Lost Christmas Memories

by Dana Mentink

  John was in uniform and he accepted the cup of coffee she handed him but declined the toast. She slid a piece in front of her grandfather, too.

  “I’m here because I wanted to give you a report. We did find motorcycle tire tracks in the mud at the bottom of the grade. No sign of the driver.”

  “I figured,” Tracy said. “Thank you for looking.”

  “I’ll have an officer cruise through whenever we can spare him.”

  “Thank you.” She paused. “I’m thinking you have something else to tell me.”

  He chugged some coffee. “Fingerprints came back on the tree ornament, the new one that didn’t match the others.”

  Tracy went still. “Whose were they?”

  He cleared his throat. “Regina Parker’s.”

  Keegan whistled. “Didn’t see that coming.”

  “She said it’s part of her office duties to keep the place neat. Says she found a box of those ornaments on the office desk Thursday afternoon and replaced the broken one, put the extras in the storage room.”

  Keegan frowned. “She could be lying.”

  “Yes,” he admitted, “but there’s one other thing you should know. Mitch Arnold got a text this morning.”

  Tracy put down her coffee. “Yes?”

  “It was a text from Nan Ridley.”

  FIFTEEN

  On the way to the Little Hooves Ranch, Tracy’s mind leaped and cavorted like a new colt. She sat squashed between Keegan and her grandfather, Cyclone secured in the truck bed, wind whipping his fur and tongue flapping.

  John’s info scrolled through her mind. That morning Nan Ridley had sent a text to Mitch Arnold. John had not shared the exact wording with her, only that the message indicated Nan had misplaced her clipboard before she’d left for her new position, and she’d messaged to ask Mitch if he’d seen it.

  Mitch had responded that he hadn’t, and met with John to show him the texts. Further, Mitch had texted Nan that she was considered a “missing person” and to contact the police but had received no reply to his suggestion.

  “Can you trace it? Figure out where it was sent from?” Keegan had demanded.

  “Technically, we can, given enough time, but...”

  “But,” Tracy had finished for him, “you don’t have enough evidence that a crime has been committed.”

  The silence spoke volumes. John still didn’t believe her, but at least he’d finished his report and left before things had gotten too heated between the two half brothers.

  Keegan drove with his fingers tightly clutching the wheel. “What’s it gonna take before he believes you?”

  “Why would he if there’s still no body and not a single soul shouting murder except me?” It made her want to scream.

  “Someone’s got Nan’s phone. Plain as the nose on my face,” Keegan grumbled.

  “For once, I agree with him,” Grandpa Stew said.

  They came upon the ranch set in a hollow of hills and bordered by a neat white fence. Keegan came around to the passenger side to help her grandfather from the truck, but he ignored the offered hand and climbed clumsily out. Cyclone bumped a nose against his good leg.

  “Nutty dog.”

  But Tracy noticed his lips twist with amusement as Cyclone headed straight to the pasture fence where a herd of miniature horses cropped at the grass, their withers no more than thirty-five inches high. His tail went into overdrive as he touched his nose to their soft muzzles.

  An older woman with her white hair caught in a braid came to meet them. “I’m Lorna Styles. Can I help you?”

  Tracy introduced them. “I called you. I wondered if you knew a woman named Nan Ridley.”

  Lorna opened the gate for them to enter the horse pasture. “Sure. She does some vet care for me once a month.” A little black horse trotted up to Lorna and butted her playfully in the hip. The horse’s rear hoof was a shiny metallic prosthetic. “She’s been great with Buttons here. All our horses are rescues, most from people who don’t realize how much work a horse is, no matter the size. Buttons lost a hoof after a dog mangled him. Has a prosthetic now. Nan took real good care of him through the whole process.”

  “Ain’t that something,” Grandpa said, peering close. “A fake hoof. What do you do with these horses? They’re too small to do any work.”

  “We try to find them loving homes, but Buttons is twenty-five, and no one wants an old horse with a bum foot.”

