Death at the Bar X Ranch

by Marlene Chabot

  “That would be nice. I haven’t poured myself one since early this morning.”

  I pulled up a chair and sat down next to my client. “Zoe managed to sew the recorder to the inside of my vest. Wasn’t that clever?”

  Reed gave my aunt a quick wink. “Yup, she’s quite a clever filly that secretary of yours, and a smart dresser too.”

  “You’re too kind, sir,” my roommate said in a sultry voice as she deposited a mug of steaming coffee in front of him.

  “I mean every word.” He rapped his knuckles on the table. “Roy Rogers wouldn’t have given Dale Evans a second glance if you had been available. Why, you’re the only woman I know, Zoe, who is brave enough to wear a full-fledged fire engine red cowgirl outfit from head to toe, besides his wife.”

  My aunt suddenly went all gaga on us. Hmm. I guess I’ll have to borrow a page from Reed’s script the next time her jabbering is driving me crazy.

  I dug out a pen and paper from my miniature bluish-green woven handbag before my aunt woke up from whatever corner of her mind she had gone to. “Okay, Reed, why don’t you tick off what still needs to get done, so we can get started.”

  “Let’s see. Plastic tablecloths need to go on the metal tables. Paper plates and other eating accessories can be set on the card table. Folding chairs need to be set out. I’m not sure what the hamburger and hotdog buns should go on.”

  “Got any trays?” I hastily inquired.

  “Not that I know of.”

  “How about cookie sheets?” my aunt said as she regained her senses.

  “Yup. I know we’ve got tons of those.”

  “I figured you would,” she replied sweetly, “I know how much you like chocolate chip cookies.”

  Cookies? My stomach growled. “Hush.” I’ll get plenty for you later.

  Aunt Zoe poked me in the arm. “What’s that, Mary?”

  “Oh, I was just wondering about condiments. You’re going to offer mustard, onions, ketchup, and relishes, aren’t you?”

  “Sure. Sure,” the master of the house said before he gulped his last drop of coffee. “Meat doesn’t taste right without those garnish­ments,” now, he pointed to the pantry. “I buy in bulk and keep everything in there except the onions. You’ll find a bag of them by the fridge.”

  “Roughly, how many people are you expecting for this fund raiser?” I asked, concerned I wouldn’t be able to keep track of the main characters, namely those who boarded or worked on Reed’s property.

  He scratched his bare head. “Around fifty or so.”

  Whew, you’ve got your work cut out for you, Mary. I picked up my pen and scribbled slice fifteen large onions as my mother’s culinary words came back to me, “Always slice enough onions for more than you think will eat them.”

  My roommate scanned the various counters in the kitchen now. “I see the buns, but I don’t see any hamburger thawing. Did you forget to take the meat out of the freezer?”

  Reed pushed his chair out now and stood. “Terry’s in charge of picking the meat up from the market and cooking it. He should be along shortly. Oh, I thought of a few other things, Mary. Write them down. Watermelons need to be sliced. Chips, pretzels, and such need to be put in serving containers, and pop and water bottles can be set in ice coolers. The ice is in the chest freezer in the garage.”

  “I noticed the grills are already sitting at the end of your house. Are they charcoal or gas?

  “Oh, crap! That’s another thing I have to do. Hook up the gas tanks.”

  I put my pencil down now and moved away from the table. “Okay, I think if we divvy up what all has to get done, there might still be time to relax before the guests arrive.”

  “Sounds good,” Reed said.

  “Wait a second, Mary,” Aunt Zoe interrupted with authority as she carried Reed’s mug to the sink, “we’re rushing things a bit.”

  “What do you mean? We’ve only got two hours.”

  “I know that, but before you divide the chores up you’d better put down cake needs to be cut and bars and cookies put on serving plates too.”

  “Oh, yeah? Thanks for reminding me.” I patted my stomach. How could you let me forget about the cookies? “Now, who wants to do what?”

  Chapter 45

  Well, I guess it’s time to do some pruning,” I told Aunt Zoe as we stepped into the crowd that had finally arrived.

