by Alex Harris
MURDER AT BEAR RANCH
M. ALEX HARRIS
COPYRIGHT 2010 M. Alex Harris
The dust settled as Chalcey dismounted Red, the Pony Of America (POA). Red stood 12 hands; his markings matched an Appaloosa’s and he was the prettiest shade of rust. Chalcey had found him at a horse rescue a few months earlier and the horse and girl had immediately bonded. Red was truly the reason she was getting over the untimely death of her father.
“I swear, Chalcey,” Summer laughed, “soon we’ll have to put you on a real horse.”
“Summer, don’t you talk bad about Red. And I’ll never out grow him, even when I am as old as you, I won’t caste him aside. He’ll always have a place with me.” Anders Chalcedony Wolfe put her hands on her hips and responded to her great grandmother Summer Bear and then put her arms around Red’s neck. Tall like her mother, grandmother and great grandmother, Chalcey thrust her chin out in defiance and in jest. Chalcey’s red hair was almost a perfect match for Red’s mane and tail. People who saw them together sometimes said she must color her hair to match her horse. But those people didn’t know Chalcey or Summer or they would have known better.
“Come on Chalcey, brush him down, hang up your tack and let’s go get supper.” Chalcey’s great grandmother instructed her, knowing occasionally Chalcey forgot to hang up the tack.
“What about feeding everybody else?”Chalcey was concerned about the other three horses, the pig, goat, chickens, raccoon, not to mention the dogs and cats. Chalcey had brought one cat, rescued another, found a mistreated dog at the pound, and on a ride found a baby raccoon whose mama had been run over.
“It can wait til after supper honey. Shake a leg.” Summer prodded Chalcey and walked off to the ranch house.
Summer had lived on the ranch long before it became known as Bear Ranch. Back in 1954, Summer took over when both of her parents were killed in a car accident and she changed her name to Summer Bear. Bear Ranch wasn’t the largest ranch, but Summer had taken great pains to make it successful and self sustaining over the years. She built the barn, and tack shed with help from her first husband, who died at the wheel of their columbine. Then Summer married again and husband number two helped fence and cross fence the 15 acres, put in two wells, brought in solar power and put in stock tanks. Since Bear Ranch backed up to the national forest, it was like owning half of Yavapai County. Everyone in Prescott knew of Summer and those who knew her personally always called her Summer, even her daughter, granddaughter, and great granddaughter.
Chalcey clomped into the recently remodeled kitchen that has served thousands of meals and people, the look on her face could only be described as petulant, “Summer why do we always do all the work? Why doesn’t Oriole or Marlowe have to help?”
“Honey, what brought that up?” Summer stopped stirring the home made stew and laid down the spoon while turning to her only great granddaughter.
“Well, you cook and clean, I muck the stalls and feed all the critters twice a day and go to school and do 4-H and you teach classes. Marlowe just goes to the office and Oriole just goes to work. Why can’t they help us more?”
Summer sat at the huge oak dining table with a glass of ice tea for herself and Chalcey. “Your mama works hard and many long hours and she does more than her fair share-on her days off she feeds and mucks too, and every other weekend she takes rotation to cook dinner. Now, Marlowe does the same, but hers is a little different. Both your mama and grandma keep this place going by paying the mortgage and upkeep. Why I’d have lost the place if not for the two of them. And you’d be living in the city without old Red. Darling, are you feeling kinda overwhelmed with all the chores and schoolwork? Is that what’s going on?” Summer watched her great granddaughter’s face as the inquiry soaked in. She could see Chalcey processing the question.
Tears welled up in Chalcey’s eyes. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful. Summer, you and Marlowe have been great to Mama and me. I’ve never lived in such a great place and being able to have Red & Buttercup & Popeye & Puddles. Maybe I’m feeling lonely maybe I miss my Dad and want Mama around like other kids have their mama’s and dad’s.”
“Chalcey, those are words well beyond your years”, Summer’s analysis into Chalcey’s pain and heartache brought her up short.
“Come on, let’s set the table and you go change for supper.”
The emotional overflow forgotten momentarily, Chalcey asked to use the good crystal, silver and china. “But, Chalcey, it’s just homemade stew and biscuits and cucumber salad.”
