Fatal Ranch Reunion

by Jaycee Bullard

  But the world’s deadliest snake was nowhere to be found.

  * * *

  Tacy twisted the rubber band around the stack of loose cards and scraped the green houses and red hotels into the box. Getting involved in a Monopoly game with Timmy, Scott and Sandy had seemed like a good idea an hour earlier, but her nerves were too tense and frayed to concentrate. She could still feel those fingers clamping into her legs and pulling her down to the bottom of the lake. A shiver ran down her spine, but she shook it off. She wished that Seb and Steven would return and that everything would be okay.

  Scott set the dice down into the box. “I’m going to take a stroll around the property,” he said.

  “Can I come?” Timmy wanted to know.

  “Not this time, skipper.” He shrugged on his raincoat and headed out the door.

  Sandy shot a glance at Tacy. It was hard to miss the pistol tucked into the waistband of Scott’s jeans.

  Why hadn’t Seb checked in with an update? She glanced at her phone, but there were no missed calls or texts. She set it back down again and then picked it up. No bars. So for all she knew, he could have tried.

  She peered through the wet smear on the window. The storm seemed to be increasing in intensity with the winds picking up and lashing against the trees.

  A deafening thunderclap was followed by a crack of lightning splitting through the clouds. The lamp on the mantel flickered for a moment and then blinked off.

  “Looks like we’ve lost power,” Sandy said. “I tried to call Scott to tell him to bring in a couple of flashlights from the garage, but I can’t get any reception on my phone.”

  “Me, either,” Tacy said.

  “This is so cool!” Timmy exclaimed. “Maybe when Steven and Seb get back, we can build a fort.”

  A gnawing ache throbbed in her chest. For Timmy, it was a great adventure. But the thunder booms and flashes of lightning were playing havoc with her already fraught nerves.

  “I’ve got some old oil lamps downstairs,” Sandy said. “Why don’t we go see if we can find them?”

  “That’s a great idea.” Tacy knew her voice sounded overly enthusiastic, but it would feel good to do something.

  “Okay.” Timmy stood up reluctantly. “But maybe I should stay here and wait for Scott to get back. Or Steven or Seb.”

  “No!” Tacy reacted instinctively to the idea of being separated from Timmy—but when she noticed the way her shout made him flinch, she regretted her sharp pitch and added a softer tone, “I mean, no. We need your help too.”

  Timmy shot her a confused look, but followed Sandy toward the stairway.

  Tacy flicked her phone to flashlight mode as Sandy led the way to the unfinished basement.

  “This way,” Sandy directed. Along the top shelf of a wooden bookcase were four oil lamps. “Be careful.” Sandy stood on her tiptoes and handed two of them down to Tacy. “We haven’t used these in years, so I don’t know if they’re empty or full.” She took the remaining lamps from the shelf, and they retraced their steps upstairs.

  “There. That’s better.” Sandy said a few minutes later. The lamps bathed the room in a flickering light. “Now we’ll wait for Scott and the boys to join us.”

  “I’m bored,” Timmy said. “Can we play another game?”

  “Not right now, Timmy.” Tacy was back at the window, watching for headlights, but she forced herself to relax her shoulders as she turned to face her son. “Let’s wait until the others get back. Seb loves Monopoly. He’ll definitely want to play.”

  “Okay. But can I go and find Cody? He might be scared by the storm. A lot of dogs are, you know.”

  “Oh, Cody could be anywhere,” Sandy said as another peal of thunder shook the room. “He’s probably holed up in the barn.”

  Tacy paced across the floor. The convivial atmosphere of just moments before had evaporated as the seconds of eerie darkness stretched into minutes. She stared again out the window. Shouldn’t everyone be back by now? The touch of a hand on her shoulder caused her to jump.

  “You need to relax.” Sandy spoke in a quiet, gentle voice. “There’s nothing we can do but pray and keep calm.”

  Tacy nodded. “It’s just taking them so long. And what about this rain? Do you think there’s a chance of flash flooding?”