  Luckily, it didn’t take her as long as it usually does to figure out I was speaking figuratively. Her head bounced in agreement. “Yes, some trees around here could definitely use some reshaping. Which ones do you think you’ll start with?”

  “I was thinking those tall oaks near the barn where Cinnamon’s tied up.”

  “Looks like there’s quite a bit of work, but you can handle it I’m sure,” now Aunt Zoe waved to Reed. He waved back and motioned for her to come over by him, so she did. After about a minute with him, she returned carrying something small in her hand. “Here, you forgot your cell phone in the kitchen. Will it fit in a pants pocket?”

  “Nah, but that’s all right. I’d rather have it out, so I can take pictures of people when they least expect it.” We sauntered over to the intimate group of ten we had been referring to. I didn’t know a soul, but I still went ahead and inquired about the horse saddled up and tied to a post.

  Nat Newman happened to appear on the scene with cigarette in hand at precisely the right moment. “It’s Sally’s horse. Terry and Jackson thought she should be out here with us. You know to honor her owner.” She lit her cigarette now.

  “That was very thoughtful of them,” I said, and then I proceeded to prepare my phone camera for usage. “Does anyone mind if I snap a few pictures?”

  “Depends on what you’re going to do with them,” the tall, skinny guy with a black cowboy hat resting at an angle on his head said with a serious air about him. He looked like death warmed over. Either the 100 degree day or a recent illness was taking its toll on him. Since I didn’t know him, I wasn’t sure which.

  “Sally’s mother is too ill to come tonight,” I explained, “and I thought she’d appreciate seeing what took place.”

  Unfortunately, the man who questioned me never had a chance to react. “That’s a nice gesture. Go ahead, take all the pictures you want” the rest of the group replied as they moved closer together and posed for me.

  George Owen, who I’d seen with Nat the night of the cookout, stepped out from behind me after I finished the first click. Either he had just arrived, or he had been visiting with a different circle of people. “Make sure to take a picture of Cinnamon’s hooves while you’re at it.”

  “Why would I want to do that, George?”

  Aunt Zoe, who had steadfastly remained by my side since joining this particular cluster of people, glanced every which way now and then nonchalantly moved a few inches behind me. I waited till I heard her clear her throat, our signal for all is fine, and then I pretended to tug on the back of my frilly white shirt. But you and I both know what I was really up to. I just flicked on the recorder my aunt had so painstakingly sewed to my vest, and George was my first subject.

  He shook his head. “You must be fairly new to horses. Otherwise, you’d know it’s an honor to have a horse’s hooves painted.”

  Terry joined our group now too. “She’s a greenhorn, but she’s learning fast.”

  “Terry,” I said, “How about standing next to Cinnamon?”

  He didn’t hesitate for an instant. “Sure.” Now, as he casually moved towards Sally’s horse he somberly explained the significance of painted hooves. “The horses that are chosen to pull the black artillery caisson holding a fallen soldier’s casket for burial at Arlington National Cemetery get special primping for the occasion, one of which is painted hooves.”

  “Where do the horses come from?” someone in the gr
oup asked.

  “Mainly Illinois, Texas, and Virginia. They, as well as, the riders train in Fort Myer, Virginia.” Cinnamon dropped her head slightly and playfully nudged Terry. Terry still had his mouth open when I snapped the picture.

  It was the way the man and animal were together that made me suddenly realize Terry had nothing to do with Sally’s death. Sally had a strong bond with her horse. If this man killed Sally, there’s no way Cinnamon would tolerate his nearness. I had one more question for him though, before I caught up with another group and captured their voices and pictures. “What kind of paint’s used to cover the hooves?”

  Terry patted Cinnamon’s neck and then drew out a carrot from his shirt pocket. “Gosh, I don’t know. You’d have to ask Jackson. He was here just a minute ago.”

  “He headed towards the house,” Nat shared enthusiastically.