“I know, but the good stuff always makes me feel special.” Chalcey gave her great grandmother that tilt of her head and the smile that has tugged at Summer’s heart since Chalcey was born. “OK. Let’s get out the good stuff and the nice Irish linen too.”
Marlowe and Oriole drove in the yard almost simultaneously just as the sun was setting. The Mercedes contrasted with Oriole’s Jeep 4 wheel drive, in color and style. Marlowe’s success as an attorney was evident in the cream colored Mercedes she drove for work. Oriole drove a four year old bright red 4 wheel drive Jeep for comfort and practicality.
“Hey, Marlowe, spring any of my cases?” Oriole asked her attractive mother.
“Oriole, don’t you start on me today. I’ve asked them not to give me any cases you’ve worked on and it seems to be pretty consistent. Since they’ve assigned you to the Verde and me to Prescott. I don’t see your name in any of my files.” Marlowe swatted her tall skinny daughter with her briefcase as they walked up the steps arm in arm.
“Summer, Chalcey, we’re home. Hey, where is everybody?”
“In the kitchen. Supper in 10 minutes. Hot biscuits in the oven. Wash up. Chalcey is serving”. Marlowe and Oriole looked at each other quizzically as Summer finished her rendition. Whispering to her mom, Oriole said, “What’s that all about. Chalcey would rather eat than serve.”
Oriole and Marlowe joined Summer & Chalcey in the huge county kitchen. Marlowe poured a glass of Gewurztraminer and nodded to Oriole to see if Oriole wanted one. Oriole shook her head “no thanks, on call tonight.”
“Chalcey, how was your day,” Oriole put her arms around her gangly red haired daughter. Chalcey hugged her mom. “I miss Dad.” Oriole looked at Summer over Chalcey’s head.
“I know, I miss him too. Come on while I change my clothes and lock up my gun. Let’s talk about it.” Oriole and Chalcey went up to Oriole’s bedroom on the second floor.
“Summer, what happened to make Chalcey bring up Jim. She seemed to have adjusted so well. I haven’t heard word one from her for over six months.” Marlowe leaned against the refrigerator and sipped her wine.
“She came in from feeding Red and started in. We talked some, but I think this is something her mom needs to help her through. Maybe we all need to be more sensitive to Chalcey’s need for a dad. It just seems so strange since my dad was gone, your’s gone, Oriole’s and now Chalcey’s. Are the women in this family cursed or blessed?”
“Summer, I’m too tired to try to analyze all the emotional woes of this family right now. Maybe tomorrow Chalcey and I can go fishing out at Watson Lake.”
Summer, Oriole and Marlowe were seated round the oak dining table as Chalcey served the stew and biscuits. Everyone complimented her steady hand and proper etiquette. Just as they finished the main course, Oriole’s cell phone rang. She got up from the table to take the call.
“Oriole is on call. That means she’ll be gone all night again.” Chalcey almost teared up again.
“Chalcey if Mama has to leave maybe we can all play poker until she gets back, since there is no school tomorrow. Let’s make a big bowl of popcorn and lemonade and break out the rolls of pennies.OK?” Marlowe reached out to Chalcey and pull
ed her into a gentle hug.
“Ok. Marlowe, let’s feed the critters and then we can come back and help Summer with dishes and then I’ll whup you at poker.” Chalcey’s mood changed rapidly with the promise of a game of penny poker with two of the most cut throat poker players she knew.
Oriole came back to the kitchen, “Chalcey, I gotta go. I’m detective on call and they found a body. You mind Summer and Marlowe and don’t stay up too late and no cheating you two. Don’t be teaching Chalcey bad habits.”
Summer and Marlowe looked at each other with mock innocence, “who us?”
Oriole got her emergency bag from the hall closet which contained Vicks, energy bars, water, rain coat, rubber boots, extra clothes and batteries. “See you when I see you. Don’t wait up. It might be an all nighter.” Oriole had written down directions to Clark Spring Trail, one of the more beautiful little known sights off Iron Springs. It would take about 20 minutes from the ranch. Oriole processed what she knew from dispatch–partially decomposed male body off the trail, one mile from the parking lot.
When she arrived, she saw the patrol deputy, the Medical Examiner’s wagon, forensic techs, fire and ambulance, plus some looky-loos.
