Tarnished Remains: Shandra Higheagle Mystery #2

by Paty Jager

  The last statement struck Shandra like a lightning bolt. “The ranch was going to you? Why was it up for sale? And I thought you had an uncle who was still alive?”

  “All my uncle ever cared about with the ranch was to sell it. He didn’t have the same love of the land as my father and I had. That’s why Pappy said it would go to me. But when their health started failing and they didn’t have means to pay for doctors and such, I told them to sell the ranch. Even though they were stern and as Sally says, ‘Tamped out my spirit’, I loved them and they were all the family I had other than Uncle Jerome and his wife and stepdaughter. I haven’t seen much of him since the ranch sold the first time. He and my aunt blamed me for talking them into selling.”

  “I would think he would want what was best for his parents.” Shandra was getting an unflattering view of Lil’s uncle.

  Lil shrugged. “He didn’t come see them unless it was one of their birthdays, and he only lives thirty minutes away in Hafersville.”

  She thought back to Ryan’s comment that it was Jerome who noticed the barn was on fire. “Was it one of your grandparent’s birthdays the night the barn caught fire?”

  Lil rubbed her temples and shook her head. “No. Everything happened so fast. I’d barely been home an hour when he came running in saying the barn was on fire. He and Pappy put it out and Pappy called it in as vandalism. After he and Uncle Jerome talked to the police, they whisked me to the police station and started asking me why I set fire to the barn.” She took a sip of wine. “I just wanted to forget that night and everything that had happened after my fight with Johnny.”

  Shandra noted both their glasses were empty. “Why don’t we go to sleep and tackle the puzzle of Johnny’s death tomorrow?” She peered into Lil’s eyes. “If we don’t have secrets from one another we can work to find the person responsible for your unhappiness.”

  Lil nodded and stood. “I knew when you came and looked at the ranch that you were good for the land and the critters who lived here.” She ducked her head and murmured, “Even me.” Lil slipped out the back door before Shandra could think of something to say.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ryan drove six hours to the ranch where Tracy Gilley trained barrel racing horses. From what he gathered on the internet, she did less training and more coaching these days. She was in her seventies, still thin and spry, but as his mother always said, her bones were getting brittle. If the woman took a fall from a horse it could be disaster.

  The grounds were well-kept, the paddocks clean and tidy. A dozen horses of varying ages grazed in a large, white-fenced pasture. The woman had to be doing well considering the money it would take to keep everything looking this sharp.

  He stopped his SUV in front of the walkway to the door of a large but not obnoxious house. The two white columns on either end of the porch didn’t look out of place.

  Ryan stepped out of his vehicle and scanned the area.

  “Can I help you?”

  A vaguely familiar man walked up from the barn. The closer he came, his image formed in Ryan’s mind. He was the best friend of Tucker Gilley, Tracy’s second husband. There had been many photos of him during the disappearance and then in the website photos of the ranch.

  “Mr. Farley, I’m Detective Ryan Greer with the Weippe Sheriff’s Department. I’d like to speak with Mrs. Gilley.” Ryan held out his hand.

  Farley didn’t clasp his hand. He shoved his hands into his jean pockets and narrowed his eyes. “How do you know who I am?”

  “Your photos were in the paper during the disappearance of Tucker Gilley and you’re in the photos on the website for Mrs. Gilley’s business.” While he didn’t have to tell the man, Ryan wanted Farley to know he’d done his homework.

  The cowboy took a defiant stance, feet apart, arms crossed. “Mrs. Gilley isn’t here.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s in Texas teaching a seminar on barrel racing.” He continued to glare.

  “When is she expected back?” He hadn’t planned on the woman being gone. From all accounts on the internet she stayed home and worked the horses.

  “Not till next week. What do you want with her?” Farley’s hostility only made the man, and quite possibly the woman, look guilty.

  “We found a body in Weippe County.”

  The man’s face didn’t lose its composer, but his tanned cheeks faded in color.

