Home on the Ranch: Wyoming Sheriff

by Rebecca Winters

  He’d come to the cemetery at ten to place a potted red rose tree on Cynthia’s grave beneath the headstone.

  Beloved Wife.

  Death leaves a heartache no one can heal.

  Love leaves a memory no one can steal.

  After burying her, his pain had been so great, he couldn’t imagine being alive another day. Yet after this long without her, he’d learned that time was helping him to move on.

  The town of Cody represented the past and his work as a police officer. This was where he’d met Cynthia and would always treasure the memories of her. But to his surprise he found himself actually looking forward to the drive back to Whitebark, Wyoming, where he now lived. Until Tuesday he would follow up on some chores he’d been putting off.

  He thought back to the six months after her death. His police chief had suggested he apply for the police chief job in Whitebark. The chief thought a change of location might help him throw off his depression. Holden looked into it and learned that the Whitebark chief had resigned because of bad health. There was a vacancy and Holden had the credentials they were looking for. Once hired, he’d sold the house and relocated. Though he missed his family, he hadn’t been sorry or looked back.

  Holden kissed two fingers and pressed them to the top of the granite headstone before walking to his dark blue Subaru Outback under a semicloudy sky. He’d been away from work a week and wondered what messes had piled up in his absence.

  Having said his goodbyes last night to the family that included two married sisters and brothers-in-law, plus a niece and nephew, he took off for his five-hour drive back to the Wind River Mountains.

  Holden had never thought he could love that range as much as the Absarokas outside Cody. How wrong he’d been once the friends he’d made in the Whitebark fire department took him camping and introduced him to some of their favorite spots!

  For the first time in a week he turned on the radio to listen to the Hunt Talk call-in show covering the western half of the state.

  After two stops in Thermopolis and Lander for food, he reached Whitebark at five in the afternoon. Before going to his ranch, he pulled into the back of the Sublette County sheriff’s office near the county courthouse. Walt Emerson had been acting as undersheriff while Granger had been out of town.

  In an election held several months after Holden had been made police chief, he’d been voted in as sheriff to replace the one who’d passed away unexpectedly. He’d inherited a department that covered the whole county where he maintained a staff of thirty-four sworn officers.

  The extra responsibility kept him so busy he didn’t have much time to think about the absence of a special woman in his life. He dated on occasion, but none of the relationships had grown serious.

  Holden entered the building through the back door. He waved to Jenny in the dispatch room, then walked down the hall to his office. Walt sat at the desk in front of the computer. The forty-five-year-old man looked up. “Hey—are you ever a sight for sore eyes!”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “You might as well ask me what isn’t wrong!”

  Holden grinned. “I believe you’re on duty until I come in on Tuesday morning.”

  “Don’t remind me. Thank heaven you’re back in case an emergency comes up I can’t solve.”

  “That’ll be the day. I thought I’d see how things are going before I head to my ranch and work on some projects I’ve been putting off since I moved here.”

  “Just don’t forget the new members of TTSAR will be meeting with you on Tuesday morning.” The Tip Top Search and Rescue volunteer unit for the county needed staffing from time to time. “You’ll also need to choose the new engraver for the Ranch Watch program.”

  “I tapped Rex Lewis for that job two weeks ago.” To pinpoint the ranches and farms from where machinery was stolen, the owners’ names were engraved on it to identify specific locations of theft.

  “Three days ago Rex fell off a ladder fixing his barn roof and broke his elbow.”

  Holden shook his head. Great. “Okay, I’ll check in on him.” He sorted through the paperwork in the inbox on the desk.

  “Also, just so you know, the detention center is at capacity. We can’t handle any more than fifty inmates.”

  “I’ll phone Rand over at the marshal’s office to figure it out. Anything else?”

  Walt frowned. “Jan Allred’s son Mike has been on a hunger strike. His mother is frantic and has called here three times looking for you. You remember she works in the bakery at Loft’s supermarket.”

  He nodded. “On Tuesday I’ll have a talk with Lieutenant Fogarty over at the jail. After he gives me his view of the situation, I’ll get in touch with her. Is that everything?”

  The older man laughed. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “Maybe not.”

  “How was your vacation?”

  “Good. I helped my dad do a lot of fencing.”

  “In other words, you’re ready for a real vacation.”

  To his mind, a real vacation included being with his wife, but that wasn’t possible and hadn’t been for three years. “It was great to see my folks and family, but honestly I’m glad to be back.” He was grateful to have a reason to get up every morning, including exercising his horse.

  “Then go on home and enjoy your last few days of freedom.”

  “Thanks, Walt.”

  Holden left the office, nodded to the staff on duty and left for his ranch. Before moving here he’d bought the place close to the south end of town with a house and barn. After trailing his horse to Whitebark, he’d intended to put in crops of alfalfa and hay, maybe even some cattle one day. So far he’d done none of it. His life was too crazy to be the rancher he’d assumed he’d be. Maybe when he retired...

