Fatal Ranch Reunion

by Jaycee Bullard

  “I’m not sure. I heard a branch crack near the porch. It might have been a raccoon or a fox trampling around in the undergrowth, but it seemed best to get inside as quickly as possible.”

  He walked toward the main window and peered through. Was that a bit of movement near the bushes? More likely it was a rodent or some other small vermin, but he couldn’t shake his anxiety drumming in his brain.

  Tacy didn’t seem to pick up on his unease as she made a beeline for Timmy’s bedroom. She peaked inside and then closed the door. “He’s sound asleep,” she said. But her smile was replaced by a look of alarm as she pointed to his right arm. “You must have caught your hand on that loose nail on the door.”

  He glanced down, surprised to see the red trickle of blood and feel the faint sting of pain. He hadn’t even realized that he had cut himself. “It’s just a scratch.”

  “Maybe. But it can’t hurt to treat it with antiseptic. Where’s the first aid kit?”

  “In the bathroom medicine cabinet under the sink.”

  “Okay. I’ll be right back.” She headed across the room, returning a minute later with a small white box with a red cross on the top. She sat down next to him, squirted a dollop of antibacterial cream onto the cut and massaged it in with her fingers.

  Her eyes were soft as she looked at him and smiled. “I’ve gotten to be quite an expert at this stuff. When Timmy was seven, he wanted to be a ninja warrior. After a few dozen cuts and bruises, he learned his lesson and became more careful.”

  Seb grinned. Sounded like a chip off the old block, though the whole thing must have been a trial for Tacy. He kept his arm still as Tacy completed her ministrations. How had he forgotten the cute way she squinted when she concentrated, or how the touch of her fingers had always sent shockwaves across his heart?

  “Seb?” she said. “I didn’t know that Steven was trying to buy my grandfather’s ranch.”

  “Yeah. He and a bunch of his buddies have been looking for land they could use as a sanctuary for bulls too old or injured to ride. He’s all in on the project, and that property would have been perfect, so he was disappointed that his bid wasn’t given proper consideration.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” She tilted her head, her eyes roaming across his face as she tightened the bandage in place. “Does that feel okay?”

  “Umm...yeah.” She probably didn’t want to hear about the avalanche of memories tumbling across his brain.

  He waited a minute, and then he walked across the room and sat down on the ottoman.

  New subject. Safe subject. Timmy.

  “So, our boy was completely sacked out when I got back to the bunkhouse. My mom said he nodded off early. She taught him cribbage. I think she let him win.”

  “She’s been so lovely.” Tacy sank down onto the couch and forced a wobbly smile.

  “How about you? What happened at the hospital?”

  “They kept me for a few hours under observation since I had such a severe reaction.”

  “I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but I think one or both of the desserts were laced with some type of peanut product.”

  “It’s a good thing that I always carry an EpiPen in my purse.”

  “Uh, Tace. There was nothing in your purse. The one I found was in your backpack.”

  She shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense. I specifically remember tucking one next to my wallet before I left to drive to the ranch.”

  He blew out a long breath. It appeared that whoever had tampered with the desserts had also removed Tacy’s EpiPen from her purse.

  “Lois?”

  “She’s the logical suspect. We can talk more about this in the morning when we’re rested and awake.”

  “Good call.” Tacy pushed back her shoulders and straightened her neck. “The exhaustion seems to be finally catching up to me. I suppose it’s time to head off to bed.”

  He nodded. “You should sleep in tomorrow. I’ll get up early and make Timmy breakfast. It’s time I start figuring out how to be a regular dad.”

  But for the moment at least, he would remain in the role of defender and protector. He waited a few minutes until he was sure Tacy was in bed. Then, he crept out onto the porch and set off on a brisk stroll around the premises. He couldn’t quite shake the suspicion that the snap of the branch he’d heard earlier hadn’t been an animal but someone lurking nearby. With the beam of his flashlight trained to the ground, he scanned the area for signs of an intruder.

