Betrayal at the Buffalo Ranch

by Sara Sue Hoklotubbe

  they get the truck up here? “Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” she

  said aloud. She searched for tire tracks or any other sign that a vehicle had been there, but could find nothing other than where Lance and the

  others had obviously worked around the victim.

  On the off chance that Lance and the others had missed something,

  she walked the fence line looking for clues. She thought someone might

  have left a tool, or dropped a cigarette or a gum wrapper, but she found

  nothing. Sonny sniffed at one of the fence posts and then hiked his leg

  and marked it.

  “Thanks, Sonny,” she admonished. “That really helps.”

  Before she had finished her words, he silently took off back down

  the hill and into the pasture after a rabbit. She dismissed the wolfdog and the rabbit, climbed back on Joe, and rode through the broken fence and

  into the wooded area. Joe shuffled his feet, raised his head, and whin-

  nied. She knew by the sound he made and the uneasiness of his move-

  ment under her there was an unfamiliar horse not far away— probably

  another stallion. She patted his neck and spoke in a soothing voice to

  quiet him. He calmed and remained still long enough for her to stand

  high in the stirrups and stare into the woods. She thought she saw mo-

  tion among the distant trees and called out.

  “O’siyo!” She yelled the greeting in Cherokee. “Hello,” she repeated.

  There was no answer and no other movement. She remembered

  Lance’s words of warning and then a cold shiver crept up her spine.

  Maybe the killer was still hiding nearby. What was she thinking?

  She whistled and called for Sonny, and after a few minutes he came

  running from the opposite direction, tongue hanging, fun and happiness

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  reflected in his eyes. She patted Joe on his shoulder. “Come on, boys,”

  she said. “We’ll come back tomorrow and look around.” She slowly

  turned Joe back toward the barn and nonchalantly headed toward home,

  hoping if someone was watching, they would not become alarmed at her

  sudden exit from the area.

  By the time she reached the barn, unsaddled Joe, and fed Sonny,

  the sun had disappeared and a bright moon had begun its ascent into

  the sky. She patted Joe on his neck and Sonny on his head, and went

  inside.

  Her clothes felt cold from the damp evening air, so she changed

  into a long tee shirt and shorts and then searched the refrigerator for

  something to eat. After constructing a ham and cheese sandwich with

  extra helpings of lettuce and tomato, she pulled out a bag of potato chips and a bottle of low- calorie beer, proceeded to the couch, and flipped on the television. She tried to focus on the twenty- four- hour- a- day news channel until her sandwich, chips, and beer were gone. Then she carried

  her empty plate into the kitchen and opened the back door for Sonny to

  come inside. After sniffing the air and checking for loose crumbs on the

  floor, he curled up in front of the couch. Sadie returned to the couch and put her bare feet on Sonny’s side, massaging his thick fur with her toes.

  Eventually, she lay back and closed her eyes, surrendering her thoughts

  to the day’s events.

  Jason Clyborn’s sad funeral brought forth uncomfortable feelings

  about an unnecessary war— one that had cost countless lives for no good

  reason. And for each life lost, pain and misery crawled back home like

  an evil spider, spinning its web around everyone the young warrior ever

  knew or loved.

  Her thoughts wandered and eventually moved to Angus Clyborn,

  the dead soldier’s father. How would he treat Lucy now that Jason was

  gone? Probably the same way he planned to treat any animal hemmed

  inside the electrically charged fenced-

  in enclosure he’d named the

  Buffalo Ranch. Not very well.

  And now an Angus- like fence had appeared between hers and

  Chuculate’s property, which led her thoughts to the death that had taken

  place there. She didn’t know who the dead man was or where he’d come

  from. Why was he building a new fence? Had the property sold and

  she didn’t know about it? And, why would she? All of it made her feel

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  uneasy and vulnerable. She reached down and touched Sonny’s head with her fingers. She would always feel safe as long as her wolfdog lived.

  A fleeting thought of living without Sonny pricked her heart, and she

  clung to his fur for a moment before letting go.

  Then there was Lance. He’d protect her if she’d let him. She loved

  him and their happy, easygoing relationship, but she clung to her com-

  plete independence as if she might lose herself without it.

  She curled up and allowed herself to drift further into unconscious-

  ness, feeling Joe’s bare back and his gait under the weight of her body

  and hearing Sonny’s happy howl in her dream.

  Cloudless blue skies turned gray and cold air surrounded her as if someone had turned on an air conditioner. She looked in the distance and saw a man riding a black horse coming toward her, his identity obscured by shadows. Suddenly, an arrow passed so close to her ear she could hear the feathers whistle as it glided through the air. Joe reared, but she grabbed his mane and held on, trying to control the powerful stallion with the grip of her legs. She could hear Sonny growl and attack something or someone, but everything was a blur. Then the rider and the horse came back into view, running toward them at full speed.

