Betrayal in the Badlands

by Dana Mentink

  Sheila started and looked down at the cell phone clipped to her belt. “A message from Carl. I’ve got to go to town and help him with the Ladies Guild meeting. If I don’t show up to rescue him, he’ll never get out of there.”

  Isabel followed Sheila to the door. The woman wrapped her in a hug. “I meant what I said. If you need anything, you just shout.”

  Isabel thanked her again. As Sheila drove away, Isabel scanned the trees for Logan and Officer Bentley. There was still no sign of them. She closed the door and locked it for good measure.

  The house was cool, the spruce branches overhead sheltering it from the sun. Isabel wandered through the kitchen and the small bedroom, soaking in the details of her sister’s life. A bookshelf crammed with books, mostly about the care of horses. Pictures of Cassie with Blue Boy and one that made her breath catch. It was a family photo, old and starting to fade. Cassie stood next to her father, dwarfed by his tall form, and Isabel smiled from the circle of her mother’s arms. She’d forgotten that there was a time when they were a normal family, before her father’s business failed, before the alcoholism took over, before her mother’s lupus began to siphon her life away. Her eyes blurred. She replaced the photo.

  When her body began to tremble she took a few of Logan’s cookies and sat on the worn rocking chair to watch out the window for the two men’s return. A scrap of white crammed between the cushion and the chair arm caught her eye. She pulled out a folded piece of paper.

  Dear Isabel,

  I was really thrilled to get your last letter. My mind began to imagine all kinds of things, how you would come to visit me here and we’d be sisters again. We have a lot to talk about, don’t you think? I was furious at you for a very long time. That’s why I didn’t answer your letters for a while. I thought you had taken the easy way out, running away and leaving me to deal with Dad. From the bits and pieces in your letters, I understand that your choice cost you more than I could ever imagine. I know Dad hurt you badly and, if it matters, I think he was sorry for that. At the end, he asked about you sometimes. Remember what Mom used to read from Matthew? Pray for those who hurt you. I was amazed that she could do that in the face of how he treated her, but she did forgive him, Is. That’s what I tried to remember when he was at his lowest. Mom forgave him and prayed for him right up to the day she died.

  What’s that saying? It’s water under the bridge now. I have an amazing life here with my horses. I had a developer approach me about selling. They want to build a resort here for backcountry types. I’ve even had an offer much closer to home, but I’ve got other plans. I’m going to have the ravine cleared out and hopefully it will revert to a natural running creek again. Logan is doing it for me. He reminds me of Blue Boy, so proud and trying to learn a whole new life, after his wife and everything. You’ve met him before, you know. I’ll explain later. With his help, I’m going to make this a preserve where people can come and learn about horses and take trail rides into the Badlands. I’m looking into having trailer hookups so folks can “camp and ride.” What do you think? A pie-in-the-sky dream? Wouldn’t be the first time. Remember when we decided to open our own circus? A three-ring circus run by two little kids. Ha! Maybe I’ve finally gotten old enough to run after the dreams before they run away from me.

  It’s getting dark now. I’ve never been afraid of the dark before, but lately…well, John just laughs and says there’s nothing in the dark that can hurt you any worse than the daytime. Still, I find myself keeping the light on at night, as if there’s something out there waiting to get me. Funny, because you were always the one that had to have a light on in the dark! I guess I’ve talked long enough. I want you to make plans to come see me. We’ve wasted too much time already. I’ve got to go find a stamp or this will never get to you.

  Love,

  Cassie

  Isabel pressed her cheek to the paper, her breath burning in her lungs. The precious words. They could have been sisters again. Real sisters. The notion eased her agony for a moment. Cassie had moved beyond the anger and the blame. It was a sweet breeze of comfort against the storm of grief and regret that billowed through her. Why hadn’t she made those plans? If she’d come earlier, maybe Cassie would never have gone off on that ride.

  If she could have followed her mother’s advice and forgiven her father…

  Her tears dropped onto the paper clutched in her hands.

