by Laura Crum
“Thank God,” Lonny said quietly.
I smiled at him sympathetically.
“So, does everyone in Carson Valley believe Justin was the murderer?” I asked.
“Oh yeah,” Bret said. “It all makes a lot more sense than the idea that Lonny killed Lorene out of jealousy. Nobody ever really believed that.”
Lonny shook his head.
“But Justin, now,” Bret went on, “when he moved into that country ten years ago, he was a city boy with no source of income. He bought a lousy hundred acres and thought he could make a living as a cattle rancher. It was just dumb. He didn’t have enough land or experience to make any kind of a living. But he was real attached to the idea of being a cowboy.
“Judging by the paperwork in that file cabinet, Cole took Justin under his wing shortly after Justin bought that little ranch next door to the saleyard, and in no time at all the two of them were making money in half a dozen ways, all at the expense of the local ranchers. Cole had more money than he knew what to do with, and built this fancy house on the coast. Justin was making a living as a cattle rancher, which is something that meant a lot to him, apparently. I guess he didn’t care that he was really a cattle rustler. And this went on for ten years.
“Justin got real good at moving around that country on horseback at night, stealing one or two head out of some rancher’s big field. Nobody ever noticed. He’d keep them at his place awhile, rebrand them, and then run them through the sale. He was careful to steal solid black cattle, judging by the paperwork. Hard to tell them apart. Cole was friends with the brand inspector, and told Joe that Justin was all right, and Joe could ignore the secondary brands. And that’s the way things work in a small town. Joe took Cole’s word for it.
“Cole and Justin worked the sale together, with Cole selling Justin cattle at a slightly lower price. Justin would bring the same cattle back the next week and Cole would sell them at market value.
“And then Cole would tell a rancher a calf had died at the sale or a truck held one less steer than was actually on it. He’d tell Blake these ‘spares’ belonged to Justin and Justin would come over and collect them, rebrand them, and then he’d sell them and he and Cole would split the profit. They split all profits fifty-fifty. It was all there in that file cabinet.”
“Blake never knew?” Blue asked.
“If he did, he turned a blind eye to it. He’s pretty torn up now, finding out that the guy who was helping him keep the sale going is the one who murdered his brother.”
“Why exactly did Justin decide he had to kill Cole?” Lonny asked. “It seems like a stupid thing to do.”
“Well, it wasn’t very smart. Cole was getting ready to marry Donna Wells, the biggest landowner in Carson Valley. He really didn’t need the money anymore. And I think he felt pretty sure that Donna would ditch him if she ever found out that he’d been stealing cattle in various ways. Hell, he’d probably stolen cattle from her. Cole knew if he was going to marry Donna he had to quit working with Justin.
“Here’s where it gets to be guesswork. From what Gail heard, Justin didn’t want to fold their little business. It was how he made his living. He knew perfectly well he didn’t have enough land to be a legitimate rancher. And he loved his cowboy life. And maybe all those years of successfully stealing cattle and getting away with it went to his head. He just figured he could do anything and not get caught.”
“That’s kind of how he struck me,” I said. “He acted like this was all a game, that he could shoot me and just go on with life as usual. He didn’t seem worried about being caught.”
“So Justin found a guy named Dave Allen, who was an unemployed auctioneer living in Fresno, and this guy was willing to go on with the scam. Dave Allen has already been questioned, and apparently Justin proposed the idea to him pretty directly, said he could get him a berth at the saleyard. And that’s just what he was in the process of doing. Blake was grateful that Justin was helping him, as he was in over his head trying to keep the business going after Cole and Lorene were murdered. Blake thought of Justin as his brother’s friend. It was all playing out just as Justin had planned.”
“Except for Kate,” I said.
“Yeah, except for Kate. Justin had seen Kate out in the pens, apparently, that evening he killed Cole and Lorene. He was worried that Kate might have seen him. And it turns out she did. What she said on her blog was just that she had seen someone going in the office, she’d only seen him from the rear, she wasn’t sure who it was, she hadn’t thought anything of it at the moment. But as time went on and she realized that she was sure it hadn’t been Lonny, I think she might have started wondering who it could have been. She never did name Justin that I know of, but he read her blog, too, and thought that she might. And he already had a plan. He’d ridden over there at night and checked out the lay of the land the day after the murders. Now that Lonny was home and could possibly be accused of the crime and Kate seemed closer to talking, Justin figured the time was right. And he torched the house. We’ve found a can at his place with some gasoline in the bottom of it and his fingerprints on it. It’s the right size to fit in a saddle bag. We think that’s what he used.”
