Sowed to Death

by Peg Cochran

  Kelly had offered to pick Shelby up since she would be passing Love Blossom Farm on her way back from a veterinary call. Shelby was more than happy to accept since it would save on gas. The needle on her car’s fuel gauge was a little too close to the E for comfort, but she was trying to get by for as long as possible.

  A friendly toot on the horn announced Kelly’s arrival. Shelby picked up her purse and headed toward the front door. Bitsy and Jenkins were sprawled on the sofa, sound asleep. Jenkins twitched in his sleep and his paws moved as if he was on the trail of a particularly juicy rodent. Shelby looked at their muddy paws and cringed. But as Bert always said, you could have a nice house or you could have children and pets. And there was no question which one Shelby favored.

  Kelly was standing outside her truck, leaning against the side. She was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt with GO-PRO DOG CHOW in white letters across the front. As Shelby got closer she noticed the faint aroma of manure, but fortunately, that was a scent that didn’t bother her at all—it was synonymous with home and Love Blossom Farm.

  Shelby opened the passenger door of Kelly’s truck.

  “Here, let me get that out of the way.”

  Kelly pulled a large black canvas bag off the seat and took it around to the back of the truck. She slipped into the driver’s seat.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for some food,” Kelly said as she started the car.

  The parking lot of the diner was filled with pickups and two tractor-trailers that took up four spaces at the end when Shelby and Kelly arrived. They managed to grab a booth in the back. A pair of truckers was sitting at the counter, wolfing down the diner’s famous biscuits and gravy. They didn’t talk to each other, but Shelby got the impression that they knew they were kindred spirits.

  A handful of Lovett denizens was scattered among the booths, clad in dungarees, denim overalls, and plaid shirts, their hands rough and callused from hard work. Heavy white mugs filled with coffee were at their elbows and full plates of sliced turkey with gravy on toast or chicken potpies sat in front of them.

  Shelby and Kelly each ordered iced tea and a chicken salad sandwich, then settled back in their seats to gossip and chat.

  The waitress whizzed by their table and plunked down two glasses of iced tea. Kelly took a long gulp of hers. “I’ve been dying of thirst. It was so hot out at the Meyerlings’ farm. I usually carry a couple of bottles of water in the truck, but I forgot to grab some this morning.”

  Kelly took another long gulp of her drink, nearly draining the glass. “I had to vaccinate a number of the Meyerlings’ cows—don’t want them getting IBR.”

  “What on earth is that?” Shelby asked, glad that she wasn’t in the business of raising cattle.

  “IBR is short for infectious bovine rhinotracheitis, also known as red nose.”

  “That’s certainly a little easier to pronounce.”

  “It’s a highly contagious respiratory infection. The nose and muzzle often become inflamed, which is how it got the nickname of red nose.” Kelly leaned back in her seat as the waitress slid a plate in front of her. “Anyway, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that.”

  Dear Reader, what’s that saying? Truer words were never spoken.

  Shelby put her napkin in her lap and took a bite of her sandwich.

  “I really want to tell Seth about our wedding idea, but I’m afraid he’s going to shoot it down, and I’ll be disappointed.”

  “I think Seth would do anything you wanted. He’s crazy in love with you. Seriously,” Shelby added when she saw the doubtful look on Kelly’s face.

  They continued discussing the wedding as they finished their sandwiches.

  “So, you don’t think having those portable toilets is going to put people off?” Kelly asked as she pushed her plate away.

  “No, not at all. For weddings they make special white ones with mirrors, hand sanitizers, lights—the works.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad. Although I’m sure Mrs. Gregson will turn her nose up at them.”

  “She’s welcome to use the powder room in the house if that makes you feel any better.”

  Kelly was about to answer when her cell phone rang. She mouthed sorry at Shelby and put the phone to her ear.

  “Have you listened to his gut?” Kelly asked after listening briefly. “Okay, I’ll be right out.”

  She clicked off the call and replaced the phone in her pocket.

