They drove over to the Altgelt ranch in silence. As they made their way up the dirt road, Christie spied a Mercedes parked out in front. Two men looked up as the truck headed toward them. Christie maneuvered the truck up to the corral next to the charred remains of the barn.
“Daggum shame. That’s what that is. Curtis loved that barn.” Pop shook his head.
Christie got out of the truck and opened the passenger side door for her father. He cradled his hurt arm as he exited the vehicle.
One of the men picked up a map like the one she’d seen at Hector’s.
Pop stretched. “What are you boys doing out here?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, old man.” The taller of the two men stepped forward.
Pop sighed deeply. He moved closer to the taller man. “This is Curtis’s place. So, I’ll ask you again. Does Curtis know you’re out here?”
Christie stood by, her stomach in a knot. Surely, these men weren’t going to pick a fight with her father.
“We have as much right to be here as you do.” The man with the map rolled it up. “Plus, once he’s gone, this will be our place.”
“You know, I hate people who don’t respect their elders.” With surprising speed for his age, Pop reached over, grabbed the map out of the man’s hand, threw it down, and ground it into the dirt with the heel of his boot.
“Old man, I’m going—” The man in the blue shirt took a step toward Pop.
Christie stepped forward. “If I were you, I would rethink what you’re planning.”
“Or what?” He sneered. “Who’s going to stop me? You? That pitiful old man with his arm in a sling?”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Christie replied.
A high-pitch scream sounded as the man dropped to his knees.
Pop had hold of the man’s hand, and every time he tried to get up from his knees, Pop pressed again.
“Stop! Stop it!” The man took a swing, only hitting air.
“Now, see here. First, you don’t respect your elders. Then, no one, and I mean no one, talks to my Christie like that.”
“You’re insane.” He tried to take a swing again but cried out in pain as Pop added more pressure to the man’s hand.
“Sonny, you need to behave. I won’t put up with those kinds of people who need to be scraped off the bottom of my shoe.” He moved, and the man crawled after him, his once crisply starched, gray slacks now covered in dirt.
The other man took a step forward. Pop squeezed the man’s hand again.
“Stay there, Erik!” The man gestured with his free hand.
Pop moved them around until the man faced Christie. “You say you’re sorry now, son.”
“Sorry.”
Pop squeezed. “That don’t sound sincere, like.”
“I’m sorry.”
He looked up at Pop, who waited.
The man spoke to Christie, “I apologize for my words, ma’am.”
“Better.” He stood there for a minute. “Now, if I let you loose, are you going to be a good boy?”
“Yes.”
Erik took another step. “Nick said he was sorry. Now let him up.”
“Don’t let this arm fool ya, now, son.”
“Erik, move away.”
A truck drove up. Curtis got out, and a smile played on his lips.
“What’s going on here?”
“Ahh nothing. We came over to get that hay, and Christie brought you one of her famous pecan pies.”
“Let’s go inside, and I’ll put on the pot.”
The man on the ground pointed at Pop. “Are you going to make him stop?”
“Oh, no. Nick, it seems like you must have done something to make R.C. almost mad.”
“Almost mad?”
He laughed. “Yep. You don’t want to see R.C. actually mad.”
Pop looked down at the man. “Son, you going to behave now?”
“I already said I…yes, sir.”
Pop let go of Nick’s hand.
Erik helped Nick up, then said, “Can you teach me how to do that?”
“Sure,” responded Pop. “Give me your hand.”
“Um, no thanks.” He backed away. “Nick, let’s get out of here.”
Nick rubbed his hand as he climbed into the passenger side of the car. Erik gunned the Mercedes, and in a last act of defiance, he spun out on the gravel before he headed back down the road.
Inside, Curtis put on the coffee, and the trio gathered around the scarred oak table in the dining room. When they each had a cup of coffee and pie in front of them, Curtis spoke. “I loved their mother. God rest her soul. I took them boys in like they were my own. Then, they moved off and went to live with their father. Now, they’re like buzzards flying over me, looking for my dead body.”
So, that’s why the pair looked familiar. Though, when she had known them, they had both been short and plump. Christie knew better than to interrupt, but she wondered why Curtis didn’t just cut them out of his will.
As if he’d read her mind, Curtis continued. “I told their mother I’d always treat them like they were my own. I made her a promise.”
“Yes, but that was when they were kids.” Christie took a sip of the strong, bitter coffee.
“True, enough. But I need to stand by my word.”
“What would Marilyn have wanted?”
“I know she’d have been unhappy about how them boys turned out.” He shook his head.
Pop interrupted Curtis. “Christie has some news.”
She swallowed a sip of the hot brew. “I do?”
“The fence?”
“Oh, yeah. When Trish and I were out riding on our property, we noticed that the fence had been cut between our properties and the main wood post pulled up.”
“Where is this?”
“The old animal track on the back forty.”
“Interesting.”
“Why?”
“Tyler Webster’s been coming around, asking about the property. I’ve told him over and over, I’m not ready to sell. Then, he contacted the boys. Not sure how he did that. After that, I’ve been noticing strange things happening around here.”
Christie set her cup down on the table, “Like what?”
“Stuff in the shed that’s always on the right side was down on the left side. I’d go back later, and the items were back in the right place. Then, I found my remote in the fridge.” He sighed. “It sucks getting older and losing your mind. But now, I wonder.”
Christie was familiar with patients who suffered from dementia or Alzheimer’s. She’d cared for many of them in their last days. “Have you seen a doctor lately?”
The men laughed. “For what? Getting old?” Pop asked.
“Pop, it’s good to get a diagnosis if there’s an issue.”
“No issue. If I leave something in the wrong place, then I just have to find it.”
“Have you been experiencing this, too?” she asked Pop.
He patted her hand. “Don’t worry, darling. It’s all just part and parcel of getting older…except…”
“Except what?”
“I could have sworn I put that—”
Christie’s new phone rang. “Excuse me.” She went into the other room. It was Trish.
“Hey. What’s up?” Christie put the phone on speaker.
“Christie. It’s all gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“Shana May called me and let me know that Emma and Kimberly came in and went through the place like a tornado. It’s all gone. Everything.”
“What?”
“Yep. Turns out Hector was renting the place from the Websters, and they wanted it cleaned out so they could have it ready to rent for the first of the month. They took most of the stuff to the thrift store and boxed up his stuff.”
“But what about his family?”
“His parents live in Mexico. They’re trying to reach them now.”
“Wait. What about the electrolyte drinks?”
“They threw them all away.”
Christie moaned. “I guess that’s it, then. We tried.”
“I’ve got worse news.”
“Worse than that?” Christie tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Yeppers. Remember Mike’s friend, the cop? Turns out, the cause of Hector’s death has been ruled inconclusive.”
“If they would just test his blood chemical—”
“Not sure what they did. Plus, he’s going to be cremated. So, that looks like the end of that.”
“Oh, geez. I don’t want this hanging over our heads forever. Plus, Hector deserves justice.”
“Christie, I really think you should let this go.”
“We’ve got to get those bottles. When’s trash day?”
“Day after tomorrow. Why?”
“You up for stealing some trash?”
Trish laughed. “Are you turning into a criminal?”
“Listen, I’m not at home but I’ll call you later.”