Chapter 19

Savannah penned the last mare back in the horse’s usual stall and tossed three flakes of hay into her feeder. The ranch animals doubled as pets, right down to the last chicken. They all thrived on security and feeding schedules, and that’s what Savannah intended to provide for them. The hens that survived slaughter pecked happily in their coop. The cattle needed counting and the farrier was due for a trip out for new horseshoes. For the time being she could look around and feel good about mock normalcy. The hay stack would run out by fall unless she started up the tractors herself. On such a bright, sunny morning she felt like she might do just that. She craved stability and routine just like the other denizens of the Witcher Place. Two of the horses slept in their pens, warm in the sun while reflex kept their tails swatting at flies. They needed her and she needed them.

Molly would sleep late, which was expected after the latest incident Witcher put her through. Savannah pulled out of her mucking boots and padded into the house in socks. The shower was running upstairs, which was a surprise. Coffee sounded wonderful so she set a pot to brew, poured some cereal, and waited for Molly to come downstairs.

A knock sounded at the front door. Savannah’s stomach leapt into her throat. What if it was the sheriff’s department? She’d cleaned out the fireplace after burning the remaining bone in there for another day, but only given a half-hearted attempt at the stains in the den. Afghans covered the bloodied couch and floor. She hurried to the door to get it over with before Molly came downstairs.

Mr. Williams was on the porch, sporting a warm smile beneath a John Deer ball cap. Seeing a friendly face sent a flood of relief her way, and she jerked open the door with a grin of her own.

“Hi Mister Williams.”

“Good morning, Savannah.”

“Dad’s not back yet,” she said, wondering about his unannounced visit.

“He’s here to get me,” Molly called as she came down the stairs. She jogged through the den and plopped onto the mud room bench to put her shoes on. More sweats and a clean tee were her chosen attire. At least she was clean.

“Oh.” Savannah peered down at Molly, waiting for an explanation. “Aren’t you a little tired?”

“I’m fine,” Molly answered while she stomped her foot into a shoe.

“What were you girls up to yesterday? Playing with some old tractor horn? We heard you guys clear out by the barn,” said Mr. Williams, casually. He watched Molly tie her shoes.

“No idea,” Molly said, not really caring or paying attention.

“Yeah, that was me,” Savannah said. “Sorry.” She gave him a half smile. “So Molly, what’s going on today?”

“I’m going to see Kim. She started Four H. I’m thinking about joining.” She whipped her last shoestrings into a bow and sped around Savannah to the door. “Ready?”

Mr. Williams walked out and down the front steps. “Ready when you are.”

“Well, I guess it’s okay if you go,” Savannah said. “When will you be home?”

“I’ll bring her back tonight, if that works. She said she talked to Jack last night and he okayed skipping the last day,” Mr. Williams said, half asking. “I gave in at our house, too. Heck, it’s summer.” He moved out of Molly’s way and she didn’t look back, just headed out to his truck.

Savannah watched them go and found herself waving to Kim, who jumped out grinning at her, holding the truck door open for Molly.

“I guess I’ll see ya guys tonight then.” Savannah shook inside, both from anger at Molly’s actions and from adrenaline from when he’d knocked. She had no idea why Molly hadn’t said anything after apparently calling Kim. They should be a team and be working together since the parents were gone. Molly gallivanting where and when she pleased wouldn’t work out.

“Alrighty, see you,” Mr. Williams called, and he was off the porch and walking away, her little sister firmly planted on the bench seat beside Kim, not even bothering to wave to Savannah. Savannah stood in the doorway watching them go, a little numb and hurt. After the dust settled in the driveway she closed the door and looked around the living room, greeted by silence.

The timing was perfect for Witcher to show up and give her hell for letting Molly out of her sight. He didn’t appear to be around, but it wouldn’t have surprised her, for once. His fascination with Molly’s well-being troubled her. Why did he care if Molly lived or died? She was only a pawn to him, a way to keep Savannah under control. If Molly wasn’t around, he’d surely find another tool. But the way he was so adamant that Molly was kept safe, unharmed, didn’t set well. What could he have to lose? He didn’t complain when Jack died and it was his idea for Mother to run away with Chaz.

