Unbridled Murder

by Leigh Hearon

“Ready for some grub?” she asked her blue heeler. The answer was an enthusiastic yes. She set out his bowls, and Wolf dived in. In about the same record time as Wolf, Annie demolished a ham-and-cheese sandwich she’d made that morning. Glancing around, she soaked in the rich green tapestry surrounding her. It wasn’t the thick, dense forest of the Olympic Peninsula, where Douglas fir and cedars dominated the landscape, but the forests of ponderosa and lodgepole pines were equally impressive, she thought.

  After a prolonged game of fetch, Annie headed out again. Wolf had been excellent company so far, wide-awake and alert throughout the drive. But now, he decided a postprandial nap was in order, and he leapt into the extended cab to take a snooze.

  “Really, Wolf,” Annie observed. “Others of us might like to take naps, too, you know, but we can’t. That’s fine, you just have a nice rest. I’ll let you know when we hit Ellensburg, and you can take the wheel.”

  She pushed the PLAY button, and Alan Jackson’s greatest hits began to play. As the strains of “Don’t Rock the Jukebox” filled the cab, she thought about Tony’s funeral, only twenty-four hours ago. Most of the service had baffled her; the prayers had been different from the ones she was used to, and while the other Catholics had seemed quite at home, knowing how to respond, when to kneel, and when to cross themselves, Annie had found it a continual guessing game and had finally given up trying to play along. So, she’d noticed, had most of the Suwana County deputies sitting beside her, although Dan had managed to stand up when required. She suspected that if his colossal knees had ever hit the kneeler, he’d never have been able to get up.

  What had been predictable was the outpouring of emotion. There had not been a dry eye in the house, as Father Connors went on at length about Tony’s life and the treasures that awaited him in heaven. When it was finally over, she’d been ready to flee. Then she’d looked at Dan and known she couldn’t take the easy way out. Annie had quietly stood by as the sheriff stoically responded to every person who approached him during the reception, and they’d remained in the hall until the last guest had departed. After another half hour sharing reminiscences with the Elizalde family, Dan and Annie had finally escaped to the parking lot, where their vehicles had been close to the only ones left. She had been thoroughly exhausted and grateful beyond words that Lisa had ignored her instructions and fed the horses that evening. It was all she’d been able to do to pack and fall into bed.

  Annie knew that Dan would still be fielding calls from local citizens and media and trying to wangle more information from the NTSB in the weeks ahead. In contrast, she had been able to get out of Dodge for a few days to save four rescue horses from a kill pen in eastern Washington. Annie was sure she had the better deal.

  As they zoomed by the few exits for Ellensburg, Annie gave a short wave to her alma mater and yelled out the window, “Go Wildcats!” She glanced at her interior mirror. Wolf was still fast asleep.

  “Lucky dog,” she muttered. By her calculations, she was now a bit more than two hours out from her destination. She leaned back and concentrated on what Alan Jackson had to sing about love gone wrong.

  Thirty miles past Moses Lake, she saw her exit. Putting on her turn signal, she made a slow, hard left and began driving due north. Now she was in real farm country, not whizzing along on a freeway with fruit and vegetable stands beckoning along the way. She was on a two-lane country road, and her more sedate traveling speed succeeded in rousing her dog. Wolf leapt into the front seat and sat straight up, tongue out, eager to take in the new territory. Annie ruffled his neck. If there ever was a dog that could remind you that life was just one big adventure, Wolf was it.

  Almost an hour later, she had crisscrossed so many country lanes that she had no idea where she was headed. But the little blue ball on her smartphone assured her she was on the right path, and she had no choice but to follow its course. Just when she was about to give up and pull into a gas station for directions—assuming she could find one—she saw a sign for Loman, announcing it was four miles ahead. She gave a sigh of relief and mentally began to steel herself for the next part of her trip.

