High Desert Detective, A Fiona Marlowe Mystery (Fiona Marlowe Mysteries)

by Thelen, Marjorie

  “Well, then case closed. One of the boys must have left it up there and went back to retrieve it.”

  Fiona didn’t like that answer. For some reason the Sheriff’s tune had changed. She plopped the cell phone back in her purse. “I’m sorry to bother you, Sheriff Hoover, and I won’t take up any more of your valuable time. Have a good day.”

  * * * * *

  Jake and the boys sat down to lunch at a meal Queenie had prepared for them. Opal had told him that Queenie would be making the meals. When he asked what was going to happen with Tillie, was she going to come and help out, Opal had said not yet. She seemed distant after their talk yesterday, and he had too much to do to worry about it. Let her take her time. After all it was her ranch, and she had a terrible illness to come to terms with.

  He needed to think of his future because as far as he was concerned, the handwriting was on the wall. He’d saved up enough money that he could get a decent spread of his own with help from the bank. It wouldn’t be the H Bar O, but it would be his and there would be no relatives to contend with. Fiona might not be a part of Plan B. He’d just have to see.

  They sat for a spell after they finished and Sweet said, “Where are we going to move those cows, Jake?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “We could move them to that BLM lease on the east side. We haven’t had any of the herd on it this spring.”

  “I’ve thought of that but it’s a little isolated. One of you boys would have to stay out with the herd for a while. We can’t lose any more cows.”

  “No problem,” said Glory. “I like sleeping under the stars.” He was a man who wore a grizzled beard, had the lined forehead of a perpetual worrier, and a voice that sounded like it came from the bottom of a well.

  “All right,” said Jake, “we’ll move them in the morning. I’ll call Rosemary and Esme to see if they can come over and give us a hand. Glory, ride out there this afternoon. Check the fences and top off the stock pond.”

  Fiona and Opal came back while he was in the office checking hay prices and talking to the broker. The window in the office overlooked the lane into the house. He smiled when he saw Fiona’s new rig but wondered how things were going to turn out. If Tillie and company got the ranch, he wondered if Fiona would stay. He liked to think that she would stay because of him. But he didn’t know for sure.

  He walked out to greet them and have a look at the Ford.

  “How do you like it?” asked Fiona, standing by the truck with a smile of pride on her face.

  “I believe you’ve fallen in love with a truck,” he said.

  “She rides real nice,” said Opal, standing there and admiring the truck with them.

  “How do you feel?” Jake asked her. “How did it go?”

  “Didn’t feel anything. People were all nice. I’m not even tired, so I think I’ll go in and see if Queenie needs help.”

  Jake told her about moving the cows and where. She agreed.

  “I wish I could go along on the drive, but I got other things to do.” And with that she went inside.

  Fiona walked over to where Jake stood. “She seems stoic and resigned. The oncologist said the chemotherapy will affect her energy after a while.”

  “She has too much to deal with. Did she say anything to you about Tillie and the ranch?”

  “Nothing. Not a thing.”

  Fiona turned to look at him. “I stopped by to see Hoover while I was in town.” She pulled out her cell phone. “I showed him this photo.”

  Jake looked at the photo. “Is that a gun?”

  She nodded and told him where she had found the gun and how she came to be in the new bunkhouse and then related Hoover’s reactions, and her feeling that something wasn’t quite right since Hoover’s attitude had changed.

  Jake met her gaze. He was glad Hoover’s ardor had cooled for Fiona. “Hoover can get short sometimes when he’s under a lot of pressure. Don’t put too much store in his change of attitude. So he didn’t think anything of your finding the gun?”

  “No, he brushed it off.”

  Jake studied the photo. “None of the boys ever said anything about collecting guns or that they were interested in old guns. But I can ask them.” He handed the phone back to her. “You know, it may not mean anything. Hoover may be right.”

