by Dana Mentink
“Owen?”
He realized his mother was looking at him. “Jack told me what happened. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. Hungry, is all.”
“Hint taken,” Shelby said, gathering up her granite samples. “I’ll take these back to the cabin so we can get the table set.”
His mother cocked her head, still looking at him. “How can we best help Ella?”
“I’m gonna figure that out.”
“We,” she repeated. “It’s not all on you, Owen.”
But as he caught sight of Ella holding her sister’s hand, he did not agree. She was his childhood pal and his best friend’s sister. The buck stopped with him. He would save Ella Cahill or die trying.
FIVE
Ella felt the elephant in the room in the way the Thorn family studiously avoided any mention of her current situation. Mrs. Thorn ladled out creamy bowls of corn chowder accompanied by hunks of corn bread.
Owen ate sparingly, she noticed, the lines of pain still prevalent on his forehead. Mr. Thorn chatted with his boys about the workings of their ranch and made sure to include Betsy in the conversation. Betsy beamed, nodding and even speaking a few words. Ella’s heart swelled. It was good for her sister to be around a family. The Cahills hadn’t exactly provided a ton of parental nurturing since their mother died when Ella was twelve. Their father, Shawn, was a hardworking, taciturn ex-military man who worked ridiculous hours as a long-distance trucker, relying on Ella and Ray to keep the household together and care for Betsy. The only time she’d ever seen him cry was at their mother’s funeral, a trickle of tears down his weathered face, quickly wiped away.
After Ray’s first deployment, the responsibility for Betsy’s care had landed squarely on Ella’s seventeen-year-old shoulders, and she had developed a full dose of resentment. At first she’d thought her brother would finish his service and come home to help her, but one deployment led to another, and then he’d married and started a new family. Though she’d never told him so, she’d resented him for having choices that seemed to be denied to her and Betsy.
And then when she was twenty two, Ray left for yet another overseas stint, then Owen left for his first deployment, and her father passed away. Ella had felt completely alone and mired in responsibilities that threatened to smother her. Thinking back on it, she relived the shame of how she’d acted out, gone to parties and started drinking, anything to escape what she felt was an impossible burden.
But waking up in the passenger seat of veterinarian Zeke Potter’s van, the one she now owned, had been a wake-up call. She remembered the fear. How long have I been away from Betsy? How long have I left her alone? God both convicted her in that moment and changed her life.
Zeke had taken her home from the bus stop where he’d found her passed out on his way back from tending the difficult birth of a calf.
“Ella Cahill, you’re smarter than this,” he’d said. “If you want to learn about animals, come see me.”
And she had. He introduced her to a local farrier who taught her a trade, and she started reading her Bible again, taking Betsy to church with her whenever she could. She’d become such a good farrier, in fact, that she’d been solicited to work with the team that supported the US equestrian athletes in the Olympics. Oh, how she’d desperately wanted to accept, but there was no one to take care of Betsy, so she’d declined and walked away from her one and only chance. That hurt badly for awhile, but God had changed her feelings and her heart.
Yes, she’d given up the dreams she’d had for herself, but she was doing what she was meant to and the pain of deferred dreams had subsided to a soft, nostalgic ache.
The years passed in a blur, Owen and Ray reenlisting and repeatedly redeploying. Ray coming home sporadically, and neither one ever bringing up her shameful behavior, though she was sure they both knew all about it. There were no secrets in small towns. How grateful she was that Jesus forgave, protected both her and Betsy on those wild and dangerous nights. The things that could have happened to her, to them both...
Stifling a shiver, she ate gratefully, the savory soup and bread almost warming the cold places inside her. But there was an axe hanging over her head, tethered by a very fine thread. At any moment she feared Larraby would plow through the door with some new evidence that would convict her without doubt.
Keegan, the youngest Thorn brother, sat back in his chair, wiping his mouth on the checkered napkin. “Okay, so I’m just gonna say it. I mean, I know we aren’t supposed to talk about your troubles, Ella, but I’ve seen someone out riding the trails at night on a motorcycle.”
Everyone fell silent, staring at him.
He shrugged. “I like bikes, so I pay attention to stuff like that. Jack told me he had seen the same thing when he was flying around in the Death Trap.”
“Death Trap?” Ella asked.
Owen shook his head. “His ultralight aircraft.”
“Basically a toaster with wings,” Keegan said. “Anyway, there’s a biker using the trails around here.”
Owen put down his spoon. “Who’s the rider? Same guy who tried to take us out?”
“Dunno, but I was thinking maybe we can find out. That would help, right?” He eyed his brother with a sly smile. “The front fender probably has a little dent from Owen’s knee in it.”
Owen didn’t smile back but Ella could see the amusement in his eyes. “A big dent.”
Keegan laughed. “I stand corrected. I figured Jack and I can check out the ridgeline where I saw the guy riding. Follow the trail if there is one back to finding out where he came from. How ’bout it, Jack?”
Jack nodded, pushing his plate away.
“I’ll go too,” Owen said.
“No.”