  Ryan was pretty sure Farley hadn’t killed Johnny Clark. He would have still been barely out of his teens. But where had Tracy’s second husband gone missing? He searched his memory. That had occurred in another state. So why was the man looking like he saw a ghost?

  “You know anything about an ex-rodeo cowboy named Johnny Clark?” Ryan pulled out his notepad to give him something to do and to look official.

  The man stood straighter. “He was a damn fine bronc rider and did a good job announcing rodeos. He announced several I rode in. Why?”

  “Did Mrs. Gilley ever mention him?” From what Ryan could tell Farley didn’t know his employer had once been married to the deceased.

  “No. But she would have been competing when Johnny was.” Farley had uncrossed his arms now that the subject had drifted to rodeo.

  “She was. She was also his ex-wife about the time he disappeared.” He hid a smile as the man’s jaw dropped and his feet started shifting.

  “She was married to Johnny Clark? All be damned!” He shook his head. “She never mentioned that. Neither did Tucker.” Farley grasped the front of his cowboy hat, lifted it, and scratched his head. “I do remember something about him disappearing from the rodeo circuit. Rumor was he’d married and settled down.”

  “He was murdered and has been buried on a mountain until three days ago.” Ryan watched the man.

  “Really? Dead?” Farley kept eye contact and didn’t seem the least bit unnerved.

  “Do you have a cell phone number for Mrs. Gilley? I need to contact her about the last time she might have talked with Johnny. I already made a six-hour trip for nothing.” Cathleen hadn’t been able to find a cell number for Tracy. And the house phone had been disconnected. That was why Ryan had made the long drive to talk with Mrs. Gilley.

  “Give me your name and number, and I’ll have her contact you when she returns.” Farley was back to being protective of the woman.

  Ryan pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket and handed it over. “Make sure she gets that and calls me as soon as she comes home. I need to get a time frame nailed down as to who was the last person to see Johnny before he was murdered.”

  Farley stuck the card in his back pants pocket. “Sure. Can’t say for sure when she’ll be back. She had planned to stay at a spa a few days before she came home.”

  “Which one?” Maybe he could contact her there.

  “Echo Canyon.”

  “Thanks.” Ryan jotted the name down in his notepad and closed it. “If I don’t get in touch with her before she returns, I’d appreciate you giving her my card.”

  Farley nodded.

  Ryan climbed back in his SUV and pointed his vehicle north. Next on his list was Phil Seeton.

  ~*~

  As much as Shandra hated to ask any favors of her step-father, she was coming up against a wall when it came to finding out where Phil Seeton lived or anything about him. He’d had a lackluster career as a rodeo announcer and then just disappeared from the circuit as far as she could tell.

  After a filling breakfast of waffles and fresh raspberries, she sat down at her desk and dialed the land line at the Montana ranch. If she was lucky he’d be out and she could have Mom ask Adam about Phil.

  The phone rang four times and Mom’s out-of-breath hello jogged her from her reveries of never feeling a part of Adam Malcolm’s family.

  “Mom, it’s Shandra.”

  “Hello. You don’t call near enough. How are things on your mountain?” Mom still talked with a whispery soft voice that made her sound fragile.

  Shandra knew her mother
was strong and tough as nails. Except when it came to her daughter. She’d allowed her second husband to take away all of Shandra’s heritage from her biological father. Adam had insisted she use his last name even though he never legally adopted her. He wouldn’t let her talk about her family at the reservation or tell anyone of her heritage.

  “Not so good. I found a dead body in my clay pocket.”

  “You what? Found a dead body.”

  Mom said the words dead and body as if she had a bad taste in her mouth.

  “Yes. It was Johnny Clark, a bronc rider from the days when Daddy rodeoed.” She knew that was a time that was never talked about. Another reason she’d been reluctant to call and ask Adam about a man who would have been part of the rodeo scene at the same time her father was riding the circuit.

