Kansas Troubles

by Earlene Fowler

  “Let us ride him,” they begged. “We won’t tell Mom.”

  He ignored their pleading, looked over at me, and touched the edge of the whip to his hat. “How do, Mrs. Ortiz.”

  “Just Benni,” I called back.

  He reeled in the lunge line and walked Cinnamon over to us. Paige pulled out a sugar cube from the pocket of her shorts and fed it to the horse. I jumped off the railing and reached up to stroke its velvety cheek.

  “So where’s your new husband, Just Benni?” Otis gave me a slow, teasing grin.

  I grinned back. “Still in Wichita, I guess. You heard about Rob?”

  “Yep.” Otis’s smile faded. He clipped a lead rope onto the halter and undid the lunge line and stud chain. “Bad thing.”

  “Yes.” I continued stroking the horse. “Have the police been back out here?”

  His bristly gray eyebrows contracted. “Want to ride the old boy?”

  “Sure,” I said enthusiastically.

  He turned to Paige and Whitney. “You girls want to go get Old Sinful’s bridle for me?”

  They giggled at the horse’s nickname and scrambled across the driveway, racing toward the barn. Otis turned back to me.

  “Sinful?” I asked.

  “It fits,” he said. “You’ll see.” He pointed with the whip to a pile of used bricks next to the barn. “Didn’t want to talk about it in front of the young’uns, but all sorts of official types were out here most of the day going through that bunch of bricks I use to prop up some of the trees. Appears that was what she was killed with, and they’re trying to find it.”

  “Did they?” Otis handed me the lunge line, and I started rolling it up, trying not to think what it would feel like to have the back of my head bashed in with a brick. Someone must have been angry, really angry.

  “Didn’t tell me if they did. They took a few with’em. Won’t do much good, I imagine. Bricks is something we got plenty of here in Kansas.” He shrugged and adjusted the strap of his faded overalls. “It’s a sorry thing, pretty young girl like that. Who could have wanted to do that to her?”

  “I have no idea, but I’m sure they’ll find out soon. A lot of people are working on it.”

  He just grunted, and I knew he saw through my polite assurances. Otis had lived long enough to know that finding the killer wouldn’t be as easy as it looked on a one-hour TV show.

  We bridled Sinful, and because he was such a big horse, about sixteen hands, and because I was riding bareback, Otis gave me a leg up. Sinful danced around, making me work for control. I pulled back firmly on the reins, not giving in, and he eventually settled down when he realized I wasn’t kidding and would fight him for the position of power.

  “We’re taking riding lessons at Dewey and Belinda’s, but Mom won’t let us ride Cinnamon,” Paige said, looking up at me longingly.

  “He’s a bit feisty for a chickadee your size,” Otis said. “Someday, maybe. When I’ve calmed him down a bit and you get a little more meat on those chicken bones.”

  “Dewey and Belinda’s?” I asked.

  “They own a stable about five miles out of town,” Otis said. “She’s his first wife. Bore his young’uns.”

  “Oh,” I said thoughtfully. They still owned a stable together. That was an interesting fact that Gabe forgot to mention.

  The girls yelled encouragement while I rode Sinful around the ring, then gradually lost interest and disappeared into the barn, where Otis had told them there were some new kittens. Otis leaned against the gate, chewing on a pipe he’d pulled from his overalls’ deep front pocket, and watched me wrangle his horse for control. Sinful (Otis was right, the name was more appropriate than Cinnamon) was a good horse with a lot of potential, but it was obvious he hadn’t been ridden regularly. He loved to run and was responsive to the slightest voice commands, but he definitely needed work on his braking system. I totally lost track of time and my surroundings as I moved Sinful through his paces and got him accustomed to holding a rider again.

  The sun had dropped past the horizon when I trotted up in front of Otis. I was showing him an abrasion under Sinful’s mane when Gabe walked around the corner of the barn. Whitney was perched on his shoulders, and Paige ran along beside him, jabbering a mile a minute.

  “I knew you’d eventually end up here,” Gabe said, depositing Whitney on the corral’s top railing. He opened the gate and came in. “Hey, Otis, this your poker horse?”

  Otis grinned around his pipe. “Don’t you go telling your mother now. She’d have to put in extra hours at church a-prayin’ for me, and we both know she don’t have time for that.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me.” Gabe reached over and stroked the horse’s muzzle. “Nice-looking piece of horseflesh. Make a lot of cans of dog chow out of him.”

  “Uncle Gabe, that’s not funny,” Paige said, smacking the side of his leg.

  He ruffled her hair and winked up at me. “I’m just teasing you, m’hija. Becky says the ice cream’s done, and we better get back before Stan eats it all. You too, Otis.”

  “Gotta put up the hay burner first,” Otis said.

  “I’ll clean him up,” I offered. “I’m the one that got him all sweaty. Just don’t eat my share.”

