His almost black hair was cut short and his icy blue eyes were fringed with long lashes. His eyes always drew comments from those of the female persuasion. A confirmed bachelor, Jim lived in a log cabin he’d built 10 years ago with some help from his two brothers and her late husband, Michael. It was just a couple of miles from his parents’ house and about the same distance from the kennel. However, the log cabin was not primitive living. He’d had some help decorating over the years from various girlfriends and Gracie. The Jacuzzi on the two-tier deck overlooking the lush Genesee Valley was the crowning accessory for Gracie. She’d always been envious of his view and the hot tub. Of course, Jim thought it was the combination of the hot tub and huge flat screen TV that made his house perfect. He was the host of choice for football parties. If only the Buffalo Bills could actually have a winning season again.
He smirked. “Not quite the show I expected,” he said, reeling her back into the conversation.
“What do you mean by that?” she asked.
Gracie was collecting leashes to get the next group to a play session. She grabbed a chocolate chip cookie from the plate by the coffeemaker and bit off a chunk of soft cookie. Marian’s grooming skills were only exceeded by her baking prowess. She’d brought a plate of huge cookies still warm from the oven as a treat for everyone.
“There was quite a group of people. More than I thought would show up. D. B. made an appearance and people were arguing with him about putting up any more windmills. Then Toby jumped into it. He told D. B. to take a hike; the property still belonged to him. D. B. got mad and went home. It was a pretty tense scene. Now there’s some big rally planned to promote green power, but this Renew Earth organization is hot to oppose it. I’m not sure their position makes sense. Anyway, a couple of people were passing out flyers about how windmills cause cancer and make your cows give less milk. Didn’t see any—”
“That reminds me,” Gracie cut in. “A Ben Richter stopped by with a petition to stop the windmills. I didn’t sign it because I saw the Renew Earth logo on it. I’m not sure we want to be associated with that group.”
“I don’t think so after last night. I’m not sure what they’re up to, but between windmills and cow manure, they have a real ax to grind with D. B.” Jim finished off a cookie and took another one for the road.
“So when’s this rally … uh … protest?” Gracie followed his lead and took another cookie herself.
“Friday night at seven o’clock sharp. The town council has some politician showing up and said the windmill company will make an appearance. Renew Earth’s gonna have their chance to speak too. Could get pretty interesting, if last night is any indicator.”
“It does sound like a fascinating evening. How about we check it out?”
“Sure thing. I’m in. The bonus is that Toby is making noises about designating the Meadow a preserve of some sort. I’d like to see him do it. The Meadow’s too pretty a place to be wrecked by windmills or anything else.”
“I like that idea too. It’s a place that should be protected.” She bent to check that her shoelaces were tied. Straightening up, she said, “Gotta run, Jim. It’s exercise time for some beagles.”
*****
By Friday morning, Gracie and Jim decided they needed another kennel assistant or, more realistically, two. She’d spent the better part of Thursday going over their income and expenses to see if adding two more part-time employees was even viable.
Jim had his hands full with maintenance. The kennel, which was mostly renovated, still had a small section that really needed some work. Jim was updating the plumbing and electric. When those projects were finished, he needed to install a new air conditioning system. Summers weren’t long in Wyoming County, but they were plenty humid. A reliable air conditioning system was a necessity. Well past its retirement date, the current setup worked only sporadically. When it did, it burped and gurgled ominously.
Gracie leaned back in her chair and adjusted her drooping mass of red hair in the hair clip. She must be a real mess. She’d have to be ready to go to her parents’ in a couple of hours.
Friday nights had been reestablished with her parents after Michael’s death. Her dad got a stack of crispy fish fry dinners from Midge’s, and the Clark family ate dinner together. Most of the time, it was her parents, Haley, and herself. Her brother Tom and his daughter Emma usually joined them, but not tonight. Tom’s ex-wife, Jan, had requested their presence at one of her family’s gatherings. Surprisingly, Tom had agreed. Gracie could only hope that Tom’s relationship with Kelly, her best friend and the kennel’s on-call veterinarian, would survive. Jim would join the remaining Clarks tonight.