  “Johnny Clark? He was married to a barrel racer. Nasty woman. He was so nice, I could never figure that match out.”

  Mom was all about the social aspects of the rodeo, or so Shandra had gathered from what little her mother had talked about her days with the rodeo. She’d barrel raced a little before she’d caught Edward Higheagle’s attention.

  “You knew Johnny Clark?” Shandra asked, surprised Mom knew the man and was willing to talk about him.

  “He was very nice, a good athlete until he started drinking.” There was a pause. “Your father looked up to him,” she whispered into the phone.

  Shandra was shocked her mother spoke of her father. That she whispered was a sign she still wouldn’t talk about him in the open. In the twenty-six years since Daddy died, talking about him had been taboo.

  “Was he older than Daddy?” Shandra asked, willing Mom to keep the discussion open.

  “Johnny was older, no longer riding, and one of the few who didn’t give your father and I a bad time.” Another pause. “You know. Our differences,” she whispered.

  “Is Adam there?” That was the only reason she could think of that Mom kept whispering when talking about her and Daddy.

  “Yes, he is. Would you like to speak to him?” Her mother’s tone became businesslike and her usual volume.

  “Since he’s still part of the PRCA, I thought he might be able to help me find another person who rodeoed with Daddy and Johnny. Phil Seeton.”

  Hissing like a tire losing air emitted from the phone. “Why would you want to speak to that lush?”

  “He may have been the last person to see Johnny before he disappeared and ended up murdered.” Shandra decided she wasn’t going to tip-toe around the reason she was calling.

  “You’re not getting involved in another murder are you?”

  The accusation in Mom’s voice didn’t deter Shandra from what she’d called about.

  “My hired help is the suspect, and I know she’s innocent. I’m just helping the local authorities find a new suspect.” Which was true.

  “I learned more about your last escapade in the local paper than I did from you. And it sounded like you were in danger. I don’t like you sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

  How many times growing up did I hear that? Usually when I brought up Daddy or asked questions about my Nez Perce family in Nespelem.

  “Could I please speak with Adam?” Not that she really wanted to. She’d never been comfortable around the man, even as a child. As she grew up, she became even more uncertain of him.

  “If you insist.” The phone clunked onto the side table in the living room.

  Within a minute heavy footsteps approached.

  “Shandra? Your mother said you wanted to speak with me.”

  Adam’s gravelly voice and superior tone tossed her back to her teenage years. She’d been defiant. Especially the summer he’d planned a trip for him and Mom, preparing to leave her in the care of the housekeeper. She’d put her foot down and decided if they were going to leave her, she was going to a place where she was wanted—a place that would curdle Adam’s and her mom’s gizzards. She’d spent the summer with Ella.

  “Adam. I was wondering if you knew the whereabouts of Phil Seeton. He rodeoed in the seventies and later tried his hand at announcing.” There was no need for small talk. Neither one expected it of the other.

  “Why are you looking up Phil?” The cautious tone made her smile.

  What was he worried about?

  “I dug up the body of Johnny Clark on my mountain. I’m trying to find a suspect other than my hired hand.” This was true. She needed to find someone else for Ryan to latch onto besides Lil.

  Adam whistled. “Did it happen when he disappeared, hell, about thirty years ago?”

  “That’s what the officials believe. I’ve had someone tell me that Phil had a beef with Johnny.”

  “I’ll say. Johnny was getting calls from rodeos between the Pacific and the Mississippi to come announce for them. He did his homework and knew every cowboy that was entered into the rodeo and most of the rough stock.” The awe in Adam’s voice was something she hadn’t heard before.

  “That’s what I’ve found too. And Phil was unhappy he couldn’t get a job.” She wanted to keep him on Phil. That was her goal at the moment.

  “Phil was a raving alcoholic. No one could trust he’d show up on time and not be sloshed and sloppy.” This was the stern and degrading step-father she remembered.

  “Is there a way I can find him? I want to ask him questions about Johnny.”

