Eighteen months later
Mule Shoe Ranch
“Why are those dogs barking?” The teenage girl stared at Maverick and Holly, now howling under a pine tree.
“You’ll soon find out.” I held up my clipboard. “Name?”
The earthquake hit before she could answer. She squealed and sat on the ground clutching her rolled-up sleeping bag. All of the young campers grabbed each other or their assorted luggage while the ground briefly shook.
When the quaking stopped and the dogs ceased their barking, I blew a whistle to gain their attention. Grace, wearing khaki Bermuda shorts, hiking boots, and a Camp Mule Shoe polo shirt, stepped forward. “Welcome, campers. Don’t worry about the earthquake. They’re common here. We’re less than five miles from the edge of the Yellowstone caldera, the so-called Yellowstone supervolcano.”
One young girl raised her hand. “What’s a supervolcano?”
Grace gave her an approving nod. “A supervolcano, by definition, must eject at least 240 cubic miles of material and is capable of measuring a magnitude eight or more on the Volcanic Explosivity Index . . .”
While Grace gave her favorite end-of-the-world-erupting-volcano speech, I did my final count of participants. This would be another good week. We had a full house.
To offset Grace’s obsession with supervolcanos and the sudden destruction of civilization, I’d had the photograph of Mae Haas along with the second verse Scott Thomas sent me laminated, and I carried it with me every day. “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.”
The quiet purring of one of our electric shuttles announced a visitor. I handed the clipboard to the nearest counselor and strolled over to greet the newcomer. Bram stepped out.
My breath caught in my throat. My heart rate shot off the charts. I hadn’t seen him in over a year and a half.
He was as handsome as ever, maybe even more so with the touch of gray at his temple.
My face warmed. I was wearing the camp uniform of khaki shorts and polo shirt, my leg exposed for all to see.
He reached into the shuttle and pulled out a cane, then grinned at me.
Grace had stopped speaking and I realized all eyes were on us.
I moved closer. “Welcome, stranger.”
Holly couldn’t contain her joy at seeing her buddy. She ran over to him, jumped up, and planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek.
Lucky dog.
I could hear the campers near me whispering.
“Who’s that?”
“I think it’s a movie star.”
“He’s hot for an old guy. He must be at least thirty.”
“Positively ancient. One foot in the grave,” I muttered and nodded toward a picnic table out of range of the teens. As I walked over, I quickly yanked the clip holding my hair up, fluffed it, and bit my lip to give it some color. A quick finger check found no leftover lunch stuck between my teeth. We sat across the table from each other, then both spoke at once.
“I thought you—”
“How are you—”
“You first,” I said.
“I left the sheriff’s department.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. The scandal when I turned over the evidence to have the sheriff’s son arrested as the serial arsonist pretty much meant we all had to leave. I figured the judge would be more lenient on Liam because he was the one who got help for all of us, but he still got a hefty sentence.”
“Did they ever figure out why he set the fires?”
“Pretty much what I’d worked out. Get even with his mom, move out of Fremont County, end up in a bigger city. But he’d also found he liked setting fires. Didn’t you follow all that in the news?”
“No.” I traced the wood grain on the tabletop. “I returned to Clan Firinn until Cookie’s trial—”
“I thought for sure I’d see you then.”
“They kept me pretty much sequestered. And the defense attorney was brutal . . .” I looked up and smiled at him. “Let’s talk about better things. What are you doing now?”
“I’m between jobs, but I have an offer I’m considering.” He glanced around. “I see a lot of changes here.”
“Cookie couldn’t benefit from her crime, so the place went back up for sale. When Grace bought Mule Shoe, she turned it into a summer camp for challenged teens. Each week is a different group. This week it’s amputees. The cabins are for staff, and we added tepees for the campers to sleep in. The kids love it.”
“Well, what kid wouldn’t want to sleep in a tepee?”
Maverick wandered over and sat beside Bram. “Well, hello, Maverick.” He tentatively patted the dog on the head, then looked at me. “This is new. When did he start letting people touch him?”
“He’s coming around. Anyway, we still don’t allow cell phones or electronic devices, but now we have electricity, internet service, and outdoor lighting. And batteries. Lots of batteries.”