“Evening Oriole, sorry you got the call.” Richard Yellowhorse greeted her as she stepped out of the Jeep. “Fire stepped in and out to announce. Perimeter set up. It’s hard to determine what could be the crime scene and its getting on toward dark so I shut down the lot and trail. ME’s waiting for you. You’re lead on this, so what do you want me to do next?”
“Good job, Yellowhorse. Did you leave anything for me to do?” Oriole smiled with affection to the deputy who had started out as a tribal police officer and recently moved over to the Sheriff’s Patrol. Yellowhorse tipped his head in obvious embarrassment.
“Just doing my job, detective.”
“Who found the body?”
“That kid and his girlfriend over there. They’re both pretty shook up. I took the initial statement and called fire. The paramedic walked in, announced, Then walked out to wait for the rest. I got all the pertinent info from the kids. Do you want to interview them now or later?”
“Let’s get it over with now and see if we can release them, then go on up. Give me the details.”
“John Smith, right off his driver’s license, swear to God, and Melanie Gruber. They arrived at 5:30, ate their picnic dinner at the benches over there. That SUV is registered to him. No other cars were in the lot. Then they took off for a late afternoon hike. After about a mile, he had to take a leak, oops sorry, answer call of nature. He walked off the trail about 20 feet. He smelled decomp and thought it was an animal. He went to investigate and found the body. They ran back to the car and grabbed his cell phone and called dispatch. They both live in Prescott. Students at Prescott College. No wants or warrants. Got phone numbers and addresses.”
Oriole walked over to where the kids were waiting. “Mr. Smith, my name is Oriole Wolfe. I’m a detective with the Sheriff’s Office. Could you tell me what happened?”
John Smith’s story replicated what Yellowhorse had already told her and Melanie didn’t have anything else to add, so Oriole released them to go home and provide a written statement the next day.
“Detective Wolfe, good to see you again.” Dr. Rodney Culpepper greeted Oriole. Culpepper appeared to be a hundred years old, but was more like 60, white Einstein hair, full beard, stooped shoulders, and crackling blue eyes. His hobby of raising orchids had made him world famous.
“Doc. How’s the prize winning orchids?”
“You always remember, don’t you? Entered them at the garden show and got first.”
“Shall we hike up the hill and see what we can before dark settles in. Hey, Yellowhorse, will you please request some spots. It’s going to get dark real fast.”
It made a peculiar sight, the ME, the paramedics, the officers trooping up the trail loaded down with bags for the investigation. By the time they arrived at the crime scene tape, there was some heavy breathing going on. Oriole pulled out the Vicks and passed it around to quell the smell of the decomposing flesh.
“Doc, I’m starting the tape recorder. John, go ahead and start with the digital camera. Yellowhorse, you run the camcorder.”
“Approximately twenty feet off the trail in a NE direction I see what appears to be a male, on his left side. Unknown age. However, it appears there has been some animal activity. We’ll need to cordon this off and do a step search in daylight. Sufficient debris, cigarette butts, cans-soda and beer, wrappers. All that needs to be collected, probably tomorrow. Need to post a deputy over night right here on the trail. Walking in, in paramedic’s footsteps. Smell is moderate, but certainly decomp. Attired in blue jeans, work boots with distinctive tread, snap front shirt looks pretty torn up. Facial hair, looks like a full beard. From what I can see looks like gray hair. That’s about it, pause tape and cameras.”
The ME knelt on a plastic tarp to get a better look at the body, opened up his bag and began the examination. “Decomp fairly significant, I’d say he’s been dead at least four days. No way to tell if this is the primary crime scene until daylight. Looks like scavengers have been at his hands and face. Get pictures from every angle. We won’t know more until we roll him over. Bob, give me a hand here, let’s roll him over.”
Doc Culpepper and Bob rolled the body onto its back. “Uh, oh. Missing left hand too. That’s odd. Record. Body’s missing left and right hand. Definite signs of animal activity, but how did they get the left hand the way the body was laying on its side. Bob, bag the arms. Let’s get him onto the tarp and into the bag. Tomorrow, Oriole, you need to get a search going for the hands. We got pack rats, coyote, bobcats, and no telling what else to contend with.” The ME stood up, took off his gloves, deposited them into the evidence bag and turned to leave. “Oriole, I’ll probably post him tomorrow at 1:30. You’ll be there?”