  It seemed as though the flimsy scrap held the weight of her sister’s dreams and her own sorrow and shame. The burden was too much. She shot to her feet.

  She had to get away, settle things in South Dakota and leave, before she lost herself to the same grief she’d felt at her mother’s death. That grief had started it all, the plunge into anger and recklessness that had dropped her at Rawley’s feet, kept her in self-imposed exile for all those years. She shivered, tucking the paper securely in her backpack, mind whirling.

  John would take the horses, she was sure. From all accounts he loved them. Perhaps the Triggs would even be interested in buying the property. At the very least, she knew Sheila would help her find a real estate agent and do what she could. Logan, too.

  The thought of him stopped her.

  Proud and trying to learn a new life.

  What had happened to his old one?

  And when had she met him before?

  Logan stood in the shade of a twisted spruce where Tank sprawled on his side. The dog was tired from chasing every unfortunate bird that chose to land among the shrubs. Bentley continued his methodical search of the soil at the edge of the ravine, but Logan knew that was a waste of time. There weren’t any prints. He knew it, Bentley knew it. The search was more to assuage Isabel and Sheila. The rain might have blurred the footprints into nothingness, but something in his gut told him it wasn’t so.

  He pulled out his satellite phone and called his law enforcement contact Bill Cloudman, filling him in quickly. “I’m going to fax you the sketch Isabel drew.”

  “What makes you think I can shed any light here?”

  “Because you know this part of the state inside and out.” There was a long silence. Logan knew Cloudman was trying desperately to forget his time as a Tribal Ranger and the death of his young partner. He didn’t want to add to the pain, but Bill was the only person he could think of to ask for help.

  “I’ll take a look at the sketch and poke around a little. Not much to go on. No prints, just the girl’s story. You sure she’s telling the truth?”

  “No, but my gut says there’s something to it.”

  “Trust your gut, Logan. It’ll keep you alive.”

  Isabel, too, he thought as he disconnected. Picturing her dark-eyed intensity brought him back to his youth, growing up in the shadow of the Badlands where life could be as harsh and unforgiving as the land itself. The sizzle of memory rippled through him, a horse stuck in the mud, eyes rolling in terror, imprisoned by the iron grip of the earth, fear shuddering through every muscle and sinew. He wondered why the desperation of that moment stayed with him all these years.

  The sound of an engine pulled him from his thoughts.

  Bentley looked up too, frowning as Carl Trigg got out the passenger side of a sedan. Logan didn’t recognize the driver as he exited, a well-dressed man who looked exceedingly out of place on the wide stretch of graveled driveway. He was further surprised to see the man open the rear door and help Sheila out. Why had she returned so quickly?

  Bentley hooked his thumbs on his gun belt, watching the trio make their way to the house. Sheila waved and gave them a “come here” gesture. Bentley muttered something under his breath and walked toward the house.

  Logan puzzled as the group was ushered into the house by a startled-looking Isabel. Well-dressed guy had to be a lawyer, probably here to help Isabel dispose of the property. She would sell to the first person to make an offer, no doubt. He’d make the same choice himself. Maybe the Triggs would snatch up the property and let John run things. Just as well. Isabel didn’t belong
here, she’d said so herself.

  He pitched a rock and sent it bouncing off the rough bark of a twisted pine. Tank looked at him as if to say, “I’m tired. If you want that fetched, do it yourself.” There wasn’t anything to be gained by sticking around. He had the description to fax and plenty of reasons to start drumming up some construction business.

  A plane sliced through the blue sky above the property and the longing ignited, intense as it had ever been. The need to belong again, to have a reason to get up in the morning, the team that he would live and die for.

  Maybe the pararescue instructor position would pan out.

  Not maybe. When. It wouldn’t be the same, but he’d still be a part of a unit, a man with a purpose.

  Nothing to do about that but wait until his application was considered and his ankle fully rehabbed.

