Lay It Down

by Cara McKenna

  The ride took maybe twenty minutes. Five to get out of the town proper and longer as they tore down increasingly lonely, barren routes to the east. Fences appeared, and cattle, workers on horseback, and finally a tall timber gate welcoming them to the Three C Ranch, the name done in cursive ironwork. Miah’s family’s business. It seemed like a big deal around here, like a manufacturing plant to a town in the Midwest.

  Vince drew them up along a wooden fence in the far corner of the big front lot and knocked the kickstand down. There was another bike parked there, a hard-driven, working bike like Vince’s, she thought, with a Triumph emblem peering through the dust against a field of dark green.

  Vince headed toward a man talking with the driver of a white van. Kim followed, and they waited at a polite distance until the men shook through the open window and the van drove away. This had to be Miah’s dad. The resemblance was striking.

  He let out an aggravated sigh and lifted his hat, smoothed his hair. His annoyance seemed good-natured as he turned to Vince and Kim. “You’re early,” he said with a tired smile. “Vince, how’s your mama?”

  “She’s hangin’ in there. Guess you heard you got dinner guests.” Vince exchanged a combo handshake-hug with him, then urged Kim forward. “This is Kim, your new lodger. Kim, this is Don Church, Miah’s old man.”

  She shook his dry, tough hand. “Thanks for having me.”

  “Pleasure. How long you with us for?”

  “Good question.” She certainly wanted to stay tonight, for safety. Before this afternoon’s scare, she’d resolved to stay to see how the prediction unfurled, to discover if she really was destined to play an important role in all of this. But if she’d heard something she shouldn’t have, sticking around Fortuity now seemed more than reckless—it seemed dangerous. But if I can help Vince bring his friend’s murderer to justice, identify the men I overheard, even help others, if his mom’s prediction was true . . . Christ, too stressful to contemplate. “I’m not sure. But maybe for a night or two.”

  “Personal favor to me, you taking her in,” Vince said to Don. “Locals haven’t been too friendly, what with her being in town on Sunnyside business,” he fibbed. Ironically, of everyone she’d met so far, Vince had been the most skeptical of her. Though he’d thawed pretty damn quick, after the initial grilling.

  “I’d feel better if I knew she was among friends, for as long as she’s here,” he added.

  Kim nodded. “I really appreciate it.”

  “No trouble for us,” Don said. “Normally I’d have to stick you in the female hands’ bunk, but you’re in luck. We’ve got a private room in the main house just cleaned out and decorated. You’re welcome to that until my wife’s sister comes to stay in a couple weeks.”

  “Wow, thanks.”

  “If you stick around more than a few days, my wife’ll probably put you to work.”

  “Fine by me.”

  Vince cut in. “It’d be best if we kept this kinda quiet, her being here. I know that’s not really possible, what with how many hands are around, but let’s maybe not go shouting about it in town, if that’s all right.”

  Don’s expression grew concerned, blue eyes regarding her. “Not in any kind of trouble, I hope.”

  Vince answered for her. “Not really, no. But you know how some of us lifers can be about outsiders. She’s been feeling a little . . . harassed, let’s say.”

  Don put his fists to his hips and cocked his head, looking as if he might spit. “Now that is just a shame. A real shame. I’m not happy about the casino, that’s for goddamn sure, but to hassle an innocent woman about it? Don’t know what’s becoming of this place some days, I really don’t.”

  “Is Miah around?” Vince asked.

  “He’s way out toward Bronson Rock, rotating the stock. He’ll be in for dinner, though.”

  Vince squinted thoughtfully. “You mind if we went out there? Got an urgent question.”

  “If you can find him. You have health insurance, young lady?” Don asked Kim, and she nodded dumbly. “Some of the hands’ll be turning in for the day—grab a couple beasts off them and you won’t have to tack up.”

  Beasts? Like, horses?

  Before Kim could ask, Vince had said thanks and was striding toward the buildings past the farmhouse. She jogged to catch up, camera bag thumping the small of her back.

  “I’ve never ridden a horse.”

  “Can you sit up straight and not do anything?” he asked.

