“I’ll be your driver and squire you around where you need to go.”
“Thank you for your generous offer, but I like the freedom of driving my own vehicle.”
“How did it go here today?” Opal asked.
“We are short a few head in the west herd. We’re checking it out. They may be out where we can’t see them.”
“Don’t tell me. With Cody in jail I thought that would stop the cattle rustling.”
Jake shook his head. “We may have a new crop of thieves.”
She sighed. “It’s always something.”
“Lately it seems to be,” said Jake. “Here we are, gals. Watch your step. You need help out, Fiona?”
“No, thanks. I got two good but hurting feet.”
“I’ll put out some cold cuts for supper,” said Opal, heading for the house. “I made some fresh cole slaw today. Come in when you’re ready.”
“I’ll get Fiona a bottle of wine. You look like you need it,” Jake said. “Have a seat on the porch. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Jake found a bottle of red wine and two glasses, thinking he might have a sip himself. Fiona was in a bad mood but after a little wine and a rest she’d be okay. He hoped she wasn’t thinking of leaving.
He poured her a healthy glass and one for himself and sat by her on the love seat made of finished juniper. Opal had put on nice cushions that made it a real comfortable sit. He held his glass up for a toast.
“Here’s to a better day tomorrow,” he said.
“Thanks, Jake. You’re very kind. Give me a minute to unwind, and I’ll be fine. The wine helps. I’m sorry to hear you lost more cattle.”
“There’s another mystery for you to solve.” Maybe if she had enough mysteries to solve she wouldn’t leave.
They sat in silence and watched the sky change from deep rose to dark violet. A small flock of sparrows skittered around in the trees. The old black rooster crowed from his favorite perch on the corral fence. Evening was settling, and they with it. The usual cool down set in, and a breeze ruffled the grass that stretched through the fields in front.
Since Fiona wasn’t offering any small talk, Jake ventured a question. “Did you find anything to buy today?”
She took a long sip from her glass. “We spent most of our time talking to everyone in town. We picked up the tools you ordered. They are in the back of the truck. I ordered furniture at Lauren Brooks’ store.”
Jake laughed. “It’s a big social event going to town in a community this small.” He looked at her. She didn’t join in the laugh. “This is a totally different way of life out here. You’re not used to it.”
She stirred. “What did you say? I was thinking about bones and cattle rustling.”
“I said you aren’t used to the life style here.”
She shrugged. “It is different. I have to say things are not turning out as I envisioned. I thought I’d arrive, have some redesigning to do, meet some interesting people, see some pretty vistas, you know the usual pie-in-the sky dreams.”
“Do you ever think you’d get used to it?”
She finally smiled. “After less than a week it is hard to tell. Have you noticed that when we get together, dead things turn up?”
“No, I haven’t. The stars shine brighter when you’re around. I don’t think about dead things.”
She leaned toward him and smiled that soft, sexy smile. “I’m glad I have some influence on the stars.”
He put his arm around her shoulder, and she leaned against him. They listened to the evening. A pack of coyotes yipped their way from one ridge to another. A cow bawled for her calf. The breeze played a soft lullaby.
She said, “What do you know about Brewster, the guy that was here this morning about painting the bunk house.”
“Brewster? You mean Jim Brewster? You’re using him to paint?”
“Yes, why not?”
Jake shrugged. “I guess that’s okay. I don’t know much about painting so I couldn’t say. I don’t know him that well. He seems a little flaky to me.”
“He’s a bit touchy but artist types can be. Anyway, he found me at the furniture store and told me this odd story about a lady friend of his who was supposed to visit him and never made it and that I was supposed to tell the Sheriff because they had some run ins, and then he stalked off without telling me anything else. Do you think I should mention it to Hoover?”
“Brewster is weird enough that what he says may not be the whole truth. You could mention it, though it probably won’t lead to anything.”
“Brewster might have killed this lady friend, put her bones in an old shirt and jeans, dumped her in the hot springs for safe keeping, but then feels remorse and tells me but not the Sheriff.”
Jake glanced her way. “Fiona, you sure do have an imagination. I think it’s getting away from you again.”
“It’s not imagination as much as my mind building plausible theories as to why human beings do strange things. We found bones in an odd location, and no one is missing them.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m not much of detective.”
“We were a pretty good team when we were trying to find out what happened to Albert Lodge.”
“I was in over my head and knew it. You didn’t.”
“But we solved the case. Why would Officer Brown tell me that about too many bones? Aren’t law enforcement types rather secretive about an investigation? They don’t want amateurs mucking things up.”
“Not here. Everyone gets in on the action. Everyone has an opinion. I guess it’s because there are so few people and everyone knows everybody else and the lines of communication are word-of-mouth and that has worked here for so long nobody thinks a thing of it. Someone throws out the odd clue, and it helps solve the problem.”
“Life is sure different here. You have to get used to everyone knowing everything about you and your life. In the city people don’t even know their next door neighbor.”
“You aren’t going to leave, are you?”
Fiona looked at him. “Leave? I just got here. Besides, there’s a mystery or two to be solved. How about another glass of wine?”
Fiona awoke early the next morning to someone banging on the door of the bunkhouse. This was getting to be a regular occurrence. Obviously, no one slept late in these parts. Her first thought was that the ghost must be back. But the banging came again and someone said, “Is anybody home?”
She didn’t know many ghosts that spoke. She sighed and padded to the door. She hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since she got here.
“Who is it?” she said to the unknown assailant outside.
“Mack, the electrician.”
“You were supposed to come yesterday,” she said back through the door. “It’s hardly light outside.”
“I got held up. I’m here now so do you want me to start work or don’t you?”
“Just a minute.”
Fiona dragged on a pair of black tights and a big T-shirt, which Jake had given her, that had written across the front, This Is Not My First Rodeo.
She opened the door to see a standard issue rancher type replete with standard beat-up, sweat-stained cowboy hat and standard scuffed up boots. He didn’t look like an electrician.
“Sorry about not calling you. We had an emergency. An irrigation motor blew a transformer, and half the valley was without electricity, so that came before you. I had to get the irrigation motor back up and running.”
She sighed. “Come in. I’ll make coffee.”
“Thanks. I could use some.”
Fiona held the door open, and he entered, looking around.
“This old place hasn’t changed much.”
“Have you been here before?” she asked, as she put water on to boil on the propane burner.
“Yes, ma’am. Used to help Opal with calving, and she’d put us up here in bad weather. More like sleeping outside. The wood stove could never keep up with a cold wind in February, but at least we were out of the elements.”