  “I’ll stay and help her,” Gabe put in.

  “Good idea,” I said, watching Otis and the girls head down the driveway. It would give me time to tell him quickly about the contents of the envelope and about Tyler being married.

  “Let me walk him around the ring a few times to cool him off,” I said.

  “Okay,” Gabe agreed and before I realized it, he’d swung himself up behind me.

  “What are you doing?” I exclaimed.

  Sinful started slightly, surprised by the extra weight, though he was plenty capable of carrying it. Gabe scooted close, grabbed the reins from my hand, and pulled back until the horse adjusted himself to the additional load. He clucked, and Sinful started at an easy walk.

  “What are you doing?” I repeated.

  “Going for an intimate ride with my wife,” he whispered in my ear, bringing his right arm around my waist and pulling me back tightly against him. “Tell me the truth, doesn’t a good ride just make you want to . . .”

  “I thought you didn’t ride,” I said, trying to push his arm away.

  He tightened his arm and pressed his leg against Sinful’s side, signaling the horse to move toward the railing. “I told you when we first met, I’d ridden once. Not that hard.”

  “You’ve ridden more than once,” I accused after we’d circled the arena three times and I noted that he cued Sinful properly for every change of gait.

  He stopped at the gate and handed me the reins, then swung off and unhooked the latch. “Well, maybe it was once or twice.”

  “You said you didn’t ride,” I insisted, sliding down and leading Sinful toward the barn.

  “I never said that.” Once in the barn, he took the reins from me. “Here, let me. I know where everything is.” He slipped the halter around Sinful’s neck, undid his bridle, pulled the halter back over his nose, and secured him with the crossties. From a square wooden crib with a hinged cover he took out brushes and a hoof pick and proceeded to groom the gelding with the ease and familiarity of someone who’d done it more than once or twice.

  “You dirty dog,” I said. “All these months you’ve come out to the ranch with me you never once let on you knew anything about horses. You said you didn’t ride.”

  “I repeat, I never said that.”

  “You implied it.” I crossed my arms and glared at him as he adroitly lifted up each hoof and cleaned the debris out.

  “Benni, I’m just not all that crazy about horses or riding. I didn’t intentionally lead you to believe I didn’t know anything about them. I just don’t share your enthusiasm.”

  I clamped my lips shut in anger. He wasn’t even getting what I was saying—that it was another instance in which he kept something secret I should have known about him.

&
nbsp; “Just how long were you going to keep it a secret?” I asked.

  “It’s not a secret, sweetheart. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.” He finished with the hooves and started brushing Sinful.

  “Watch what you’re doing. There’s a cut under his mane on the left side,” I snapped.

  Gabe inspected it, then dug through the wood crib for a bottle of Betadine scrub and a can of Furall. He cleaned the wound, washed it with water, then sprayed it with the yellow-tinted Furall. The fact that he knew exactly what to do made my anger bubble as furiously as the disinfectant on Sinful’s wound.

  I leaned against the stall and angrily watched him finish the grooming. When he’d closed the horse in his stall and put the equipment away, he turned to me.

  “Are we going to fight over this?” he asked. “Because if we are, I’d like to get something to eat first. I haven’t eaten since early this afternoon.”

  “Just tell me who taught you to ride.”

  He sighed. “Initially, Otis. He’s always owned horses. He tried breeding Arabians for a couple of years when I was a teenager. Then for six months, right after I got out of the Marines, before I became a cop, I cleaned stalls and exercised horses at the Santa Anita Racetrack for a friend of Otis’s. Believe me, after that I never had the desire to ride a horse again. That’s the extent of my equine experience. Can we drop it now?”

  “For the time being.” I didn’t want to go back to Becky’s house in the middle of a fight any more than he did, but if he thought the matter was settled, he obviously didn’t know me very well. “How’s Rob?”

  He closed the barn door behind us and slipped his arm around my shoulders. “He’s fine. I don’t think this was a serious attempt. He took about half a bottle of Valium, then immediately called 911. When a man’s serious about killing himself, he’ll usually just eat his gun.”

  “Do you think he did it just to make it look like he didn’t kill her?”

  “If he did, it won’t work. If anything, it makes him look more suspicious. Believe me, the sheriff’s detectives are looking at him real close.”

  “Why would he do it, then?”

  “Who knows? Rob always liked being the center of attention. Then again, it might be an attempt to get people’s sympathy just in case he does have something to hide.”

  “Like what?”

  “Sweetheart, I have no idea. I haven’t seen these people for seven years. And to tell you the truth, I don’t want to know.”

  “Did you find out anything from him?”

  He shook his head. “No, I think Dewey just wanted me along for the company.”

  “Did you hear about the bricks?”

  “Yes, but I doubt that any they took was the murder weapon. I don’t think this person was that stupid. We were all running around like crazy that night. That brick could be anywhere.”