  Grandpa sighed and patted the horse. “I hear that, little fella. Old rancher with a messed-up knee ain’t much in demand, either.”

  Tracy dropped to her knees and scratched the animal’s neck. Buttons snuffled her pockets with a nose soft as velvet. “Wish I had a sugar cube for you, sweetie.”

  Cyclone circled Buttons, eager to keep him close.

  Lorna smiled. “Nan always brings him an extra lump. He’s her favorite.”

  “Have you heard from Nan recently?” Keegan asked.

  “No, but I wouldn’t expect to. She’ll call after the New Year, I’m certain.”

  Tracy continued to fondle the darling horse, who lipped the edge of her jacket, but her spirits nose-dived. New Year’s? How could she wait another three weeks to know if her gut was right, that something terrible had happened to Nan?

  Lorna eyed them closer. “Why are you asking all these questions?”

  Tracy straightened. “Because I think she’s been the victim of a crime.”

  Lorna’s mouth fell open. “The police...”

  “The police don’t believe me,” she hastened to add, “and I have no evidence to prove I’m right.”

  “I hope you’re not. Nan is a good person, committed to doing the right thing, and she never backed down from a fight.”

  “I hope I’m wrong, too,” Tracy said, the feeling of defeat weighing down her limbs. “I pray with all my heart that she is just fine.”

  They walked back to the truck, Buttons following as far as the fence would allow him, tail swishing and ears swiveling.

  “I think he wants you to take him home,” Keegan said.

  “I sure wish I could, but the stables are a mess and with...well, in light of the fact that someone wants me dead...” Her eyes stung, and this time it was not a lingering reaction to the chemicals that had nearly killed her. He wrapped her in a side hug and her emotions throbbed. She wished she could see some sign of it in him, too, that he felt the same overwhelming connection that she did, but he was all business as they got into the truck.

  Keegan turned on the engine and they were headed out along the gravel road when Lorna jogged up, flagging them down.

  “I thought of something,” she said. “When Nan was last here, about a week ago to check Buttons, she was talking on her cell, and it seemed like an unhappy conversation.”

  Keegan frowned. “Do you know who she was talking with?”

  Lorna shook her head. “I do remember one thing she said, though. It struck me as odd.”

  Tracy leaned onto Keegan’s shoulder to catch every word.

  “She said, ‘I’m going to get proof. You won’t get away with it.’”

  Proof? Of a crime that had to be concealed at all costs?

  “Is it okay if we pass this along to the police?” Keegan asked.

  “If it will help. Anything for Nan.”

  “Thank you, Lorna,” Tracy said before they left the woman behind.

  “Proof about what?” she wondered aloud.

  “Nan’s business was animals. Some sort of mistreatment of the horses? Bulls?” Keegan snorted his disgust. “Anyone who hurts an animal deserves to be punished.”

  “I agree,” her grandfather said. He and Keegan both stared out the window, jaws tight and nostrils flared. At last, they’d actually agreed on two things in one day. Maybe there was hope of a thawing in the hostilities.

&nbs
p; “I need to go to the Mother Lode. I can ask questions while I finish evaluating Flight of Fancy.”

  “No,” both men said in perfect unison.

  Tracy ground her teeth. Great. Another thing they agreed on. It was time to remind them both that she was an independent woman. “If you won’t take me, then let me out of the truck and I’ll find my own way there.”

  Grandpa Stew looked at Keegan. “She’s a stubborn one.”

  “Takes after her grandfather?”

  “Maybe, but she ain’t gonna back down.”

  Keegan sighed. “No, that’s certain.”

  “And at least if we take her now, I can look out for her.”

  “And so can I.”

  Her grandfather didn’t look happy, but he didn’t argue. “Fine, then. That’s what we’ll do.”

  Tracy folded her arms. “You know I’m sitting squished between you two, right? I can hear every word of you both planning my life for me, deciding how things are going to go.”