  “I—”

  “Perfect.”

  “Why do I need health insurance?”

  “Because Don’s got no patience for waivers. Figures that’s enough to keep you from suing him, case you fall off.”

  She eyed one of the animals tethered in front of a long set of stables. Jesus, they were huge. Way bigger than a motorcycle. A long way to fall. “Maybe you could talk to Miah by yourself.”

  “Got you on a bike,” Vince said dismissively. “Get you on a horse and you’ve basically earned your Fortuity green card. Hey! Chris!” He caught the eye of one of a couple of young ranch hands walking their horses toward the stalls.

  “Hey, Vince.”

  “Can I steal those off you? I’ll get ’em all tucked in when we’re done.”

  The hands looked like their afternoon had been made, happily turning over the reins.

  “Got a virgin, here.” Vince slapped Kim’s back, making her sway. “Either of these two spook-proof?”

  Chris proudly patted the brown one he’d been riding. “Nerves of steel.”

  “Perfect.” To Kim he said, “All you’re gonna do is sit, okay? I’ll lead you.”

  Momentum was the only thing that got her on the horse—no time to hesitate, as suddenly she’d gotten her foot in a stirrup. Then she was up, half of her own volition and half from Vince pushing her over. And there she was, sitting on a horse. The animal gave a snort but seemed otherwise unperturbed.

  She didn’t dare touch the reins, worried she’d signal the horse to tear off across the scrubby prairie at full tilt. “So I just . . . sit?”

  “Just sit,” Vince agreed. “Saddle’s too big, but try to think of it as a pony ride.” He fussed with the animals’ straps and ropes and things—things Kim didn’t know the names of—then swung himself onto his own horse, as easily as he might mount his bike. He gathered the reins and came around to catch the lead snapped to Kim’s horse’s headgear. With a gentle tug, they were in motion.

  She gripped the knob at the front of her saddle for dear life. “Oh God.”

  “You’re fine,” he said, getting them moving at what felt to Kim like three hundred miles an hour . . . though in truth it was just a brisk walk.

  “I miss your bike.” She missed his body in fact, that reassuring trunk of muscle.

  He laughed. “Just relax.”

  “Oh yeah, sure.” She watched the ground, scanning for rocks and pits, as though the horse were a bicycle and apt to go flying if it hit a pothole. Not like it was an animal evolved and bred for millennia to do exactly this.

  “Why do we need to talk to Miah so badly?” she asked.

  “Just want him clued in, before we sit down to dinner. It’s been killing me to not have him on my side in all this. I found absolutely jack on my little date with Duncan Welch, but what you heard—”

  “Oh. Welch.”

  “What about him?”

  The scarier events of the afternoon had eclipsed that other mystery. “I saw something else that was weird today—unrelated to what I heard, far as I know, but definitely odd.”

  His hazel eyes narrowed. “To do with Welch? You saw him doing what?”

  She bit her lip. “I saw him carrying a gallon of bleach and a bucket and rubber gloves into his motel room. And talking to someone through a gap in the door, before they let him in.”

  “What?”

  “That’s exactly everything I saw.”

  “What’s he need with cleaning supplies when he’s paying for housekeeping?”
<
br />   “Precisely my question.”

  “When was this?” Vince asked.

  “Between one and two, I think.”

  “Shit. Right after he dropped me back at the garage . . . Other commitments, my ass. He see you?”

  Kim shrugged. “I was right there, getting out of my car two rooms down, so he must have. But he didn’t acknowledge me. Or seem all that bothered about being seen.”

  “Seems like the type to be more discreet.”

  “Is it weird enough to worry about, do you think?”

  “Fuck if I know . . . What in the hell is happening around here?”

  “Nothing good, it would seem.”

  Vince swore. “Used to be I was the shadiest person in Fortuity. I’m really starting to miss those days.”

