Deadly Heritage: a horse mystery: a horse mystery

by Toni Leland

  “I'll call you when he shows up...But why would this Mack person be after me?”

  Ed's phone rang and he turned away to answer, and she stared at the floor, trying to push aside the thought nibbling at the back of her mind.

  Ed hung up, his tone gruff. “I have to go. Let me know the minute Jethrow shows up.”

  Kellie watched the cruiser roar down the lane, the red and blue lights coming on when it reached the road. A chill crept over her bare arms and her head whirled with too many conflicting thoughts. One kept rising to the surface-a feeling she couldn't pin down, an idea she didn't want to believe. She hurried down the hall to her bedroom. Peering at the chubby little boy in the faded photograph, Kellie tried to imagine what he'd look like as an adult. But try as she might, she could not superimpose Travis Mack's sharp, angry features over Jethrow's soft, sad little face. She set the picture frame back on the dresser. What could possibly make him want to hurt her? His voice on the phone had sounded pleasant and mature. She replayed the conversation in her mind, searching for clues, listening for a trigger word or phrase, then shook her head. Jethrow's reappearance was coincidence, nothing more.

  And what the hell was Frank doing? His interest in Travis Mack made his involvement in this mess seem more credible, but what was his motive? Pain knifed through her heart, followed by almost debilitating anger. If Frank had anything to do with destroying Dancer, she'd kill him herself.

  The kitchen screen door banged and the twins marched in, all smiles.

  “Where've you guys been? The parade ended hours ago.”

  Clarke laughed. “Been sight-seeing. Buying souvenirs. Had a killer burger at the Cowboy Café. Guthrie hasn't changed one bit!”

  “And I intend to keep it that way.”

  Cliff looked around the spacious kitchen, then raised an eyebrow and grinned. “For someone who doesn't like change, you sure put a new face on this old place.”

  Kellie ignored the needling. “Day-to-day life in a 1930's kitchen isn't my idea of efficiency...I did leave the original cabinets, though.”

  Clarke ran his fingers along the edge of a cupboard door. “This is where I crashed on my skates, remember?”

  Kellie chuckled, filled with memories of a childhood filled with rowdy brothers and constant turmoil. “See? I didn't change the good stuff.”

  “Where's Sara?”

  “She was working her horse a little while ago. She's around here somewhere.”

  “We had a helluva time getting through the patrol cars at the gate.”

  “Yeah, but it's kinda like closing the barn door a little late.”

  The photograph with the crosshairs flashed on her mental widescreen and momentary panic seized her. She held her breath, trying to calm her jangled nerves. If this person had wanted to kill Sara, he or she would have already done so. The terror of the idea was far more effective.

  Clarke touched her shoulder, his features chiseled with concern. “Kell, what's wrong? You're white as a sheet.”

  The burst of adrenaline faded. “Nothing. Sara's just been trying to grow up too fast.”

  He leaned against the counter. “Any leads in the case?”

  “Ed Campbell thinks he's found who did it. Some drifter cowhand in Perkins. I think they're questioning him right now.”

  Clarke's voice reverberated with conviction. “If anyone can catch the bastard, it's Ed Campbell. Your ex-lover boy was one of the top Special Forces agents in Desert Storm.”

  Kellie leaned against the counter, briefly swept into the past. So much she didn't know.

  She gazed at her brothers. “Jethrow called this morning.”

  Cliff scowled. “Just like that-from out of nowhere? What'd he have to say for himself?”

  Kellie's protective instincts flared. “He's been growing up, just needed some time on his own. He's coming up from the city tomorrow to meet with us.”

  Cliff's words erupted on a snarl. “And have you brainwashed him about the land too?”

  Her restraint disappeared. “I can't believe you guys. Dad's will is very clear-the land stays in the family.”

  Clarke's features hardened like she'd never seen before. “Right. The family he approved of. Where the hell does that leave me?”

  Cliff touched his twin's arm in a protective gesture. “I speak for both of us. The lawyer says a direct heir cannot be left out of a will. Dad screwed up, and we're going after what rightfully belongs to Clarke.”