“I’ll be there. Yellowhorse, would you call dispatch for a night watch on the sight. Maybe a couple of the volunteers. Be sure they know what to do and what not to do. I’m going back to the office and start a search of missing persons state wide. Doc, how old do you guess?”
“Hard to say, at least 40 based on the hair and body shape. I’d say you are safe doing a 35 to 60 search. White male. Some kind of laborer, well maybe delete that since we can’t see his hands. I’d guess 6', 190-200 lbs. Gray, blond hair, full facial beard. That’s about all I can give you right now.”
Oriole, the ME, tech, and paramedics left. Yellowhorse stayed behind to wait for the volunteers to arrive and keep watch. Yellowhorse wasn’t too keen on hanging out where the spirit of the man might be. As he waited he called for his spirit animal to join him. He turned to the East, and called for Mother Earth and Father Sun to protect him. Having enlisted his spirit guides, he sat down in the middle of the trail and waited for the volunteers to arrive.
Oriole arrived back at the office at 11:20. Knowing how long the poker games at Bear Ranch could run, she put in a call. “Summer, whose winning?”
“Have you been coaching Chalcey? She’s up $3.57. Marlowe is yawning and fading fast. But that kid is still going strong.” Turning away from the game, Summer asked, “What can you tell me?”
“Not too much yet. I’ll be home in a couple of hours. Maybe you should just lose, so Chalcey will go to bed. I thought Marlowe was taking her fishing tomorrow.”
“Lose! I never throw a game. If she wins, it’s because she can. We’ll probably be up when you get here.”
“I shoulda known. OK, Summer see you a few. Bye.”
“Bye, honey, drive safely. Love you.”
“Summer why do you always say that to Oriole, Marlowe and me?”
“Oh, Chalcey, it just comes naturally. When your great, great grandma and grandpa left and didn’t return, I realized how tenuous life was and I didn’t ever want to miss an opportunity to tell those I love that I loved them. Oriole and Marlowe and you are important to me. I love all of you and never wa
nt you to forget it. And I never want to wake up to losing someone without having expressed what they meant to me. Now, let’s play or go to bed. Which?”
“So what you’re saying is I shouldn’t let my anger get in the way of telling Oriole I love her when she leaves for work. Gotcha. Think I could call Oriole back and tell her I love her too?”
“Sure.”
Chalcey dialed the sheriff’s office for her mother. “Hi, Mom. “
“Chalcey, what’s going on?”
“Mom, I just wanted you to know I love you. Drive safely, ok. And come kiss me goodnight when you get in. I know I was mad that you had to leave and I apologize.”
“Oh, Chalcey, I love you too. I’ll come say goodnight when I get there.” Oriole’s eyes overflowed and she hung up. Thinking out loud Oriole said, “How does that girl do it. One minute you could throttle her and the next she melts your heart. OK, let’s get this done and get home.” Oriole’s search turned up 7 possibles across the state, but none that looked promising. She turned off the computer, turned out the lights and checked out.
Oriole drove home to the ranch pondering the identity of the man found. When she arrived at home, she put her bag back in the hall closet, checked the kitchen to see if the poker game was still going (which it wasn’t), locked up and went to Chalcey’s room to kiss her goodnight.
“I heard you come in. How was it tonight?” Chalcey asked her mom.
“Chalcey, I think living here has been good for both of us. Summer’s compassion is rubbing off on you and me. Thanks for asking about tonight. It’s sad. So what are you and Marlowe doing tomorrow?” Oriole changed the direction of the conversation as rapidly as she could without discounting Chalcey’s concerns.
“I think we’re going fishing. Marlowe and I haven’t been fishing for a long time. It’ll be fun even if we don’t catch anything. Summer said she’d make us a lunch. I think you need to get to bed and get some sleep.”
“Who’s the mom here?”
“Well, I have lots of examples to learn from, you, Marlowe and Summer. So maybe I’ll take my turn.” Chalcey smiled at her mother mischievously.
“ OK, little mother go to sleep. I won’t be getting up too early, so if you take off with Marlowe, remember she’s the adult, listen to what she has to say.”