  “I’d probably accept that explanation if my cute little bunkhouse hadn’t burned to the ground. How could one of them accidently lose an old gun up on my knoll? I’m suspicious.”

  Jake’s smiled. He could hear the detective wheels turning in her head. “You would be.”

  She was not to be put off. “Hoover didn’t seem to approve of some of the ranch hands Opal hired. I offered to try to track down some of the unsavory characters, as Hoover called them.”

  “Including me. I had to grow on him. But I’ve been around long enough now I’m a fossil.”

  “That goes to show you that some people can turn over a new leaf. I’m interested in your employee list and who might now have repented and who might still be unsavory.”

  “I’ll go over it with you, but without the reach of law enforcement you’re not going to be able to find them. And I’m not so sure it would be a good idea.”

  Fiona shrugged. “I’m trying to help.”

  “It’s your detective genes.”

  She laughed. “You’re right. Maybe if we teamed up we could solve this one. We were a pretty good investigative team back in Virginia.”

  He smiled at that one. “All right. We’ll have a look at the list, and I’ll tell you what I know about each guy.”

  * * * * *

  Opal laid her purse on the kitchen table. The room was clean and tidy, and she had nothing to do. Queenie was a great help, and she wondered if Tillie came if she’d do as good a job or if she’d just keep things stirred up. She didn’t need that right now, but she needed to get back to Tillie about her decision. Lord, she was tired, and she didn’t feel quite right, but she wasn’t about to let on to anyone about how bad she felt.

  She walked out onto the back patio where a light breeze stirred the huge elm tree that shaded the patio. The king birds were twittering in its leafy branches. They must have young, she thought, they were making so much noise. She picked Shasta daisies and pink yarrow from her flower garden and made a small bouquet. Back in the kitchen she filled a plastic water bottle she kept on the sink. With the water and flowers in hand she walked toward the corrals and the new bunkhouse. She passed them and kept going. She was headed for a stand of Russian Olive trees, their narrow silver gray leaves twirling in the breeze.

  The trees formed a windbreak on a slight rise. Henry lay at rest there in the family graveyard. An old wrought iron fence enclosed the area. His mother and father, grandparents and siblings lay around him. A modest gravestone with a cherub angel carved in the top marked where his remains were buried. Opal had added a stone bench under the trees where she came to sit when she needed quiet time. It was her personal sanctuary. No one ever came but her. The trees partially hid the site from the other buildings. She liked it that way.

  She put the bunch of flowers in a metal vase anchored in front of the tombstone, added water, and fluffed them to make them look pretty. How many times had she come here with flowers to remember Henry? She sat down on the cool bench to enjoy the shade. It was too hot for June. It never got this hot until July and August. The rain hadn’t come like it should have that spring. The weather seemed mixed up. But then, weather was never normal in Harney Valley. The high altitude, the short growing season, the poor soil, and the endless wind made growing things difficult. Freezing night time temperatures could occur in the summer and destroy the alfalfa crop. The unpredictability of the weather drove more than one homesteader away to the west side of the state where rain was more plentiful.

  She had grown to like it. She and Henry had settled at the ranch after they were married. She had no idea what she was getting into. At first, she hated it. She thought the high desert drab
and dusty. But then she discovered the people, and the rhythm of the land, the sunny days and cool nights. The winters could be severe. But she’d snuggle up with Henry at night, and they’d love each other. But the children didn’t come in those first years and then Henry got killed when his horse threw him. Life was hard after Henry’s passing, but she was committed to his dream. He used to talk to her at night about what they would do, how many cattle, how much hay, his idea for a prime line of bulls and horses. He had had dreams, that Henry did.

  She didn’t bring all of those dreams to fruition. The horses were good but not prime. But the bulls were prize winning, and the H Bar O had a reputation for good cows and calves. She had expanded Henry’s holdings, bought up land around the ranch until it was over one thousand acres in addition to the land that they leased. She was proud of what she had done but sad that she never had children and had no one to leave the ranch to.