  Kellie walked across the kitchen, struggling to keep her composure. “I have to go to the barn-we'll talk about this later. Make yourselves at home.”

  The afternoon air had thickened, and she looked up at the sky as she strode angrily across the grass toward the barn. A band of heavy black clouds filled the horizon to the south, with larger ones billowing up like mutant mushrooms. Maybe some rain, but probably not. A blip ran through her pulse. More likely a tornado.

  She glanced back at the house, thinking about her brothers' treachery, and anger snapped at her pulse. Regardless of how persecuted Clarke might feel, Joshua Sutton had been adamant that no queer son of his would inherit. And now she was in the middle of it.

  The barn phone rang and she sprinted toward the office.

  ~ ~

  Frank moved through the brush, fending off the scratchy branches that tore at his face. Not a wisp of air stirred and the heat pressed into him. He shrugged out of the heavy denim jacket, and unbuttoned his shirt to the waist, but sweat still poured into his eyes and dripped off his chin. He sank to the ground and leaned against a dead oak. How the hell had he fucked this up? All he wanted was to take the heat off the ranch so he could get on with his life.

  He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, imagining life with Celeste in faraway exotic places. No worries, plenty of money...

  Something rustled in the brush, and he reached for the pistol tucked into his waistband. More rustling sent a thrust of adrenaline coursing through his system. Releasing the safety on the gun, he leveled it at the moving underbrush. A small brown head with a long nose and beady eyes poked through the grass. Frank exhaled sharply, and the armadillo scuttled back into the tall weeds.

  His cell phone rang and he started, then stared at the “unknown caller” message. Nausea crawled through his gut.

  Rodriguez kept his voice low. “You are a dead man. And so is your brat.”

  “Estevan, I can fix this. I've found the source of our problem and put him in the ground.”

  “I need proof. Carlos will come, you show him the body.”

  “But-” The phone screen went blank.

  A gust of air whirled through the branches, cooling his feverish skin. He rose and headed along the tree line toward the section road, stopping every so often to listen for signs of traffic. A hawk screeched overhead and a train whistle moaned in the distance. Taking a deep breath, he made a line drive for the far side of the road and the relative safety of a wheat field.

  A few moments later, sweaty, dusty, and itching with chigger bites, he emerged into the open and stood still briefly, gazing across the next open field toward safety. His phone rang and he hesitated, expecting it to be Rodriguez again. His discomfort faded at the sight of Celeste's number.

  Her voice didn't have its usual musical lilt. “Frankie, are you all right?”

  “Hot and dusty, wishing I was with you instead.”

  “The police were here this morning. What's going on?”

  “Got into a little scrape, but it'll blow over.”

  “Honey, I'm right here-all you have to do is come over. We'll just disappear.”

  His heart lurched. It sounded so simple.

  “Won't be long, baby. I got a couple things to finish up and then I'm all yours.” Forever.

  Somewhere behind him, a car engine roared and he ducked back into the tall wheat.

  “Gotta go...I love you, Celeste. Don't ever forget that.”

  Her soft voice echoing in his head, Frank sprinted toward the winter hay barn.

/>   ~ ~

  Ed gripped the phone, waiting for Kellie to pick up. God, he didn't want to make this call. An hour ago, he'd held her in his arms again, struggling to keep the promise of what might be. His chest ached with the emotions, but his mind opened to the calm knowledge that he had a chance to make it right with her, and start over. The sound of her voice sent a knife through the beautiful thought.

  He swallowed, trying to level his tone. “Kellie, I'm afraid you're not going to like this-your nephew is Travis Mack.”

  Her disbelief snapped through the phone. “No! It's a mistake!”

  “I wish it were, but fingerprints never lie.”

  “Why would you even have that checked?”

  “Something in your eyes when I mentioned the rodeo buckle...you knew right then, didn't you? After Pete unequivocally identified the buckle, I ran the prints from Mack's beer bottle against the cap you found and the prints the state took when Jethrow disappeared. It's a match...I'm really sorry.”