  I glanced at the group of people I had been hanging out with for the last few minutes and noted the only person missing was the dude who had questioned me about the picture taking. Darn. I couldn’t remember if he had shied away from view before I snapped the first pose or not. I peeked at my watch now. Better mosey on, Gal. If you didn’t get him now, you can always catch him off guard later. I slickly slid my hand under my vest and promptly turned the microcassette recorder off.

  Aunt Zoe had disappeared right after Terry explained about horses being used for military funerals, but she must’ve sensed I was ready to change my focus because she suddenly appeared at my side again. “I heard the grubs finally ready, Mary. Should we go chow down?”

  “Okay.” After we had walked a safe distance from where we had been, I said, “Thanks, Auntie, for rescuing me. I was trying to think of a way to cut loose.”

  “That’s all right. I really am hungry. So, how’s the sleuthing going so far?” she asked as we began to meander towards the tables holding all the grub.

  “Well, according to Terry, Jackson had been among those we were just with.”

  “Really?” my aunt immediately raised a hand to her mouth and started chewing on her bright red painted nails. “What did he look like?”

  “Did you see the skinny dude with the black Stetson?”

  “You mean the one who looked like he was about to die?”

  I yanked off the cowgirl hat I wore in honor of Sally now and ran my hand through my damp hair. “Yup.”

  “Well, that’s great you found him so fast, isn’t it?” she said as she dropped the hand she had been chewing on to her side.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. If he skedaddled before I took the pictures and I don’t see him later, I won’t have anything to show the waiter.”

  “But you got him on the recorder, right?”

  “Nope. I didn’t flick the microcassette on until after he asked what the pictures were for.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Aunt Zoe said, “Reed can invent some reason for Jackson to meet him by the barn, and you can hide nearby.”

  My insides immediately rejected her plan. There was always the off chance it could backfire. Like Jackson’s partner in crime catching me in the act. “I’ll think about it,” I stated politely without hinting at how I actually felt. “The party hasn’t been going all that long yet, Auntie, so there should still be an opportunity to catch him chewing the fat on the sidelines with someone else.”

  “Well, just plant my suggestion in your head, and if you need to go to plan B come find me.” Now she grabbed a paper plate, piled an assortment of goodies on it, and said, “I think I’ll go see if anything else needs to be put on these tables,” and left me to fend for myself.

  “I knew I should’ve invited Mrs. Grimshaw along to keep me company,” I muttered under my breath, “or Gracie for that matter.” When I had finally filled my plate beyond recognition, I glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone I had seen earlier was still by the barn. Only Jim Savage whom I had met at the last cookout was there now. It was the first time I had seen him tonight. He was using the barn to brace his back as he scarfed his food down. I snapped on the recorder and waltzed over to him.

  *****

  After I finished my stint with Jim, I roamed the grounds for another hour but never did run into Jackson. Discouraged, I decided to return to Reed’s house and look for Aunt Zoe. As I rounded the back of my client’s house, I caught sight of Doc Taylor with Reed. Hmm? I wonder when the vet arrived. From the way Doc’s tall, muscular figure was leaning into Reed’s shorter stature it appeared the two were having a meaningful discussion, and I didn’t know if I should advance any further or not. Two seconds later, I decided to continue on. If the men wanted a private conversation, they should’ve taken it inside behind closed doors.

  “I know what you’re saying, Troy, but I haven’t decided yet.”

  Haven’t decided what? I wondered as I neared the men and turned the recorder on.

  “Oh, hi, Mary,” Reed said, “Look who just got here.”

  I smiled and hastily nodded to acknowledge Troy’s presence, forgetting for a moment the stupid turquoise cowgirl hat my aunt had loaned me. It slipped down my face now and partially covered it. Great! Why do I always end up looking like such an idiot around him? If you want to capture someone like the vet, Mary, you have to train yourself to be on your toes all the time. The heck I do. Not on a scorcher of a day like this.

  “I gotta tell you, Troy, that this party wouldn’t have been a success if Mary and Zoe hadn’t helped out.”