Savannah went back to the kitchen. The coffee was done, so she heaped three big spoons of sugar in a mug and sat stirring. She wasn’t worried about Molly’s safety when she was over at the Williams’. They were good people, and the girls had known Kim since kindergarten. She flipped decomposing corn flakes around in warming milk. Maybe 4H was best for Molly. It was a normal thing that normal kids did. Savannah had competed in horse shows for years but didn’t join back up during her senior year. Molly wasn’t much into animals or livestock. Maybe she’d choose some kind of craft. It wouldn’t cost much, and she could sign their dad’s name on more checks. A permission slip for 4H would be no different. Molly would be sixteen in August. She needed something to do, a club to belong to. It would be a good thing, she decided. Molly should have talked it over with her first, though. It would be okay. And besides, there was a day of cleaning ahead.

Restoring normalcy to a living room where she’d hacked apart her father’s animated corpse as it tried to strangle her was a challenge even Lysol wasn’t up to. The preliminary cleaning she’d tried to do days ago wasn’t very thorough, which is why she resorted to covering it up so Molly didn’t see. The not-so-fresh scent of chemicals and pine was overwhelming but better than the mixed aroma of charred remains and dried blood. Stain spray helped the bottom of the couch along with a good scrubbing.

After a couple hours of scouring, the stairway gleamed, the wooden steps swept and scrubbed shiny. The washer and dryer hummed dutifully while she worked, bedding stripped from every room after she threw open curtains and windows to let in sunshine and fresh air.

Savannah stood between the two eastern windows, drying sweat saturating her tee shirt and shorts as she surveyed what a full morning of cleaning could do for a murder scene. Every place she’d seen something horrid was first bleached and then disinfected again with more cleaners from beneath the kitchen sink. Lemon scented furniture spray was a nice finishing touch. A trash bag of empty cleaning products sat by the back door, reminding her of a bigger problem than keeping the house clean. The household supplies would need to be replenished, and she had no idea how much money was left in the parents’ checking account.

If she was going to make everything work, she’d have to take responsibility of the household. That would require a certain hardness she didn’t know if she’d developed just yet. She could keep writing checks from their parents’ account, but who knew how long that would work out. One room she didn’t spend any time in was that study off the back hallway. That room was always so dark and quiet, she and her siblings didn’t like it. Daddy spent his nights in there, taking care of ranch business after everyone else was in bed. The small, ornate room was the likely keeper of all the family business.

After one last attempt to wash the smell of bleach off her hands, she walked to the back of the long hall, the smell of old tobacco growing stronger as she neared the thick wooden door. It swung open with a heavy groan. She hit the light switch beside the door.

Doing her best to ignore the way the room smelled of Daddy, of leather and sweat, love and guilt, Savannah walked around his giant, dark desk and gingerly lowered into the hardened leather desk chair. The room was constructed mainly of wood. Everything was carved and expensive looking. The hanging light from above was the most modern of the features, the trio of light bulbs behind a cheap, glass plate etched with flower petals barely lighting the desk and ritzy, Victorian looking area rug beneath.

Savannah pulled the chain on the desk lamp, which helped a little. The metallic sound of the pull chain barely clicked. There was no noise from outside, or from anywhere for that matter, like the room was insulated by extra thick walls. To the left was a small fireplace, framed by a gilt mantle. Old ash lumped over the grate and a round, metal caddy held a small store of logs and kindling. The rest of the walls were comprised of floor-to-ceiling bookcases that stretched up into the darkest part of the walls. She spun in the chair, searching out detail. An 8X10 family photo from about three years ago hung on the wall behind the desk, and her parent’s wedding photo was up there too, just above it. She spent a moment looking at that one, her parents childlike faces appearing far too young, her age maybe, not old enough to be married. Innocence reflected in their eyes, along with promise and ambition, virtues too good for what their joint future held, especially Daddy. She forced herself to move on.