  She was prepared for a small town, but Loman rivaled even her own small town of Oyster Bay as far as size. The main street consisted of four short blocks and one traffic light by the cop shop. Most of the retail signs were in Spanish. The closest thing to a restaurant she saw were a couple of taco trailers, and judging by the deserted streets, neither had many customers. True, she had arrived in town during the worst heat of the day. Maybe everyone was inside taking siestas. Annie was more than ready for a nap herself, but she knew she had no time for such a luxury. Her meeting with Myrna was in twenty-four hours, and she wanted to be thoroughly conversant with the lay of the land before that encounter occurred.

  She looked around for a motel, and cursed herself for not scouting out possible places to stay before she’d left. She’d assumed that there would be at least a couple of local motels in town. It would be a major inconvenience if she had to trek back to the freeway to find accommodations. As she recalled, the last major exit was at least forty miles away.

  Well, it was time to gas up, anyway. She pulled into the town’s one gas station, and a small Hispanic man ran out, window cleaner in hand. Annie was already climbing out of her truck, but the man waved her back. An oppressive wave of heat enveloped her outside, and she hastily hopped back in the truck, where the remnants of air-conditioning still lingered.

  “¡Yo puedo hacer eso!”

  I can do that. Yes, you can, Annie thought, but in Washington State, people usually pumped their own gas. It’s only when you hit Oregon that you usually got the royal treatment with a real live gas attendant.

  “Nosotros bombardeamos todo el gas aquí,” he said proudly.

  Annie nodded. She’d only understood a few words, but enough to know that he was in charge, and she was the customer.

  As if to prove his point, the man began vigorously scrubbing Annie’s windshield, which admittedly reflected about three hundred miles’ worth of bug splatter. Annie decided if washing windows and pumping gas provided one more job in this godforsaken town, she sure wasn’t going to make a fuss, even if it raised the cost of gas a few pennies. Besides, who wanted to stand outside in that heat? It was killing her.

  Having made Annie’s windshield sparkle again, the man moved around to the pump. He extracted the nozzle and gave a questioning wave with it toward the octane selections.

  Annie pushed down her passenger window, pointed to the one for regular, and released the gas-cap button from inside the truck. The man smiled and commenced with his work. Annie smiled back at him. She could get used to this kind of treatment, even if she couldn’t get used to the heat.

  After the transaction was completed, she waved good-bye to her cheerful attendant and drove one short block to a corner market. Inside, she bought a Pepsi for herself and a large bottle of cold water for Wolf. Spanish was the primary language spoken here, as well, and Annie wasn’t sure hers was adequate for the questions she had. She stationed herself under the store’s meager eave, reckoning she wouldn’t die of heatstroke for at least five minutes. Then she reached into her pocket and extracted both her phone and the paper Jessica had given her. She dialed the first number on the list. It was for Maria Hernandez, and Annie prayed that Ms. Hernandez spoke English.

  She did. And she was delighted to hear from Annie. Jessica had called her this morning to tell her to expect Annie’s call. Where was she staying? Ah, Maria said with an amused laugh, you thought Loman might actually have lodgings for visitors. As Annie had feared, no such luck.

  “No one ever comes to Loman,” she told Annie. “It dried up years ago, around the time cattle driving did. You’ll find decent motels in Browning, eight miles east of there. That’s close to where I live. The feedlot is between the two towns. You’ll actually pass it on your way here. But don’t stop—the owners have camcorders stationed at the entrance and at every gate, and they’re the kind of people who s
hoot first and ask questions later. Jessica said you’ve got an appointment for tomorrow at two. That’s perfect; it’s the one time each day the horses and livestock get any attention, not to mention feed. We should get in without a problem.”

  Annie absorbed all this information without comment. She felt as if she were at the edge of a foreign country and was being told by the nice border guard that she had to obey all rules absolutely, or she would not be allowed inside. Going along docilely simply because someone said she had to was not something Annie did easily, or often. But she obviously was in no position to argue any of Maria’s points. She was simply grateful that Maria was there to explain how things were done.

  “I’m assuming I won’t have trouble getting a room in Browning?” she asked. “I did bring my dog.”

