Anything and everything in this backyard could be the murder weapon!
In another area sat machine parts that Charlotte didn’t immediately recognize, but guessed they belonged in farm equipment. Alongside those were a pile of garden tools including several pitchforks that looked identical to the one that had impaled Marcus. She took several photos. This could just be a coincidence, or perhaps that pitchfork was the only kind that the garden center sold. But just the same—it was a clue.
She walked around to another grouping of items that had caught her interest: sports equipment. There were balls of every shape and size, lacrosse sticks, weights, golf clubs, baseball bats, and bike parts. All stuff that you would normally keep out of the elements and in a garage. She looked carefully for any signs of blood on the equipment.
So if these are out here … then what’s in the garage?
As if on cue Charlotte heard the motor for the garage door accompanied by the cranking sounds of the cables pulling the door up.
I better get out of here. Now!
Charlotte quickly looked around and found a cinderblock to use as a step. She dragged it to the fence figuring that it would give her just enough of a lift to be able to put her foot on the top horizontal rail of the fence so that she could climb up and over.
She had to hurry. She grabbed onto the tops of two dog-eared slats and used her muscle to raise her body and left leg up.
All of a sudden, she felt resistance. Her leg wouldn’t budge, and her heart began to pound.
Charlotte looked over her shoulder and down to see if her foot was caught on something. And that’s when she saw a big, meaty, dirty hand gripping her ankle.
Wade.
“What the hell are you doing in my backyard, missy?” he shouted into her face as he pulled her to the ground.
“I came to talk to you. Let go of me, you brute!”
“Is this how you usually talk to people? By breaking into their houses? I should call the cops.”
“We both know that you’re not going to do that, Wade. You’re not exactly their most favored Little Acorn resident.”
Charlotte noticed just a hint of agreement in his squinting, angry eyes.
“What the hell were you doing in my backyard?” He grabbed Charlotte’s wrist and led her to one of the folding chairs by his outdoor grill and pushed her down into it.
“Ouch! That hurt. Touch me again, and I’ll scream.”
“Go right ahead. There’s nobody home at this time of day,” Wade spat out.
“So what are you doing home?” Charlotte quickly tried to turn the question tables.
“You want to know why I’m not working? I’ll tell you why. Farmer Alou fired me, that’s why!”
“You must have deserved it.” Charlotte tried to sound defiant, but her heart was pounding.
With quick hands, Wade grabbed her shoulders and shook her.
“I didn’t do nothin’! It’s all your fault!”
“My fault?”
This is more than I bargained for. How do I get out of this mess?
“It is. You went squawking to the cops about Serge taking a little off the top, and they see the Alou’s farm is on the list. So, they let him know, and on account of Serge being married to my sister, they think I’m in on it too. So they canned me. I had nothing to do with Serge’s shenanigans!”
He’s shouting again, and his face is an unhealthy cherry red. But for some reason Charlotte believed he was telling the truth.
“I’m sure if you went back and talked to him in a few days—”
“Shut up! I’m talking to you. What are you doing in my yard?” Wade sat down backward on the other folding chair. His anger was so close to the boiling point that she was afraid that if she said the wrong thing, he would pull the metal chair out from under him and swing it at her.
“I came here, Wade, to talk about family. Our family.”
Charlotte could see signs of his ire beginning to deflate, but nevertheless she quickly continued.
“I have been looking into the Finn Family since I got here, wanting to know exactly who we all were and are. And while we’re never, ever going to exchange Christmas gifts, it appears that the Averys and the Finns are, in fact, blood relatives.”
She let that sink in for a moment and could almost hear the wheels turning as Wade rubbed his chin.
“I knew that. Why the heck do you think that I’m always claiming that the farm is ours? You got something to add? You find that will?”
“No, and I doubt anyone ever will.” Charlotte shook her head.
“Annabel always talked about it when we were kids. She told Clark and me that she knew where it was. Now if I ask her about it, she just laughs. So, do I get part of the farm?” He said this more as a statement than a question.
“No, Wade, my great-uncle Tobias left a will and officially named me as the sole beneficiary to the farm.” Charlotte tried to be gentle.
“But what if there was an earlier will that left at least part of the farm to my great-uncle Henry?” he asked, brightening.
“I’m no expert on the law regarding these things, but from the little I’ve read, it looks like there would have to be special circumstances for a prior will to be considered. Not that I think that one exists.”
“I’m sure you don’t … like what special circumstances?” He was persistent.
“I’m not exactly sure, but from the research that I’ve done, if one party can produce an earlier will, then they need to present it to the court.” Charlotte wanted to nip this in the bud.
“Then what happens?”
“Each party hires a team of lawyers who file motions and arguments and drag the case on for years. By the time the issue is resolved, if ever, both parties owe so much money to their legal teams that they have to sell everything they own to pay them.”
Wade looked to be weighing this information, and Charlotte could see the anger ramping back up.
Time to split.
“I’ve got to get going, Wade. As you know, we’re throwing a big barbecue on Saturday. We’re expecting most of the town to be there, so you and Clark must join us. We’ll feed you real well, and there’ll be lots of entertainment.”