  “That doesn't mean that he did it!”

  “I know, but it does mean that he was on your property, and he never let you know he was back until today. Doesn't look good, Kellie. I'll be out there in about half-an-hour.”

  Kellie hung up on him, and he stared at the report on his desk. Maybe his dreams wouldn't come true after all. Her fierce loyalty to family and heritage could tip the scales. Again.

  He shook his head and pressed the intercom. “Danielle, would you come in here, please?”

  He took out the white cell phone and changed the ring to vibrate, then rose as Danielle stepped into his office.

  “We got a break in the Sutton case. I want you to go with me, I'll fill you in on the way.”

  “I'll get my hat.”

  He watched her ramrod posture as she strode down the hall, and wondered briefly what she was really like beneath that brittle exterior. He half smiled to himself. He'd had every opportunity to find out...she'd been more than welcoming when he'd arrived in town.

  A deputy stepped out of the next office and glanced down the hall after her, then grinned. “Some piece of work, huh?”

  Ed kept his voice low. “You know anything about her?”

  “Yeah, she's a hard-ass, ex-Marine, and the word around town is she's a lesbo.”

  Ed turned slowly and pinned the man with a hard look. “And why is that?”

  The deputy blanched and stepped back. “Uh, well, she hasn't ever been seen with a man, and-” He nodded. “Just nasty rumors, that's all.”

  Ed didn't respond and the deputy ducked back into his office. Danielle reappeared at the end of the hall, and Ed's curiosity faded. A career in the Corps said it all.

  They stopped at the dispatch office and he leaned his head in the window.

  “We're headed out to the Sutton place. Have an available unit meet us there.”

  Inside the cruiser, Danielle's spicy personal scent tickled Ed's nose. Perfume on a cop didn't seem right. He cleared his throat, keeping his tone gruff.

  “Do we have anything on Frazier?”

  She snorted. “He won't get far. That monster ride of his is easy to spot.”

  “Don't be too sure. He isn't stupid. My guess is he's driving something else.”

  She didn't respond, but the air grew thick with animosity.

  He cleared his throat. “Listen, Danielle, I want to make this right. A lot of things went into my taking this job, but it's only temporary. I'm not planning to seek re-election. You're the one for the job, and I'll support you a hundred percent.”

  Her dark eyes considered him for a moment. “So, you're going to just go off and leave her again?”

  Surprise jolted through his gut, but he kept his expression neutral. “What I do after this job is nobody's business.” He turned onto the highway and glanced over at her, hoping he'd made his point.

  A wry smile curled her full lips. “Men. They never get it.”

  ~ ~

  Kellie slowly replaced the phone into the base. This couldn't be happening. Jethrow would never do anything to hurt his own family. Maybe he'd been afraid to show himself because he thought she'd be angry with him for running away.

  Voices echoed in the barn, then Roy stuck his head in. “I'm goin' down to the pond pasture to repair that gate.”

  “Okay. Did you tell Sara her uncles are here?”

  “She hasn't come back yet.”

  Kellie's gaze snapped to the clock on the wall. “Oh God!”

  She raced out into the aisle and ran smack into Hyde.

  He chuckled and helped her regain her balance. “Where's the fire?”

  “Sara's been gone for too long. Something's wrong-I have to go look for her.”

  “I'll come too.” He headed down the row of stalls toward the workhorses.

  Kellie snatched open a stall door, talking softly to the nervous gelding inside. Five minutes later, she left the barn through the rear door.

  Hyde sat bareback on a pinto with one blue eye. “We should split up. I'll head west toward the winter hay barn.”

  “I'll check the south forty. If you find her, call my cell.”

  They both moved through the gate, then set off at a brisk trot. Kellie glanced at Hyde, so light on the horse's back, leaning to the side to scan the ground for tracks and gopher holes, guiding his mount with a single rein and a hackamore.

  Kellie's horse snorted and danced nervously, unused to being out in the open fields. Tightening the reins a little, Kellie scanned the horizon, seeing only a vast sea of long grass. The boiling clouds had broken up into brown-gray patches against the pale blue sky, and the mugginess had lessened.