Ella had not heard Jack argue with his brother before. His quiet voice was firm. “You take Ella and Betsy home.” Ella had already made it clear they had no plans of staying on the Thorn ranch in spite of Evie Thorn’s offer.
Owen locked eyes with Jack.
“Take care of Ella. She should be your priority.” Jack’s tone was light enough, but something in the downward turn of his mouth hinted of pain. Jack was probably thinking of Shannon Livingston, Ella’s best friend and the love of his life. She’d walked out on Jack to go to medical school, taking his heart with her.
Barrett cleared his throat. “He’s right, Owen. Best to get Ella and Betsy settled in.”
Owen hesitated for another moment before he tossed his napkin on the table. “Okay. I’m gonna find that thermos tomorrow and pay Bruce Reed a visit.”
Ella gasped. “No, Owen. He’s dangerous.”
His mouth hardened into a grim line and the look in his eyes scared her. “So am I,” he said.
* * *
Owen downed a couple of aspirin when no one was looking. It dulled the throbbing, if only temporarily, before he led Ella and Betsy to the big ranch van they’d gotten when Grandad became wheelchair bound. It was roomier than his truck, for sure, with a lift to ease Betsy into position with more comfort than him moving her.
They were back at her little house by seven, as the last glimmers of sunlight faded to black. He noticed afresh how the structure was shrouded by a thick border of trees, set back from the road. Isolated.
He jerked toward a faraway buzz of engine noise as he lowered Betsy’s wheelchair from the truck. Not a motorcycle, just a horse trailer rumbling away from Candy Silverton’s ranch.
You’ll fry.
Her words rang in his memory, but even louder was the clear message written on Bruce Reed’s face, a bold statement that he was a man who would get whatever he wanted and eliminate whoever was in his way. Owen suspected what Bruce wanted was Candy’s millions. He watched Ella open the front door and usher her sister into the house.
“Ella,” he called to her. “Okay if I do a quick check of your windows and do
ors?”
“I...” She had started to protest. “I guess that’s a good idea.”
Of course it was a good idea, but it would take some getting used to. No one in the town of Gold Bar, the Thorns included, ever locked anything. They hadn’t needed to, until now.
When he’d returned to the Gold Bar after his first deployment, he’d fought the urge to secure the ranch tight. Naive boy no longer, he knew there was evil and death because he’d seen it, escaped it, mourned for those who hadn’t. But he would not allow those feelings to color his actions at home because he did not want Gold Bar, nor his perception of it, to change.
But it had anyway. He remembered the night after his second deployment when he’d grabbed a rifle and gone to check on a noise, only to scare his mother half to death as she warmed tea.
The look on her face, the mug shattering on the floor, his grip on the rifle.
“Owen,” she’d breathed. “Owen, is that...you?”
He realized later that his face, his demeanor, must have been so hardened into a mask of hatred, that he’d likely scared her half to death. He’d promptly re-upped and then he was back in Afghanistan, the only place where things made sense. He’d come a long way since then, understood his desire to be alone, and the need to share with people who could help him.
You’re better. His mind, maybe, but his body still scoffed at him, the leg twinging in mockery. He would overcome that too. He mentally chided himself for not making the next physical therapy appointment. Perhaps it was fear that kept him from going, rather than procrastination. What if his doctor said there was no chance he could resume his military career? What then?
He walked the outside perimeter of the house too, checking that the screens were in place and exterior doors were locked. Then he examined the inside, trying not to show Ella that he noticed the locks were cheap and many of them were rusted. One window would simply not lock properly for all his forcing, so he cut part of a broomstick and wedged it in the track.
Ella played the messages back on her answering machine connected to the house phone. He marveled at the old avocado green device with the curly cord. But that was Gold Bar for you—a town with a foot in the present and the other firmly planted in the past.
Though he tried not to listen, it was impossible to miss her body language. With each message, her shoulders sank lower.
“... Went with another farrier.”
“... No longer require your services.”
“... Got someone else to do the work.”
Ella’s lips trembled and she did not look at him. “They all think I’m guilty. No one wants a murderer working for them.”
He laid hands on her shoulders and massaged gently. “It’s only temporary. We’re gonna clear this all up.” Her shuddering breaths told him she was trying hard not to cry so he turned her around and held her in his arms, tucking her head under his chin.
“I’ve worked so hard,” she whispered. “Every night for months to complete farrier school. I put every penny I saved into starting my business.”
He tightened his hold. “Ella, I’m going to fix this. I promise.”
The house phone rang and after a moment of hesitation, Ella stepped out of his embrace and answered. Whatever she heard made her jerk so violently, she let go of the phone, sending it dangling toward the floor. He snatched it up and put it to his ear.
Candy Silverton’s voice was almost unrecognizable, twisted with rage. “You didn’t have to kill him. I would have loaned you money. You selfish, no good piece of trash.”
“Ella didn’t kill your nephew,” he said over her wailing. “So knock it off.”
“Oh yes she did, and I’m going to make sure she pays with her life.”
The line went dead.
