It was too dark, thanks to only a sliver of waning moon, so Christie couldn’t make out the rider. Had they set the fire or simply watched from the trees? The only way they could have gotten on this land was if they had come from the Altgelt homestead. They had to know Curtis was in the hospital.
Christie rushed into the house and grabbed her keys to the Jeep. “Pop, I’ll be back in a minute!” She swept past him.
Inside the vehicle, she cranked the engine and shoved the car in reverse. Rocks spit out from under the trees as she did a one-eighty in the drive. Christie slammed on the brake, then shoved the car into drive. She sped off, adrenaline driving her, but reality hit when she got about halfway down the road. Christie slowed the car down and put it in park.
What are you thinking? What do you plan to do once you get there—accost them?
Her head throbbed, and she leaned it on the steering wheel. Her mind raced. What were the real facts?
Fact. Hector was dead, but it could have been heatstroke; simply an accidental death.
Fact. Curtis was hurt, yes, but other than the fence being cut, there was no evidence there, either. Fact. A fire had started in a pan full of grease. Again, this could be accounted for if her Pop had taken medication. Her father was elderly, and he could have easily forgotten to turn off the burner on the stove.
There was nothing menacing about any of it; just a bunch of simple coincidences.
But she was concerned about her father being drugged. He had most likely forgotten that he’d taken a pain pill earlier and then taken another. But that scenario didn’t bode well for him being alone right now or in the future.
As for the rider, yes maybe they shouldn’t have been on their property, but trespassing didn’t mean the person was a murderer. If only she could have gotten a better look at them. Maybe they had smelled the smoke and had come to help, and when they saw that everything was okay, they left.
Christie shifted in her seat and slowly backed the vehicle to a turn-out on the road. Images filled her mind of the girl’s trip to Colorado.
You have to forget what happened there. It makes you suspect everyone of bad intentions and murderous thoughts. You’re letting your imagination get the best of you.
Yet the nagging thoughts wouldn’t stop intruding.
What about my phone? Someone took it and used it to call Hector. What would be the reason for that if not to make me seem culpable in something?
If Hector had seen the text, he would have thought she wanted to talk about her father’s accident or selling the property. Hector probably thought she wanted to meet by the creek so her Pop wouldn’t be part of the conversation and he didn’t know her so he wouldn’t have known that she never would have done that.
Returning to the house, she saw her father framed in the light of the door. His figure slumped against the doorjamb, and she could see him cradling the shotgun. She got out of the truck and yelled, “Pop, what are you doing?”
“Now, Christie, you don’t think I’d let a girl of mine go off without her ol’ Pop to protect her, do you?”
She took the shotgun from him. “Pop, thanks for loving me and making sure I’m all right. What were you planning to do?”
“If you hadn’t of come to your senses, I was coming after you.” He groaned and sat down on the closest rocking chair. “I’m really tired.”
Christie took the shotgun inside and secured it above the door. She returned to the porch and sat in the other chair. “Pop, I think that we need to have a talk.”
“Not now. Not today.”
“Okay.” She patted his hand. They rocked in silence, listening to the cicadas.
“Rain must be on its way.”
“We could sure use it,” she replied.
“Yep.”
The squeak of the chair legs beat out a rhythm, lulling them into silence. Christie gazed at the stars. They were so bright against the deep midnight blue sky. She took in a breath of clean country air. Tears pricked at her eyes. For so many who owned land that went back generations, this life of simple pleasures was being destroyed. She wouldn’t let this land become another statistic.
“Pop—”
“I ain’t selling.”
“Good.”
~~~
Another morning. Another miserably hot day ahead. The cicadas had been lying. No rain. She went out to the barn early in the morning before the heat became unbearable and mucked out the stalls. It was hard work, but Christie was used to physical labor, and she needed the outlet. She grabbed hay and spread it in the stalls, then filled the water trough. She watched as the foal nuzzled her mother, her tail flicking the flies away. Christie shielded her eyes from the glaring sun as she heard her name called.
“Christie, come in. Breakfast’s ready,” Trish spoke.
“Be there in a minute.” She went over to the boot scraper and ran her soles across the bars. With the bottoms clean, she headed toward the back porch, where she pulled the boots off and slipped into a pair of flip flops.
“Girl, you need a spa day. Look at those nails and toes. Pitiful.” Trish poured coffee into Christie’s cup. “Does it smell like smoke in here to y’all?”
Christie took a sip of the brew which was black and strong like she liked it. “We had a grease fire in here a few nights ago. Thankfully, I caught it in time.”
“Did you call the fire department?”
“No.”
“What? That’s how people get hurt; trying to put out fires by themselves.”
“I’m sure that’s true. But if I had waited, it may have caught the wall behind the stove on fire, and the whole place would have gone up.”
Trish smeared some plum jam on her toast and took a bite. “ Mmm. I love your jam, Pop.”
He grunted and kept eating.
“So, any more thoughts on Hector or Kimberly?”
Christie set her fork down. “I think it was just an accident with Hector. Kimberly may have been having an affair with him. But that’s not for me to judge.”
“Then, Kimberly gets off, scot free. Again.”
“What do you mean?” Christie stared at Trish.
“Don’t you ever feel like she has everything handed to her on a silver platter?”
