by J. D. Faver
“He is a truly nice boy,” Cora Lee agreed. “His ranch adjoins Silky’s property. He took over when his father became too ill to manage it all.”
The ladies chatter blended together in a cacophony of voices, reverberating off the high ceiling and echoing back down on Cami; drowning her with babble.
Delta Ruth set her glass on the table with a clink. “Breck’s father was afraid he might have big ideas when he graduated from law school but, sure enough, he came right back here and set up his little office in town. Mostly, he just takes care of his ranch and everyone’s legal needs here in Langston.”
“Nice boy,” Alma Jo echoed. “And single,” she added brightly. “He’s never been married. You’re single, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” She felt momentarily confused. “Why do you ask?”
“Because, my dear. You’re not getting any younger and you don’t want to wait while all the good ones get snapped up. Not like Silky.” Cora Lee raised her eyebrows and made clucking noises with her tongue.
“By the way,” Delta Ruth asked, “How old are you?”
“I’ll be twenty-eight in April.” Cami rose from the hard chair. “Is my age a factor?”
“Well, dear,” Delta Ruth said. “I do believe Breck is in his early thirties. You know, you could do worse. He’s very handsome and well-to-do.”
“And such a nice boy,” Cora Lee said again.
CHAPTER TWO
By the time the three ladies departed, they were a little tipsy. Over Cami’s protests, Cora Lee insisted that she was perfectly capable of driving them the few miles back to town.
A few minutes later, the doorbell rang to signal the next visitor. Before the afternoon was over, the dining room table was laden with gifts of food and the polished oak floor in the entryway was tracked with mud and slush.
Cami mopped the entrance with a damp mop and dried it with an old towel from Aunt Silky’s rag bag. She felt detached, as though in a dream state. Doing normal tasks helped her to reconnect when her emotions were on overload. The disconnect feature was her protection when things got too hectic in the emergency room, or when she lost a patient. Some sort of auto-pilot took over and walked her through the tough spots.
She poured the dregs from the coffee pot down the drain, reflecting on the strange conversation with Delta Ruth, Alma Jo and Cora Lee earlier. She was curious about the Kincaid operation and Silky’s aversion to it.
“Three weird sisters,” she said, recalling the three witches from Shakespeare’s Macbeth.
Shadow perked up his ears, cocking his head to one side.
“What’s the drill around here, boy? Did Aunt Silky take you for a walk or just let you out?” As if in response to her question, he walked to the back door and whined softly. “Okay, but please come back. My clothes aren’t warm enough for me to go out looking for you.” She opened the door a crack, shivering as the icy wind swirled around the kitchen. The silky black muzzle poked into the opening and pushed it wide enough for a swift exit.
Cami helped herself to a portion of the chicken casserole and a slice of homemade bread. She ate standing at the counter because she couldn’t bear to sit at Aunt Silky’s polished cherry dining room table all by herself. The food was tasty in spite of her melancholy. She took a few bites of the cobbler with a tablespoon, then covered the food and placed it in the refrigerator. She surveyed the banquet laden table and did her best to store the food appropriately.
In a few minutes she heard a soft whine and opened the door for the damp dog. He trotted to a closet and looked back at her expectantly.
“What do you want, Shadow? What’s in there?” She opened the door and he pulled a stained towel out from under the shelves, laying it by her feet.
“Okay, I get the hint.” Dropping to her knees she dried the dog with the towel. “Aunt Silky sure did spoil you and that hairball, didn’t she?” Giving the dog’s neck a final scratch, she tossed the towel back into the closet and washed her hands, reflecting that these pets had been Silky’s family. The view out the window had changed from a few fluttering flakes to gray blowing sleet.
“Hey, Aunt Silky. Is this what you always called ‘God’s Country’?”
She smiled recalling Silky’s devotion to this rough terrain. When she was a child, Silky had ridden with her to watch a summer sunset from a hilltop. Enjoying the colorful horizon from horseback, Silky had said that it looked like an artist’s oil palette smeared across the sky.