  The soil was too dry for any tracks, but there were several broken branches smashed against the dirt. He paused. A small rodent wouldn’t be heavy enough to cause such damage. He took a step closer to make a better assessment. The bushes crackled. He jumped backwards as a large badger scuttled toward him.

  Was this the midnight prowler? Or had there been something—or someone—else lurking around the bunkhouse, hiding in the shadows of the night?

  NINE

  Functioning effectively on less than five hours of sleep was proving to be a challenge. Coffee helped. Seb had just put on a fresh pot when Timmy joined him in the kitchen.

  “Why is Mom still sleeping?” he said. “She’s always awake before me. When Sandy tucked me in last night, she promised I’d see Mom first thing in the morning.”

  “Your mom had a rough night, so she going to sleep in today a little longer than usual. What do you say you get dressed while I rustle up some breakfast, and then maybe we can find a bat and ball and a couple of gloves in the shed?”

  “Awesome,” Timmy said.

  Half an hour later, they were outside in front of the bunkhouse, tossing around a baseball.

  Timmy had skills, he’d give him that. He handled pop flies and grounders and tossed the ball back with the flick of his wrist.

  “You play first base, right?”

  “Usually.” Timmy nodded. “But sometimes the coach puts me in the outfield. We have games twice a week. They’re at night, so my mom can come and watch me play.”

  Seb shook his head. How did Tacy do it? Working full-time, caring for her dad, and attending law school, yet she still managed to make it to all those baseball games. A sudden realization nudged his brain. This would be his life when Timmy came to visit. Grabbing breakfast-on-the-run and standing on the sidelines at baseball games. Not to mention dealing with the responsibilities of school and homework. The choice between moving to DC or staying in Chimney Bluff suddenly seemed a lot more complicated than he had imagined.

  As Seb tossed the fly ball back to Timmy, Steven appeared, a canvas sack of old bats slung over his shoulder. “I thought we could try to have a real game.”

  Five minutes later, they were ready to play. Seb batted first. Steven struck him out on four pitches with a wicked fastball. That was embarrassing. Then Timmy took his turn in the batter’s box.

  “Wait a sec.” Seb reached into his back pocket and snapped a quick picture of the nine-year-old slugger at the plate. He was putting his phone away when Timmy hit a hard drive to the outfield.

  Timmy’s legs pumped furiously as he rounded first and headed for second. Steven chased the ball and attempted a tag at third, but Timmy streamed by him, determined to score.

  “Safe!” Seb shouted as Timmy slid into home.

  Timmy brushed himself off and beamed. Seb tousled his son’s hair and then tossed his glove down onto the grass. “You guys keep playing,” he called out as he headed toward the bunkhouse. “I’m going to head inside to check on Tacy. If she’s awake, I’ll see if she wants to join us, just in case Timmy hits another awesome home run.”

  * * *

  Click. Swish.

  What was that? Metal scraping against wood?

  Tacy tensed as her eyes popped open.

  “Hello?” She braved a glance around the room. The shades were closed, and a narrow band of light outlined
the windows’ wide perimeter. She reached across the nightstand for her phone and powered on the flashlight. “Who’s there?” Her fingers shook as she pointed the thin beam toward the door and then the window.

  Nothing.

  A sigh of relief escaped from her lips. The noise she had heard was probably Timmy in the front room. She supposed she ought to get up and see what he needed, but she wasn’t ready to get up quite yet. She set her phone next to her pillow and stretched out on her back. She sank back into a delicious wave of exhaustion, closed her eyes, and...

  Creeeeak.

  The footsteps she heard definitely weren’t in the front room—they were in her room. And those weren’t Timmy’s steps.

  A pulse of fear pumped through her veins. She pressed her eyes closed and listened.

  Another creak, followed by the slam of a drawer and the crash of something falling to the floor.

  She pulled the covers over her head, and slowly edged her hand toward the pillow, fumbling for her phone. But before her fingers could close on the case, something soft and plush slammed down on her face.

