Chapter 11

HADN’T IVY TOLD ME THERE WAS some sort of weird jurisdictional question about this property?

Chewing the edge of my lower lip didn’t help me decide what to do. Finally, I pressed the personal number stored in my cell phone for the new probationary deputy in the Butte County Sheriff’s Department back in Oregon.

Right as I thought the rings were going to take me to voice mail, Melinda said, “Hey. I talked to Hollis Nunn this morning—”

“They’re back?”

“Yeah, and he’s not happy.”

“Because I hauled the bull for him?”

“He said you shouldn’t be at the Black Bluff sale grounds. What’s that all about?”

“Beats the hooey out of me. Ask him,” I said. “I did get ripped off when I was there, but I think it’s unusual—”

“Ripped off?” Melinda asked.

“Someone ripped off my truck and—”

“Your truck got stolen? You didn’t say that before. Oh, man—”

“I got Ol’ Blue back. And Charley … you know what? Never mind that right now. Not why I’m calling. Listen, I’ve got a po-lice question for you.” I pronounced po-lice in the Texas-proper, two-word-sounding way. “I’ve sort of found a body. You know, like a dead person, and I’m wondering what exactly is the right next step.”

There was a good three second pause.

“You just filled me with questions,” Melinda said, speaking slow enough to be suspected of talking to a moron, “but I’m going to cut to after the chase and tell you to call the police, Rainy. We hang up and you call nine-one-one right now.”

“Yeah, but what do I say?”

“Do you know where you are?”

“’Course I do.”

The doubt in her voice showed she knew me well. “Then you give the person who answers your call the address.”

“See that’s the thing that’s maybe a little tricky. Will they just get the location off my cell call somehow? Or will they have to look up where to go when I say I’m at Ivy and Milt Beaumont’s ranch, out east of Black Bluff?’

Melinda exhaled like she was showing me all kinds of patience. “So, you’re at someone’s house? Beaumont. You’re on these people’s place? There’s a building with a house number?”

“Well, no, I’m way up on a hilltop. I wouldn’t be able to use my cell back at the house. The signal’s bad there. It’s bad most places on this ranch.”

“And this body you’ve found,” there was a pause as Melinda took another big breath and then only half-stymied a scream at me, “it’s on a hill on the ranch? That’s where your dead body is?”

“I’m looking at it.”

“So, if I was at the ranch house, how would you tell me to come meet you at this particular place on the ranch? Can you give directions to where you’re standing right now?”

“Sure, but do I need to worry about the jurisdiction thing? Like exactly what part of what county I might be in? I’m not real clear on that.”

“Just call nine-one-one and tell them where you are. They’ll send the closest people to you right away. Don’t worry about jurisdiction, all right?”

My, Melinda does go on like I’m four-fifths stupid.

“Okay, I get it. Hey, since I’m a bit out of touch and might not get back for the evening feed, could you check in with Guy and take care of the horses again tonight if he’s not around? And maybe same in the morning, since I’ve no idea when I’m going to get on the road now?”

Of course, Melinda agreed, so with that settled, I quick called Guy’s cell phone but got his voice mail. I left him a good one, the cleaned-up version of what was going on, how I’d had to find Charley, finishing with, “I really miss you.” And I texted the same after reading texts from him that were composed of a lot of question marks.

Getting home to marry that boy was competing for the high spot in my mind, even with a corpse at my feet. Picturing Guy, home, a memory, a weird from-nowhere thought came to me. Something that happened months ago at the Buckeye ranch, when Hollis and Donna got married. They sort of act like parents to Guy and me. Hollis had fondled my dog, and looked at me strange-like. They’d just been talking about what to do with Dragoon, Donna’s daggummed killer bull, and someone threw out the notion of taking him to Black Bluff. The idea had excited me, as I’d long wanted to see the sale and work my dog there. Then Hollis had told me that I ought not go to the Black Bluff bull sales.

I remembered his words You and yours ought to stay clear of there. Seemed a busybody bossy thing to say and I’d paid it no more mind, hadn’t put it together with the startled look he wore when his hands went over Charley.

***

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

I still wasn’t sure about Melinda’s advice that I call the emergency number, since this didn’t really seem to be a life-and-death situa—okay, it was a death situation, but an emergency? No. Still, I followed my best friend’s directions, only to end up stumped too long by the first question.

“This is the nine-one-one center. What is your emergency?”

“I’m calling because I found a body.”

We worked on getting through the part about how the dead person didn’t need CPR. I’ve never taken a CPR class, but this turned out to be a training opportunity, because the dispatcher was willing to teach me the technique right then, over the phone.

“No, he’s real dead. I dug him up.”

Why she asked if I had any weapons on me, I don’t know. It’s not like I killed anybody. And when she heard I had a little shovel, she told me to put it down, like I was some kind of crazed maniac.

“Yeah, I’m not holding the shovel right this minute.”

“That’s fine, ma’am. Don’t pick it up again. Keep your hands where the deputies can see them. Do you understand, ma’am?”

Ma’am again. Well, the dispatcher was raised right, I can say that for her.

We chitchatted until I could see a spread-out batch of official-looking white SUVs with door decals speeding toward the ranch, though I never heard sirens. I lost sight of them as the low hills, curves, and oak trees swallowed up the view of their approach.

“I don’t know that the ranch folks are going to be pleased about all this. Maybe I didn’t think this through.” With no direct trail, bushwhacking and switchbacking up to this highest hill’s summit could take the police maybe an hour unless they took horses or four-wheelers or were amazing runners like Guy. “I’m going to ride down to the barn. Just make sure you tell them the dead guy is at the top of the hill. There’s a pile of rocks near the gravesite. They can’t miss him.”

I didn’t want to be here anymore. While I talked to the police dispatcher, I untied Decker, sorted out the reins, and hauled myself into the saddle one-handed, and set the horse to trotting.

The dispatcher didn’t want me to hang up. “Ma’am, you need to stay on the phone with me until the first deputy makes contact with you.”

I explained how we’d lose the connection as I rode toward the responding police. Ending the call gave me a free hand to slap my thigh, urging Charley to come with me as Decker carried me down the hill. After a hundred feet, Charley tagged along in his panting way.

***

As I rode Decker down the hill. I could see the line of silent police cars clearing the ranch’s front gate. I would have liked to lengthen my ride, enjoy the saddle’s leather creaking, maybe find a way onto the neighboring ranch and see just how far I could go, but I took a switchback toward the barn, ready to find out how it goes after you dig up a dead body on your host’s ranch.