  “That’s been weighing on my mind, too. We haven’t had this much precipitation in a long time, and the ground isn’t going to know how to handle it. But the boys can take care of themselves. It’s in their blood. The Hunts and Tolberts were the first settlers in Chimney Bluff, after all.”

  “Really?” Timmy piped up. “Who got here first?”

  Tacy shuddered another deep sigh, grateful for Timmy’s interruption. Sandy’s kindness was almost too much to handle. The woman had every reason to resent her—for being a Tolbert, for breaking her son’s heart, for keeping her grandson away from her for almost a decade. And yet, Sandy had never shown her anything but kindness. Sandy had to be worried about her sons out there in the raging storm, but she’d taken the time to offer comfort...or at least to try.

  A gust of rain lashed against the window. The storm was getting worse. What would happen if Seb and Steven got caught by a sudden rush of high water? Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, but she brushed them away. Crying wouldn’t help the situation. And really, what was she so worried about? They probably stopped somewhere in town to wait out the worst of the storm.

  “Actually, Timmy, the Tolberts and Hunts came to North Dakota together.” Sandy explained. “Stanley Hunt and Isaiah Tolbert were friends in Boston back in the 1860s and decided to head out West. The story is that they set out together for California, but when they reached Chimney Bluff, they agreed they had come far enough. So they bought some land for cheap, got some cattle, and settled down right next to each other. Then, as more people moved out West, the town of Chimney Bluff started to grow up as an outpost station, and Stanley and Isaiah became wealthy from trading with all the new settlers.”

  Tacy felt the hint of a smile flicker on her lips as she listened to Sandy. She had heard those same tales of Stanley Hunt and Isaiah Tolbert hundreds of times growing up. It started off as a fun story, even if it didn’t quite stay that way once it reached the incident that instigated the feud. Everyone had a slightly different version of what had happened, but the essential details were always the same.

  “Unfortunately,” Sandy continued, “the more money Stanley and Isaiah made, the more they began to argue. And one day, a boundary dispute got so out of hand that the two men vowed never to talk to each other again. Stanley sued Isaiah for two hundred dollars, which was a fortune back then. And Isaiah sued him right back for defamation of his good name.”

  “What does defamation mean?” Timmy asked.

  “It means insulting you by lying about something you didn’t do.”

  Tacy turned back to the window. She appreciated Sandy’s discretion. Timmy didn’t need to know the nitty-gritty details of the hundred-year-old feud. They weren’t pretty and didn’t paint either the Tolberts or the Hunts in a flattering light. There were stories of the Hunts rustling cattle from the Tolberts’ herd and the Tolberts failing to come to their neighbor’s aid when the Hunt barn caught on fire in the fall of 1952. In her grandfather’s generation, the Hunts had refused to even acknowledge the existence of their closest neighbors. Every time it seemed that the bad blood had settled between the two families, a new incident would stir the pot. And there would a fresh onslaught of petty attacks—verbal and otherwise—and ensuing lawsuits.

  Timmy wanted to hear the rest of the story. “So, what happened next?” he asked.

  “Hmm? Well, ever since then, they have been feuding and suing each over various differences. Even today—oh dear,” Sandy paused. “The fuel in a couple of the lamps is starting to get low. I better see if I can find some more kerosene.”

 
“We’ll help you,” Timmy said.

  “Thank you. Tacy, could you and Timmy check downstairs? It should be in a big red jug in the cupboard. I’ll take a peek to see if I left it in the kitchen.”

  “No problem.” Tacy turned and headed to the basement with Timmy trailing behind her.

  “So, if the Hunts and Tolberts don’t like each other, does that mean that Seb and Steven are our enemies?” Timmy’s high voice followed her down the stairs. “They don’t seem like our enemies. But maybe it’s like we learned in school about spies. Are we spies?”

  What was Timmy talking about? Tacy rubbed her fingers against her eyes as she trained her flashlight on the top shelf of the cupboard at the bottom of the stairs. The beam wavered, illuminating row after row of canned tomatoes and pickles, but there was no sign of a red jug. She flashed her light around the space. Maybe Sandy was mistaken, and the kerosene was in the tall, metal cabinet next to the dryer. Timmy followed behind her as she shuffled across the floor toward the back wall.