  Maria laughed again. It was a low, gentle laugh that Annie liked. “Browning isn’t exactly a destination among summer tourists. And neither motel’s going to object to your dog, although you’ll probably have to put down a deposit for damages.”

  “Fine.” Annie was relieved that she and Wolf wouldn’t be bunking tonight in the truck. “As I’m sure Jessica’s told you, I have a four-stall with me, but if you know of a professional hauler who can do the transport, I’d just as soon hire their services.”

  “Sadly, I don’t. There are only two haulers around here who will transport dirty horses, and they’re both booked way in advance. Bringing your own trailer was the right thing to do.”

  Well, at least that issue is resolved, Annie thought.

  “But you’ve got my full services while you’re here,” Maria went on. “I know Myrna and George all too well, and will go with you tomorrow to make sure they don’t pull any fast ones. And I’d love to get together with you tonight, just to talk, but my two sons both have Little League games, and I can’t miss them play. I’d suggest you come along, but you’re probably beat from the drive, and you’ve got a long return trip ahead of you.”

  Annie silently blessed Maria for giving her an out. Watching kids play baseball for hours on end was about as appealing to her as watching grass grow.

  “I could use a relaxing evening and an early bed.”

  “There should be a few restaurants in town that won’t give you food poisoning. I’d stay away from the bars. They’re pretty rowdy and testosterone-ridden.”

  “I shall avoid them like the plague. What time should we get together tomorrow?”

  “Let’s meet up at noon for lunch at the local diner, then we’ll go out to the feedlot. As I understand it, the horses are paid for, so all we need to do is to load and go.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Then let’s do it, Annie. Let’s get it done.”

  CHAPTER 8

  MONDAY EVENING, AUGUST 8

  Browning was a sight better than Loman. Annie counted four stoplights through town, caught a glimpse of a regular IGA market, and, as Maria had promised, identified two motels, each flanking one end of town. She chose one at random. She was tired, and even Wolf looked as if he needed a place to call home for the night.

  She was surprised at the size of her accommodations, especially since it had cost all of eighty-eight dollars, pet deposit included. The place obviously catered to long-distance truckers. In addition to a bedroom and bath, the room included a small kitchenette with a microwave, a small refrigerator, a four-burner electric range, and a sparse set of dishes. There was even a small sitting area in front of an old-fashioned TV. All the walls and most of the furniture were constructed out of knotty pine. All in all, it wasn’t a bad place to crash for a night, she decided.

  “We provide free Internet,” the clerk explained to her, “but not cable. That leaves you with three working stations, all local. But most people watch movies on their tablets these days, anyway.” Annie didn’t own a tablet but seldom watched television, so this was not a hardship. She realized the desk clerk was the first white person she’d seen since she’d veered off the freeway. And he was definitely white—his bright orange hair guaranteed a perpetually white skin.

  After freshening up in the small but efficient bathroom, she decided to take a walk down the main street. It was now nearly four in the afternoon, and the sun, while still shining brightly, wasn’t pulsating with quite as much heat as it had a few hours ago. Wolf had regained his usual enthusiasm for whatever his mistress had in mind, and after carefully locking the room with her one key, she set out to size up the town.

  The bars Maria had warned her against entering appeared to be the main attractions. All were dimly lit and so Annie could not see inside, had she wanted to. She concentrated instead of what interested her most at the moment—food. The sandwich she’d consumed five hours ago was a distant memory, and her stomach was reminding her of its lack of nourishment with conspicuous rumbles.

  Several taco trailers, which might have tempted Annie, were shuttered and closed for the day. So was a diner that catered only to breakfast and lunch customers. Annie made a note of it for tomorrow; she suspected it would be where she and Maria met before going to the feedlot to load up. At the far end of town, she saw a steak house, but noticed that it was attached to a bar that looked as sleazy as the ones she’d already passed. The situation was getting serious. If Annie was unable to satisfy her appetite soon, she envisioned raiding the nearest gas station mart and being forced to dine on a couple of hot dogs.