Bram gave me a questioning look before asking, “And you?”
I grinned. “I teach western riding. And have a book club featuring dog stories. What else?”
The counselors had sorted out their campers by now and were escorting them to the different tepees. Grace strolled over to us. “Bram! Good to see you!”
“Good to see you, Grace. Quite the adventure you have here.”
She sat. “We only run this in the summer, of course, as a camp. During the winter we have retreats with snowshoeing and cross-country skiing. Booked solid for the next year and a half.” She patted me on the back. “Darby here has had a lot of good ideas.”
“Do you hear from Roy?” Bram asked. “Or Angie?”
“Roy moved to Alaska,” Grace said. “He claimed Idaho was getting too crowded. I lost touch with Angie.”
“What about Wyatt, Peter, and Stacy?” he asked. “And Riccardo?”
Grace glanced at me. “Riccardo’s fine. Started college. Wyatt hung around a bit. I think he was hoping Darby would . . . well, anyway, he finally took a job in Montana. Big resort north of Missoula.”
Heat had started in my neck and rushed up my face. I cleared my throat. “Peter and Stacy went home. They were Sam’s gemstone investors but believed everything to be legit.”
“Did you ever find out why those three didn’t get help for us?” Bram asked.
“They tried.” I shook my head. “No one would take them seriously. Three people on horseback claiming a murderous killer was running loose at a resort? They thought the three of them were doing some kind of a stunt for the local mystery theater.”
“You know, Darby,” Bram said, “if you hadn’t put it all together, Cookie just might have succeeded. Either way, Sam would have been blamed.”
“Mae put it together. I just followed her message.” I shrugged. “Would you like a tour? Or . . .” I glanced at his cane.
He picked it up. “Just temporary. I twisted my ankle shooting hoops at the Y.”
I didn’t know how to ask him about his burns.
“I was in the hospital for two days.” He laughed at my expression. “Remember I told you I was a mind reader. Anyway, a little rehab, some scars, but otherwise I healed up just fine.” He stood. “I guess we all ended up with a few scars.”
We slowly made our way over to the lodge. Behind us, the cheerful calling and laughter of the children filled the air. Holly had taken her favorite ball and found a camper willing to throw it for her. We came to a newly installed sundial. Engraved on the top, it read In Memory of Mae Haas. No Longer in the Shadows. I’d had the photo of her from her Bible enlarged and sealed behind glass in the base so everyone could see her.
“Very nice,” Bram said. “Fitting.”
“We had her remains scattered over the mountains she loved,” I said.
Inside the lodge, Grace had doubled the size of the dining room and added long tables. “Where the original staff quarters stood”—Grace pointed straight ahead—“we have an indoor pool and arts and crafts center. There’s a new chapel up by the pond. I remodeled the triplex and made it a duplex where Darby and the new art teacher stay. The old art room is now the manager’s office.” She turned to Bram. “What do you think?”
“Mule Shoe was breathtaking before. Now? Yeah.”
“Good. You start in a week.”
“Wh . . . wh . . . what?” I was having a hard time breathing.
“Bram just agreed to be the new manager,” Grace said. “You two will be working together.” She smiled and sauntered away.
“What do you say, Darby?” Bram asked. “Think you could work with me? I have some big plans.”
“Depends.”
His forehead furrowed. “Oh.”
“Did you ever add unlined five-by-seven mint-green index cards to your selection of papers?” I thought for sure he’d laugh.
Instead he pulled a rock from his pocket. “Hopefully I’ve done better than that.” He held up the stone.
I recognized it as the one I’d left sitting on the pistol that awful evening, the last pebble given to me by Clan Firinn.
“My grandmother used to say . . . Never mind what she said. I’ve carried her enmity for far too long.” He crossed to the door, opened it, and threw the stone away as hard as he could.
I slowly joined him, pulling a lump of ore from my pocket—the one I’d found in the mine. I didn’t know why I’d kept this one all this time. You know why. I swallowed hard. It’s time.
I dropped the rock, crushed it into the ground with my prosthetic foot, then looked up at him. “What are those plans you have?”
“I think you know. Plans for a hope and a future.”
The End