  “Glad you’re listening,” Grandpa said, “so hear this loud and clear. You’re not gonna be running off anywhere in the Mother Lode where we can’t clap eyes on you.” Her grandfather relaxed against the seat back. “Now that everything’s settled, gonna get me a few winks while we drive over there. Keep us on the road, Thorn. Think you can manage it without running into any gang friends or getting us shot at?”

  Keegan turned onto the highway. “I’ll try, sir.”

  Tracy shot Keegan one more exasperated look.

  “What?” he said.

  “You don’t think you’re being the tiniest bit bossy?”

  “Bossy?” He grinned. “Nah, that’s just my natural leadership skills coming out, Pockets.”

  She would have continued fuming if his grin hadn’t made him look like a little boy trying on his father’s coat and tie.

  She squelched a smile. She’d had to be so strong for such a long time. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for a short while to allow the warmth and concern of two good men to envelop her.

  With a soft outward breath, she closed her eyes and snuggled between them.

  * * *

  Keegan spotted the Gold Bar horse trailer as he searched for a spot in the center’s parking lot. The Mother Lode was bustling with activity, though the opening ceremony would not take place until six in the evening. His father was supervising the unfurling of a massive canvas sign over the main building, while people unloaded horses and carried saddles and assorted gear into the arena.

  As he held the door open for Tracy to hop out, he recognized a guy he’d met, a bull rider he’d admired at other competitions.

  “Dex,” he said.

  The man hefted his saddle over his shoulder and gripped his hand. “Keegan. Gonna ride Outlaw at this show?”

  “Yeah. Gonna win with him, too. How are the bulls looking?”

  Dex shrugged. “Great, which surprised me. I’ve ridden Arnold’s bulls before and they haven’t performed worth a dollar. He’s got ’em kicking just fine now. Couple of us volunteered to do a practice ride, make sure the chutes are working properly and all.” He grinned and shot an appreciative glance at Tracy that lasted a second too long. “Gonna come watch? I’m legendary.”

  Keegan looped an arm around Tracy’s shoulders. “Yeah. Legendary in your own mind, Dex.”

  Tracy smiled at Dex with a warmth that made Keegan inch her closer to him. “We’ve got some business to attend to.”

  Dex put a finger to his hat. “All right, then. See you later.”

  Tracy detached herself from Keegan. “You don’t have to speak for me, you know.”

  “Dex collects female fans wherever he competes. You have to keep a wary eye on him.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Don’t worry. I’m not susceptible to smooth talkers.”

  He grinned. “Still mad that I bossed you around?”

  “No.” She wanted to be, but he was just so impossibly charming, handsome, full of fun, nearly irresistible—if she was being honest. Wrestling her thoughts back to the practical, her smile faded away. “But now that we’re here, I want to get my job done and go home.” She shivered. “This place gives me the creeps.”

  “You don’t have to—” he started.

  “I see Regina. I’m going to ask her if I can ride Flight.”

  He started in again but she cut him off. “No more bossiness. I won’t draw attention to myself or creep into any dark corners, but I have work to do for my client.”

  “I’m still not a fan of the idea.”

  “Noted.” She sighed. “Anyway, I’m under tight surveillance since Grandpa and Cyclone are tracking me like a stray sheep.”

  Her grandfather shrugged unapologetically.

  Keegan’s tension relaxed a fraction. “All right. I’m going to check in with my brothers, then. I’ll ask if they’ve heard anything about Mitch and his bulls.”

  She frowned. “You think he’s mistreating them in some way, and Nan found out? But the text he received from her—”

  “Could be he sent them from her phone to fake out the cops. Something about that guy is a burr under my saddle.”

  She laughed and touched a finger to his chest. “Plenty of things are burrs under your saddle, Mr. Iron Cowboy.”

  He caught her finger and pressed a kiss to the tip.

  She marched away and he admired her graceful stride, the way she was both small and strong at the same time. I could watch her forever. The notion made his pulse do a strange flutter kick thing, so he made a pretense of zipping his jacket before Stew could accuse him of ogling his granddaughter.