He replaced the phone on the cradle. Ella folded her arms tight across her chest. “She has a lot of influence in this town. I’m sure she’s told everyone that I killed Luke.”
He answered when his phone vibrated. His brother Keegan spouted the info so quickly he could barely catch it all. When he disconnected, he lifted Ella’s chin until she looked at him.
“We just got a break. My brothers found the motorcycle hidden in a gorge and gave the license plate number to Larraby. Keegan has a girl he once dated who works for a private eye. He asked her to run the plates. Guess who it’s registered to?”
“Who?”
“Bruce Reed. Jack phoned the cops and Larraby’s away at the moment but he’ll head over to talk to Reed first thing Monday.”
A streak of hope broke across her face. “So we might be able to prove he tried to run us down, but how will that get me off the hook for murder?”
“I dunno,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “But it’s got to help us show Bruce Reed for what he really is.”
“You can’t go over there Monday, Owen, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Sure I can. It’s a free country and I’d like to hear Candy Silverton explain to Larraby that she just called and threatened your life.”
“Everyone will be angry at your intrusion,” she said. “Larraby, Candy Silverton, Bruce Reed...”
“You know,” he said, smiling at her, “I just don’t really care.”
“Don’t get in trouble for me.”
“Ella, I’ve risked my life for people I will never meet. You, I’ve known since you were in grade school.” As he looked at those lush green eyes, his heart started beating to a faster tempo, the pulse thundering loud in his ears. He cleared his throat. “You’re my best friend’s sister and my family loves you. Why wouldn’t I take a risk for you?”
“Because I don’t want you to,” she said firmly. “Because this isn’t your battle.”
“Well, I’m making it my battle.”
“Why?”
“I just told you.”
“No. You could let the police handle it. Family friendship doesn’t go this far. Ray would understand.”
“No, he wouldn’t.”
She blew out a breath that ruffled her bangs. “You’ve nearly been run down. Isn’t that enough?”
He fought to keep his tone level. “Have we cleared your name yet? Have we gotten back everything you’ve lost? Your work? Your reputation? Your freedom?”
“No,” she said, voice breaking.
“Then I guess you have your answer.”
SIX
Ella paced the small front room in the wee hours of Monday morning. She was unsettled at having missed church service the day before, but she could not bring herself to walk into the tiny church and face the curious and suspicious glances. Instead she read a Bible passage to Betsy, sang some songs and watched a television worship service on their fuzzy old TV.
It had brought no relief. Nor had the fruitless search for her thermos. She could not rid her body of the oppressive worry, no matter how much she prayed. Compounding her fears was the knowledge that Owen was likely going to go all Rambo and interfere with Larraby’s investigation. It was one thing to watch her own life implode, but she could not stand by and watch Owen do the same while he was acting like some macho cowboy marine. Cowboy pride was bad enough, but mix that with a stubborn military streak and it had disaster written all over it. She knew firsthand. Her father Shawn was as stubborn as they came, and her brother, Ray, only a hair less. She’d seen them both standing outside in the freezing rain for hours to complete a target shooting contest because neither one could admit defeat.
Before sunup, she’d decided on a plan of action. She’d swallowed her pride, phoned Shelby and begged a favor. It pained her to think that the Thorn family members were probably some of the few people in town on whom she could rely. Owen, she learned from Shelby, was out working a horse and intended to ride it to Silverton’s ranch later that morning in time for Larraby’s visit, which he had somehow discerned was at ten o’clock. Shelby agreed
to come over and stay with Betsy until she departed for the airport with Barrett to visit Shelby’s mother. Ella did not tell Shelby she was bent on intercepting Owen before he interfered. She’d have to start the walk to Silverton’s ranch soon since she had no vehicle.
By the time the doorbell rang Ella had received three additional farrier job cancellations. Her spirit nosedived with each one. Stomach in knots, she was about to open the door when she remembered the hatred in Candy’s voice. Peeking through the window, she was surprised to find the town veterinarian Zeke Potter standing on the porch.
She threw it open, breath held. Would she see suspicion in her mentor’s eyes? Fear? It would be the final knife in her heart.
Instead he held his beefy arms wide and she tumbled in.
“I didn’t do it,” she babbled. “I didn’t.”
“Awww, I know,” he said, squeezing her against his round stomach. When he let her go, she noticed his eyes were bloodshot, the scruff of beard showing on his unshaven face. “I been telling anyone who will listen that it wasn’t you.”
“Thank you,” she said with a hard swallow. “It means the world that you believe me.”
“’Course I do. And so do others, plenty of them.” He shook his head until his second chin jiggled. “Terrible thing. Luke was not much of a hard worker, but he was an okay kid. Think he got mixed up in something? Gambling, maybe? That’s a dirty business. No forgiveness there.”
Ella lowered her voice so Betsy would not hear. “I think Bruce Reed might be involved.”
Zeke’s eyes widened. “Nah, why would he do that? Kill the nephew of the gal he’s moving in on?”
“Luke suspected Reed of crimes, I don’t know what in particular.”