  The other alternative crept into his mind. He could go back home to his family’s business, a sprawling complex of quarries just begging for a son to take the reins. But spending his days ordering payroll sheets and poring over equipment manifests was a fate to be avoided at all costs. He shook the thought away and forced his feet into motion.

  On the way back to his truck, he stopped at the corral to watch the horses. They stood in the sun, tails swishing, unconcerned about being watched, except for Blue Boy. The big horse fixed Logan with a curious stare, unmoving except for the twitch of a muscle in his front foreleg.

  “What are you thinking about, big guy?” He could never really know an animal fully. This massive creature, two thousand pounds of muscle, had thoughts and desires that a human couldn’t understand. They were complex and sometimes unpredictable, just like people. He was grateful he only had to care for a nutty dog who ate potatoes off his kitchen counter and shredded pillows if given the opportunity.

  A movement from the house drew his attention. Framed in the front window, Isabel sat in the same chair where he’d deposited her after he’d pulled her from the ravine. The black hair hid her features but her posture was stiff. Carl stood next to her, a puzzled frown on his face.

  He looked at Tank, who was busily sniffing every square inch of the fence. “Thirsty, boy? It wouldn’t hurt to stop in the house for a quick drink.”

  Before he had a chance to reconsider, he tapped on the cabin door and entered. All four people stared at him. “Just wanted to get the dog a drink of water, if that’s okay. Sorry to interrupt.”

  Isabel’s eyes were huge, her arms folded across her chest as if she was trying to keep herself in the chair. She opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing.

  Sheila, looking a bit startled herself, patted a spot next to her on the sofa. “We were just going to come out and get you anyway, Logan.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Me? Why? What’s going on?”

  The well-dressed man cleared his throat. “I gather you are Logan Price. I’m Doug Barnes, Cassie’s attorney. Ms. Reynolds hired me a few months ago to handle her estate. I’m here to go over the details with the involved parties.”

  Logan tried an easy smile. “I’m just here for a drink of water.”

  “No, Mr. Price. You’re involvement goes far beyond that.”

  SIX

  Logan felt as if he’d stepped onto a movie set. He stood uneasily in the doorway. Tank trotted over to Isabel and flopped down on the floor next to her. She shot a look at Logan that showed her to be as confused as he was. How could he possibly be involved in the reading of Cassie’s will?

  She was an acquaintance, no more. He recalled a strange conversation when Cassie had hinted that they’d met each other in years past, but they’d never gotten around to finishing the discussion.

  Barnes cleared his throat and slid on a pair of half glasses. “This won’t take long. I came as soon as I heard you were in town. Ms. Reynolds provided for disbursement of her assets in three ways. First, she wished a sum of ten thousand dollars to go to the Trigg family to thank them for their kindness and continued support.”

  Sheila bit her lip, blinking against the tears that shone in her eyes. Carl touched her shoulder. Though it was very slight, Logan saw her stiffen under his caress, her mouth tightening for a moment before he took his hand away.

  The lawyer shuffled through a few more papers. “The house and property she has left to Isabel.”

  Isabel jolted as if she’d received an electric shock, her hands flew to her mouth. Tank looked up to see what had interrupted his scratching.

  Logan was puzzled. It was her sister, after all, so why the shock at inheriting the property? Yet he’d not seen Isabel visit, not heard Cassie mention her sister more than once or twice.

  “There’s a message for you, Miss Ling. Cassie writes in her will,

  ‘We both made mistakes and unfortunately we didn’t get the time to heal them in this life. I know you may want to sell the property. That pains me, but I understand your choice. All I ask it that you hold on to it long enough for Logan to see to good homes for all the horses. Love to you, sis, Cassie.’”

  Logan stared at the lawyer. “Did you mention my name in that?”

  “Yes, Mr. Price. The last part of the will pertains to you.”

  “Me?” He felt the eyes of everyone in the room on him and tried to cover for his shocked tone. “I didn’t know Cassie that well.”