  “Is that so?” Doc said as he lifted a can of beer to his lips. So, he’s a beer guy. Huh? All this time I had him pegged as a wine connoisseur. Well, at least we have one thing in common. “I thought your work here at the Bar X was a one-shot thing, Mary. You know, filling in for Jackson like you did.”

  My eyes swiftly darted to my dusty boots. “What can I say? Obviously, Reed likes my work ethics.”

  Reed swiftly backed me up. “That’s for sure. It’s hard finding last minute help you can depend on, and Mary is very dependable. Why, the minute I call her, she drops everything and zips on over. ”

  “I’ll have to remember that,” the vet said, “when I need help with my next shindig.”

  How about inviting me to the party instead, dude? “So, Doc, what kept you from getting here sooner? Trouble at your place or somewhere else?”

  My innocent interrogation seemed to make the vet a bit on edge. Why, I wondered. “My place,” he replied hesitantly, “but I got the situation under control,” and he didn’t elaborate further.

  “Too bad you didn’t get here earlier,” I continued, “You missed seeing Cinnamon saddled up in honor of Sally. Jackson had even painted her hooves like they do for the horses that carry the casket of fallen soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery. Actually, I was kind of surprised to see the painted hooves.”

  “Why was that?” Reed asked.

  “Cinnamon has laminitis.”

  Doc Taylor’s normally sedate voice boomed. “What? Who told you that?”

  “Sally Sullivan.”

  Reed’s reaction was similar to the vet’s. “When did she tell you?”

  “At the last cookout you had.”

  The owner of the Bar X snapped at the vet now. “Why didn’t you inform me, Troy? I want to know these things.”

  Troy’s mouth suddenly clamped shut. Darn. The only way it will ever come loose is if we get a crow bar to pry it open or if the Doc himself comes up with a reasonable doozie to weasel his way out of the doghouse.

  Seeing that he was getting nowhere with the young vet, my client finally gave up on him and shined the spotlight on me instead. “Mary, do you know who informed Sally of her horse’s problem?”

  “As a matter of fact . . .”

  “Mary, there you are,” Aunt Zoe bellowed from the porch before trotting down the steps to join us. “I was beginning to think you had wande
red out on the trail and had gotten lost.”

  “Afraid not. I’m right here.”

  “Sorry to interrupt the two of you,” Reed said, “but Mary was just about to tell me something of major importance.”

  “She was?” My aunt buzzed straight to my side. Why couldn’t she move that fast when Gracie needed to be walked? “Go ahead, Mary, tell Reed what he wants to know. You and I can chat later.”

  Before I breathed another word, I readjusted the stupid cowgirl hat. It was tickling my nose. “Sally said it was Terry.”

  Doc Taylor blew up. “What the heck have you hired me for, Reed, if you’re going to allow your workers to diagnose and treat ailments without consulting me?”

  “What? You mean you didn’t know about it either?” Reed said in a rough tone.

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why didn’t you just come out and say so?”

  “I, ah, didn’t know what kind of rebuttal you expected from me.” What a wimp. Maybe I should reconsider establishing a relationship with this guy even if it meant my mother would continue to harp about who I was dating.

  “Well, believe me,” Reed said, “when this fund raiser is over tonight Terry and I are sitting down and having a long chat.” Now he left us behind and stomped up the steps leading to his back door.

  When the screen door slammed shut, shy Doc shared a lopsided grin with us. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I’d better get some grub before it’s all gone,” and that was the last we saw of him that evening.

  Chapter 46

  Aunt Zoe studied me, “I suppose I should go inside and see about Reed. He seemed pretty upset. By the way, did you ever find Jackson?”

  “Nope. He seems to have vanished.”

  “I probably would’ve hightailed it too if I thought the game was up. Tell me the truth, Mary. Do you really think Terry’s been helping Jackson stir the pot?”

  I stretched my hands out in front of me and stared at my broken nails. “He could be. Both men work side by side from sunup to sundown. The real question is what did Terry hope to gain by telling Sally her horse had laminitis and then hiding the information from his boss?”