Gracie sighed and dumped the scattered papers on her desk in the wire basket. It was time to clean up here and hit the shower. Haley was close on her heels as they did a final check on their guests, and Trudy straightened the reception area. There were 35 boarders for the weekend. Haley, the goodwill ambassador, greeted each one with a perpetually waving tail.
“Looks like everybody is all set. Thanks for your hard work today, Trudy. See you in the morning.”
“All right. I’ll be back bright and early.” Trudy grabbed her bag from the bottom desk drawer and patted Haley before she left.
Dinner was a fast affair. Everyone was anxious to get somewhere else, so there wasn’t much conversation. Gracie’s parents, Bob and Theresa Clark, were going to a movie and didn’t want to miss commandeering good seats. Theresa even allowed them to eat out of their Styrofoam containers, which was usually a big no-no.
“So, this protest is about the windmills?” Bob asked Jim as he finished the last bite of perfectly deep-fried haddock.
“Partially,” Jim managed, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin. “There are a lot of negative feelings about D. B. right now too. He’s doing a great job of ticking off Toby and just about everybody else. No one wants to see those windmills ruin that property. But I think a congressman is coming tonight who is actually in favor of the wind farms. There’s a lot of government money for green energy out there.”
“I hope it doesn’t get ugly. Are you sure you and Gracie should go?” Theresa asked.
She was already clearing the table. Gracie knew her mother hated to be late for anything. She took her mother’s cue and began to collect napkins and silverware.
“The sheriff’s department will be there because of the congressman. It’s just some people blowing off a little steam,” Jim assured Theresa.
“It’s Wyoming County, Mom, not exactly a hotbed of political unrest.” Gracie teased her mother. “We promise to come home early and not get in any trouble.”
Her comment was rewarded with the “look,” which hadn’t changed since she was in kindergarten.
“All right, you two. Get out of here. We have our own plans. Come on, Bob. Are you ready? I don’t want to sit way down front for this movie.”
“I’m ready, dear. Let me get my keys.”
“We’re outta here, Mom. See you later.” Gracie kissed her father’s cheek and hugged her mother, who was wiping down the counters.
“Your dad and I will be over tomorrow. He’s mowing, and I’m going to get started on that mess in your backyard that’s supposed to be a flowerbed.”
“Great. Thanks. The fence guy’s coming tomorrow too.”
Gracie could only hope the fence guy and her mother would take a shine to each other.
*****
Jemison Road was lined with vehicles for at least a half-mile. Pickups, cars, motorcycles, and even a tractor were parked along the dirt road. Everybody was apparently getting involved with the Greerson’s Meadow issue. Three sheriff’s cars were strategically placed and a deputy was directing traffic. Jim drove slowly, searching for a place to park. Four other vehicles crawled ahead of them, looking for a spot too.
“I guess we’ll have to walk back from the old Everett place,” Jim complained, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this crowd.”
Gracie nodded in agre
ement. There had to be at least a hundred people already gathered in the large alfalfa field. More people with signs piled out of cars. It promised to be a stimulating evening.
“Isn’t there a lane that goes down into Toby’s woods? People might have missed that.” Gracie scanned ahead, not seeing a break in the line of vehicles. Toby’s woods were only a few hundred yards farther; it beat walking a quarter of a mile from the abandoned Everett farm.
“Good idea. Looks like these folks will just park in the field. It’s pretty wet out there in some spots. I don’t want to chance getting stuck.”
The narrow farm lane that wound back into the thick woods hadn’t been snagged by anyone. It was easy to miss, camouflaged by massive sugar maples. Jim backed in for an easy exit. Tire tracks showed in the soft ground and then disappeared over a rise in the narrow road. About a cord of firewood stood stacked at the crest of the hill. Toby must be cutting wood to sell for the next season already. The smell of fresh sawdust hung in the evening air.