  Chapter 18

  They rode without speaking for twenty minutes or more, passing through a couple of latched gates. Long enough for Kim’s nerves to quiet some, and for her to settle into the horse’s groove—not that she was by any means at home up here. She enjoyed watching Vince ride, though. He seemed dangerous on a bike, but now, sitting up straight, hips echoing the horse’s gait, reins in one hand and the lead in the other, he seemed . . . capable. Made her wish he didn’t have his shirt on. She’d like to watch those fascinating muscles he had along his sides, knitting and flexing to the rhythm of his riding.

  Classy, Paget.

  Whatever. She’d take any distraction she could get right about now.

  After a good mile of rolling prairie, a squat red mesa appeared in the distance. Kim spotted a man on horseback watching over the half dozen cattle meandering off down a hill. Miah—she could tell from his long shape.

  Why couldn’t she be attracted to him? He seemed like way less trouble than Vince. And a far more reasonable size. As they neared, she saw that his horse was gorgeous. Caramel-colored, with a black mane and tail—there was probably a cool horse-people term for that combo.

  He caught sight of them and tipped his hat against the sinking sun. “Well, well. What brings you two out here?”

  “We gotta talk,” Vince said. He dismounted and helped Kim down. Her ascent had been way more graceful—now she fell to one knee, knocking it on a rock, grinning like a moron to overcompensate as Vince tugged her to standing.

  “My first time on a horse,” she told Miah lamely, feeling about ten.

  “We all had one,” he said, and swung himself to the ground. He had a rifle strapped across his back and well-worn chaps on his long legs. “So, what happened on your little date with Welch?” he asked Vince.

  “We found absolutely nothing.”

  Miah nodded, looking relieved. He stroked his horse’s muzzle. “Good. Told you to expect as much—”

  “Hang on. We found jack, but Kim was out photographing, north of where Welch and I were, and she overheard something that just might have you taking me seriously for a change.”

  Miah’s brows drew tight. “What?”

  “I’ll let her say.”

  Miah turned to Kim, eyes narrowed. His hand still stroked the horse, but his attention was two hundred percent on her.

  She relayed what she’d heard, watching his curiosity morph steadily to alarm.

  “You’re sure that’s what you heard?” he asked when she was done.

  “Yeah. He definitely said ‘bones.’ And something about how Alex had been ‘shut up’ before he could make trouble, I think. I can’t remember the wording, but the way they said it . . .”

  “Confirms all my suspicions from that phone call,” Vince said gravely.

  “Shit.” Miah stared at the ground, shaking his head like he didn’t want to believe it. Kim knew the feeling.

  “Tell him about the suit.” Vince’s arms were crossed, and she realized she’d crossed hers, too, mirroring him without meaning to. Damn it. She really needed to get her body off his frequency. She tucked her hands in her back pockets and told Miah what she’d seen at the motel.

  “It doesn’t mean anything, of course—”

  “The fuck it doesn’t.” Miah’s cheeks had grown pink and his black eyes livid, his entire being emanating ten thousand watts of pissed-the-fuck-off. He was a handsome man, but anger turned him scary, all that easygoing cowboy charm burned clean away. “I could tell from the second I saw that prick, he was no good.”

  “Only ’cause he was making eyes with your ex,” Vince said.

  Ex? He had to mean Raina—she’d noticed at the bar, Miah had some kind of complicated feelings for their bartender. She wondered if that meant maybe Vince hadn’t fucked her. Then she reminded herself that she shouldn’t care.

  “No,” Miah said, “nothing to do with that. Just don’t trust that guy.” The anger rolled off him like heat from a hearth. Then all at once he seemed to set it aside, folding it up and stowing it as he might a sweater he’d shrugged out of. He caught Kim with a mellowed expression and echoed what his father had said to her. “It’s a real shame you got mixed up in whatever all this is. I’m sorry about that.”

  “So am I.”

  “Jesus . . .” Miah stared off over the desert, then turned back to Vince with sadness in his eyes. “Alex really could’ve been murdered?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. And him mentioning bones—that wasn’t just drunk talk, or me mishearing.”

  “No, I guess not. Shit. I really didn’t want to imagine you might be right. I’m sorry.”

  “I didn’t want to imagine it, either. But Kim’s gotta crash here until we figure out what’s safest,” Vince said.

  Miah nodded. “Yeah, absolutely.”

