The Heiress of Covington Ranch (Samantha Wolf Mysteries Book 4)

by Tara Ellis

  All three girls nod in agreement, and Lisa continues, uninterrupted.

  “My father and uncle had a huge falling out when I was a little girl, and I hardly saw my uncle while growing up. After the…umm…accident, he came around a few times, but then disappeared again shortly after they died. I assume you know about my parents?” When no one presses for more information, she understandably jumps ahead in her story.

  “My aunt took care of me, and helped me get into a good college. While there, when I was twenty-two, I met a boy. He showered me with attention and took me to a couple of fancy restaurants. On the third or fourth date, he started asking me questions about my uncle, who was in all the papers for his stock market feats. John, the man I was dating, was a business major. Or so he claimed.”

  Closing her eyes, Lisa rubs at her temples as if a headache is starting. “I was swooning over him, and would have done anything to make him happy. So when he asked me if I could arrange a dinner with my uncle, his idol, I said yes, of course. To my surprise, my uncle agreed to it, and even seemed glad to have reconnected again.

  “The first dinner at Uncle Peter’s house was magnificent. I’d never been in such a grand house, and it was easy to picture myself in a similar mansion, with John as my husband.” Snorting, she stands back from the shovel and then tosses it aside, shaking her head.

  “Uncle Peter suggested a second dinner the following weekend, and I was so happy! Everything seemed to be going well. But then…that night, as my uncle and I were speaking in his den after supper, John excused himself to use the bathroom. It was only a few minutes later that an incredibly loud alarm pierced the air. I had no idea what was happening, of course, but my uncle ran frantically from the room.

  “You see, he kept our prized family heirloom, The Eye of Orion, under a glass case in the library, at the other end of the house. While the estate itself was well protected to keep people out and away from the rare gem, he hadn’t planned adequately for an inside attack.

  “John Brown wasn’t the man’s real name. The police weren’t able to determine who he really was, as he was careful not to leave any prints. He was using me. And I allowed it. I thought my uncle was being gracious at the time, by demanding my name not be included in the official findings of the investigation. But I soon came to realize that it was more about trying to save himself from the embarrassment of having his own family involved in the heist.”

  “But you didn’t know!” Sam points out, feeling horrible for Lisa.

  “Of course not, and the police saw that right away, thankfully. But my uncle stopped talking to me again. This past week is the first I’ve heard or seen of him in nearly three years.”

  “What brings him back now?” Ally asks, caught up in the story.

  “He’s demanding to be let onto the property, to go through my father’s things. But my aunt, who owns the house, has forbidden him from stepping foot on the estate,” Lisa explains. “According to Aunt Clara, who is my mom’s sister, he behaved despicably during the week following the reading of my parents’ wills. I don’t know what happened, but my aunt has been adamant ever since that he have nothing to do with Covington Ranch. I don’t know why he’s threatening to blame the theft on me now, but he’s using it to try and circumvent my aunt’s authority and gain access to the house.”

  “What about getting a restraining order against him?” Sam suggests, even though she has no idea what that would involve.

  “Sam, while I know I didn’t have anything to do with the Eye of Orion being stolen, if my uncle went to the police suggesting that I did…something like that could ruin my career.”

  “I think,” Sam states, as she stands and walks over to Lisa, “That the best thing you could do is figure out what it is he’s looking for. And we can help you!”

  11

  COVINGTON RANCH

  Chuckling, Lisa puts a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Sam, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I don’t think there’s much of a mystery here. I’ve heard that you and Ally have a knack for figuring things out, and I can see why! I’m sorry to disappoint you, but my uncle is right. It’s just a long-seated family quarrel that’s never made sense to me.”

  Unconvinced, Sam tries again. “He sure seemed eager to get inside, though. What do you…”

  Removing her hand, Lisa puts it palm up in front of Sam’s face and effectively stops her from speaking. “It’s a power struggle between him and my aunt. That’s all. For whatever reason, my coming back here to the ranch has gotten him all worked up. If he keeps at it, I’ll talk to Aunt Clara, but I’d rather not. She gets very upset over any conversation involving him.”

