by Lynne Hinton
Evangeline slowed the truck a bit as she pondered that idea. Is he trying to push me out? she wondered. Is that what this is about? Pushing her buttons certainly distracted her from asking anything more about his emotional and mental states. And making her mad was absolutely causing her to consider ending the leave of absence before the two months were up. Maybe that’s all this was. Maybe he didn’t really know more about her than she knew about herself. Maybe this didn’t have anything at all to do with her need for serious soul-searching. Maybe he was just trying to get her out of his hair.
“Well, your methods are sure working!” she said as she snaked along the old mining road. As she slowly made a curve, the truck rattling as it moved across another cattle guard, she noticed the cabin situated on the far north side of the mesa. She drove beyond the gate she had already passed a number of times in the last few days and then stopped. She put the truck in reverse, swerved a bit to get off the road, and positioned the vehicle just below the entrance to Mr. Ross Biltmore’s property. She yanked the truck into park and sat there for a few minutes before deciding that she would just take a brief look around. She turned off the engine, stuck the keys in her pocket, jumped out of the vehicle, glanced left and right, and headed to the gate.
It was exactly the way she had described it to the Captain, unlatched but chained. She looked around again and listened. She could hear nothing but a few trucks rolling down the highway that was more than five miles from where she stood. No one should be coming out here today, she thought, and she grabbed hold of the gate and climbed over it.
It was a longer walk to the cabin than she had expected. She wished she had worn her boots. Instead, since she’d thought she was only going over to visit with Madeline, she was wearing a pair of blue clogs she’d found in the back of her closet earlier that morning. She had figured they were Dorisanne’s since she never remembered buying anything so fashionable, and even though they were comfortable when she put them on, trying to navigate a long walk was a bit more difficult than she had bargained for.
She noticed a path heading west from the driveway she was walking on and figured it was another old path that led either to the silver mine at Cedar Hill to the north or to some barn or storage facility on the property. She decided not to find out but rather to stick to the driveway that she was pretty sure led to the house on top of the mesa.
Soon she was standing next to the cabin, facing a long porch that extended along the east and south sides. She walked up, made note of what was there: rocking chairs; two fairly new, store-bought ones; an old bench; another old rocking chair beside it; and a stack of firewood in the corner. A red blanket was caught on a piece of the wood, and Evangeline guessed that it had been blown there by a recent spring wind. She figured it had flown off one of the rocking chairs or from the back of the bench. She glanced around once more and walked over and peeked in one of the windows.
The cabin had a large front room, a combination of a den and dining area. Thick, dark vigas lined the ceiling. There was a sofa, a couple of chairs, a leather recliner, all turned to face a kiva, an adobe-style fireplace, which appeared to have a new, smooth white finish. She could make out a small but ample kitchen, stainless-steel appliances, a long counter, and a hallway that she figured must lead to the back rooms, which probably included a sleeping area, a bathroom, maybe an office.
As she stepped away from the window and looked around the outside of the cabin, she suddenly remembered having been there before. It was very different than she recalled, had most certainly been remodeled: The interior added onto and opened up and a long, winding porch built around the exterior, but she was sure she had been on this property, in this cabin. And suddenly the memories all came back.
She had visited a boy who lived there with his family for the summer. She’d been only ten or eleven years old, and he had invited both Dorisanne and her to come over and go riding. His father was a rodeo cowboy and had a stable full of horses. There was also an outdoor riding arena, and this had been the place where Eve first heard about barrel racing. The boy’s mother, also a rodeo regular, had shown Eve a few of the basics in how to ride for the event. Dorisanne had run off with the boy, Eve recalled, leaving her alone to receive an introduction to the sport she soon came to love. The family had not stayed in Madrid long, she thought. They had moved to Texas or Oklahoma, somewhere east; but that one visit had ignited a great passion. She started competing in barrel racing the following spring. The memories flooded her mind, and Eve couldn’t help but smile thinking of how much she had loved the sport.
She walked around the cabin and looked through the window on the opposite side. From that point of view she could see a desk against the wall, with a typewriter and a stack of papers on top. And even though she doubted she would have the audacity to actually go into the house, she went ahead and gave the back door a try. She turned the knob. It was locked. She returned to the front, and as she headed around the corner, she noticed a sheet of paper lodged in the stack of wood, sticking out from beneath the red blanket. She pulled it out.
It was a page from a manuscript of some kind. It was typed, had a number centered at the bottom along with a title, The Way of Broken Trails. It was smudged and dirty and even ripped on one side. She figured it must have been there for some time, maybe as long as the owner of the house had been gone. She moved around to the north side of the house and leaned against the wall to read.
The page made little sense to Evangeline. It was part of a dialogue, what appeared to be a conversation between two men, one of them a law enforcement officer of some kind, the other a character in a jail or prison. It was simple, a bit of an argument or test of wills between the two. Trey and Hondo were the men’s names; she could make that out from this one piece of the story, along with the title of the book, and that it was page 123. It also seemed as if they were discussing some past event, a former battle between the two over a girl. She couldn’t get more than those few details.