  Stew took a seat on a wooden crate in a position where he could see both Tracy and the bustle of a small herd of cows being backed into a holding pen. Cyclone paced around him, whiskers twitching.

  Keegan hastened to his brothers.

  The twins, Jack and Owen, were consulting a piece of paper when he joined them. “Back pasture, east. That’s where we unload.” The six horses they’d brought were in excellent condition and would go for a good price at the auction.

  He filled them in on his conversation with Dex about Mitch Arnold.

  Owen frowned. “I’ll see what I can find out. We’re hanging around to see the bull riding demo, right after we get these horses unloaded.”

  Jack shifted. “Heard something while I was checking us in.”

  Keegan waited expectantly.

  Owen prodded his twin. “Well?”

  “Aw, it’s gossip.” He looked at his boots. “Hate to spread it around.”

  That was textbook Jack, the steadiest of the Thorn brothers, a rock with unshakable integrity. Keegan was struck again with how good a man he was, along with Owen and Barrett, and how blessed he was to have been folded into the clan. A quality family, much better than he deserved.

  “Not gonna make you do something you’re uncomfortable with,” Keegan mumbled.

  Owen shot him a look of shock and disdain. “Since when? Never mind, don’t answer. This is not the time to be Miss Mary Manners, Jack. We need all the intel we can get. Let’s have the report ASAP.”

  Jack’s cheeks went ruddy. “Well, the two gals behind me said that Mitch has been married a few times.”

  Owen jammed his hands on his hips. “Uh-huh...and?”

  “And he’s currently engaged to Regina Parker.”

  “So?” Owen was more patient since he’d fallen in love with Ella, but his patience only went so far.

  Jack rubbed a hand over his chin. “So, according to the women, he isn’t divorced from his last wife, but Regina doesn’t know that.”

  Thoughts tumbled through Keegan’s mind. Mitch had a thing for the ladies, so maybe he’d tried his game out on Nan? She’d rejected him and he’d killed her?

  Or Regina had discovered them and committed the murder herself? />
  Fear amped up another notch as he considered a different angle. What if Regina and Mitch were in on the murder together?

  Whether it made him look bossy or not, he had to find Tracy.

  SIXTEEN

  Regina was obviously irritated at Tracy’s request to see Flight, but Bryce Larraby interrupted their conversation, smile wide, a whiff of some musky aftershave clinging to him.

  “I’m so relieved we’ve got that Nan Ridley situation resolved.”

  “We do?” Tracy said.

  His smile did not waver. “Of course. The text to Mitch—she’s just fine. Whatever you think you saw, it wasn’t what you thought. A misunderstanding.”

  Murder isn’t a misunderstanding. Tracy decided the wisest course of action was to swallow her comment and stick to business. “I’d like to take Flight out for a quick ride if I could.”

  He pursed his lips. “A ride isn’t feasible right now with all the hullabaloo around here, but no reason we can’t put him in a corral for you to examine. Regina, can you see to that?”

  “But I’ve got a million other duties right now,” Regina snapped.

  “It will just take a moment. Bring Flight to the east corral if you would.” Bryce put a hand on her biceps. The touch seemed to gentle her mood and the look she turned on him was filled with adoration.

  Bryce Larraby was charming, no doubt about that. His blue eyes brimmed with warmth, and he was quick with the kind word and considerate gesture, like buying coffee for all his hardworking stable hands.

  Thinking about that day at the café made Tracy’s throat burn and she swallowed the taste of fear.

  He must have read something in her face. “The corral is safe. No hay bales there. I still shudder when I think of how close you came to being seriously hurt.” He nodded at Regina. “Please. The horse.”

  “All right,” she said, angry strides conveying her mood.

  Bryce sighed. “Unhappy woman. Left a troubled home at fifteen and has fended for herself ever since. She’s found a family here at the Mother Lode, maybe even a husband if Mitch treats her well enough.”

  “You think he won’t?”