When they reached the Meadow, a representative from the wind turbine company loudly extolled the benefits of renewable energy sources. Unenthusiastic applause went around the crowd. Congressman Streeker then gave an impassioned speech about the local economy and the importance of green energy. The chintzy sound system snapped and squealed, giving the congressman’s aide fits. She whispered incessantly to the sound person, who shrugged and kept adjusting the small soundboard without much success. There were a few cheers from the bunch nearest the platform, but a lot more booing from the west side of the crowd. Gracie shaded her eyes to check out the dissenters, who had the setting sun at their backs. She recognized Ben Richter and several people from town, but there were a lot of unfamiliar faces, who, in Gracie’s quick assessment, had to be ringers. Some applause broke out as the congressman and a couple of aides stepped down from the makeshift plywood platform. D. B. pumped the politician’s hand and then made a little jump to reach the small podium.
D. B. Jackson seemed to fill the platform. Imposing at well over six feet, he had broad shoulders, a square jaw, and ham-like hands that smoothed his shirt. He took off a white cowboy hat and wiped his gleaming forehead with a handkerchief. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked tight to his head. Replacing the hat, he grabbed the microphone. Gracie and Jim edged closer through the crowd toward the platform to get a better view.
“Well, folks, you heard our good Congressman Streeker. Renewable energy is just what I want to promote here in the Deer Creek area. Our economy can use the help, and as a dairy farmer, I can say these windmills haven’t done a bit of damage to my herd or to other herds in the county. The Jackson Hilltop Farm over in Strykersville has been sharing space with these windmills, and milk production is up. Sure, they’re big, but they’re doing a lot of good. In a few years, everybody’ll see how they’re benefiting the local economy and providing cheap, clean energy for us.” He mopped his head with his red handkerchief again and smiled broadly at the crowd. The microphone squealed when he drew it back to his face.
Before he could continue, a man shouted from the group of protesters.
“What about all that greenhouse gas you’re making up there on your farm? When are you going to stop polluting the ground water?”
A woman, waving a sign that said “Free the Cows,” called to D. B. “You’re just a big hypocrite!”
Gracie kept her eyes on Ben Richter, who looked like the Cheshire cat. His arms were folded across his chest. She nudged Jim.
“That’s the guy who stopped at the house.”
“I’ve seen him around town. Hey, watch out!”
Jim suddenly ducked, pulling her to the ground as a small rock came flying overhead. It thumped harmlessly on the soft ground behind them. A shower of small rocks scattered across the platform as a surge of people ran toward D. B. The majority, meanwhile, hightailed it for their cars.
D. B. jumped off the platform. A group of men in suits hustled him into a black SUV. Two state trooper cars had pulled up, lights flashing and sirens blaring.
“What’s happening?” Gracie shouted over the noise of the crowd and sirens.
She and Jim crouched in the hedgerow that separated the field from the woods.
“Beats me. Let’s get out of here!”
Jim grabbed her hand, and they ran back up the road to his pickup. They sat in the truck for a moment, catching their breath as cars and trucks sped past the shaded lane. They could hear someone on a bullhorn, bellowing instructions to regain order.
“What in the Sam Hill just happened?” Jim demanded. His face was pale under his tan.
“Somebody started a brawl, I think,” Gracie gasped. Her heart was still pounding. “It must have been the Renew Earth group, don’t you think?”
“I’d better go back up there and see if the cops need help. You stay here.”
“No way. I want to know what’s going on.”
She was already getting out of the truck. Jim shrugged and rolled his eyes.
“You head right back here if there’s any more trouble, okay?” His voice had a no-nonsense tone. She nodded.
She rewound her hair, which had completely tumbled out of the hair clip, and fastened it more securely. Brushing the dirt off her blue shirt and frowning at the grass stains on her jeans, she trotted after Jim.
The crowd had thinned to a handful by the time they got back to the field. Toby was talking to one of the deputies, waving his hands toward the sky. D. B. had a trickle of blood running down his face from a gash over his right eye. A protester must have found his or her target. Stragglers were standing by their vehicles along the road.