Her smile froze as she heard her own young voice saying, “Aunt Silky, this is the most beautiful place in the world. I could stay here forever.” A clutch of pain clawed at her throat. Had she led Aunt Silky to believe that she wanted to live on this ranch? She swallowed hard.
Oh, that’s silly. She and Silky had many long talks about Cami’s lifelong goal of becoming a doctor. She reached out a finger and traced a squiggly line on the frosted window pane. But, had they ever discussed where she would set up practice? She shook her head, unconsciously issuing a wordless denial.
Cami lit a fire in the fireplace and stretched herself onto a long sofa. Flipping a crocheted afghan over her legs, she stared at the flickering tongues of flame licking at the kindling. The cat leapt softly onto the couch, treating her to a thorough kneading before settling into a purring bundle at the curve of her body. Shadow curled up in front of the sofa. Soon they were bathed in warmth from the fireplace.
She imagined Aunt Silky in this very scene, her pets gathered around to offer comfort. She wondered if her aunt was ever lonely, ever regretted her choice of remaining single and childless.
She visualized Silky riding around her property, astride a strong horse. Frowning, she sucked in a deep breath. She found it hard to believe that Silky had been thrown from her beloved paint stallion, Red. In their many conversations, Silky had never said Red was hard to handle.
“He’s a great big pussy-cat,” Silky claimed. “He treats me like I’m made of glass.” She was a petite but excellent horsewoman, bragging that she could ride better than any of her hands. Cami had no reason to doubt her.
Closing her eyes, she thought of Clay, her long-time boyfriend who had recently asked her to become his bride.
Marrying him was the sensible thing to do. He was a fledgling stock broker, having earned his MBA in Financial Management. He had a knack for the market and assured her they had a great future together. She knew this was true. Clay was sweet and steady. He made her feel secure.
She hadn’t even had a chance to tell Aunt Silky before her accident.
As she drifted off to sleep, she wondered what had happened the day Silky had been thrown to her death. Maybe she’d had a dizzy spell. Silky never had any complaints of this sort. Perhaps the local doctor had examined her. She could check with him before she left for the airport.
#
Early the next morning, Cami was awakened by the insistent ringing of the telephone. Fighting off confusion, she struggled to disentangle herself from the afghan and cat, who gave her an indignant look before jumping to the floor.
“Hello,” she gasped into the receiver.
“Hello, Miss… I mean Dr. Carmichael.” The smile in Breck’s voice made a shiver run down her spine. “I thought I might take you to breakfast before we head to my office.”
“Sure.” She stifled a yawn. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed.”
“I’ll pick you up in half an hour,” he said.
She showered and dressed in her warmest clothing. When she heard Breck pull up in front, she slipped on her coat and wrapped one of Silky’s scarves around her neck. Stepping outside, she wished she had brought gloves. Breck held the door open for her and handed her up into his truck. She tried to recall if Clay had ever performed this simple deed. She shrugged it off, thinking it was just a country sort of thing. One couldn’t expect a city boy to go through the whole courtly gentleman act.
They indulged in superficial chat. As they drove along, Breck pointed out landmarks, showing her where
his ranch started and Silky’s ended.
He smelled great, something woodsy and spicy at the same time. It might have been cologne or aftershave or just soap, but it was having a disturbing effect. Cami reminded herself she was a newly-engaged woman and redirected her thoughts to the local sights.
The town looked as though the last new construction had taken place in the early 1950’s. A double feature was listed on the movie theater marquee. Some of the letters were missing but it wasn’t hard to figure out that both features had come out on DVD recently.
Breck parked in front of Tiny’s Diner. She kept her seat, allowing him to open her door and offer her a hand.
Cami smiled to herself, thinking that some of her contemporaries would be insulted to be considered so helpless. Different strokes.
Inside, they found a booth along the side. She was aware of the gamut of stares she was afforded. The faint odor of cigarettes hung in the air. Apparently the diners hadn’t heard that cigarette smoking might be harmful to your health.