  “I’m sorry.” Kelly looked at Shelby. “It was Jim Harris. One of his horses has colic. Colic isn’t necessarily serious, but I don’t like the sound of this. There can be a twist in the bowel that requires immediate attention. If that’s the case, there’s no time to waste.” Kelly frowned. “I’ll drop you off at home and then head out to the Harrises’.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Shelby said decisively.

  Kelly breathed out a sigh that sounded like relief. “Thanks. It’s probably only ordinary gassy colic, but I’d hate to see someone lose a horse because I was wrong.”

  • • •

  It was hot on the ride out to the Harrises’ stables. They had the windows rolled down and the scent of newly mown grass mingled with hay drifted into the cab of the truck.

  Kelly glanced at Shelby and sighed. “Jim Harris still owes me for my last visit out to the stables. I’m letting it slide because he’s always been good for it. He seems to have hit some hard times lately.”

  Shelby knew Kelly wasn’t the first person to extend credit to someone who was momentarily down on their luck. People ran a tab at the Lovett General Store, which they paid off when their crop came in. The pediatrician who treated Amelia and Billy the time they both came down with bronchitis let Shelby pay the bill in installments. Even the plumber and the electrician were known to accept payment for a bill in produce, fresh eggs, or milk.

  The smell of horse became stronger as they turned into the drive leading to the Harrises’ stables. They passed a modest but tidy white house with red geraniums in planters and an American flag hanging from a flagpole out front. The drive wound around the house toward the stables in back.

  Kelly stopped the truck in the small graveled parking area in front of the stable. A van was already parked there. It was an unusual-looking vehicle. The side was lifted up to reveal a large amount of equipment that Shelby didn’t recognize.

  Kelly must have noticed her puzzled look.

  “That’s the farrier’s van. He brings his shop with him when he makes a call.”

  Jim Harris came around the side of the stable and walked toward Kelly’s truck. He looked worried—his brow furrowed and his mouth clenched in a thin, straight line.

  “I’ll wait here,” Shelby said as Kelly opened her door. “You go on ahead.”

  “Okay.” Kelly jumped out of the truck and walked over to where Harris was waiting for her.

  Shelby sat for a moment, but it was hot inside the truck. There was a large shade tree off to the side of the drive with a weathered-looking picnic table underneath that seemed very inviting.

  As Shelby got out of the truck she noticed the writing on the back of the farrier’s van. It read ARCHER’S FARRIER SERVICE.

  The shade under the tree and the soft breeze felt heavenly after the stuffiness of the truck. Shelby sat on the bench in front of the picnic table and stretched out her legs. She had a million things to take care of on the farm, but it felt good to be resting and doing nothing for a change. She wasn’t going to allow herself to feel guilty about it.

  Shelby closed her eyes and was almost drifting off when the sound of voices caught her attention. A man wearing a canvas apron with various tools sticking out of the pockets was walking toward the farrier’s van.

  A woman was with him. Shelby recognized her as Mrs. Harris. They’d never met but Shelby had seen her around the house when she brought Billy for his
riding lessons. She was as thin and wiry as her husband, with faded blond hair cut short.

  Their voices carried over to where Shelby was sitting.

  “I can’t imagine what’s become of my hammer,” the farrier said to Mrs. Harris.

  Shelby supposed he was Mr. Archer, the owner of the van. She wondered if he was a relative of Ryan Archer, or maybe even his father.

  “It’s not like me to lose a tool or a piece of equipment,” Archer said. “A place for everything and everything in its place, I always say.”

  “I imagine you’ll have to come back,” Mrs. Harris said.

  Archer shook his head. “Nah, I’ll call my boy and get him to bring me another hammer. I have a spare back in the shop.”

  He pulled out his cell phone and punched in some numbers. He turned his back to Shelby, and she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  Archer disappeared back into the stable, and Mrs. Harris walked off toward the house. Shelby closed her eyes and was once again drifting off when the throb of rock music woke her. A car was speeding down the drive with the windows open and the radio blaring.