  Ally casually glides up next to Sam and throws an arm around her shoulders. It’s a perfectly normal embrace they often share, but it’s also Ally’s way of heading things off. She knows Sam too well, and she subtly takes control of the conversation before Sam pushes too far.

  “Don’t worry,” Ally assures Lisa. “We would never talk about your personal family stuff with other kids. I hope he’ll leave you alone. So, what made you come back to the ranch?”

  The change in subject has the desired effect, and puts their teacher at ease. Lisa retrieves the shovel with a lighter step. “I wish it were because I was coming home to stay,” she answers, sounding nostalgic.

  Handing the shovel to Ally, she then directs Sam to get the wheelbarrow, and Cassy a rake laying nearby.

  “Unfortunately, it’s to fix the place up to sell it,” Lisa says, sighing.

  “What?” Cassy grips the rake close to her chest. “Why would you do that?”

  “It’s not because I want to,” Lisa explains. “My parents left the estate and what cash they had in savings to my aunt. There was…an issue with my inheritance, which is how my parents would have expected me to keep Covington Ranch operational. Well, that didn’t happen. Instead, I barely had enough to go to college, and still keep the house from falling apart.

  “After paying the property taxes for almost ten years, we’re simply running out of money. Even though there isn’t a mortgage, since it was owned when my aunt inherited it, there are still bills every month. Do you know how much it costs for property insurance on a place like this?”

  Of course, none of the girls have a clue how much property tax or insurance is, so they just shrug in response.

  “Well, it’s a lot,” Lisa states, waving a hand to encompass the two-story, custom-built house in front of them. In addition to the wrap-around porch, its cedar siding and dual bay windows to either side of the double door entry give it an expensive, yet cozy appearance.

  “Even living here rent-free,” Lisa continues, still staring at the house, “I can’t afford the upkeep on my teacher’s salary. So we have no other choice but to sell it.”

  “How many acres do you have?” Ally asks. “Could you sub-divide and sell some of it?”

  Lisa turns to study Ally for a moment before answering. The small, red-headed girl is smart for her age. “That’s a very intelligent suggestion, Ally,” she finally says. “Out here in the county, the zoning limits the lots to no less than twenty acres. So you are right that we could break it up into three other lots and try to sell them. However, the process involved in surveying and dividing the land would take the rest of the money, and we have no guarantee if or when the other lots might sell. I’d be left without any way to pay for the taxes or improvements that the place needs. My aunt and I decided it was too great of a risk.

  “This is the last connection I have left to my parents. I came by a few times before, when I was on break from school, but it’s always been too painful to stay for very long. But now that I’m faced with losing it forever…well, I guess I just always thought it would be here, and now I wish I had come back sooner.”

  “I know what it’s like to not have your parents,” Cassy says, her voice low.

  Cassy has said so little about how she came to live with her grandma, that Sam and Ally really don’t know anything about her past. Sam�
��s instinct is to go hug her, but she holds back, afraid that it will keep Cassy from saying what she obviously has on her mind.

  “I’d give anything to have a home that was filled with their memories,” Cassy says. “But I’ve only got a box with some news clippings and pictures.”

  Lisa is surprised by the young girl’s revelation. Although some might take her statements as looking for sympathy, it’s clear from Cassy’s expression that she’s just being honest.

  Lisa notices the new set of clothes she’s wearing, her loose hair, and day-old makeup. Cassy is one of those students that she was warned about. The kind that you know needs help, but giving it would mean getting too involved. Lisa is relieved and impressed that Sam and Ally have taken her in as a friend.

  “Cassy,” Lisa replies gently. “Your box of memories is precious, and more than some people have. I think the best we can do is to try to remember our parents, and honor them in how we live our lives.”

