"Something's wrong with the Ulrich house," I told him.
"What?" He grabbed a flashlight from the back of his truck. "Let's go take a look."
As we got closer to the little house, it became apparent that the two members holding up the porch roof had fallen over.
"Ed just replaced these," I said as we stood next to the crumpled roof. "What the heck is going on?"
"Maybe he didn't set them properly?" Tobias suggested, training the flashlight on one of the posts. "Look. The nails just got ripped out of the wood."
"How could that happen?" I asked. "Was the roof too heavy?"
"I don't think so." He turned to look at me. "I think somebody's sabotaging your project, Lucy."
* * *
"Why?" I asked.
"I don't know," he said.
I bit my lip. "Ed put in a camera. Maybe he caught whatever happened on film."
"Where is it?" he asked.
"I don't know," I said. "I didn't watch him put it up."
Tobias flashed the light around the perimeter. "I don't see it," he said.
"I'll ask him," I said, and pulled out my phone. It was a little late, but I knew Ed would want to know what had happened, so I called him. He didn't answer, so I left a voice mail. "This project is never going to be done, is it?" I asked.
"I'm less worried about the project and more worried that someone's got a vendetta against you. Or at least this house. Let's go check on the animals and the farmhouse and make sure whoever it was didn't get up to any more mischief."
We did the rounds of the farm; fortunately, the damage seemed limited to the Ulrich house. But I still didn't understand why.
"It makes no sense," I said. "Why attack my project?"
"Ed's up for the Buttercup Bank project," Tobias suggested. "Maybe somebody's trying to cause trouble with his existing projects so that he doesn't look like a good contractor."
"He did mention some of his concrete forms being trampled the other day," I said. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm not the target."
"Maybe not," he said, "but I still want you to be careful. Are you okay staying with me for a few days?"
"I really can't, not with all the chores here," I said.
"Are you okay with me staying here, then?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, and hugged him. "Thank you."
"Any time," he said. "I'll sleep better, too, knowing you're not alone."
* * *
The night passed uneventfully, and it was nice to wake up in Tobias's strong arms. I made coffee for both of us, and then we parted to take care of our morning duties. Chuck and the kitten were still getting along famously, and before heading out to his truck, Tobias proclaimed the little cat healthy and thriving, and reminded me she still needed frequent feeding.
After my morning chores, I headed to the Heinrich's Feed store to pick up food for the chickens, goats, and cows; I was getting low.
As Lotte Heinrich wheeled a few of the big propylene bags of cattle and goat feed out of the storage room on a dolly, I noticed the color was a little different. "It seems darker than usual," I said.
"We're goin' local," she said as I hefted a bag of chicken feed onto the counter. "Changin' it up a bit and tryin' to support local farmers. Speaking of local farmers, how's everything going at Dewberry Farm?"
"Getting the hang of things, I think. I lost all my cucurbits to bugs this week, but other than that it's all good," I said as she rang up my purchases. I loved the feed store; in spring, they had baby chicks in a special room, and all kinds of things—including poultry nipples and sheep tights—I had never even imagined you could buy. (Poultry nipples are things you put on buckets so that chickens can drink out of them, and sheep tights keep fleece clean, in case you were wondering.)
"None of your livestock gettin' sick?" she asked.
"No. Why?"
"We've had a lot of ranchers with sick cattle lately," she said. "We've been wonderin' if there's some kind of fever sweeping through town."
"Tobias has had a few calls," I said. "What are you seeing?"
"Lameness is the big thing," she said. "I wonder if it's some mosquito-borne thing, like West Nile virus or something." She shivered. "You just never know these days."
"I know he's seen some lame cattle," I said as I gave her my credit card. That certainly was the issue with the Froehlichs' cows.
"Need help getting this to the truck?" she asked.
"That would be great," I said. I don't know why, but I suddenly asked, "Can I return it?"
She blinked at me. "Why on earth would you want to do that?"