“No. Trish, what’s up?”
Pop wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up. “I’ll leave you to it.” He went out to the front.
Christie heard the truck start up. “Hold on, Trish. He doesn’t need to be driving yet.” She rushed out front, yelling, “Pop! Pop!” She waved her hands in the air, and he stopped the truck. She ran over to his window. “Where are you going? Your arm isn’t healed. You shouldn’t be driving.”
“I’m going to see Curtis. I’m a grown man, and no one tells me what I can or can’t do, not even you.”
“But—”
“No buts.” He swiveled to face her better. “I don’t give advice, and you can throw mine out, too, but sometimes we’re so close to something, we can’t see the trees for the forest.”
“You mean the forest for the trees?”
“Nope. But you’ll have to figure it out on your own.” He tipped his hat, and Christie backed away from the truck. She watched as he drove off, then made her way back into the kitchen. Trish stood at the sink, washing up the skillet.
“Thanks for doing that. I appreciate it.” Christie wiped down the table and put the condiments in the refrigerator.
“Happy to help.” Trish turned the heat on under the skillet to dry it.
Christie stared at the skillet.
“What’s up?”
“The skillet.”
“What about it?” Trish looked back at the stove.
“My Pop always uses the left front side.”
“Okay?”
“You put it on the right side in the front.”
Trish cocked her head. “Sorry. I’m not getting your meaning. Do I need to move it over?”
“No.” Christie shook her head. “I’m just thinking out loud here.” She walked over and put the skillet on the left hand side. Then, she pushed it to the back burner. She stared at the stove.
“Am I missing something here?” Trish looked from the stove to Christie.
“No. Just trying to figure things out.”
Trish smiled at Christie. “Girl, I think you are tired. That fire business, along with everything else, has gotten to you. Should we take another horseback ride?”
“I’d love to, but not today. How about a walk over to the creek?”
“Sounds nice.”
The pair walked and talked about high school antics, what had been happening in the years since, and Christie shared about the experience in Colorado getting snowed in with a killer college classmate. “That’s why I had to take a break. I’m used to death in my profession, but it was the final straw as they say. I needed to get away for a while.”
“I’m glad you’re home. It’s nice having you back here,” Trish quipped.
They reached the crest of the hill, then started down the path to the creek. A vehicle was parked at the bottom, close to where Hector’s truck had been.
Trish huffed. “The nerve of that woman!”
The two strode toward Kimberly’s truck. The woman looked up and wiped her eyes as they approached. “Hi. I just felt the need to come see where…” She stifled a sob.
“Where Hector died?” Trish spat out.
Christie turned and looked at Trish, who bit her lip.
“Kimberly, I—”
“I told you to stay away from Cole.”
“What are you talking about? Wait, were you spying on us the other day?”
“I thought Cole was cheating on me, and it turns out I was right!”
Christie stepped forward. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but nothing, and I do mean nothing, is going on between me and Cole. Anyway, I think that’s a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”
Kimberly pushed her hair back from her heavily made up face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Trish chimed in. “Hey, let’s calm down. We’re all friends, remember? How about we all take a breath?”
“You’re right,” Christie said. She looked around. “Remember when we all used to come down here in the summer?”
Kimberly moved away from the truck and over toward a bank of trees. “We had such fun here. Everyone would bring something to eat and drink, and some nights, we’d have a campfire. It was the best time of my life.”
“If stealing people’s boyfriends is what you call ‘the best times.’,” Trish snapped.
“Whoa, there.” Christie was stunned by the sudden change in Trish. “What happened to ‘let’s take a break?’”
Trish and Kimberly glared at each other.
“I have to go.” Trish turned on her heel and strode back to the house, leaving Kimberly and Christie behind.
“As always. Trying to get attention and have the last word.”
“I don’t see—” Christie swatted at a fly.
“Of course, you don’t. You never saw her for who she really is.” Kimberly turned and faced the creek. “It’s really hot. I think I’m going to stick my feet in the water.”
“I’ll join you and you can tell me more about what you mean.”
The pair sat in companionable silence. Finally, Kimberly faced Christie.
“Okay. I do owe you an apology. I did steal Cole from you in high school. It was wrong, but at the time, I was just hung up on all that head cheerleader, quarterback garbage. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. Yes, back then, it was hurtful, but to be honest, I really prefer having my own space. I don’t think I’m the marrying kind.”
Kimberly splashed her pink-tipped toes in the water. “I think I’ve always wanted to be married. I would buy the big books of wedding dresses and envision my wedding day.”
“And yet, here you are.” Christie moved to a more comfortable position against a tree.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Christie motioned back to the field. “Hector.”
Kimberly shook her head. “I’m sorry. What are you talking about?”
“Do I have to come right out and say it?”
“I guess so, since I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.” She picked up her shoes and put them back on.
“You were having an affair with Hector.”
“What?” Kimberly rose and stood on the creek’s bank. “Are you insane? I’d never cheat on Cole.”
“Someone’s been having an affair with Hector. We figured out that it was either Emma or you. You both have the same fair coloring, the same build, same hair color…”
Kimberly broke down laughing. “Oh. My. Gosh. Just like I said! You are so blind. Same build, same hair color…” She lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Everyone in town knows that when Mike’s away, the cat comes out to play.”