Chapter 8
The next morning after taking care of the cows and eating breakfast, Brynn and Wes parted. Brynn went to the fairground and Wes headed to several homes to pick up last-minute craft, pie, or cheese entries.
Brynn strolled through the fairground, pleased by how it was coming together. She remembered when she was here last with her ex-fiancé, Dan, and how much they enjoyed it—a real country fair, with displayed crafts, baked goods, animals, gardening, and tractor contests. All in good fun.
She walked by the colorful carnival trucks. A crew scrambled setting up the Ferris wheel, which was one of the most popular rides. Banners lined the fairway, with lights attached. A radio blared country music as she walked by, finding her way to the cheese shed, with a basket of linens. When she walked in, frigid air met her. Holy smokes! The place had ice on the wall!
She dialed Wes as she opened her basket.
“Yes, Brynn?”
She laid the table linen on the shelves. “Did you speak with the shed people?”
“Yes, I asked them to lower the temperature because it was too warm in the shed,” Wes answered.
Brynn took a breath. “Well, they did exactly as you asked. But it’s too low. There’s ice on the walls.” She smoothed over the linen on each shelf and shivered.
“What?” Wes asked through the receiver. Brynn heard the car door slam in the background. “Did you say ice on the walls?”
“Yes, I did. I’ll give them another call,” she said, exasperated. Two more shelves to line with her linen. She hurried to get it done.
“No. I’ll call them. Let me deal with them.”
Brynn hesitated, only because he was so busy running around today. “Are you sure?” She placed the linen on the next shelf.
“Yes, positive.” He paused. “I have two more stops to make; then I’m done.”
She finished as fast as possible. She couldn’t stand another minute in the freezing shed.
“Well, you’re moving right along, aren’t you?” She stepped out of the shed, shut the door, and locked it. “We need to set up tomorrow. The fair starts in two days.”
“It will be okay.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“It’s the first year this has ever been done here, right? Nobody has anything to compare it to. Whatever we do they will love,” Wes said firmly.
Brynn smiled. “Okay, whatever you say.” But she was more concerned with the health and safety aspect of eating cheese not stored at the right temperature. It could get funky. She shivered as her body warmed up to the heat outside of the shed. “See you soon.”
“Okay,” Wes said, and clicked off.
She walked around the corner and saw a trailer with horses inside. A man walked by them and opened the door of the trailer. He smiled up at Brynn. She smiled back, sad for the horses on this hot day. She was certain he was leading them into the barn, though, where there was probably a great deal of water and it was definitely cooler than in one of those trailers.
Brynn walked by the tractor tent. At least five tractors were there already. Colorful and shiny. Not the old, clunky tractors she recalled, but those tractors ran for generations. Old and clunky—but sturdy.
The dealership had several signs displayed about financing, sales awards, and information about their tractors.
“Can I help you?” a voice said from behind her, startling her.
“Oh! No, I was looking at the sleek new tractors. They’re very pretty,” Brynn said, and smiled.
“Thank you. I’m David Reese. I think we’ve met, a few days ago.”
That’s right. The day of the accident.
“Are you in the market for a tractor?”
“Not this year, no. I have cows. The only growing I do is hay and grass for them. I hire someone to help with it. Cheaper that way,” Brynn said.
“The new tractors are amazing,” he went on. “I’ve been in the business thirty years and used to fix anything. I had to send my son to school to learn the new stuff. All computerized.”
Josh had lost control of the tractor. Could something have gone wrong with the engine, with whatever computerized version of it was popular now? Brynn didn’t see how to approach the subject with the man, who she was sure the police had already questioned.
“Hey, Brynn!” Another voice came up behind her. Willow reached over and hugged her. “Come and see the craft hall. It’s amazing, if I do say so myself! Hey, David, how are you?”
“Good, and yourself?”
After they exchanged pleasantries, Willow dragged Brynn to the craft hall, which was buzzing with activity. Shelves and shelves held crafts of every kind—crochet, pottery, jewelry. The quilts were displayed at the end of the hall. Brynn stood a moment to take in the breathtaking sight. The colors, patterns, fabrics reached out to her. People made these things with their hands.
“They are all hand quilted. It’s the rules. No machine quilting allowed.” Willow gestured. “Look at this one.” It was a red one-piece blanket with a pattern quilted onto it. “This is an Amish technique. Simple with the one piece of fabric, no piecing. But look at the stitching.”
Brynn was astounded. “Must have taken forever. Look at those little stitches. And they are so even.”
Brynn’s phone buzzed. She looked at the screen. It was Wes. They’d just spoken. What could he need or want?
“Sorry, Willow.” She answered the phone. “Hello, Wes. What’s up?”
“I need you to meet me at the sheriff’s station,” Wes answered.
“What did you say?”
“Sheriff’s station. I need you to meet me there.”
Brynn’s heart thumped hard. Why would she need to meet Wes at the sheriff’s station? Was he in an accident? “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. But I just found a dead body.”