  Ryan Archer? she wondered.

  The car came to a sudden halt, gravel spitting out from under its tires. Shelby doubted that Ryan had been driving so fast because he was anxious to fulfill his father’s request.

  Ryan opened his door and ambled toward the stables, the hammer in his hand by his side.

  Shelby gave herself a shake and stood up. If she sat under the tree any longer she would fall asleep for sure. She wandered over toward Ryan’s car. It was a secondhand car or possibly even third- or fourth-hand. A good portion of the left front fender had been eaten away by rust and huge swaths of paint were scraped off.

  The interior wasn’t in any better shape. The driver’s seat was covered with a towel and the upholstery on the passenger seat was frayed with holes where the foam showed through.

  In the passenger seat was a stuffed animal—a woolly mammoth just like the one Billy had hoped to win at the county fair.

  So Ryan had been to the fair. Had he taken that opportunity to get back at Zeke for turning him in?

  Shelby heard the crunch of gravel and looked up to see Ryan walking toward her. His head was down and his bangs flopped onto his forehead. They looked like they could have used a trim, and his skin was pockmarked as if he’d had acne when he was younger.

  “Hi,” Shelby said.

  Ryan looked up and scowled.

  Not the most personable kid on the planet, Shelby thought. She gestured toward the stuffed animal in his car.

  “I see you’ve been to the county fair. My son really wanted to win one of those woolly mammoths.”

  “I didn’t go,” Ryan mumbled.

  He wasn’t personable and he was definitely a man of few words, Shelby thought.

  “Oh,” she said. “I’ve never seen a stuffed animal like that anywhere else. Did you buy it somewhere? I’d like to get one for my son for his birthday.” She crossed her fingers behind her back.

  Ryan shook his head. “Nah, I found it.”

  He walked around Shelby and got into the car. As soon as the engine turned over, he cranked up the radio and shot down the drive.

  11

  Dear Reader,

  Kale is a vegetable that does well in cooler temperatures. Lacinato, or dinosaur kale, can even be harvested after a snowfall. Other varieties can handle a light frost. The young leaves are tender and perfect for a salad but the older leaves can be tough and bitter. But not if you massage them! I know that sounds weird, but it works. Remove the stems and chop the leaves, add some salt and olive oil, and massage the leaves between your fingers for a couple of minutes. They will turn silky and sweet.

  Billy still won’t eat it, but I love it that way. Kale is packed full of nutrients in every bite. You can also use the greens in soups or, baked or sautéed in olive oil, as a side dish.

  Kale chips are the latest craze and so easy to make! You might even fool your kids into eating them. Drizzle torn pieces of kale with olive oil, sprinkle with salt, and bake for ten to fifteen minutes, then enjoy!

  Kelly had just dropped Shelby off at home when she remembered she needed to stop at the Lovett Feed Store for more feed for the chickens. She’d have to trust that she could make the trip on the gas fumes left in the car. Her old pickup truck was in need of fuel as well and Shelby usually only used it for trips to the farmers’ market.

  Events had turned out well at the Harrises’ stables. Kelly had been a bit alarmist in suspecting the horse had a twisted bowel—it turned out to be ordinary colic, soon cured with a dose of mineral oil.

  Seeing Ryan Archer with that toy woolly mammoth had been a bonus, Shelby thought. Now she knew he had both motive and opportunity. He claimed not to have been at the fair, but it was easy enough to lie about it and the stuffed animal proved it.

  He certainly had more motive than Tonya Perry. Most likely the pepper had been sprinkled on Jenny Hubbard’s lemon meringue pie to eliminate her from the competition and not to create a diversion for the murderer.

  Shelby sighed with relief when she pulled into the parking lot of the feed store. The needle on her gas gauge was quivering over the E, and she was counting on the fact that there was usually a little more gas in the tank than was indicated by the gauge.