  “But how were you friends with Seb when you were kids if your families were enemies? And whose ranch is bigger? The Tolberts’ or the Hunts’? The Hunt ranch is huge, so it’s probably bigger.”

  “Hmm. Maybe. I’m not sure.” She turned her back against the flow of questions and roved the beam across the open shelves. “I can’t see anything resembling a red jug anywhere, can you?”

  “No. But can I borrow your phone for a flashlight?”

  Tacy handed him her cell and pushed up on her tiptoes for a closer look. She was glad that Timmy was taking everything in stride, but his exuberance was wearying. Her brain couldn’t focus on his questions when it was using all its energy to keep from worrying about Seb or reliving the moment hands had closed over her and dragged her down into the water after the kayak tipped. It had been dark under the water, and it was dark in the basement without the overhead light. Goose bumps crawled down her skin, and a shiver tingled up her body. She took a deep gulp of air. She could hear Sandy bustling upstairs in the kitchen, and the sound of the door opening at the front of the house. Maybe Scott was back. Or Seb and Steven. Her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, and she could see that the jug had been pushed behind a large box of detergent.

  “I found it,” she said. “Tim?” She turned around and focused her light on the spot where Timmy had been standing.

  But he wasn’t there.

  “Timmy! Timmy!” she cried out as she ran up the stairs. Her heart thudded in her chest, but she pushed down the fear that threatened to overwhelm her senses. She was overreacting. Timmy had just wandered away. He didn’t understand the gravity of the situation and was probably looking for Cody or something to eat. She hurried toward the kitchen where Sandy was perched on a stool by the counter. Alone.

  “Where’s Timmy?” Tacy asked. Her voice shook as panic rocked her senses.

  “I haven’t seen him since you two went to get the fuel. But I’m sure he’s around here. Timmy! Timmy!” Sandy’s voice echoed in the hall.

  “Timmy! Timmy!” Tacy sped back down the stairs. “Timmy! Timmy!”

  She could hear Sandy calling out as she made her way toward the back of the house.

  Tacy skidded through the basement, checking every corner, but Timmy wasn’t there. She dashed up the steps, ignoring the pang in her ankle. Hadn’t she heard the swish of someone opening the front door? Maybe Timmy had gone outside looking for Scott or Cody. Her feet skimmed across the floor, but she skidded to a stop, a scream erupting from her throat.

  “Tacy! What is it? Are you okay? Is Timmy hurt?” Sandy came bustling up behind her, panting from exertion. “Oh no.”

  Tacy felt her knees give out, and she sank to the floor. A shiver convulsed her body, and a wave of nausea bubbled up in her throat.

  Sandy knelt down beside her.

  The rain was still coming down in torrents, but the front door was wide open. And the screen door was flapping in the wind. But there was enough light to see the smear of blood and the cell phone lying on the floor.

  SEVENTEEN

  Gale-force winds unleashed thick sheets of rain against the windshield, pounding a thunderous rhythm through the cab. Even with the wipers cranked to full speed, Seb couldn’t see more than five feet ahead of them. Next to him in the passenger seat, Steven reached across the console to wipe away the condensation, but it was a temporary fix. The glass cleared for a few seconds and then fogged back up.

  Seb shot a glance at his brother. “It looks like we’re in for a rough ride home. I’d feel better about all of this if we’d managed to track down Gunnar or Lois. To be honest, I’m still a bit shaken after what we just saw in the shop.” He blinked away the image of those snakes and spiders...and the empty cage and the missing black mamba.

  Headlights blurred across the windshield as a brown sedan appeared out of nowhere, speeding toward them in their lane.

  “He’s not going to stop,” Steven cried out in warning.

  Seb hit the brake as a wave of water crashed against the truck, rocking it toward the side of the road. He glanced over at Steven and released a long breath.

  That was close. Too close.

  As they passed the fence to the Tolbert ranch, Steven pointed toward the turn. “Maybe we should make a quick stop and see if anyone’s around at the Tolberts’.”