  “I’ll make some phone calls and let you know.”

  Pleasantly surprised he was willing to go to that much trouble, Shandra said, “Thank you, I’d appreciate it.”

  “I saw you’re putting some Injun trinkets on your vases. It was bad enough you sign them with your Injun name and I have to explain that to your mother’s friends but to add those trinkets and all, what are you thinking?”

  This was the step-father she remembered.

  “I’m giving tribute to my heritage and to my grandmother who left this earth without being allowed to give me the full benefit of her wisdom. Please let me know if you find Phil Seeton.”

  Shandra punched the off button on her phone and tossed it onto the couch. She walked out onto the back patio and breathed in the mountain air—untainted by bigotry.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ryan’s phone rang. He looked at the number and would have ignored the summons if he hadn’t given Cathleen the task of finding information on Phil Seeton. He scooted to a sitting position in the motel bed and flicked his finger across the screen.

  “What did you find?”

  “It took you an awful long time to answer. Did I interrupt anything?”

  Cathleen’s cheery voice caused his body to shudder the same as when he heard shredding metal.

  “Sleep. I had a long road trip yesterday, or did you conveniently forget?” Some days he wondered at his sanity for moving back near his family.

  “I happen to have information for another trip. Not so long, though. Phil Seeton is residing in a low-income residential home in Missoula.”

  Ryan sat up and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Seven. He could be there by ten even grabbing breakfast. “That’s the best news I’ve had in a couple of days. Text me the address. And sorry for being so grumpy.” He pressed the off button and dressed. He’d grab coffee and some pastries at Ruthie’s and head to Missoula.

  He didn’t mind this drive so much. The Bitterroot Mountains were a spectacular sight no matter what time of year you travelled through them. Before dropping down into Missoula, Ryan pulled up the address and put it into the GPS on the SUV’s dash. The facility appeared to be on the outskirts of town.

  Twenty minutes later, he pulled into the visitor parking of the residence home and stared at a copper-colored Jeep Wrangler. He checked the license plate. Frustration and anticipation warred inside his chest. How did Shandra find Phil Seeton before he did?

  ~*~

  Shandra sat in the chair opposite Phil Seeton. The old cowboy still wore boots and sported a large belt buckle. She wouldn’t have been surprised if
when he stood the weight of the buckle pulled his thin body straight over onto his long, pointed nose.

  “Mr. Seeton, I’m Shandra Higheagle. I’m here to ask—”

  “Higheagle? Any relation to old Edward? He was one hell of a bronc buster. I swear he talked to them horses before he got on. Half of them never bucked as hard when other cowboys rode them.”

  Shandra smiled. She might learn about Johnny Clark and her father this trip. “Edward was my father. Did you know him very well?”

  The man stared at her for a long time. She was about to repeat her question when he raised a hand.

  “You have his look about you. Not much of your mother.” He set his hand back down on the arm of the chair. “You couldn’t have been very old when he died.”

  “I was four.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. Over the years her father’s image had become the photos she pulled out every six months and studied. She couldn’t remember him as well as she’d like.

  “He was a good man. Damn fine man. Never could understand why people would put him down for bein’ an Indian. Hell, Edward’s family was here way before we were.”

  Shandra reached out to the man. “Thank you. You don’t know how wonderful it is to find someone who doesn’t condemn us for our heritage.”

  Tears came to the man’s eyes. “Edward was a fine man. He told me if I left the liquor alone I’d beat him. But I couldn’t climb on a horse’s back without a little to steady my nerves.”

  Shandra felt a kinship with the old man. She’d finally found someone who knew her father and was willing to talk. “Did you travel on the same circuit as Daddy?”

  Phil nodded his head. “Before he married your mom we traveled together several times.” He shook his head. “I never did understand them. Fighting one minute and fallin’ in the hay together the next.” He stared at her through rheumy eyes. “You were an accident. Edward insisted on marrying your mom when he discovered you were a bun in your mother’s oven.”