She was starting to read it over again when she heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. She couldn’t tell if it was a car or a truck, and she had no idea who was driving; she only knew that she was not supposed to be there. She slid down against the wall, clutching the piece of paper in her hands, hoping she would not be discovered.
FORTY
Eve stayed crouched against the wall, her heart racing. Her throat was dry, and she could feel beads of sweat forming along her top lip. She was not prepared to answer for her trespassing, and she didn’t know how she could get away unnoticed. She closed her eyes and prayed. “Dear Lord,” she whispered, “just get me out of here, and I won’t do this again.”
She heard a vehicle door open, and another, and then two male voices. She held her breath. How will I explain what I’m doing here? she wondered. And then she remembered the piece of paper in her hands. Would they think she was not only trespassing but also stealing? She quickly folded it up and stuck it in the back pocket of her pants. She waited, trying to hear who had driven up, hoping they might just knock on the front door and leave without discovering her.
Eve thought she heard them moving away and she rose up, considering the possibility that she could peek around the corner to see their whereabouts, maybe even make a run for it. Although with her sister’s clogs and nothing to hide behind, she figured that might not be the best idea. She waited, but after hearing nothing and becoming much too curious, she remained in her crouched position and eased along the wall, inching over bit by bit. She had made it to the corner and was just about to slide around to look when she was face-to-face with a long, yellow snout and big, wet tongue.
“Trooper,” she called out softly. “Go!” She tried to push the dog away. “Go on now,” she commanded in a hushed whisper, to no avail.
The dog’s tail was wagging so hard it beat loudly against the side of the house. Evangeline tried to move her aside and stop the noise, but it was too late. A set of mismatched legs stood right in front of her.
&nb
sp; “Evangeline Louise Divine, what in the Sam Hill are you doing out here?”
She cleared her throat and stood up. “Hello, Captain,” she said, forcing a fake smile.
“Jackson,” a male voice was calling. “You all right? Is there somebody there?”
And before Eve could make a move or come up with an explanation for her hiding behind the house of a complete stranger, the Captain’s former partner had joined him.
“Hello, Daniel,” she said as a greeting. “It’s nice today, don’t you think?” She took in a big breath and dusted off the back of her pants. She felt the page sticking out and tried stuffing it in.
“Eve, what are you doing here?” her father repeated.
She still had the same big grin on her face. She cleared her throat, stalling. “Well, I was remembering that I came out here when I was a little girl, had my first barrel-racing lesson.” She was thinking on her feet. “I rode below the house.” She pointed behind them. “There used to be a full riding arena.”
“You never came here,” the Captain objected.
“I did once,” she shot back. “I was ten or eleven. Mama brought me and Dorisanne to play with the little boy who lived here.”
“Joseph Martinez never had any children,” he responded, naming the man who had built the cabin and lived there for over forty years. “His wife died when she was young and he never remarried.”
“Well, there was a summer when a family lived here, and the couple were rodeo riders, and they had a little boy with them,” she explained, sounding like a child herself, a child who had just been caught breaking the rules by her father.
“The nephew,” Jackson remembered. “Joseph had a nephew from Tennessee or Texas, and he and his wife lived here for about a year with the old man. It was right before he died.”
“Exactly!”
“Rodeo riders,” he added.
“Yes!” She sounded far too excited.
There was a pause.
“That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here today,” the Captain noted.
Eve scratched her head and looked around, trying to come up with a plausible explanation.
Trooper, not happy with being neglected, began dancing around her feet. She reached down and gave the dog a rub. “You have such a good nose!” she said. “Too good,” she mumbled.
“Evangeline,” Jackson called out. “Answer my question: What are you doing here?”
“Well, that’s a good question,” she finally stated. She brushed her hands on her pants, trying to shake the dog hair from them. “And what about you?” she asked, turning the question back on the two men.
“We got permission from Mr. Biltmore to see if there’s anything out of place here,” Daniel answered.
The Captain kept his eyes on Eve. “There’ve been reports of trespassing,” he noted.
She raised her eyebrows. “My goodness …” was all she could think of to say. “In Madrid?” she asked innocently.
“Did you jump the gate?” he asked.
“I did,” she replied. “Didn’t know I still had it in me,” she added. “It’s a bit higher than I expected. And you?” she asked calmly.
“We cut the lock,” he answered. “But like I said, we have permission from the property owner.”
“You were able to reach Mr. Biltmore?” she asked. “In India?”
“We got a number for his hotel. Nice guy. He thought it was a good idea for us to come over and check things out,” Daniel explained.
Evangeline grinned, shoving her hands into her pockets. She nodded. “Well, he’ll be glad to know that it looks okay out here,” she commented, as if she had been asked for a surveillance report. “I didn’t see any evidence of a breakin or illegal passage.”