  Sonny yelped a cry of pain and Joe reared again. She could see Sonny lying on the ground. Something was wrong; he wasn’t moving. She jumped from Joe’s back and ran to Sonny’s lifeless body just as Joe began to fight with yet another horse. She fell on the ground next to Sonny, searching his body with her hands, trying to determine what was wrong. The stallions screamed and bit at each other, their hoofs pounding.

  “Sonny! Joe!” she shrieked, jarring herself from the nightmare. She

  gasped for air and sat straight up, shaking. Sonny stood and growled,

  then began licking her face. She grabbed him by the scruff of his neck,

  buried her face in his fur, and sobbed. Rarely did a dream seem so vivid, and this one had shaken her entire being.

  After regaining her composure, she went into the bedroom and

  pulled her late father’s Remington 30.06 from the closet. She checked to

  make sure the rifle was loaded, even though she knew it was, slipped on

  her shoes, and opened the back door. Adrenaline flooded through her

  as she flipped on the floodlight and quickly looked around. Sonny ran

  through the door into the yard and marked the gatepost. She walked out

  onto her back porch and whistled for Joe. The horse ambled around the

  barn and snorted. Sir William quickly followed. What was she doing,

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  besides overreacting to a dream that had no existence in fact? She called Sonny back inside and locked the door.

  Through her kitchen window she saw headlights turn off the road

  and move toward her house. When she looked closely, she recognized

  Lance’s truck. She smiled as the tension began to slowly drain from her.

  She waited for him to park and approach the house before opening the

  door for him.

  “What’s this?” he said, nodding to the rifle in her hand. “Is every-

  thing okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She looked down as if she’d forgotten about the gun.<
br />
  Without saying a word, she stowed the rifle in the corner behind the

  door where she could get to it quickly if she needed it again.

  Lance handed her a brown paper sack and walked back into the

  yard. “Lock the door,” he said, as he flicked on a flashlight. “I’ll check around the house.”

  She took the paper sack and opened it to discover several foil-

  wrapped cylinders that she recognized as Lupe’s tamales. She put the

  bag on the table, checked to make sure all her windows were locked, and

  went back to the door.

  Lance moved through the doorway and gave her a quick kiss.

  “Everything looks okay,” he said.

  After parking his cowboy hat on an empty peg by the door, he

  dropped into a chair next to the sack of tamales. He picked up the paper

  sack, opened it, and inhaled. “Lupe came by the sheriff ’s office with

  these tamales and asked me to bring them to you,” he said. “They’re still warm. You want one?”

  Sadie smiled and reached for a couple of plates and tore off several

  paper towels. “Are you still on call or do you want a beer?”

  “No, I’ll take a Pepsi if you’ve got one.”

  Sadie rummaged in the refrigerator, pulled out two cans of Pepsi,

  and handed one to him. “I always have Pepsi for you, my dear.”

  They sat at the kitchen table and devoured Lupe’s delicious tamales.

  Sadie ate one and left the other three for Lance.

  “Have you seen or heard anything else since I left?” he asked as

  he ate.

  “No. I rode Joe up to where they tore down the fence, but I didn’t

  see anything.”

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  Lance stopped eating and stared at her for several seconds. Sadie could practically hear his thoughts leaking out into the air around them.

  Why did you do that? I told you to lock your door, but you never do what I tell you. You think you’re invincible, but you’re not. Just because you have a wolfdog doesn’t mean someone can’t shoot you both.

  But instead of saying anything, in true Lance Smith style, he slowly

  finished off the last tamale and took a long swig of Pepsi before he spoke in an even tone. “Thought you were going to lock the doors and stay inside.” After finishing off his Pepsi, he added, “I wouldn’t be very happy if I came here and found you with an arrow sticking out of your chest.”

  Sadie forced a grin, grateful for his sweet tactfulness. “I should have

  stayed home,” she conceded. “Joe acted like there was another horse

  around. I felt uneasy, so I came back home fairly quickly.” Wanting to

  change the subject, she added, “Speaking of arrows, did you find out

  anything about the guy who was killed?”

  Lance leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out into the

  room and crossed his feet. “He didn’t have a lick of identification on

  him, but the ME took his fingerprints, which we ran through the na-

  tional system. We got a hit in Texas, a little town called Sweetwater

  Creek, about twenty miles west of Denton. Evidently, he’d done a lit-

  tle time in the Denton County Jail— twice for DUI and once for grand

  larceny. We still haven’t figured out what he was doing around here.

  Jennings is supposed to be running down the next of kin.”

  “Oh.” Sadie didn’t know what to say. Why was a mystery man from

  Texas dying so close to her home? “What’s his name?”

  “Kenny Wayne Sanders, forty- three years old, but don’t go spread-

  ing his name around until we can find some of his family. You don’t

  know anyone who makes their own arrows, do you?”

  Sadie thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

  “Sanders was killed with a handmade arrow, but you need to keep

  that to yourself, as well.”

  “That’s a skill you don’t see much anymore,” she said. “Are you

  sure?”

