her or she walks,” Dixie told her, bluntly. Dixie handled a lot of the human resource work at the inn and diner. She knew Abby best. They’d been in school together—and Dixie didn’t like Abby one bit. Well, neither did Dylan. “She was probably running around with that boyfriend of hers.”

“I did not know that.” She just knew that someone had needed to cover. What else was she supposed to do? Hang out in the family wing with the fam—that was one possibility, but Dylan wasn’t very good at just “hanging out.” She was better at doing something. And at least she earned some extra money at the inn when she went over her regular forty. Working kept her busy, too. So she couldn’t just sit and think. Remember.

She wanted to do some gardening or something, start some seeds, but she was kind of afraid to. There really wasn’t much room to do it in her little room in the inn’s attic. She only had one tiny window—her uncle had insisted she keep it clear of clutter and had put her a chain fire ladder up there where shecould get out if needed. And had made absolutely certain she could get outside to the roof ten feet below her window in case of an emergency.

He told her she had to leave that old trunk up there right below her window so she could climb up on it and right out of the attic, no matter what.

Then she’d be able to get to a vintage fire escape that he made certain was in exact perfect working order. He was a little controlling over stuff like that. Not that she minded—there had been one fire she was never going to forget when she was younger.

Her uncle fussed over people, she had noticed. It was cute.

He was very different from her father in so many ways. In other ways, he was just as much a stubborn old butthead. Just like her father. Maybe she should ask Marin if she could have a little corner of the yard somewhere? Just enough room to put in some tomatoes, or something? Dylan had spent hours in her garden before. It was where she did her best thinking. And the veggies had come in real handy when she had had a family of six to cook for, after all.

“You in there?” Dixie asked. Of all of her new big sisters, Dixie—and Daisy—were the ones Dylan had clicked with the most.

“Just thinking, really. Worrying about Meyra a little. That girl does not do ‘change’ very well.” Meyra was a lot like Dahlia. It was hard to miss. Dahlia was just a little less functional in social situations. But then again—Dahlia hadn’t grown up in the middle of the Talley Inn, being forced into social situations every single day. Meyra had had trial by fire. That was for sure. Dahlia was doing a little better, now that she had a clear routine at the inn that she could stick to. Dahlia, more than the rest of them, needed stability.

It was no wonder Dahlia was struggling, too. Her sister was trying really hard—but dealing with people stressed Dahlia. A lot. She’d wanted to be a librarian—or that was what their father had convinced Dahlia she should be. A librarian or a file clerk. Something nice and steady and quiet and stable.

Dahlia really wanted to study archeology, though. Her dad had nixxed that really fast. The idea of his little girl going on digs had terrified him. Dahlia had tried to tell him that digs weren’t all archeology was about, but Dylan had her own suspicions—she thought her father was just afraid that if Dahlia studied archeology, she’d have to go away to find a job eventually.

To move out from underneath Arthur Talley’s thumb.

And they just couldn’t have that, now, could they?