“Except of course your own,” the Captain said.
“Well, yes,” she agreed. “Except my own.”
Daniel watched the pair for a few seconds. “I’m going to take a look around out back,” he advised. “You two going to be okay?”
“We’re just fine,” the Captain replied. “But maybe Eve can show us the property since she’s so familiar with the place.”
She shook her head. “Actually, I don’t recall too much about the lay of the land,” she answered, looking around.
“No?” the Captain asked. There was a note of sarcasm in his voice.
She shook her head. “The cabin is completely different from when I was here last. Did you notice the kitchen? And this great front porch? This was definitely not here when I visited.” She motioned to the area around them. She felt like a real-estate agent trying to make a sale.
“Uh-huh,” the Captain responded, unimpressed. He turned and followed Daniel as he headed around the house. “Why don’t you just wait here until we get back.” It was spoken as an instruction and not a question.
Eve closed her eyes, shook her head, and breathed a great sigh of relief.
FORTY-ONE
Jackson and Trooper rode back home with Evangeline, since she was parked outside the gate and Daniel needed to get to Santa Fe and file a report. It was well after the lunch hour, and Eve could feel her stomach rumbling. She remembered the earlier conversation in which she had told the Captain that she would be at home preparing the meal and that she would return to the office to pick him up. In all the talk they’d engaged in at the Biltmore property, they had not spoken of the noon meal or their most recent argument.
She turned on the vent. It was only early spring and not a record-temperature day, but since she had left the truck in the hot sun with the windows raised, the interior was quite warm when they got in. She switched the fan on high.
“You going to tell me what was going on back there?” The Captain opened his window and leaned his elbow on the frame. His other hand rested on the dog’s back. Trooper sat between the two.
Eve kept her eyes on the road. “I had stopped by to see Madeline, and when I drove past the property, I just thought I’d look around.” She shrugged. “Same as you, I guess.”
“I’m investigating a murder,” he said. “I had permission—”
She interrupted him. “From Mr. Biltmore, I know, you already told me. What connection did he have with Cheston anyway? Did you find that out?” She decided she wasn’t going to try to explain her trespassing to him again.
She could feel him watching her. She turned and faced him.
“They were college roommates,” he answered.
She nodded. “I’m guessing that was a long time ago.”
“Thirty years,” he noted. “Did you discover anything interesting before we arrived?” It appeared as if he was going to let her have her way. No more questions about why she had parked outside somebody’s locked gate, jumped it, and hid behind the house.
She reached into her back pocket and pulled out the page she had found. She handed it to him.
The Captain unfolded the paper. He studied his daughter. “Where did you get this?”
“On the stack of wood on the front porch.” She waited. “In the corner. It had gotten caught there. Must have been lost or misplaced or thrown out. I don’t know.”
He glanced down at the paper. “What is it?”
“A page from a manuscript or screenplay, I’d say. Looks like the title is The Way of Broken Trails.”
He appeared to be reading.
“Mr. Biltmore is a writer, right?” she asked.
“That’s what Daniel said,” the Captain answered.
“Then I guess this is his.”
“I guess,” he responded.
“We can google the title and see if it’s a published book or screenplay that’s been sold. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.” She paused. “You?”
He shook his head. “But then I don’t get out much to bookstores or the movies.” He folded the page back up and stuck it in his front shirt pocket. “I feel like I may have mishandled things earlier.”
She turned to look at him. “What?”
“At the off
ice,” he explained. And he cleared his throat.
She didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t sure what he was saying. Was this an apology?
“It’s none of my business why you left the convent. You’re a grown woman, and you can make your own decisions. The fact that you’ve been here with me has been very helpful, and I was wrong to question your motives. You are welcome to stay as long as you like.”
She stared at the road in front of them. She couldn’t even think of a response. He must have explained what happened to Daniel, she thought. He wouldn’t have thought to say this without some advice, and this sounded exactly like something his friend would have told him to say.
“But you can’t go trespassing on other people’s property anymore,” he instructed. “It’s bad for business. And you need to slow down.”
“Got it,” she replied, letting off the gas, still stunned by his comments.
The two rode in silence as the dirt road ended at the highway. Eve signaled to turn toward home. Before she pulled out, she glanced ahead of her and noticed the house situated a few hundred yards off the road. “Does Miss Buttercup still live over there?” She pointed in the direction of the property in front of them.
“Who?” He didn’t recognize the name.
“Miss Buttercup,” she repeated herself. “That’s what we called her because she always wore a yellow bonnet. Dorisanne said she looked like a flower. We called her Miss Buttercup.”
“The librarian?”
“That’s her,” she replied.
“Her name is LuEllen Blanchard.” He looked at Eve. “How come I never knew you called her that?”
“There are a whole lot of names Dorisanne and I gave people in Madrid that you don’t know about.” She still hadn’t pulled out from the intersection.
“The Captain, I know about that one.”