“Good morning, Crystal,” Breck greeted their waitress.
“Hi, Breckenridge,” she crooned. Crystal was a size sixteen stuffed into a size ten uniform. The starched turquoise cotton stretched over every part and gaped all the way down the front, displaying her white slip between the straining buttons. She leaned over Breck’s cup to fill it with coffee, allowing him a generous view of her ample cleavage. “The usual?”
“And a menu for Dr. Carmichael, please.” Breck said.
Cami selected a larger than usual breakfast. She was famished. This surprised her because she hadn’t been able to eat much since she had first been informed of Silky’s death.
“Tell me, Breck,” she said. “Did Aunt Silky still ride every day?”
Breck’s face was suddenly somber. “To my knowledge, she did.”
“My aunt was an exceptional horsewoman. Did she experience some sort of decline recently?”
“Absolutely not. She rode with me several times a week and regularly beat the pants off me. She loved to ride and she loved to race me. Why do you ask?” He sent her a penetrating gaze.
Cami experienced a tightening in her chest under his scrutiny. She cleared her throat. “Frankly, I just can’t imagine her being thrown by any horse, especially Red. She talked about him all the time.”
“My thoughts exactly. Here’s the man to ask.” Breck raised his hand in greeting to a much older man. “Doc, come on over here.”
The tall, elderly man squinted through his glasses before crossing the diner to stand beside their booth. His bushy brows knit into a frown as he stared at her. “You’re Silky’s niece,” he said. “I saw you at the funeral. Damned shame.” He pulled up a chair and seated himself at the end of the table.
“Doc Parker and Silky were old friends,” Breck said.
“I’m Camryn, Doctor.” She extended her hand. “Was there an autopsy?”
His expression changed from melancholy to surprise to anger.
She shrank from his stern glare. “I…I was wondering if there had been an autopsy. I can’t imagine Aunt Silky being thrown by a horse. I guess I was wondering if she suffered a heart attack or stroke before she fell.”
“Cami is a doctor, Doc,” Breck said.
“I know what you meant.” The old man shook his head. “Most people around these parts fight tooth and nail to avoid an autopsy, even in the case of foul play. They object on religious grounds. They object on any grounds they can.”
The weight of disappointment settled on her shoulders. “So, there wasn’t an autopsy?”
“Didn’t say that. As a matter of fact there was a post mortem examination.”
“Did you…?” she began.
“Hell, no!” the doctor spat out. “Silky was…She was special to me. I couldn’t…“
“I understand,” she said, though she didn’t.
“The procedure was performed by the Medical Examiner over at the county seat. I haven’t heard the results, but I’ll check with him.” He scraped his chair back and went to sit at the counter turning his back on them without a word of farewell.
“I didn’t know you were interested in the autopsy,” Breck said. “I’d have warned you about Doc. He and Silky were sweethearts for decades. He’s taken her death pretty hard.”
“That’s apparent.” She took a deep breath, giving Breck a sharp glance across the table. “You’re telling me that my Aunt Silky had a boyfriend for longer than I’ve been alive and I didn’t know anything about it?”
He gave her a one-sided grin in response.
Crystal brought their steaming plates at that moment, and set a basket of fluffy fat biscuits between them.
Cami seized on a hot biscuit and buttered it. She bit into the flaky layers, inhaling the fragrance as she closed her eyes.
“Good biscuit?” he asked.
She opened her eyes, realizing that he was laughing at her. She colored slightly, but took another bite accompanied by a piece of sausage. “Yes,” she agreed, without pause. “Med school doesn’t allow one to eat regular meals.”
“It doesn’t seem to have done you any harm.” Once again he seemed to be appraising her. “You do favor Silky in her younger days."
She narrowed her gaze. “You’re not much older than I. How do you know how she looked in her younger days?”