  “I should probably go to the police,” Kim said. “About what I heard.”

  Vince frowned. “Couple days ago, I’d have agreed with you. But I went to Tremblay myself, and he was worse than useless—thought Alex had just been drunk, talking bull. He fobbed me off with some promise of sending a detective over there, then got Welch all wrapped up in it, and tipped off at least one of the foremen.”

  Tremblay was the sheriff, Kim had gleaned from other conversations.

  “Even if he did take you serious,” Vince went on, “without us knowing who you saw, it could just lead to the construction crew finding out you went to the authorities. Without any evidence that anything’s crooked or knowing who’s involved, you might just paint a bigger target on your back.”

  She shivered. “Shit.”

  Vince went on. “I think the best idea for now is if we keep quiet until we’ve got something worth reporting. Until you know who it is you saw.”

  “How will I do that?”

  “We’ll have to poke around the construction again. You and me. Or hope one of them comes into Benji’s.”

  She bit her lip. “I’d rather go to the police.”

  “I’m sure you would, but it feels like a mistake to me.”

  Miah frowned, lifting his hat to smooth his sweaty hair. “Hate to say it, but I’m with Vince on this one.”

  Kim sighed. “Okay then.”

  “Think I’ll take Kim in and get her settled.” Vince laid a casual hand on her shoulder, not quite a pat. What was that contact saying to her? Or to Miah? Too goddamn many questions today.

  “I’ll come with you.” Miah mounted his horse. “I got a couple phone calls I promised to make for Dad before dinner.”

  “Phone calls,” Vince echoed as he helped Kim back up onto her saddle. “Rugged-ass life of a cowboy,” he teased his friend.

  “Tell me about it. Can’t stand the admin. I’m just praying Dad might keep up with that shit after he retires from the physical stuff. I’m not built for the business side of things.”

  Vince settled atop his horse, and they headed back toward the buildings, Kim listening as the men chatted about ranch dramas bygone and current.

  When they reached the stables, Kim managed to get herself off the horse without help and without face-planting, but she was still grateful to turn the animal over to Miah. He whistled at a pair of young hands and promptly ruined thei
r evenings, informing them they had three extra horses to groom and bed down.

  “Nice being the boss,” Vince said with a grin.

  “Got its perks. Certainly earned it, all those years I spent on bitch duty.”

  They walked back to the farmhouse, and Miah excused himself to shower and finish the day’s business. Vince gave Kim a quick tour of the place. It was gorgeous, in a rustic way. Wood everywhere, and history. The stairs were creaky and the guest bedroom and bathroom tiny, but the kitchen was massive and homey, with a deep enamel sink and a trestle table big enough to seat twelve.

  “We’ll stay for dinner so you can meet the Churches,” Vince said. “Then we get your car returned. Which airport?”

  “Elko.” Though she knew that identifying the men she’d heard ought to be priority number one, the thought of getting away from Fortuity for the evening was an undeniable relief.

  They wandered into the next room, a den—cavernous yet cozy, ancient mismatched couches draped in Pendleton wool blankets that made Kim a touch homesick. Easy chairs were arranged in a horseshoe facing a huge stone hearth. In the corner sat a big bin full of toys, though their absence elsewhere suggested there weren’t any youngsters visiting at the moment.

  “Does Miah have brothers or sisters?” she asked.

  “Nah, just shitloads of cousins and their families.”

  “Ah.”

  “Don’t bring the kids thing up at dinner,” he said with a smirk. “You’ll set his mom off. She’s been pressuring him for grandkids since we graduated high school, practically.”

  Kim laughed. It felt good to laugh, after everything that had happened these past couple days.

  Mrs. Church—Christine—appeared shortly, finding them back in the kitchen. She was a slim, athletic woman with long black hair just starting to gray. A warm energy shined through her end-of-workday exhaustion. Kim bet she was Native American. She shared her son’s molasses-dark eyes and high cheeks, though the rest of Miah’s genes were pure Don.

  She ushered them into chairs and a bottle of wine appeared, then glasses. She seemed excited to have another woman staying in the house for the foreseeable future.