  “I gather she knew you better than you’d think.”

  “How do you mean?”

  He took out the last paper from his portfolio. “Cassie has left you her horses with the stipulation that if you do not wish to keep them, loving homes be found for each one. There is a fund to care for them while they are on the ranch.” He looked at Isabel. “She further requests that the horses be allowed to remain on this property while Mr. Price goes about securing adoptive homes for them.”

  Logan and Isabel gaped at each other. He was too surprised to get a word out.

  The lawyer hadn’t finished. “There is a note from Cassie on this point as well.

  ‘Isabel, I knew it would be too much to “saddle” you with the property and the horses, if you’ll excuse the pun. I left them to Logan for a very good reason. Remember Buckwheat? Now take a good look at Logan again and you’ll know why I left the horses to him. It took me a while to figure it out.’”

  It took all Logan’s power of control not to grab the papers from Barnes’s hands and read them for himself. How had he just inherited six horses? It was a mistake. He’d never heard of Buckwheat, and he hardly knew Cassie Reynolds or her sister. He looked over to see Isabel staring at him, a look of shocked wonder on her face. “What is it? What does it mean?”

  She stared for a moment longer before she stood abruptly and shook her head. “I need to get some air.” Tank dashed after her into the late afternoon sunlight.

  Barnes packed up his papers and shook hands with the Triggs and Logan. Carl walked him out and Sheila took Logan’s arm. “We never expected anything from Cassie. I didn’t imagine she even had two dimes to rub together, poor girl. I was surprised when Barnes saw me in town and asked me to come along.”

  “Tell me about it.” His head was still reeling.

  Sheila eyed him carefully. “What was all that business about Buckwheat?”

  “I have no idea, but I’m going to find out.” He dropped a quick kiss on her cheek and went in pursuit of Isabel.

  He caught up with her in a shaded hollow. Moisture sparkled on her cheeks, taking some of the charge out of his approach. “Sorry to intrude. I can come back later if you want to be alone.”

  “No. We should talk. I’m sure you’re wondering.”

  That didn’t cover half of it. He came closer and leaned against a tree.

  Isabel talked as if she was speaking more to herself than him. “I hardly knew my sister. I ran away from her, from my family, and left her with all the problems. I just came to this town to give her a proper memorial. I figured the property would go to our uncle or the Triggs. They were like family to her. They would know what to do with it.”

&
nbsp; “I’m sure they’ll help you figure it out. The Triggs are good people.”

  She nodded absently. “I feel like I’m in some sort of bad dream.”

  “You don’t want the property?”

  “No. I don’t want to stay here. I want to go home to L.A., and now I’ve got a house and land to deal with….”

  He bit back a surge of irritation. “And I’ve got a half-dozen horses. Talk about a surprise.”

  She blinked, as if awakening from a dream. A smile spread across her face. “You don’t remember Buckwheat, do you?”

  “No. Should I?”

  “Not really. I didn’t catch on until Cassie’s letter.”

  “Catch on to what?”

  “You were young, seventeen maybe. I saw you when you brought him back. I should have realized right away.”

  Logan jammed his hands into his pockets. “I’m lost. Fill me in.”

  “We were staying with my uncle at his ranch. Cassie, my mother and me. Mom was sick with lupus, but that didn’t stop her from taking Buckwheat out every chance she got. That day, the day it happened, a storm was threatening and it had been raining on and off for weeks. Buckwheat was desperate for a ride, so Mom took him out. The trail was wet and the ground gave way. She…”

  Logan closed his eyes as the memory flooded in. “She and the horse fell into the creek and the horse got mired down in the mud.”

  “You remember now?”

  He sighed. “Yes. Your mother wouldn’t leave that horse, even though she was freezing and bruised. Neither of us had a phone.”

  Isabel’s lip trembled. “And you promised my mother if she would get herself to safety you would stay with that horse until he could be gotten out.”