  The feed store was unusually quiet, with dust motes dancing in the beam of sunlight coming through one of the small windows on the side. A young man in a canvas apron approached Shelby and asked if she needed help. She gave him her order and he grabbed a nearby handcart and went off in search of the bags of feed she was looking for.

  Shelby went to the front counter to pay. The clerk at the cash register had lank brown hair in need of washing and nails that were bitten to the quick. Shelby glanced at her name tag and saw it read REBECCA. This must be Zeke’s sister.

  “Whatcha got?” the woman asked Shelby.

  “Two fifty-pound bags of Blue Seal chicken feed.”

  The woman punched some numbers into the register. “That’ll be thirty-six dollars and eighty-one cents.”

  Shelby dug her wallet out of her purse. She hesitated for a moment.

  “You’re Zeke Barnstable’s sister, aren’t you?”

  The woman eyed Shelby suspiciously. “Yes.”

  “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  Rebecca snorted. “Some loss,” she said bitterly.

  Shelby looked at her quizzically.

  Rebecca shrugged. “My brother and I weren’t close, you know? Still, I can’t believe someone finally took him out.”

  She accepted the money Shelby held out toward her, put it in the cash register drawer, then ripped off the receipt that was ejected from the machine like a tongue. She handed it to Shelby.

  “Zeke always did believe in an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. There are many around here who still think he murdered Brenda, his wife.” She pushed a piece of hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Do you know Tonya Perry?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Her and Brenda were good friends. Almost like sisters—did everything together. She’s made no secret of the fact that justice wasn’t done. If she had her way, they’d lock Zeke up and throw away the key.”

  “But why would Zeke kill his wife? Did they fight?”

  Rebecca leaned her elbows on the counter. “Not really. Zeke could be jealous—not that there was much to be jealous of. How many men could Brenda meet working part-time at the Laundromat or sitting in her living room watching Dancing with the Stars? She loved that show. Never missed an episode.”

  One of the store managers appeared around the end of an aisle and Rebecca pushed off from the counter and moved back slightly. “Besides, Zeke took her disappearance hard. Of course no one can tell whether that’s because he loved Brenda or because he missed having som
eone cook his meals and wash his clothes. That’s what they all want, isn’t it?”

  Shelby didn’t comment—she just smiled.

  “But Tonya took it even harder than my brother.”

  The manager had disappeared down another aisle, and Rebecca leaned over the counter again. “I heard Tonya threaten to kill Zeke.”

  • • •

  Shelby crossed her fingers, started up her car, and pulled out of the feed store parking lot. She’d certainly gleaned some interesting information. Not only did Tonya have a reason to kill Zeke; she’d actually been heard threatening to do just that. Shelby thought back to the pie contest at the fair where she’d first met Tonya. Tonya was a big woman who looked strong enough to hit Zeke over the head with a hammer and drag him into that old Volvo the firemen were using for their demonstration.

  Had she been trying to cast suspicion on Jake by putting the body in the car? She probably knew about the animosity between Jake and Zeke from Brenda. She hadn’t struck Shelby as being that clever or devious, but as the old saying went, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

  On the other hand, Ryan Archer had lied about being at the fair. Why do that unless he was trying to cover up his guilt?

  As Shelby pulled into the driveway she decided that she was glad she wasn’t responsible for solving the case.

  She was opening her trunk when a pickup truck pulled into the driveway behind her.

  It was Frank. She wondered if there had been a break in the case.

  She waited beside her car as Frank approached, his loping walk so like his brother’s that grief momentarily washed over Shelby.

  Frank pulled off his baseball cap. “Looks like you just got back. Been shopping?”

  “Yes, but nothing very exciting—two bags of feed for the chickens.”

  “There’s nothing very exciting to buy around here,” Frank said, “unless you consider buying a new snow shovel exciting.” He gestured toward Shelby’s open trunk. “You’re going to need some help with those.”

  Normally Shelby would have muscled the bags out of the car, inch by inch, and into a waiting wheelbarrow. It was a process that usually left her a panting, sweaty mess, so she was more than happy to let Frank do it for her.