  Nodding silently, Cassy brushes away a tear before lowering her rake. “Where should we start?” she asks, putting a clear end to the conversation.

  “I’ve gotten a good start on pulling weeds and trimming the bushes, but I left the remnants all over the place,” Lisa explains, happy to get to work. “So how about you go around and fill the wheelbarrow with it, and then I’ll show you where I’ve been dumping everything?”

  As the four of them scatter in search of yard waste, Sam’s mind is still turning everything over. Am I wrong? Sam asks herself, picking up a branch. Is there really nothing here to solve? Straightening, she slowly looks around her at the surrounding woods, and then finally back at the house. She pictures the Eye of Orion, and the angry face of Peter Covington. Lisa can’t lose Covington Ranch! Sam decides, throwing the branch into the wheelbarrow. And I’m going to find a way to save it.

  12

  GRAMS

  Sam and Ally insist on riding home with Cassy. It’s starting to get dark by the time they finish for the day, and they don’t want her riding alone. It’s easy enough for them to go in a big loop to get back to their neighborhood as it’s not much farther. John told Cassy earlier that she could just keep the bike, which is too small for him now, anyway.

  Time passes quickly while working around the ranch. The weeds appear to be endless, and most of the grounds are overgrown. The girls promised to help every day after school, so long as they don’t have too much homework. Sam is secretly hoping it might help their workload in Miss Covington’s class, but she isn’t holding her breath.

  It takes less than twenty minutes to reach Cassy’s road, and she comes to a stop under the street sign. They’re in a rural area, so there aren’t many houses on the block.

  “I’m fine from here,” Cassy says nervously, glancing down the street.

  It’s obvious to Sam that she doesn’t want her new friends to see where she lives, and that worries her. “Can we come in for a minute with you, Cassy? I really need to use a bathroom, and I would love to meet your grandma.” She knows she’s being pushy, but something tells her that she needs to see inside the house.

  Shifting uneasily from foot to foot, straddling the high bar on the boy-style bike, Cassy appears almost frightened. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she nearly whispers. “Grams doesn’t do great with unplanned company.”

  “Cassy,” Ally says. “What is it that you don’t want us to see? We’re your friends. You can trust us.” The firmness in her voice surprises Sam

  The old Cassy, who was slowly being transformed over the past week, comes back in a rush. Shoulders hunched, looking down at her feet, she seems to shrink before Sam and Ally’s eyes.

  “Can’t we just pretend that I live in a nice house, with a nice family like you guys do?” she mutters. “I don’t want you to see who I really am.” Her last words are barely audible, and Sam has to lean in close to hear her.

  “Who you really are?” Sam repeats, her voice concerned. “I think I already know. That’s why we’re friends, Cassy. I see someone who is strong and brave. I’m proud to call you my friend. Nothing is going to change that.”

  Ally nods in agreement when Cassy looks back and forth between them. Could she trust them? Making up her mind, she puts one of her feet back on a pedal.

  “Okay, but you have to swear that you won’t tell anyone about it. Not even your parents.” She makes the demand with an air of urgency, and again looks panic-stricken.

  Sam is uncomfortable with the request. Unlike Lisa earlier, this is about more than spreading rumors at school. Cassy is asking her to keep a secret from her mom. While Sam often walks a fine line in sharing information, she never intentionally lies. Well, there was that one time that she and Hunter made a pact about the broken window on the back of the house. But they learned a painful lesson that day about things only getting worse if you fib. Plus, that was years ago. She isn’t little anymore, and this could be important.

  Cassy has started pedaling again, and she and Ally fall in behind her. Ally looks the same way that Sam is feeling. Raising her eyebrows at Sam, she shrugs before turning back to the road.

  They follow Cassy down a nearly hidden driveway. There are rows of large cedar trees on either side of it, and their swooping branches reach out to meet in the middle. In some places, they have to duck to fit under the foliage. The asphalt is buried in cedar pines and broken branches, and it’s evident that a car hasn’t driven down this road in quite some time.