Another switch was mounted to the wall beside the bookcase to the right of her, so she reached to flip it on. Small light sconces blinked to life above every section of shelves, about a dozen in all, with one centered to illuminate the hearth. Light enlarged the study, rows of books heavily coated with dust arranged and held by a menagerie of animal shaped bookends.

Something tickled the top of her left knee, like a piece of hair blew across her skin. She scratched at it and found a piece of Scotch tape hanging down from the well of the desk. Without much thought she pulled it off, looking beside the desk for a waste paper basket. Something flat and cold landed on her thigh as she pulled the tape free. She pushed back in the chair, the wheels rolling a few inches. A small silver key was stuck to a piece of overused Scotch tape. There were no etchings marking it and nothing was written to say what it went to. She set it on the desk beside the lamp. Curiosity emboldened her and she yanked open the desk drawers. A quick ransacking turned up a couple boxes of pens, an envelope of photos of her and her siblings, random receipts for the farm equipment, and a bill organizer which held utility bills, among others. Two of the drawers were file cabinets full of labeled files for everything she could think of from the veterinarian to receipts for groceries and gas. Daddy’s address book was in the flat, middle drawer, holding familiar business cards for livestock auctioneers and cattle trucks. There was a ledger book with lots of small numbers written in too many titled columns. Dates for entries stopped on May 18^th.

Savannah put everything back where it was, pre-ransacking. When she put the bill organizer back where she’d found it, she noticed that drawer was very heavy and hard to push back in. The bill envelopes scraped along the top when she tried to close it. She pulled it out as far as it would go, looking for a keyhole. There wasn’t one, but the bottom of the drawer came loose and lifted out, revealing a hidey-hole of magazines and other man-goodies. The mag on top was missing the cover. She pulled it out and flipped a page, immediately wishing she hadn’t.

She couldn’t picture her dad sitting at his desk, looking at photos of people having sex. A couple more pages over, the content changed to two women shaving and bathing each other. The next two pages fell open to extreme close-ups of the two women engrossed in a whole lot of oral sex. She closed the magazine. The book under the first was just a Playboy with a pretty lady in a split skirt on the front but she didn’t want to know about the rest. A square, half full bottle of Jim Beam rested on one side in the far back of the compartment, snugged in between two stacks of VCR tapes. Jack Caleman came away from her discovery wearing a new image.

With shock still tingling, she put the drawer back together and stood up.

“Snooping?”

Savannah jumped at the sound of Witcher’s voice. He watched her, leaning against the wall by the hearth.

“Get lost.” She practiced breathing slow to calm the racing in her chest.

He came toward her, and she ran to the opposite side of the desk.

“You should know if I wanted to hurt you, I would. I’m not here to hurt you. It’s important that you succeed, Savannah.” Impatiently, he sent the wheeled chair careening to the side and grabbed the frame of their parents’ wedding photo.

“Leave that alone!” Savannah shot forward, grabbing at his hands. He held the picture over her head until she calmed down, then set it on the desk.

“Look.” He pointed to the wall where the hinged door of a safe appeared, tucked into a square cut-out in the thick wall. There was a dial for a combination and below it was the keyhole she’d searched for.

“Someday soon, you’ll understand that I love you. You’re welcome.” He dropped into one of the wingbacks on the other side of the desk.

Savannah did her best to ignore his presence and went about her search. The key fit the safe and the lock clicked twice. She turned a steel handle and opened the black door.

The safe was larger on the inside than the little hole in the wall gave credit to. If she tried, she might be able to touch the back of it with her arm extended the whole way. She dragged the desk lamp forward for light. The first thing inside was a silver pistol and a few boxes of .22 rounds.

A little box the bank used to send new checks was next and nearly empty, with only one book left in the bottom. She set it on the desk hurriedly. A file folder containing the title to her Toyota, the tractors and the ranch truck was next, along with the deed to the land and home at the Witcher Place. Another folder had the family’s birth certificates and everyone’s social security cards. She set those on the desk, too and reached for a flat box that rested beside them. Inside were more magazines, only the new ones had only men, naked with other men.

She sighed. “Will you please go do something else?”