“Pictures. She’s part of the local history. There are a great many photos of her around here. In fact,” he smiled conspiratorially, “Doc has quite a collection.”
Cami swallowed, giving herself a chance to consider her great aunt in another light, a woman with a long-time sweetheart. She had to smile when she realized the man sitting across from her had used such an old-fashioned term, not boyfriend, not lover, but sweetheart. Perhaps he wasn’t as cold as she’d first thought.
When they had finished eating, Breck drove her to his place of business in the next block. The store front office was in a one-story building with a plate glass window. The words, Breckenridge T. Ryan, Attorney at Law, were lettered in ornate gold script. A young woman, barely past her teens, sat at an old oak desk that had darkened with age. Her shiny auburn hair had been pulled into a high ponytail. Smiling widely, she bounced to her feet.
“Oh, good morning Mr. Ryan,” she said breathlessly. “Mr. Kent called and wants you to call him. I opened your mail and put it on your desk.”
“That’s fine. I’ll be meeting with Dr. Carmichael so hold my calls.” He escorted Cami into his private office. A gleaming square mahogany desk dominated the room. His computer was ensconced in an ancient roll-top desk against the wall. A leather chair was turned to the side between the two desks as though unable to decide which matters were most urgent.
He waved her to one of a pair of leather wing chairs and took his place behind the desk. Making a show of opening the folder containing Aunt Silky’s will, he read it, explaining to Cami that she was the main beneficiary of her aunt’s estate. There were minor bequests to T-Bone and to Frank, and a lump sum to the local church for the building fund. She gave a piece of her jewelry to each of her three lady friends. Cami also inherited the registered German Shepherd, “Silky’s Shadow” and “Silky’s Silver Moon,” the beautiful Persian.
“Moon! That’s what Aunt Silky called her.”
He nodded solemnly.
Cami shivered when he read that she also inherited Silky’s livestock including her beloved paint stallion, “Silky’s Paint the Town Red”. She quickly brushed away the tears spilling down her cheeks, refusing to allow Breck access to her feelings about the horse that killed her aunt.
“Now comes the difficult part,” he said, shuffling the papers.
“Difficult?” She stared into eyes so dark she couldn’t see the pupils.
“It seems that Silky was determined that her only living relative should reside on the ranch. Of course, she counted on living to the ripe old age of one hundred and dying in her bed.”
Cami sniffled. “That’s what I always thought w
ould happen.”
“Unfortunately, her accidental departure may make it difficult for you.” He set the papers aside and gazed at her, sitting on the edge of the large chair. “It seems there’s a stipulation that you live at the ranch for one year to be able to inherit. If, after that time, you wish to dispose of the property, you are free to do so and may use the proceeds in any way you see fit.”
The weight of his words settled heavily upon her. “That’s impossible. I’m beginning a fellowship in immunology in two weeks.”
“It’s not impossible. You may have to put that off for a while or you inherit nothing.”
“But, Aunt Silky helped with my expenses while I finished school.” She rubbed her fingers over the brass nail heads around the leather armrests.
“I was under the impression that you’d finished with med-school,” he said.
“I was…I am a licensed physician…Internal Medicine,” she said. “But I want to specialize in the field of immunology. I want to do research.”
She blinked away the tears stinging her eyes.
“I see.” He spread his hands in a dismissive gesture. “Well, you’ll have to delay that—-if you expect to inherit Silky’s property.”
Cami felt as though the breath had been knocked out of her. “What happens if I just go back to Houston?”
He expelled a long breath as though he had been holding it. “You can, of course, walk away from everything but you would give up all claims to her property. Silky was adamant. She wanted you to live on the ranch.
“But…but, why?” she wailed.
“She loved you and she loved Moonshadows. She wanted you to love her ranch and live on it.”
Her airway seemed to close up. She gasped for air, refusing to give way to tears. “What happens if I don’t stay? Who gets the ranch?”
“I do.”
“What?” Cami rose to her feet, her purse sliding to the floor. “Why that’s, that’s---“