  As they near the end, a small white house comes into view and Cassy turns back towards them. “Promise?” she asks again, wobbling a bit as she runs over a large branch.

  Sam is trying to think of a way to make the promise that Cassy needs, without putting herself in a bad situation. She’s saved from her dilemma by a shout from Ally.

  “Is that smoke?”

  Stopping, Sam looks to where Ally is pointing, and sure enough, there’s a thin pillar of what looks like smoke.

  “Grams!” Cassy cries, dropping the bike and sprinting towards the front door. “She must have tried to cook something!”

  All three girls crash through the open front door, and are greeted by a horrible smell. Sam is so distracted by the fire, that she nearly overlooks the piles of stuff crammed into the foyer.

  Following Cassy down the hall and into a long, narrow kitchen, the source of the smoke is clear. On the counter, flames are leaping out of a toaster, licking the underside of wooden cabinets above it.

  “Grab some baking soda!” Sam screams, getting just close enough to pull the plug out of the wall.

  Cassy throws open a couple of cupboards, and quickly locates the box of soda. She understands why Sam asked for it, and rips the top open before dumping the contents on the fire. Thankfully, the baking soda smothers it almost instantly.

  Grabbing a towel, Sam gingerly picks up the charred toaster, and Carries it out the back door, which Cassy is holding open. After setting it on the cement patio, they all gather around and stare down at what’s sticking out of it.

  “Grams must have put a cheese sandwich in it,” Cassy explains, holding the burnt remains up gingerly. “She…gets confused about things. I should have never left her alone for so long! I made her food before I left yesterday, but I guess I didn’t leave enough.”

  Dropping the ruined bread, she goes back inside, in search of her grandma. Sam and Ally follow without comment.

  Now that the danger has passed, Sam takes in her surroundings. While the kitchen is mostly free of clutter, the rest of the house is packed. So much so, that they have to follow a narrow trail across the front room, foyer, and hallway. It’s not so much garbage, but books, magazines, newspapers, loose papers, and boxes of all sorts and sizes. Mixed into it all are toys, clothes, and things that still have their price tags on them.

  Ally reaches out and takes hold of Sam’s hand. Sam looks back at her and sees that her friend is close to tears. Neither one of them can imagine what it must be like to live in a place like this. Sam has heard of h
oarders, and watched a couple of shows about it, but this is first time she’s been inside a house like this.

  “Grams!” Cassy cries with relief. They’ve reached what must be the older woman’s bedroom, and the only clean surface is a bed in the middle. Seated in the center of it is a small, graying woman in a bathrobe. She’s sitting cross-legged with a plate on her lap and a half-eaten cheese sandwich. She apparently forgot that she even put another one in the toaster. She looks up at Cassy with dull eyes, but after a moment of confusion, they clear and then shine with recognition.

  “Cassy!” she says happily. “You’re home. Did you have a nice visit with your friends? Would you like a snack? I have a pie baking in the oven and the turkey dinner should be done soon.”

  Sam is shocked. There wasn’t either a pie or a turkey cooking. The level of her grandma’s deterioration is a lot more than Cassy was letting on.

  “Thanks, Grams,” Cassy says lovingly, patting her on the arm. “That sounds really good.” Turning, she pulls a small cart closer to the bed. On it sits a compact television with a built-in CD player. Cassy pushes buttons and adjusts the volume until she is sure her grandma is happy, and then directs the girls out of the room. She doesn’t even try to introduce them.

  Crossing the hall, they go into the only other bedroom. It’s like stepping into another house. Cassy’s room is pristine. There is a small bed against the far wall, under a single window. An equally small dresser is to their left, and a desk to the right. Other than a few items on the desk, and her backpack on the bed, the room is bare.

  “I like to keep it clean in here,” she explains, closing the door behind them.