"I don't know," I said. "In case Tobias wants me to change up their diets or something, I guess."
She shrugged. "As long as it hasn't been opened, I can't see why not." She accompanied me out to the truck. "Max Pfeiffer was in here earlier buyin' chicken feed and crowin' about some new deal he's puttin' together with a beer distributor," she said. "I heard you were there when they found Felix."
"I was," I said. "Hey... do you remember if anyone bought sulfur recently?"
"That's usually a spring kind of thing, that you till in. Don't have much call for it this time of year. I don't remember seein' any, but... hey, Missy!" she called across the store to a young woman with blonde pigtails.
"What's up?"
"You remember sellin' any sulfur lately?"
"Yeah, actually." She turned pink. "Just a few days ago. Nick Schmidt came in for a bag; said his dad asked him to pick it up for him."
"Thanks, Missy." She turned to me. "She always remembers the cute college-age boys. Well, then," she said. "There you go."
"Do the Schmidts farm?" I asked.
"I know Nick's mom has a tomato patch. Maybe that was what it was for. Although she usually uses Epsom salts."
"Me too," I said.
At least I'd solved one mystery, I thought as Lotte helped me load the bags into the car.
Nick had almost certainly fouled the beer barrel before the big opening.
But was he responsible for what had happened to Felix, too?
* * *
I had gotten back to the farm and was about to make another batch of mozzarella cheese when Tobias called.
"How are you? Still no aftereffects from last night?"
"Fine," I said.
"Sure?"
"Positive," I told him. I told him what I'd learned about Nick buying sulfur.
"So we've figured out the likely culprit for that, anyway… but it still doesn't solve the issue of who killed Felix.
Any word from Ed?"
"Not yet," I said, "and I still can't find the camera." I'd walked around the house before milking the cows and goats, wondering if I'd be able to locate it, but I'd been out of luck.
"I'm sure he'll know where it is."
"I just wish he'd call back." I looked down to where the little gray fluff ball was stalking Chuck's wagging tail. As I watched, she pounced on it, and Chuck jumped and let out a yip. "The kitten's playing the part of the mighty hunter this morning. Unfortunately for Chuck, his tail is the prey."
"He's been very patient, hasn't he?"
"He tolerates anything from her," I said. "He must have more holes in him than a pincushion after the way she was kneading his belly this morning. She thinks he's her mom."
"That's great news. No sign of the real mama today?"
"I may have caught a glimpse of her yesterday, but that's it," I said.
"I'm sure she'll turn up," he said. "I wanted to let you know I've got a call at the Janaceks' farm. I've got to look at some sick cows; you want to come with me?"
I looked at the milk in the pot, then out to the field of squashed squash plants I wanted to finish dealing with. I had lots to do. But I was dying to talk with Adriana.
"Absolutely," I said.
"I'll be there in ten minutes," he said, then hesitated. "You're sure you're feeling okay today?"
"No problems at all," I reassured him.
"Good. See you s
oon!"
I put the milk in the fridge for later and went to brush my teeth (I hadn't gotten there yet) and make sure I didn't have dirt all over my face or hay stuck to my head. By the time Tobias's truck rolled up the driveway, I'd gotten most of the straw out of my hair and looked somewhat presentable.
He greeted me with a kiss as I hopped into the truck. Chuck watched me from the window, looking sad that he wasn't invited to join us. Beside him, batting at the curtains, was the kitten.
"They do look happy," Tobias said, nodding toward the furry duo.
"They do," I agreed. "So, what's going on at Adriana's?"
"Several lame cows," he said.
"I'm guessing they didn't all twist their legs," I said.
He grinned at me. "That's a pretty safe assumption."
"I didn't know she ran cattle."
"She has a few head," he said. "The last thing she needs is for something to go wrong with them, after what happened with her barley gamble."
"Farming is risky," I said, thinking of my decimated cucurbit crops. "I'm glad I've got a lot of things going on. Which reminds me, I need to drop some veggies by the Blue Onion later on today. Although Quinn’s going to have to buy her cucumbers from someone else, I'm afraid."