  Her breaths came fast and furious as she flailed against the hands pushing the pillow over her mouth. She arched her back and struggled to grasp hold of her assailant’s wrist. But no matter how she tried, she couldn’t dislodge the force pressing harder and harder until there was no air left in her lungs at all.

  Help me, Lord. Her chest heaved against the blackness.

  A door slammed in the living room.

  The hands pressing against her face held fast for another second and then released. She gagged in a mouthful of air as her fingers tried to tear the suffocating pillow free, but her oxygen-deprived body felt sluggish and unresponsive. Footsteps shuffled against the floorboards beside her bed. Her assailant seemed to be on the move.

  More air leaked in around the edges of the cotton case, and she gulped it in furiously. She was finally able to reach around and push the pillow onto the floor. Free at last, she lay flat on her back, gasping for breath. A shadow passed in front the window, followed by a clatter and thump. Was her assailant escaping? She wanted to shake off the malaise that was dragging at her senses, but she was too weak.

  “Tacy?” Seb’s voice sounded muffled and far away.

  “I’m here.” Her legs felt like jelly as she skidded across the room. Her fingers turned the lock on her bedroom door. It snapped open, and she flicked on the light.

  Seb stood in the doorway. “I heard a thump. What happened?”

  Tears clouded her vision. “Someone tried to suffocate me. But when you came into the bunkhouse, he ran away.”

  Steven appeared behind Seb on the threshold. “It’s crazy that someone broke in here in the middle of the day. Don’t worry about Timmy, Tace. He’s in the living room with my dad. He wanted to come in and wake you, but I guess it’s a good thing he didn’t. I’ll tell them to go to the main house and wait for us there,” Steven said, backing away. “Meanwhile, I’ll circle around outside and see if I can find any signs of the intruder.”

  Tacy swayed sideways. All of a sudden, it felt as if her legs might collapse under her. Seb threaded an arm around her waist and led her over to a chair by the bed.

  She sank down against the tattered cushion. “I thought I was going to die, Seb. I couldn’t breathe, and he kept pushing down on the pillow.”

  “He?” Seb homed in on her description. “It was a man?”

  Was it? All of a sudden, she wasn’t sure. “I don’t know.” She shook her head. But why had she used a masculine pronoun? Her gaze swept past the upended suitcase, toward the papers and clothing tossed on the floor. What had the intruder been looking for in the dark? “I’m just grateful that Timmy wasn’t here when it happened.”

  “Breathe, Tacy, breathe. Timmy’s fine. You’re the one in danger. Look at this place. Whoever did this was searching for something, and you got in the way.”

  “How do I know if they found what they were looking for? Everything is such a mess.”

  “I’ll help you do an inventory of your stuff later. After you talk to the sheriff.”

  The sheriff. Again. These endless attacks seemed to be a routine. Would she ever be safe? She reached for a sweatshirt that lay crumpled on the floor and pulled it over her head. That felt better. Warmer. More secure. She hugged her arms tightly around her waist.

  Seb walked over to the window and looked at the jamb. “I should’ve checked the windows when I put the dead bolt on the front door. This is on me.”

  “No, it isn’t. Nothing that has happened to me is your fault.” Her fingers dug deeper into the sleeves of her sweatshirt. The memory of the pillow being smashed against her face produced a batch of fresh tears. She was angry and upset and tired of being afraid. She unclenched her arms, reached up and pushed back her tears. “But this isn’t going to stop until we identify the person wants me dead.”

  He scrubbed his hand against his chin. “I’m grasping at straws here, but I keep coming back to the two variables that seem to have kick-started this whole mess—your arrival in town and your grandfather’s decision to sell the ranch. And if we’re going to home in on a motive, we need more information. Maybe the sale documents could provide some fresh clues.”

  A spark of exhilaration lit up her brain, and the possibility of finally doing something proactive fueled her enthusiasm. “Gunnar probably has the originals locked up in his safe. But my grandfather might have copies in his files at the ranch. And he and Lois will be in Bismarck for most of the afternoon. This could be the perfect opportunity to take a look.”