“He killed that little girl,” I said, my eyes on Mac’s sunlit, swinging figure. “That’s what got to me. For no reason, really. She was just in the way. And when I accused him of it he smiled. He said that ‘sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do.’ Like it was no big deal. Right then I realized that he didn’t see people in the same way the rest of us do. He saw them as chess pieces in his own game. I think in a way he was crazy. It may sound weird, but I didn’t feel any sorrow when I saw him lying there on the road. I actually hoped he was dead. I didn’t think he deserved to live. The horse now, I felt bad about that.”
“You didn’t mean for that to happen,” Blue pointed out.
“No, that’s true. I had no idea it might happen. I wasn’t thinking of it. I hoped the head-bonker tree would knock Justin off his horse, but it didn’t. It looked like he got whacked pretty hard and was maybe disoriented. But I never thought of him getting hit on the road. That poor horse. At least it was quick. The horse didn’t suffer. I saw that. And the world is better off without Justin Roberts.”
“Amen,” Bret said.
Lonny and Blue raised their glasses. We all drank.
My eyes were on Mac, swinging high through the branches. Sunny stood on the other side of the fence, as close as he could get to the flying child, watching Mac intently. I smiled.
Lonny followed my gaze down the hill. “Do you like your little yellow horse?” he asked.
“You bet,” I said.
“Are you going to keep him?”
“Yep. He took care of me. I’m going to take care of him. Sunny’s got a home.”
“That’s good,” Lonny said, and smiled.
The sun was getting lower; the light was fading from the ridgetop. I could no longer pick out the landmark tree in the gathering gloom. Mac came skipping up the hill from the barn and eyed the adults on the porch.
“I’m hungry,” he said. “When’s dinner?”
“Coming right up,” Blue said. “I’ll put the steaks on the barbecue now.”
Blue went back into the house and Mac trotted up the stairs and onto the porch. He patted Freckles’ head and studied Bret’s and Lonny’s faces. Then he leaned against me, half in my lap, half not.
“How’s Gunner?” Mac asked Lonny. “Is he okay?”
“He’s doing great,” Lonny said. “I saw him this morning, and I’ll see him tomorrow. Gunner and Danny and Twister are all just fine. And so am I.” And Lonny turned to smile at me. “Thanks, Gail,” he said.
I smiled back. “You’re welcome.”
I lifted my glass to the ridge, a dark silhouette against a peacock green sky.
“Thank you,” I said.
And a little breeze touched my face.
Epilogue
Mac and Blue and I still ride the trails that lea
d to the Lookout. Sometimes we take the fork that goes past the abandoned swingset and Tucker Pond, through the old orchard and down to the redwood grove in the valley. But never again have I gone up the road to Cole Richardson’s house. I don’t know what happened to the place.
We go back to Lonny’s ranch in Carson Valley often, to see Gunner, Danny, and Twister. We camp by the creek in all seasons, swim and ride, visit with Lonny and Bret. But by unspoken agreement we avoid the far side of the pasture, where the charred ruins of Kate’s house can still be seen.
As for me, I give thanks every day for Mac and Blue, our horses, dogs, cats, and other critters, my home and garden and the hills where I live. Most of all, I try to be aware of how happy I am in the present moment. Because the present moment is what we have. We who are all going, gone.
May love remain.
About the Author
Laura Crum (pictured on Sunny), a fourth-generation Santa Cruz County resident, has owned and trained horses for over thirty years. She lives and gardens in the hills near California’s Monterey Bay with her husband, son, and a large menagerie of horses, dogs, cats, and chickens. She may be e-mailed and visited at www.lauracrum.com.
Photo: Shmuel Thaler
The Gail McCarthy Mystery Series by Laura Crum
Cutter
Hoofprints
Roughstock
Roped
Slickrock
Breakaway
Hayburner
Forged
Moonblind
Chasing Cans
Going, Gone
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
About the Author