  “Okay. It might be worth it to check, if only for Carl’s sake.” He turned the wheel and headed down Tolbert’s driveway, his heart still hammering in his chest. He left the motor running as he ran toward the house, tucked his hand into a fist, and hammered on the door. No answer. He tried again with the same result. He ran back to the truck and climbed inside. “Seems like no one’s there. We can try again tomorrow.”

  He edged back out onto the main road. In just a few more minutes, they’d be home.

  As he pulled up in front of the ranch house, his gut churned in anticipation. The soft glow of light from the kitchen window was reassuring, but the rest of the house remained in darkness. He left Steven behind as he sprinted toward the door. Halfway down the path, his foot hit an obstacle, and he stumbled off course.

  “Ugh.”

  What was that? He clicked on his flashlight and trained the beam downward on a familiar green parka with a hood clenched at the neck.

  Dad. There was a deep gash across his father’s forehead. Please God. Let him be okay.

  “Steven!” Seb cried out. “Hurry. Dad’s on the ground, and he’s hurt.”

  His father opened his eyes. His voice came in whisper. “My gun.”

  Seb traced his light around the immediate area. “I don’t see it.” He turned to face Steven, who had come up behind him. “Let’s get him inside.”

  They looped their arms under their father’s shoulders and made their way toward the house. His mom must have spotted them coming because she met them at the door. “What happened to your father? Is he okay?”

  Scott grimaced. “I’m fine, Sandy. We can talk about it when we’re out of the rain.”

  “Where’s Tacy, Mom?” Seb asked.

  His mother’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh sweetheart, she’s looking for Timmy.”

  Seb’s heart sank all the way down to his boots. “What happened to Timmy?”

  “We were getting out the oil lamps, and he was helping. Then all of a sudden, he was gone.”

  * * *

  Tacy circled around the back of the ranch house, the beam of her flashlight focused straight ahead. How could two people disappear into thin air? Scott had been on guard with a gun at the ready. And Timmy—a sob of desperation rocked her chest—Timmy had spent most of the last hour inches from her side.

  Something moved on the side of the barn. She raced toward it, slipped and landed in a puddle. She pulled herself up and sprinted forward, her breath coming out in ragged gasps.

  A voice penetrated the darkness. Someone
was calling her name.

  “Tacy.” Seb ran toward her. “Mom told me what happened. I came to help look for Timmy.”

  “I thought I saw him by the barn.” She bent over, gasping, her body wracked by tears. “But I was wrong. There was no one there.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay. Someone took him. The screen door was open, and there was blood on the floor.”

  His strong arms encircled her shoulders and guided her across the yard. Inside the house, the power was still out, but the oil lamps provided enough light for her to see. Scott was sitting at the kitchen table and Sandy stood next to him, holding a piece of gauze to his head.

  Tacy’s hands began to shake. “Oh, no,” she said.

  “I’m fine,” Scott growled. “Just mad. Mostly at myself. The rain was so loud that I didn’t hear the person who snuck up behind me until it was too late. The worst part is that whoever hit me took my gun.”

  Tacy choked back a sob. “We need to find Timmy. Now.”

  “Before anyone goes anywhere, use these to dry off. You won’t do anyone any good if you catch a chill.” Sandy pointed to pile of towels she had stacked on a chair. She draped the biggest one, a large red terry cloth sheet, around Tacy’s shoulders and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “We’ll find him. Rest for a minute. Don’t you fret.”

  “Thanks, Sandy.” Tacy nodded. But she had no intention of staying put for longer than a minute while Timmy was somewhere outside in the rain.

  Steven came into the kitchen carrying a radio. “Times like this, I’m glad there are things that still work on batteries.” He fiddled with the dial until he got reception.

  Brrrrrrppppp. Brrrrpppp. Brrrrrrpppp.

  “The National Weather Service has issued a severe thunderstorm warning for central Billings and western Stark Counties until ten forty-five p.m. Reports of large hail and winds in excess of forty miles per hour...”

  Seb checked his watch and shook his head. “I don’t think we have the option of waiting this out. We need to find the sheriff and report Timmy as missing.” He pulled out his keys. “Tace? You want to come with me?”