  “Pretty sure.” Lance wadded the paper sack, stood, and dropped it

  in the trash along with his empty Pepsi can.

  “None of this makes any sense, Lance.”

  “I know.” He moved behind her chair and put his arms around her.

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  She pulled herself out of the chair and fell into his embrace.

  “But I promise you we’ll figure it out,” he said. “Okay?”

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.

  “Don’t worry,” he said and grinned. Pushing her hair out of her face,

  he kissed her again. “I’m going to keep a personal eye on you tonight.”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

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  Chapter 3

  Rebecca Silver sat down at her makeshift desk, picked up a letter opener, and slid the blade under the flap of the envelope. She already knew what

  the letter said, but she decided to give it her full attention anyway.

  The opening line angered her. Dear homeowner, it said.

  “You’d think they could at least acknowledge my name,” she said

  aloud. She stopped reading for a moment, trying to absorb her situation,

  and then continued reading.

  This is the final notice of foreclosure for the property located at 22165 Slate Street NE, Bakersfield, California. The property will be auctioned thirty days from the date of this letter. Please vacate the property by that date or you will be removed by force.

  “You have such a way with words,” she said, as if the writer of the

  letter could hear her.

  If you have any questions, please feel free to contact the foreclosure department at . . .

  Rebecca let the letter slip from her hand, watched it fall onto the

  wooden floor, and then looked at her surroundings. She and her ex-

  husband, Levi Silver, had moved into this house ten years earlier when

  they moved from Oklahoma. Levi took a job with the Bakersfield police

  department, but as a rookie police officer, hadn’t brought home a very

  large paycheck. She remembered being astounded that the city asked

  him to put his life on the line every day for such a measly salary. It kept food on the table, but Rebecca had grown weary of clipping coupons for

  bare necessities, shopping for the cheapest cuts of meat, and buying sale clothing from last season.

  That’s when she’d decided to take a job at a nearby convenience

  store to bolster the family budget. The store was close to home and one

  she used frequently to pick up last- minute items and buy gas. She liked

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  the friendly manager, and it felt good to help make ends meet. Once they got on their feet financially, they planned to start a family. She took the late- night shift to coordinate with Levi’s work hours so they could spend time at home together during the day.

  To improve his pay grade and bring a little excitement to the job,

  Levi volunteered for undercover work. That had been a big mistake. In

  order to make his cover believable, he’d gotten a little too friendly with the crowd he was trying to infiltrate. One thing led to another, and before he knew it, he had become one of them— selling and using cocaine and

  heroin.

  Things went from bad to worse. Rebecca involuntarily shivered as a

  horrendous memory resurfaced. One of Levi’s drug- crazed friends fol-

  lowed him into the convenience store one night and overheard his con-

  versation with Rebecca. She inadvertently busted Levi’s cover when she

  told him that his sergeant had called and left a message.

  After Levi left, the man returned to the deserted store, force
d Rebecca

  into the back room, and knocked her to the floor. She fought him as hard

  as she could, and told him her husband would kill him. But it didn’t mat-

  ter. He held a switchblade to her face and, with drug- induced strength,

  violently raped her. The few minutes it took for Rebecca to endure this

  horrific act turned into a lifetime of shame for her. She would never be

  the same.

  Rebecca reported the rape to the police and identified the rapist,

  but before he could be arrested, he was killed during a well- orchestrated drug raid. She often wondered if he’d been targeted by the officers because of her. She didn’t care if he had. When she tried to quit her job,

  her employer agreed to lay her off so she could apply for unemployment.

  Once Levi’s cover had been broken and the state of his drug ad-

  diction uncovered, the police department placed him on leave and sent

  him to drug rehabilitation. After his limited success in the program, the department gave him a desk job answering the phone and filing papers.

  Levi hated it. He told Rebecca how he could see disgust in the eyes of

  the other police officers. He was no longer one of them. The bond he’d

  had with his fellow officers was shattered.

  When the City of Bakersfield decided to cut back on the budget and

  lay off police officers, Levi’s position was one of the first to go. His sever-ance check lasted for one month, and then he stood in the unemployment

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  line with her. The meager income from two unemployment checks wasn’t enough to survive in Bakersfield, California. Humiliation turned

  to anger and the couple began to fight over everything.

  Rebecca knew Levi blamed himself for the rape, and if she dared

  be honest with herself, to some extent, so did she. She felt dirty and

  pushed him away. She couldn’t stand for him to touch her. He started

  falling asleep on the couch, never bothering to get up and turn off the

  television or go to bed. When he began spending most of his time at a

  local bar, Rebecca assumed he was trying to numb the pain of losing

  not only his job, but also the love of his wife. So she wasn’t completely surprised when he came home late one night and dropped divorce papers in her lap.

  She had stared at the pages for several moments before she could

  find her voice. “Why can’t we try to work it out first?” she said, with reality setting in, fear and humiliation spilling out through the tears streaming down her face.