  While he’d been gone this last week, Drake Simpson, the nineteen-year-old son of Hank and Allie Simpson, his neighbors to the south, took care of Blackie. The Simpsons ran a small miniature horse farm on their ranch. Drake usually came by five times a week to feed and exercise his horse, depending on Holden’s schedule.

  All looked well as he checked on his gelding before going in the house. No sooner had he entered the front door than his cell rang. He checked the caller ID and smiled to see his friend’s name. Porter Ewing worked for the forest service after transferring in from the Adirondacks. He was a part-time firefighter and like Holden, he was single.

  He clicked On. “Hey, Porter—what’s up?”

  “We just pulled into the station after coming back from a fire over at Roper’s Discount Mattress. Cole and I saw your Subaru headed for the office. Welcome back!”

  “It’s good to be home. How’s it going?”

  “Don’t ask. Want to grab a bite at Angelino’s later? Wyatt will be coming with a couple of the guys.”

  “Sounds great. Give me an hour and I’ll meet you there.”

  “You’re on! See you soon.”

  * * *

  On Memorial Day morning, Jessica reached for her cell phone to call her mother. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hi, honey. Are you ready?”

  “We are. I want to know how the church party went on Saturday night. Did you go with Ray?”

  “It was fun. I had a nice time with him.”

  “Good.” Ray Marsden was a widower who went to their church. Jessica had a feeling he was interested in her mom. “On my way over to the shop, I’m planning to buy some flowers at the florist to put on all the graves.”

  “Thank you for doing that. By the time you get here, I’ll be ready. I’ve been packing us a picnic to enjoy while we’re over there.”

  “Great. I’ll be on my way as soon as I take care of Bucky.”

  Later, when she parked the truck behind a row of cars at the cemetery, crowds of people were already visiting the graves and it made their progress slow. She carried
the box of potted flowers. Her mom trailed behind with the picnic basket.

  Chase looked up at her. “How come you bought so many plants, Mom?”

  “Because we have to decorate my grandparents’ grave, plus the graves of your father’s parents and uncle and aunt.”

  “And Dad’s!”

  “His most of all, darling.”

  They reached the first set of graves where Trent’s family was buried. She put the box down. “I bought yellow, lavender and white mums. Choose which ones you want to put on the two headstones.”

  Her son pulled out the lavender potted flowers and carefully placed them at the base of each.

  “That’s perfect, Chase! Now let’s go to my grandparents’ graves.” She picked up the box and they walked the short distance. “Do you know who they are?”

  “Yup! My great-grandparents.”

  She put down the box to hug him. “That’s right. They’re the Harrisons and have just one headstone.”

  “Can I put yellow flowers on their grave, Nana?”

  “I wish you would. Yellow was my mother’s favorite color. Go ahead and do it.”

  He reached in the box and walked it over to the headstone. Jessica shared a soulful glance with her mother. Chase was so adorable. After he placed a pot of flowers, he came running to her. “Now can we go to Daddy’s grave?”

  She’d been waiting for him to ask. “Yes.”

  They walked the short distance. “I saved the white flowers for him.”

  “Is that your favorite color, darling?”

  “Yes. My teacher at Sunday school says everyone in heaven wears white.”

  With that comment, tears pricked Jessica’s eyes. “She’s right.”

  “There’s Daddy’s grave!” He pulled out the last of the potted flowers and put them at the base of his father’s headstone. Maybe Trent was watching. Jessica hoped so. Then Chase did something that surprised her and sat down on the grass next to it. “Can we have our picnic right here?”

  “Of course we can,” her mother answered for her and sat down by him.

  Jessica pulled out her phone and took a picture. Then she, too, sank down under the sunny sky and they ate the fried chicken and potato salad.

  “Mmm. This is good, Nana.”

  “It was your father’s favorite meal when he came to my house with your mom.”

  After a moment of silence, Chase said, “I wish my daddy didn’t have to die.” His brown eyes had teared up.

  “I know how you feel,” Jessica murmured. “My daddy died when I was twelve. We’ll always miss them, won’t we?”

  He nodded his dark blond head. “Where’s his grave?”

  “In Riverside, California, with his parents’. That’s why Nana and I fly there every year and put flowers on their graves.”

  “Oh.” Chase finished a roll and got to his feet. “Can I go look around at the flags?”

  “For a few minutes, but don’t go far.”

  “I won’t.” He walked off. Jessica kept her eyes on him.

  * * *

  Tuesday was finally here. Jessica hadn’t slept well and was anxious to talk to the sheriff. She exercised Bucky, then showered and washed her hair. With the help of the dryer and brush, she styled her blond hair into a neck-length bob. After looking in the closet, she pulled out a summery skirt and blouse to put on.

  With her makeup done, she fed Chase and took him to her mom’s. She’d packed his lunch and his favorite bag of building blocks. When she got there, Millie, one of the hairdressers, was already at work washing Lily Owens’s hair. The beautiful onetime Olympic alpine skier was working with her parents breeding horses these days.

  They all chatted for a minute. After going upstairs with Chase, she promised him she’d be back soon to take him home. Then she left the salon and headed for the complex to the sheriff’s office. Once she’d parked at the rear of the building, she entered and spoke to a Deputy Sykes at the front desk.