"Good thing those soaps sold so well," he said as he turned in at a stone gate that looked like it had been there since the dawn of time. Or at least the dawn of Buttercup.
We drove up a long, straight drive to a ranch-style house that did not come from the dawn of time, but rather the dawn of the 1950s, complete with dirty white brick and peeling pink shutters that must once have been cheerful. The front beds were filled with trampled dead grass and weeds, and the concrete walk was cracked.
"A bit of deferred maintenance, it looks like."
"You think?" Tobias said wryly. We got out of the truck, and once he grabbed his bag from the back, together we picked our way up the overgrown front walk to the door. He rang the bell; a minute later the faded blue door opened, and Adriana stood there, her dark hair caught up in a sloppy bun, dark circles under her eyes, and something of a wild look on her face. She wore an oversized A&M T-shirt that hung on her wiry frame, and faded jeans that had ragged holes in the knees—the kind you earn, not the kind you buy. "Thank you so much for coming," she said. "They're out in the barn. Follow me."
We waited as she pulled on her boots, and then together we headed to the weathered barn tucked behind a cluster of trees a little way back from the house. "In here," she said as she pulled the barn doors open.
We walked inside the dark, dusty barn, which smelled of animals and old grease and hay and dust and a hundred years of work. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light; when they did, I immediately spotted the cows in question. They huddled in a corner together. As I watched, one took a small step and staggered a little, then seemed to regain its balance.
"How long has this been going on?" Tobias asked.
"I noticed the first one a few days ago. I thought she'd just stepped in a hole or something. But now all four of them are lame."
"Any other symptoms?"
"They're off their feed," she said.
"What are they eating?"
"They're out to pasture most of the day," she said. "I also give them some of this." She pointed to a bag of cattle feed; I recognized it as coming from Heinrich's.
"How long have you been feeding them this?"
"I always feed them this," she said, but her eyes darted around as if she was uncomfortable with the question. Had she been adding something to the feed? I wondered. "Why?"
"Just trying to locate the source of the ailment," he said. "Can I see some of it?"
"Sure," she said, and pointed him in the direction of an open bag in the corner. "It's all ground up," she said.
"What are these black flecks?" he asked, taking a handful of grain and running it through his hands.
She shrugged. "Just part of the grain, I guess. It was there when I opened it. Do you really think it's the feed, though? I mean, they're lame."
"I'm not sure what's going on," he said. "I'll take a look, though." As he examined the cows, I examined Adriana.
"I heard Sweetwater Brewery reneged on a deal with you," I said, leaning against an ancient post.
She nodded shortly. "Just about bankrupted me," she said, then gestured toward the cows. "And now this." She sighed. "It hasn't been my year, I'll say that."
It hadn't been for Felix Gustafson, either.
Was Adriana part of that?
15
"Your family's been here a long time, haven't they?" I asked Adriana, who looked like—as the locals liked to say—she'd been rode hard and put up wet.
"Since almost the very beginning," she said. "The old house burned down in the early 50s, and my grandparents rebuilt, but we've been on this land since the mid-1800s." She untwisted her curly hair, playing with it nervously. "I'll never be able to forgive myself if I'm the reason it goes under. I never should have believed Felix, but he talked such a good game..." She looked up at me guiltily, as if she'd forgotten he was gone for a moment. "God rest his soul, of course."
"Of course," I said. "What happened, if you don't mind my asking?"
She sighed. "He sweet-talked me into dedicating three-quarters of the farm to some new barley that was supposed to grow well in warm-weather climates. Said we'd get it malted at some place up in Dallas and the brewery would buy the whole lot at a premium, because it was local. He was going to make some all-Texas beer... had someone growing hops, too, I hear." She took a deep breath. "So I planted everything, followed all the recommendations. We had a wet winter, as you know, but the harvest looked pretty good. And then he had it tested and told me..." Her hands clenched so that the knuckles turned white, and she took another deep breath. "Told me that it 'didn't meet their quality standards.' Can you believe it?"