Gracie saw Dan Evans, the owner of the local hardware, talking to Ed Findley, a dairy farmer who lived just down the road from the kennel. Dan was Deer Creek’s fire chief, so he had to know something. Jim went to check out the scene around the platform. Gracie walked across the road to Dan’s blue Ford pickup.
“Hey, Gracie. Quite the commotion tonight,” Dan said grimly.
“No kidding. Who started it?” She watched Jim who was talking to Toby and one of the state troopers.
“Not sure. Probably those tree huggers, but I thought they were supposed to be non-violent types.”
Ed chimed in, “Toby might have thrown that rock at D. B. He was spoiling for a fight with him tonight.”
“Did you see him?”
“No. There must have been a bunch of people who came with gravel in their pockets and started pitching it everywhere. It was hard to see what was really going on. People were all over the place.”
“A rock almost hit us. It wasn’t any gravel,” Gracie replied, swatting at a mosquito that had settled on her arm for a snack.
“There were a few rocks. It was lucky nobody got seriously hurt,” Dan grumbled. “I’m not so sure Toby threw the rock. A lot of stuff happened fast.”
“So, D. B. is okay?”
“He’s says he’s fine,” Dan answered. “His head is as hard as rock anyway. I tried to check him out, but you know D. B. He doesn’t need anybody’s help.”
“Well, at least it’s not serious.”
Gracie saw Jim slap Tobias on the back and begin walking toward them. The state trooper handed Tobias a paper, which he stuffed in his pants pocket.
“Geez Louise, I didn’t think those Renew Earth people would go postal on us. They sure didn’t win any popularity contests tonight.” Ed stuck a thumb in his jeans belt loop and put a foot up on the bumper of his truck. “Guess I’d better get home. It’ll be breakfast time again before you know it.”
Dan grunted in agreement. He seemed unimpressed with the whole affair.
“You’re right, Ed. Looks like the excitement is over for now. I’ve got an early morning myself.” Dan turned and reached for door handle of his truck.
“See ya, Dan … Ed,” Gracie called.
She joined Jim. They walked slowly back up the rutted dirt road to the truck.
“So, did Toby hit D. B. with a rock?” She could h
ardly wait for Jim to answer.
“He says he didn’t, but he got a ticket for disorderly conduct. From what he says, D. B. threatened to call the loan he has on the Meadow today if he doesn’t sign the paperwork to sell. It’s not going to be pretty. Both of them are plenty mad.”
“A loan? Tobias borrowed money from D. B.?”
“I guess. Wasn’t very smart. Greerson’s Meadow could be a thing of the past if D.B does call it.”
Jim started up the truck and pulled back onto the road. There were a few vehicles left at the Meadow, including D. B.’s big pickup, which sat near the platform.
The sound guy was hauling his battered equipment to a gray van parked on the shoulder. Gracie smiled feebly at the harried man as they drove past. She was sure the conversation around Midge’s counter tomorrow morning over coffee and sweet rolls would be steaming hot. Too bad she wouldn’t be able to join the restaurant gang for breakfast.
Chapter 3
The gobble of turkeys broke through the songs of the robins and warblers that threaded the woods. There were three hens and one hefty tom moving up the ravine from the creek. The tom kept a lookout, while his harem continued pecking through the layers of wet leaves. Sunlight filtered through the trees, but the morning air was still chilly. A light breeze escorted some rainclouds from the west. The shotgun blast ruffled the watchful tom’s tail feathers and sent the big birds scattering in different directions as they attempted to lift off. Their heavy bodies strained to make it through the trees. Another blast brought the rotund tom somersaulting to the ground below.
*****
Gracie rolled over, groaning and slapping at the clock to stifle the annoying alarm.
Haley stood over her face, panting. The long pink tongue hit her cheek. The dog’s tags jingled cheerfully. Too cheerfully and too early.
“All right. I’m up. I’m up,” Gracie growled as she crawled out of bed. Her mouth felt like cotton.
Fly by Night (A Gracie Andersen Mystery Book 3) Page 2