  All Henry’s brothers and sisters were gone. Opal was matriarch of a fiefdom of quarrelsome nieces and nephews none of whom had any interest in keeping the ranch intact. All those years of work to build an empire, and no one wanted to keep it together. Except Jake. He was the perfect son she had never had.

  “Henry,” she said aloud. She liked to talk things over with him as if in the telling the problem would be solved. “What am I to do about your ranch? I may be up in ranch heaven with you sooner than you think. Leastways, I hope it’s heaven. I guess I shouldn’t worry about things that I’ll leave behind, but you know I do.” She sighed. “If only we had had children.” She stopped for a while to think. “But they’d probably never turn out like we’d want. They’d probably be arguing over the ranch, too. If only you’d a lived to old age with me. I miss you so. Sometimes I feel this burden is more than I can bear. This is all too much for me, you know.”

  She could feel herself tearing up. “Stop it, you old fool. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop it now.” She blinked away the tears. “Anyway, Henry, if you have any advice or can help out here while I’m waiting to go, I’d appreciate it.”

  * * * * *

  In the ranch office Fiona and Jake went over a list of fifteen employees who had worked on the ranch over the last twenty years. They narrowed the list to three suspects, one of whom was one of the infamous relations.

  “Did Opal have any inside help beside Queenie?” Fiona asked.

  “Yes, but why do you ask? We’re interested in someone who knows the surrounding territory, who knows the ranch operation.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe she was in cahoots with the ranch hands. If she worked inside and they worked outside, they’d know everything about the operation and how you spend your time.”

  Jake was silent like he was thinking it over. “A young girl worked for Opal for a short while. She and one of the boys fell in love and decided to get married and left for Nevada. But that guy isn’t on the suspicious list.” He ran his finger down the list. “It was this guy, Mark Weiner. He was young, green, so-so worker. I wasn’t unhappy to see him go. The girl, Sue White, was in the same league.”

  “Maybe they were feeding information to someone else. Maybe they were a plant. Did they come to work about the same time?”

  Jake checked the employment dates. “About a month apart. She came first.”

  “Maybe she came to case the joint, he comes later and spots the opportunities to take a few cows, and then they leave.”

  “Your imagination is going wild again, Fiona.”

  She smiled. “I’m brainstorming. We have to think of all possibilities, leave no thought unspoken, put everything on the table, no matter how dumb the idea may be. What year were they here?”

  Jake checked the chart. “About a year ago. Queenie had decided she was going to get educated and take some online college courses and was away for a few months. It didn’t work out, and she came back.”

  “When did your rustling problems start?”

  “About a month ago. We were missing two or three at first as far as I could tell. This last one was a major haul. But what you’re implying is a mighty thin thread between events.”

  Fiona shrugged. “Thin but plausible. Did they leave a forwarding address?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Can you ask your buddy, Hoover, to run down information to try to find them?”

  Jake rubbed his forehead. “I’m not sure the wisdom of that. I think Hoover is getting a little testy, according to you, with your meddling. And I got a lot to do here.”

  “I have the time to follow through on any information he can give us, if you give him the call.”

  Jake picked up the phone and dialed. “Hoover, please. This is Jake. Would you have him call me? Thanks.” He hung up. “There, I called.”

  Fiona sank into the overstuffed chair beside the desk. “What are you going to do about the ranch?”

  “I don’t know. Opal is thinking about what she wants to do. I can’t rush that process. I haven’t heard back from the bank on my application for a loan.” He looked at her and shrugged. “I’m not hopeful. Opal still is saving relatives, and she may opt for dividing up the ranch in pieces and giving it to them.”

  “Olympia is looking for a ranch.”

  “Olympia? She wants to live in Harney Valley?”

  “For her it would be an investment. I doubt she’d spend much time there. She might be looking for a ranch manager if a deal goes through.”