  “Not today, Tace,” he said. “Not after everything you’ve been through.”

  She drummed her fingers against the chair, eagerness already coiling in her gut. Seb might be inclined to exercise caution, but it was her life that was being threatened. She glanced at her purse and thought about the key tucked in the side pocket that fit the lock on her grandfather’s front door.

  It was time to get some answers.

  TEN

  The sheriff arrived at the bunkhouse shortly before eleven with a couple of deputies who took pictures and dusted for prints. Tacy answered all his questions about the incident and promised to check her belongings to see if anything was missing. Her heart pounded as she described the attack and relived the terror of her near-suffocation.

  Once the team packed up and returned to the station, Tacy and Seb climbed into his truck and headed for her grandfather’s ranch. Even though the authorities were handling the case, she had not wavered in her resolve to search for the documents. Seb had tried to persuade her to wait, but her determination to act with or without him finally won him over to her plan. Timmy was going to stay at the main house with Sandy for the remainder of the afternoon, which would give her plenty of time to look through her grandfather’s files.

  The attack at the bunkhouse had clarified her thoughts. The only way to protect herself and her son would be for her to take an active role in identifying her attacker and putting the person behind bars. For the first time in a long time, she knew her own mind and trusted her judgment.

  “Just promise that you’ll be careful when you’re inside,” Seb said. “If you see anyone, make an excuse and get out immediately.”

  The plan was simple. She’d use her key to unlock the front door and make her way to her grandfather’s office. Seb would wait in the truck on the side of the main road, about fifty yards from the curve. From there, he could see anyone turning down the driveway.

  It wouldn’t take long since she knew where to look. She’d be in and out in minutes. Easy peasy.

  She hoped.

  Inside the house, the brass knob of the office turned easily in her hand. She let out a long breath as she stepped across the threshold. Wow. Being in this room brought back a lot of memories. She and her father would stretch out on the large leather couch and read book
s while her grandfather balanced the accounts for the ranch. When he finished his paperwork, they would pull out the checkerboard and take turns playing against each other. She had forgotten how, despite their differences, they had always made it a point to spend time as a family.

  Flicking on the overhead light, she padded over to the desk. If she remembered correctly, her grandfather stored most of his important papers in the cabinet below the credenza. She slid open the top drawer. Office supplies. She tried the second drawer and a smile twitched on her lips. Bingo. Hanging files with descriptions printed on the top—Taxes, Car Info, Health Insurance, Life Insurance. Her hand froze on the next file.

  What was that? Her phone vibrated in her pocket.

  A text from Seb. Lois is headed down the driveway.

  How was that even possible?

  Her insides clenched. Logic said she should leave...but she couldn’t bear the thought of forfeiting the chance to find answers. Her eyes flicked around the office. There was a good chance that Lois might not even realize she was here. Especially if she turned off the overhead light. She scampered across the room and hit the switch. The open slats of the blinds provided enough illumination for her to finish her search.

  She tiptoed back toward the credenza and knelt down beside the desk. Her fingers flipped over the labeled files. Where was the purchase offer? Finally, she found a folder within a folder entitled Conveyance. This had to be it. Inside were copies of the deeds to the property, beginning all the way back with Isaiah Tolbert, the first of the family to settle in Chimney Bluff. And yes—at the very bottom of the stack—was a purchase agreement, dated July of this year.

  Her phone vibrated with yet another text. I’m following behind her on foot. She’s at the front door.

  The creak of the hinges from the front entrance stilled her hand. But only for a moment. She was about to close the file when something caught her eye—a copy of a quit claim deed. Was that her father’s name on the document? She picked up the paper, her eyes darting across the legalese—“Carl Tolbert, grantor, hereby conveys to Carl Tolbert and Keith Tolbert, grantees, as tenants in common, property listed in Exhibit A.” She flipped the page over. Sure enough, Exhibit A was the legal description of the ranch. Her mind raced to remember what she had learned in Property class in law school. She snatched up the pile and thrust it into her backpack, shoved the file drawer closed, pushed up on her knees and waited.