Witcher had been watching her and now wore a look of utter amusement. He looked at the box of skin mags then got up, leaving the room with a smirk.

Savannah waited until he shut the door, then continued, not really sure what good it did for him to leave when he could watch what she did without being seen, himself. She shook it off and concentrated on the contents of the safe. There were two more books with men showing, on top of a layer of more black video tapes that only had bits of torn paper stuck where labels had once been.

“What?” she muttered. Could they be Mother’s? Her dad had kids with Mother and she wouldn’t let herself wonder about him feeling … otherwise. She thumbed through the last one, which happened to be missing the cover, too. She set them on the floor and went back to the safe. A purple Crown Royal sack held a heavy button of milled gold. Reaching way inside, she grabbed whatever was behind that and pulled out a banded roll of mixed bills, ranging from twenties to hundreds.

“Finally.” Cash was what should be in a safe, in her opinion, and there was more. Two short stacks of money against the back of the safe and random wads of cash that appeared to have been tossed inside when Dad was in a hurry to rat-hole money. That was a habit she wouldn’t complain about. The family had never gone without anything. Jack Caleman saved money after taking care of his kids. And she’d found the hidey-hole.

Savannah removed all the cash, intending to count it and lock most of it back up. The last thing inside the safe was a copy of her parent’s marriage license. She locked all the pornography inside the safe and left the bill organizer on the desk. The ledger opened to lay flat on the desktop. She situated the lamp and put the chair back, sitting down to give herself a better look. An unopened letter from the bank was stuck in with the bills, so Savannah opened it up, hoping for information on how much money she had to feed Molly and the livestock. Bills needed to be paid, and she wanted to keep them current the way Jack did it. He wrote out checks apparently. Caroline shopped for groceries in Woodland Park, at City Market. The girls had gone along many times. Caroline wrote checks there, too.

There were two accounts at the bank. The checking account in Cripple Creek had an attached savings account. Savannah’s eyes grew as she counted the numbers, seven spaces left of the decimal. What went out monthly from the checking account was minimal. The interest that came in and added to the balance on the savings doubled it. Cattle sales added in every three months. She dropped the statement.

Jack Caleman was duplicitous. He was a man of diverse sexual taste. And he was a closet millionaire.

Savannah closed the door to Jack’s study and went to the mailbox. The girls hadn’t checked the mail in a couple days, and there was a stack of envelopes waiting. Inside, she gathered the unopened mail from where she’d been stacking it on the kitchen table. Helping herself to a large portion of Oreos and a big glass of milk, she loved that she didn’t have guilt. Saving food for Molly wasn’t something to worry about any longer. Money was one less thing looming over her. She popped a cookie in her mouth and headed back to the study with her snack and the mail.

Savannah neatly separated the mail and opened it all up. There was a new banking statement and bills for the phone and electricity. She wrote checks for the amounts due and carefully balanced the checkbook. Two books of stamps were in the middle drawer, so she affixed postage to all of them and headed back out to the mailbox, leaned the envelopes against the side and put the red flag up so the mailman would know to stop.

Satisfied that she’d taken care of business, she went back to the study and began putting everything away. There were only two checks in the book she’d used and only one unused book remaining in the bank box. She used the rotary telephone on Jack’s desk and dialed the bank’s number from the statement.

“Good afternoon, this is Karen. How can I help you?” The lady was pleasant with a smile in her voice.

“Hi Karen. This is Caroline Caleman. I need to add our daughter, Savannah, to our account, please.”

“Certainly. Just one moment while I get your account files here.” After a moment Karen was back on the line. “In this case we’d like to suggest starting a student account in Savannah’s name. I see she just had her eighteenth birthday. You could just bring her in and we could get her started right away.”

“We’d rather just add her to our account, please. She won’t be going off to college yet. Maybe next year. Can we talk about that then?” Savannah stood up, too nervous to sit any longer. She pressed the phone to her ear hard, waiting to hear what the lady said in response.

“Not a problem. I have Savannah’s social security number and date of birth here from the beneficiary forms we have on file. If you’ll just verify that for me I can get this done for you within the afternoon.”