  Jake shook his head. “My next ranch will be my own. I’m tired of working for someone else. I put a lot of effort into this place. I was hoping to buy it. But that probably was an impossible dream. As a matter of fact, I called a real estate broker this morning to see what else is available.”

  “I admire your persistence. I think you’ll get your own ranch, one way or another.”

  “You bet.”

  * * * * *

  Samantha, Tillie’s younger sister, arrived that evening. She was slight and wistful and lived near Seattle. She had gone there to work for Microsoft. Opal remembered her talking mostly about yoga and art. She wrote poetry and spoke of things Opal never thought about. But she was a dear and peaceful child, the only one in the family. She had not called ahead to tell anyone she was coming. But that was like her. She blew in and blew out like a rain squall, but she usually brought sunshine and not rain.

  Opal was with Fiona and Jake by the horse corral, watching Sweet work Fancy, the mare, when the car pulled in.

  “Who’s that?” Opal shaded her eyes, trying to figure out who would be coming by this late in the day. “It doesn’t look like Olympia’s car.”

  Fiona looked. “No. I talked to Olympia earlier. She might not be back till late, if at all.”

  Jake said, “It’s a small car. I don’t recognize it.”

  Fiona and Jake stayed at the corral, while Opal walked to the front of the house. She broke into a smile when she saw Sammie get out of the car.

  “Hello, gal, don’t you let a person know when you’re coming?”

  “It’s great to see you Aunt Opal,” said Sammie.

  They embraced in a big rocking hug.

  “My, my, my,” said Opal, “you still look not a day over thirty. I don’t know how you do it.”

  “Genes. If stress were any indicator, I would have been dead long ago.”

  “You take after the Crawford side of the family, you lucky girl. Well, come on in. I hope you’re here to stay for a while. Are you on vacation?”

  Sammie didn’t move to follow Opal. Instead she raised her hands over her head, looked up, and slowly turned in a 360 degree circle. “It’s so beautiful here. I always forget how beautiful my home country is.”

  “Is city life getting to you again?”

  “A little.” She paused in her circle dance and sighed. “Tillie called me last night.”

  Opal nodded. “I figured as much. And the peacemaker has sallied forth.”

  Samantha smiled and shook her head. “She unloaded on me. She only calls when there’s som
e kind of crisis. Unfortunately, there’s a crisis a minute these days with her.”

  Opal looked off into the distance, off into the violet rose sunset. “I really don’t know what to do with her and Howie.”

  “Neither do I, but I thought between the two of us, we could come up with something. But I came to see you first and foremost. Tillie told me about the treatments and all.”

  Opal lifted a shoulder. “We all got to die of something. It looks like I know what mine will be.”

  Sammie stroked Opal’s back with a light, caring touch. “You have always amazed me. I hope I will have your resilience when I get to be your age.”

  “Ranching does it.”

  “That’s what has kept you going all these years.”

  Opal rubbed her arms. “It’s cooling down and the mosquitoes are getting bad. Come in. Have you had dinner? Can I get you something to drink?”

  This time Sammie followed Opal across the wood porch and in the front door. She stopped in the living room. “Just like it always looks. This place smells like home to me.”

  Opal hugged her again. “Your mama tried to keep a good house.”

  They both laughed.

  “The key word is try,” said Samantha.

  “I was thinking to have the place re-decorated.”

  “Don’t you ever. It would change the smell. It might start smelling new or something.”

  “If Tillie gets it, who knows what she’ll do.”

  “Tillie isn’t going to get this place.”

  “They’re in a bad way.”

  “She said you’re going to sell to Jake.”

  “I want it to stay in one piece, and Jake would keep it together and build on what Henry and I started. He’s responsible for the fine shape the ranch is in now. The nieces and nephews each want their chunk. They’d rip it apart and destroy it. If I can prevent that I will.”

  “You should sell to Jake. It’s your ranch.”

  Opal sighed and shook her head, gazing around the great room. She hated the thought of giving it up. She wasn’t ready to go, but she didn’t have much say in the matter.