"That's awful," I said.
"I know. I dedicated almost my entire farm to it, and he didn't buy a single bushel."
"What did you do?"
She looked miserable. "I sold it where I could," she said. "For pennies on the dollars he promised me."
Before I could ask more, Tobias spoke up. "They're sick, all right. I'm not sure with what, though."
She twisted her hair back up in a bun. "How will you find out?"
"I have an idea, but I have to get it checked out first," he told her. "I'd like to take a sample of your feed."
"Why would the feed make them lame? That makes no sense at all."
"There could be something wrong with the feed," he said calmly. "Where did you get it?"
"Like I said, Heinrich’s Feed Store," she said, "just like everybody else. I always get the best local stuff; it can't be that."
"Maybe not. Can I take a look
around?"
"I don't know what you'll find, but sure," she said.
Together we walked after him as he walked around inspecting farm equipment and even the stock pond. "Shame about what happened to Felix Gustafson yesterday," I said.
"It is," she said. "I was mad, but..." Tears filled her eyes. She swiped at them with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry. We... we kept it quiet, but we were seeing each other for a while some months back. We made the deal while we were together, but he didn't want Simon to know, or else he'd accuse Felix of making a bad business deal."
"I can see that," I said.
"Anyway... a few months ago, I guess he started seeing one of the young women who works for him, and he broke it off with me. And then two weeks later he sends me a text message telling me he's not going to buy my barley."
"That's horrible," I said.
"Isn't it? I feel like he was just using me," she said. "Or trying to make my life miserable. I'm not saying I'm glad he's dead, but... he wasn't a very nice man."
"I heard there was some talk of embezzlement or something in his past?"
"I heard that, too," she said. "He told me it was the brewery owner who was cooking the bo
oks and then fingered him when he got caught. I believed it at the time, but now..."
"I can see that," I said. "What was the name of the brewery?"
She gave me a sharp look. "Why are you so interested?"
"Well," I said, "Our sheriff doesn't have a very good track record with arrests. A friend is worried Simon is going to go to jail for killing his brother. She's not convinced he's guilty."
Adriana nodded. "I can see that," she said. "Simon was a pretty hard-nosed businessman, but he loved Felix. I can't see him doing something like that to his brother."
"Even if they were up against the ropes financially?"
She blinked. "What? They looked like they were doing a booming business."
"I'm just speculating," I said. "It could explain why they didn't buy the barley."
"So it could be that it wasn't because it was not 'up to snuff?'" She thought about that for a moment. "If he'd just told me, we could have worked something out." Then her face darkened. "There's still that girl he started seeing."
"Did he do that while you were dating?"
"He says he didn't, but I know better," Adriana said. "He's such a wuss. Or was such a wuss." Tears filled her eye suddenly. "I don't know what to think. I'm still madder than a wet hen, but I also miss the good times we had... and I didn't think he was a bad person. Weak, maybe, but not bad."
"Weak?" I asked. "That surprises me. He was pretty firm about the direction he wanted the brewery to go."
Adriana waved me away. "Simon always got what he wanted." She eyed me directly. "Always."
"But he was generous, too, right?" I asked. "I mean, he wasn't the brewer of the family."
"True," she said. "But he's a salesman, not a creator. Felix, for all his faults, was a creator. Without Felix, Simon didn't have anything to sell."
"And now Felix is gone."
"Yes," she said. "But the brewery has a reputation. And Simon's got his brother's recipes to work from. And besides, Felix was starting to become a problem for the business."
"Problem?"
"Scotching deals," she said. "Simon was talking with an investor when I was dating Felix, and Felix just scared her off. Said that outside money would dilute control or something like that. And I heard Simon was looking into being part of some big conglomerate, so they could distribute nationally."
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