  She turned and headed toward the area where Roy had seen the grass beaten down. As she rode, everything began to come together. If Jethrow were back in the area, he'd have gone home. Despair writhed through her mind. She didn't want to believe it, but from the small house, he'd easily be able to walk unseen through the fields. The photographs had been taken through a long-range lens. If she examined them closely, the angle would be from this direction. Sadness moved through her heart. The fingerprint match put Jethrow right in her back yard.

  Her horse neighed loudly, and a movement up ahead jerked her out of the awful thoughts. She squinted against the late afternoon glare, then a slither of fear moved through her chest, wrapping around her breastbone like a boa constrictor.

  Juicy trotted toward her. Riderless.

  Chapter 17

  Travis moved quickly and silently down the hall toward the kitchen. Standing to one side of the window, he watched Sara dismount and drop the reins onto the ground, then walk over to his truck and peer in. She turned and looked at the house.

  He clenched his jaw so hard the muscles in his neck ached. The little brat was the spitting image of her mother. Frizzy red hair, ski jump nose, skinny legs. What the fuck was she doing nosing around out here? This was his place-weren't almost five hundred acres enough for them? He stepped back from the window and waited for her to leave, taking deep breaths to calm the surging pulse that sent shocks of pain into his hand.

  The door latch jiggled and he shrank back into the dark pantry. The door opened slowly and Sara's head appeared.

  “Hello? Anybody here?”

  She hesitated, then stepped into the kitchen, closing the door softly behind her. Travis stopped breathing. What the hell was he going to do? She could fuck up everything! Then he almost laughed out loud. What difference did it make? In a couple of hours, they'd all be history.

  He stepped out of the pantry. “Looking for something?”

  She jerked and wheeled around, her eyes almost popping out of her head. “Holy shit, who are you?”

  “Tsk, tsk. Does your mother know you talk like a cowpoke?”

  Her small features hardened into a scowl, and the green eyes glinted. “What are you doing here? This is private property. My mommy owns it.”

  He chuckled. “Feisty little bitch, ain'tcha?” He took a step forward, taking pleasure in seeing h
er back away. “Let me introduce myself, Sara. I'm Cousin Jethrow.”

  Surprise widened her eyes and lifted her eyebrows into peaks that wrinkled her freckled forehead. Then suspicion crept across her face.

  “No you're not. Jethrow's dead-I heard my uncles talking about it.”

  Anger rushed in, but Travis quelled it. Nothing mattered at this point.

  He grinned. “Let's play twenty questions and I'll prove who I am.” He walked across the kitchen and reached into a cooler. “Wanna beer?”

  She giggled. “I'm not allowed.”

  “Hell, I was drinkin' whiskey when I was three.”

  “Did your parents know?”

  He handed her a soda, then cracked a beer. “They gave it to me.”

  “Are you really my cousin?”

  He headed toward the living room. “You decide.”

  Sara perched on the ottoman and gazed around the room. “I've never been in here before. Mom said it was filled with sad memories.”

  “She got that right.” He swigged some beer and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “You're a helluva good pole bender.”

  Delight widened her eyes and a smile opened up dimples in her cheeks. “How do you know?”

  “Watched you yesterday. That's some fancy pinto you got. What's his name?”

  “Dancer's Juice, Juicy for short.” Suddenly she leaped off the footstool. “Oh my god, I didn't tie him!” She ran into the kitchen and out the back door.

  Seconds later, her wail drifted on the afternoon air, and Travis watched her through the kitchen window. She scanned the empty fields, calling the horse's name, moving farther away from the house, skirting the barn, then heading across the open field toward the windmill. He snatched open the door and shouted her name, then took off after her, catching up to her fifty feet from the tornado shelter.

  She turned to face him, tears pouring down her cheeks. “Mom will kill me!”

  “Come on, I'll take you home. Horses always head for the barn when they're loose. He's probably already in his stall, munching hay.”