Charlotte got up and this time quickly made her way through the house toward the front door. As she passed through the kitchen, she saw two jars of tomato sauce on the counter that looked awfully familiar. She stopped to take a photo after turning the jar to the right angle.
“What the hell?” she heard Wade say as his heavy footsteps pounded into the house.
“I’ll see you then, cuz,” she said as she opened the door and quickly stepped out onto his driveway. By the time he made it to the front, Charlotte was about halfway to her car.
“Wait. You never told me what you were doing in my backyard!” This was a shout more of exasperation than anger.
“I thought that I smelled gas. I was concerned. Family takes care of family.”
Charlotte gave him a wave just before getting into her car. As she drove away, she noticed that Wade’s truck was parked on the lawn by the side of his house.
What the heck is in that garage?
Chapter Twenty-Two
When Charlotte got back to the farm, she was in a state of shock but was determined to keep her news to herself until she could think through the implications.
“Hi, Alice. How’d everything go today? Sorry I got waylaid in town; I hadn’t planned on it taking so long,” Charlotte explained, getting out of her station wagon.
“It was great. We had three tours, and Horse did his thing with the soccer match each time.” Alice shrugged her shoulders and grinned.
Charlotte and she had never talked about children, but she could see that Alice was thrilled with the pint-sized company.
“I even introduced them to Mrs. Robinson, and they couldn’t believe that a ladybug and a pig could be best friends.”
“Well done, Alice! Where are Joe and Samuel … and Horse fo
r that matter?”
“There they are.” Alice pointed. “The lake is almost filled, and they’re building the dock. Samuel says that we should have a christening party before the barbecue.”
“I one hundred percent agree! Beau and Diane will be back up on Thursday to help us get ready for the barbecue. What do you say we have our family party then?”
“Wonderful. I’m going into town in the morning to pick up the perishables for the barbecue. Shall I get some fresh shrimp as well, and we can have a boil Thursday night?”
“I love the way you think, Alice.” Charlotte gave her a hug and meant it.
As she strolled down to the lake, she thought about how far the farm had come since she’d arrived. It seemed that harmony among the key players had been restored, and they were making money and had expanded their offerings. The beautiful lake was almost back to the way her dear Uncle Tobias had always loved it. Charlotte stopped walking and looked up into the sky. The sun was slowly making her way to her bed in the west, and birds of all sorts had already returned to the lake, including a snowy egret that Charlotte spotted near the shoreline.
The men had put in all the pylons for the dock and cemented them to the bottom before the starting to fill the lake. Joe and Samuel were attaching the floorboards and rails when she approached.
“I can’t believe how much life the lake has already attracted. This is wonderful!”
On hearing Charlotte’s voice, Horse, with Mrs. Robinson aboard, raced up to greet her, and she bent down to give them both some love.
“It is pretty great. Now we need to stock it to keep the ecosystem going,” Samuel said with a big grin.
“Don’t you mean so you can get some fishing in, Samuel?” Joe ribbed him.
“That too.”
“You gentlemen have done a terrific job. Once we’re past the barbecue and official lake opening—and have earned enough money—I’ll take you wherever we need to go for freshwater fish, and you can pick out any species you wish.”
“There’s a place in Ventura—that’s where we’ll need to go.” Samuel was like an excited schoolboy.
“I got a call that the trucks came in a little while ago,” Joe told Charlotte and Samuel. I don’t know how you managed to get that insurance check so quickly, but I’m sure grateful for it. I’m told that despite being used, they’re in really good condition.”
“Excellent! Sometimes all you need is a little sweet talk.” Charlotte grinned.
“How are we going to work this?” Samuel asked Joe. We’ll each need to drive a truck off the lot,”
“I thought that Alice could stay here and run the U Pick ’Em visitor tours, and you Miss Charlotte could drive us over to the used truck dealership. You only need to drop us off; you’d be back in less than an hour.” Joe gave her a somewhat pleading smile.
“I love it when a plan comes together! Shall we rustle up some supper, boys?”
Joe looked at Samuel.
“She’s started talking like a cowboy.” Samuel grinned, shaking his head.
* * *
The truck lot was on the outskirts of town in an area that seemed to be designated for the buying and selling of every kind of motor vehicle. The only other places along this strip of road were fast-food joints and a couple of seedy bars.
Such a desolate and dark contrast from the beautiful hills and lush green fields just twenty minutes away.
“See you fellas back at the farm,” Charlotte said out the window of her car. “Y’all come back now.”
Joe was once again surprised by Charlotte’s new lexicon.
When she arrived back at the farm, Charlotte saw that Horse was sitting outside, waiting for her.
Maybe he’s becoming too dependent on me. He should be doing pig things and playing with the other animals …
He ran up to Charlotte as she got out of the car and let out a diatribe of squeals and grunts that seemed to ascend into a story arc. She listened intently and watched his animated eyes.
“Horse, slow down. If we want to really communicate, then we need to agree on a vocabulary. And since you seem to understand me better than I do you, I suggest that we use the English language.”
Horse sat down, ready for his lesson.