  “I was told to come in so I could speak to Chief Granger.”

  “Just a moment.”

  While she waited, she asked him if he could look up her husband’s case in the files and find out the name of the investigating officer.

  She had to wait a half hour before she was told the officer had retired and moved out of state. She would have to take up the matter with the chief.

  To her relief, she didn’t have to wait long before he said, “Mrs. Fleming? I checked with the sheriff. He can see you in ten minutes, but it will have to be short because of his loaded schedule.”

  Thank goodness. “I appreciate him fitting me in at all.”

  “Wait here. I’ll let you know when you can go in.”

  The more Jessica thought about what she’d discovered, the more she was convinced a crime had been committed. But against whom? Her or Trent? Or was it sheer vandalism?

  “Mrs. Fleming?” Jessica jumped. She’d been so deep in thought, she hadn’t been aware of time passing. “You can go in now. It’s the door at the end of the hall on the right around the corner.”

  “Thank you, Deputy.”

  The busy office hummed with activity. She walked down the hall and knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” sounded a deep male voice.

  When she opened the door, her gaze traveled to the brown-haired sheriff who stood up and walked around his desk to shake her hand. She felt the warmth of it permeate her insides. He was probably in his early thirties.

  Not only was he tall and well built, he was one of the most ruggedly handsome men she’d ever seen in her life. After she’d met and fallen in love with Trent, she really hadn’t noticed other men. Since his death, life had passed in a kind of dull, painful blur...until now.

  “Mrs. Fleming?”

  “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Sheriff Granger.”

  “I’m happy to do it. Please, sit down.”

  She sat on one of the chairs near his desk before he took his place behind it. Like the deputies she’d seen in the building, he wore a tan shirt and black pants, nothing exceptional. But on him, they looked good. His silvery-gray eyes had a luminous quality that rivaled the silver badge worn on his pocket.

  Though she realized he’d been the police chief at the time of Trent’s death, she’d never met him. But his name had come up in the news and during the election that had put him in as sheriff.

  “Tell me what has brought you to my office.”

  Not wanting to waste his time, she quickly related everything she’d told her mother on Thursday. By the time she’d finished, his dark brows had formed a bar above his incredible gray eyes. He sat forward in his swivel chair.

  “Was anyone else in the bay or still on the premises while you were there waiting for him?”

  “I didn’t see another soul.”

  “Okay. Where is the box of ball joints now?”

  “In my garage. I was planning to take it to the dump along with some other boxes.”

  “Tell you what. I’ve got appointments all day. Why don’t I come by your house this evening to have a look when it’s convenient for you. I believe you mentioned you have a son.”

  “Yes. Chase is five and goes to kindergarten, except that he’s out now for the summer.”

  He smiled, turning her heart over. What on earth was the matter with her? “That’s a great age. When does he go to bed?”

  “Seven thirty.”

  “Then if it’s all right with you, I’ll drop by about quarter to eight. Give me your phone number and I’ll text you when I arrive so I won’t wake him. I have a lot of questions,” he explained, “and we’ll be able to talk at length.”

  Surprised at his thoughtfulness and willingness to act so quickly, she obliged him. “You don’t know what this means to me. Thank you so much.” She got up from the chair. “Last night I c
ouldn’t sleep. If someone tampered with the car during that night and I can prove it, then I can’t help but wonder if the culprit had wanted to injure Trent...or if I was the target, assuming that person knew it was my car.”

  The sheriff got to his feet and walked her to the door. “It’s too soon to know anything yet, Mrs. Fleming, but I’ll get back to you.”

  “Thank you so much, Sheriff.”

  Chapter 2

  Holden was aware of a flowery fragrance emanating from her before he shut the door. How could he have lived in the small town of Whitebark for the last two and a half years and never have met her until now? In all honesty Holden had been totally unprepared for the sight of the beautiful blond widow with eyes the color of green diamonds.

  Almost as shocking was what she’d told him about the box she’d found Thursday in her garage and what it could mean. He’d been working in law enforcement since college and had learned never to discount a victim’s story until he’d carried out a full investigation.

  Because Holden had been the police chief at the time of her husband’s accident, Mrs. Fleming’s reason for coming to his office with such compelling, unexpected information could have knocked him over.

  He phoned Gil Manos in the back room and asked him to pull all the information on the case of Trent Fleming who’d died in an automobile accident two years ago. If there was anything in the evidence room, he wanted to see it.

  For the rest of the day he put out fires and found himself looking at his watch. At six o’clock, Gil brought a file to his desk and a shoebox. Inside was the ball joint from the car that had been totaled. Holden was surprised and pleased it had still been in the room. Every year the place was gone through and normally unnecessary evidence of this type was tossed.

  With everything he needed, he drove home in his police truck labeled Sheriff. He ate a sandwich and read through the file about the tragic accident before heading for the Fleming ranch on East Ash Road. After he pulled into her driveway, he texted Jessica that he was in front.

  She texted back that she would open the garage door so he could see the contents of the box first. In another minute the door lifted. He got out of the truck to join her, carrying the shoebox.