Savannah recited her personal information nervously. If she let on that she wasn’t her mom, it would mean trouble. She waited patiently, listening to tapping keys.

“We’re almost out of checks, too,” she said, figuring she might as well go for broke. If all went well, she wouldn’t have to call back for a long time.

“I’ll get those ordered for you,” Karen said. More tapping and shuffling came from the other side, then she cleared her throat. “You’ll receive the checks in about three weeks. I’ve added your daughter to the account, but we will need to get a copy of her state issued identification. I’m mailing out two forms that will need to be signed where indicated and returned to the bank to finish up.”

“Thanks. We’ll watch for them. I’ll send Savannah by so she can give you her driver’s license for the records.”

“Perfect, Missus Caleman.” Karen thanked her and hung up. Savannah dropped into her dad’s chair, breathing easier since that the deed was done. After a moment she sat up and began putting the ledger and things away. It hadn’t been so bad, she decided. She locked the safe and tried to put things back how she’d found them and went to the brighter part of the house with the key to the safe in hand.

The key had to be kept in a secure place. She went to her bedroom and dug through her closet, pulling out a purse and wallet she’d received for Christmas a few years back. She wasn’t the type to carry a purse, but the need arose. She put a hundred in twenties in the wallet and zipped it up inside the handbag. Dropping the key in a purse pocket didn’t feel right, so she paced around her room looking for a good place to hide it. She opened her wooden jewelry box and took out a necklace with a golden “S” pendant. The chain fit through the hole in the key nicely so she put it on, the small key lying flat behind her initial, warming quickly against her breastbone. Keeping it on her was a much better choice and lent a sense of ownership.

Mr. Williams pulled into the drive, his truck leaving from view when he stopped in the half-circle close to the porch. The day had flown by. He didn’t turn off the motor. A door slammed and then the front door to the house opened up as he drove off.

Savannah went downstairs to see how Molly’s visit went. Around the corner in the living room, she found Molly on the couch, cuddling two baby rabbits.

“They’re for my project,” she said with a huge, dopey looking smile. She held out one of the brown and white dots of kicking fluff for Savannah. A few little brown balls of rabbit poo fell from her arm onto the couch.

Try as she might to be angry at Molly for not asking about the rabbits, 4H, or to go over to Kim’s, Savannah couldn’t do it. She ran to the bathroom for a wad of toilet paper, picked up the droppings, ran back to flush them, and plopped on the couch with Molly in baby bunny heaven. They sat kissing and petting Molly’s new rabbits while Savannah decided on the best place to keep them. At a loss for a rabbit cage, and because Molly wouldn’t want them out of her sight, Savannah decided to help make them a lined box next to Molly’s bed. Mr. Williams had sent a can of rabbit pellets to get her started and they used one of the water tins left over from the last round of chicks they’d raised.

“So, can we talk about something?” Savannah asked. She sat on the bed next to Molly, who was on the floor with the box of bunnies.

“Sure,” Molly said without looking up.

“We need to tell each other when we’re going to go somewhere, or if we want to do things like this.” Savannah gestured to the rabbits.

“You’re not my mother, Savannah.”

“I know, and I’m not trying to be. But I’m the closest thing you’ve got, unless you’d like to contact the family in Alabama to try to find Mom.” Molly didn’t respond so she continued. “I don’t want to tell you what to do. I just want to make sure you’re okay and that things are taken care of here.”

“We don’t need her, anyway,” Molly said, quietly.

Savannah just watched her for a moment, her heart breaking for her sister for a new reason. She hated that Molly despised the thought of seeing their mother, but she also understood it very well. “You’re right. I’ll help you get whatever you need, okay?”

Molly nodded, resting her chin on a forearm. One of her rabbits nosed around, close to her fingers.

“I just need you to agree to talk to me about things and to let me know your plans.” Molly didn’t bother looking up. “Molly?”

“What?” she snapped.

“It’s important that we agree on that. It’s just the two of us. It can work, but we have to stay close and work together. The animals need us. We’re a team. We have to keep our secrets from other people.”

Molly looked up, staring from one eye to the other. “Yeah, we do.”

***