“I can see that you know a lot of words so let’s put them together with the things they describe. Come with me.”
He dutifully followed her into the house and then the kitchen, where she found a box of sweet cereal.
“Just this once, for training purposes.” She gave him a few frosted flakes, and his eyes lit up.
She walked out of the kitchen and pointed to a door in the hallway. “Cellar,” she said, and watched to see if he understood. “Cellar.”
Horse nodded, and Charlotte gave him more cereal.
“Let’s go to the patio,” she continued, and he happily followed along. He seemed to be thrilled with this new game.
An hour and a half later, they had covered all the important areas and people on the farm, and Horse looked to be in a sugar coma. Charlotte was also exhausted and suddenly realized that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She also noticed that tricky Horse had led her back to the paddock, where his dinner was waiting in the trough.
“You’re kidding me! You can’t still be hungry after all that cereal?”
“You named him ‘Horse’ for a reason.” Samuel chuckled. “Do you really think that he understood the words that you were teaching him?”
“Probably more than half. You yourself told me how smart pigs are,” Charlotte replied, and her stomach grumbled audibly.
“Sounds like he’s not the only one in need of supper. You have dinner plans?”
“Yes. I plan to eat it,” Charlotte joked.
“It’s time for you to experience authentic cowboy grub. And when you’re hungry, it’s the perfect place. We’re going out, Miss Charlotte!”
Chapter Twenty-Three
They met in front of the house fifteen minutes later and rode in Samuel’s truck. It had four-wheel drive, which he told her might come in handy. It made her wonder if they were going to be eating off tin plates around a campfire somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
“Where exactly are we going, Samuel?” She looked at her sundress and sandals and wondered if she should have worn buckskin instead.
“We’re headed to the San Marcos Pass. In the 1800s, it served as the stagecoach pass connecting Mission Santa Barbara to the Santa Ynez Valley.”
“And there’s a restaurant in there?” she asked as they exited a main road and began their incline up a mountain.
Samuel nodded. “The Cold Spring Tavern, said to have been built in 1868 as a stagecoach stop. You’re going to feel like you’ve walked right into a Western movie.”
“Wow, now I’m excited!”
“There are all kinds of stories about the place, involving both Hollywood stars and your basic bandits, thieves, and murderers. I’ve heard that stagecoach robbers stole a bunch of gold and buried it in a river bed behind the tavern, but all that’s ever been found is one nugget.”
The scenery that was passing by Charlotte’s window took her breath away. And not just because she was looking down into a steep valley. The eucalyptus trees and Canyon oak were strutting their impressive, majestic foliage. The sheer number of green tones that covered the canyon could never be reduced to a Pantone color wheel, and the birds, from finches to raptors, soared and swooped to gather their dinner. As it didn’t get dark at this time of year until after eight, Charlotte had a front row seat to nature’s splendor.
“Enjoying the view? Your eyes have gone so big it’s like you’ve never seen views like this,” Samuel said, smiling.
“I haven’t! But keep your eyes on the road. This is as close as I wish to get to nature, thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Did he just tip his hat?
About ten minutes later, they pulled off the pass and onto a dirt lot in front of what looked like three wooden structures wit
h thatched roofs. There were picnic tables with attached benches outside sitting aslant on uneven ground. Stone chimneys were emitting white smoke, and the air smelled of hickory and mesquite. There were lots of places to sit while you waited for a table or if you wanted to dine al fresco—all the seating was rustic. Stagecoach wheels and pine boards made an intimate settee. Whole tree sections with half-cut backs served as benches for three or more, and other stumps and oak barrels could accommodate any spillover.
Charlotte could easily picture a Wells Fargo coach making a pit stop for lunch before completing the journey to awaiting banks in Santa Ynez.
“Wow, this is amazing! Should we talk like cowboys the entire evening, pardner?”
Samuel laughed. “If you wish, pardner.”
Someone’s in a good mood.
The inside didn’t disappoint. From the gingham red and white half drapes to the Dutch doors and the creaky wood plank floor, there was no mistaking the tavern’s authenticity. Buck heads and other hunting trophies lined the walls in between laminated sepia photos of cowboy life in Cold Spring in the 1800s. Simple tables, covered in plain oilcloth, and wooden round back chairs filled almost every available space. They were seated at a small round table that was actually a piece of plywood resting atop a barrel in the far left corner. The dining area nestled up against the side of a stone fireplace. Charlotte took the bench and let Samuel and his long legs have the chair.
“I want one of everything,” Charlotte said, glancing at the menu.
“I don’t blame you. It’s all good.” Samuel looked around the room, and Charlotte wondered if he ever came here with friends … He must have some.
She ordered the buffalo burger, and he opted for a tri-tip sandwich. When the food arrived, they both dug in for a few minutes before speaking. Charlotte couldn’t remember when something had tasted so delightful, even at all the fancy client dinners she’d attended in Chicago.
“I’m in heaven,” she said, finally coming up for air.
“Um, you have a little something—” Samuel pointed to the side of his mouth. When she reached for it with her tongue rather than a napkin, he let out a chortle that even had the people at the neighboring tables smiling.
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