  Telling Wolf to stay, she entered the IGA, where a bitter blast of air-conditioning instantly brought goose bumps to her arms. Why couldn’t grocery stores ever get it right? Didn’t they realize freezing temperatures were not conducive to desultory shopping? She picked up a bag of chips she knew her half sister would thoroughly disapprove of and one pale ale, icy cold. She’d decided to stow these in her mini refrigerator for later. It appeared that more driving would be required in order to slake her hunger. But Annie decided that if any more driving were required, it would be without the trailer.

  The desk clerk highly recommended the steak house at the end of town, but Annie regretfully told him she was a vegetarian and didn’t eat meat. This was an outright lie, as anyone who had ever shared a meal with Annie knew full well. But just in case the clerk’s father-in-law owned the restaurant, she didn’t want to offend him unnecessarily.

  “Well, there’s a café about twelve miles down the road that’s open for dinner,” the clerk said doubtfully. “They do serve meat, but you probably could get a grilled cheese or veggie burger there. It’s right before you get to the rez. If you hit the rez, you’ve gone too far, and there’s nothing in there that’ll feed you.”

  “Great. What’s the name of the café?” Annie asked.

  “Cattle Rustler Café. Just keep heading north out of town. You can’t miss it.”

  * * *

  Annie felt as if she and Wolf were practically sailing down the road without the trailer impacting their speed or maneuverability. She was now in desert country, where scraggy brush intermittently dotted the brown, dusty ground, but no sign of green lingered. Annie imagined the wildlife that managed to survive within it—snakes and lizards mostly, she thought, and perhaps the occasional marmot. She was certain coyotes roamed the hills at night. They were a constant presence in her own pastures, and the prime reason her donkey, Trotter, was stationed with her flock of sheep right now. Most coyotes knew better to enter a pasture armed with a donkey or a mule in attendance. Those who didn’t learned quickly—if they survived the quick kick to the head that was sure to come.

  Occasionally, Annie saw a small herd of horses standing along a fence line parallel to the road. She wondered what they were used for and how they were fed. Any grass that might have been there had long since been eaten or had withered by late spring. She could see no apparent water source. She was suddenly grateful for the rain that pelted down on her side of the mountains for months on end. It ensured her well was full and that her rotated pastures offered good grass nearly all year long.

  She had not noticed the entrance to
the feedlot on her way to Browning, and for that, she was thankful. She’d been so intent on getting to her destination and securing a room for the night that she’d barely glanced at the many private roads leading to ranches and farms on either side of her. Evidently, the feedlot didn’t publicize its location very prominently—probably a wise decision, she realized, considering how many people abhorred its existence and practices toward horses. She would see the feedlot soon enough and already felt that she couldn’t wait to see the back of it.

  An adobe building appeared ahead on the right. Annie glanced at her odometer and knew it had to be the café the clerk had mentioned. It was, and it was open. Thank the Lord, Annie thought, as she got out of her truck. Below the hand-painted restaurant sign was another: LAST FOOD FOR THE NEXT 100 MILES. STOP NOW OR YOU’LL BE HUNGRY!

  The food was superb and so was the service, the latter, Annie suspected, because Wolf was such a hit with the owner and the few patrons.

  “I’ve never seen such a well-behaved heeler in my life,” declared the woman who took her order. “How did you train him so good? By the way, I’m Mindy, the owner, chef, waitperson, and chief bottle washer of this place.”

  “Wolf’s a very exceptional animal,” Annie explained, trying to sound modest and not quite succeeding. “He’s quite attuned to people and what they want, aren’t you, boy?”

  “Well, he deserves an extra special treat for being such a good dog and sitting here so quietly without begging,” Mindy said. “Mind if I bring out a steak bone or two for him to gnaw on?”

  Annie did not, and Wolf was gracious enough to take his treats out back, where he could gnaw away to his heart’s content. There were some areas of Wolf’s behavior, Annie explained, such as demolishing bones, which really needed be done outdoors.

  “What brings you here?” Mindy asked pleasantly as she rang up Annie’s tab a half hour later. “Don’t see many visitors here, even in summer.”