  I stopped at the end of Becky’s driveway. “There’s something I found out today about Tyler.” I told him quickly about the bank book.

  “What do you think it means?” I asked.

  “Who knows? Tyler might have had a very legitimate reason for having that money. Unless they can prove it comes from something illegal, it doesn’t make much of a motive except maybe for her sister, who is the next-of-kin.”

  “News flash. Hannah isn’t her next-of-kin. Tyler was married.”

  “What?”

  “His name’s John Stoltzfus. I met him today. He has a great motive for murder. He couldn’t remarry and have children as long as she was alive.”

  He rested his hands on my shoulders, stroking my neck with his thumbs. “Benni, was he the man you saw on the porch last night?”

  I grimaced. “I don’t know. If you’re asking if I can absolutely identify him, the answer is no. I did see an Amish man, and it certainly makes sense it would be him. But I also saw him leave.”

  “He could have come back. That’s the whole problem with this investigation. The area was so open, and people were coming and going all night. In all honesty, it could have been anyone.”

  “But that makes it virtually impossible to find who did it!”

  “Exactly.”

  “So what will they do?”

  “Tedious questioning and digging and more questioning. Not everyone at the party knew her. That eliminates people right there. But that’s all Dewey’s worry. I’ll take the bank book to the police department tomorrow. The Sheriff’s Department has set up shop in a spare office next to Dewey’s. Unfortunately, there’s a new problem they’re having to deal with.”

  “What?”

  “About three weeks ago, the city voted to annex this parcel of land into the Derby city limits. So technically this is Dewey’s territory. Of course, since he was on the premises when it happened, it compromises his authority. Just his luck, he said. First homicide in Derby, and he can’t officially work on it.”

  “So who’s in charge?”

  “For the time being, Derby’s chief of police. But Dewey’s their most experienced detective. They’re using him, but trying to keep that from the press, who would scream cover-up just to sell papers.”

  “Who are the chief suspects?”

  “Let’s quit talking about this, okay? I’ve had to hear about it all day, and I’m exhausted. This is not my idea of a fun vacation.” He looked down at me seriously. “And one more thing. I don’t want you involved in this.”

  “One last question. Is Dewey being investigated? Are you?”

  He kissed the top of my head and laughed. “That’s two questions. We are all suspects, querida, but unless there’s something you’re not telling me, you and I don’t have to worry. Now, let’s get some of that chocolate ice cream before it’s history. Maybe I can even sweet-talk my baby sister into making me a sandwich.”

  We stayed until almost eleven o’clock eating ice cream and Becky’s homemade oatmeal cookies. She and Otis and Gabe laughed over old childhood escapades while Stan and I listened and smiled and the girls fell asleep in a gangly puddle of arms and legs on the living-room carpet.

  Otis turned to me before he left. “You come out now anytime you want and ride Sinful. He needs some of that wildness worked out of him.”

  “Thanks, I’ll take you up on that,” I said.

  “Benni, don’t forget the quilt guild meeting tomorrow afternoon at three,” Becky said, walking us to the door. “I’d like you to meet some of our guild members. It’s in the new Presbyterian church’s recreation hall on Madison. Gabe can tell you where it is. Afterwards we’re going to practice setup of the quilt frames for Friday.”

  “Becky,” Stan said, “this is supposed to be Benni’s vacation.”

  She brought a hand up to her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot this is what you do for a living. You don’t have to come. Well, come, but we won’t make you work.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll be glad to help as long as you handle all incoming quilt emergencies.”

  “Deal,” she said.

  I was silent on the short drive back to Kathryn’s house, thinking about Hannah and what it must feel like to have violence touch a life that was as sheltered as hers. What would she tell her daughters about their aunt when they grew older and faced similar temptations? Was Tyler’s husband really capable of murder? And where in the world did Tyler get all that money?

  “Why so quiet?” Gabe asked. “If you’re thinking about the horse thing . . .”

  “Actually I wasn’t, but now that you’ve brought it up, I wouldn’t mind discussing it.”

  “We’re here.” He was out of the car and heading up the steps before I could say more. I followed him, peeved but also determined. Determined to find out more—about both Tyler and this man I’d married. One to appease my curiosity, the other to appease my heart.

  SIX

  GABE’S SIDE OF the bed was empty the next morning. I dressed in anticipation of another muggy day, putting on white cotton shorts, a pink T-shirt that said “Mahi’s Fish Taco,” and a new
pair of leather Nikes. Gabe sat alone at the breakfast table reading the Wichita Eagle. He was dressed in cotton shorts and a tank top, his hair damp and unruly from his run.

  “How far did you run this morning?” I asked.

  “Only two miles. The radio this morning said the humidity is already eighty-nine percent. I remember now why I left Kansas. Mom’s gone to Wichita for some kind of ex-teacher’s meeting. She left biscuits in the oven.”

  I tried to make myself look disappointed. The big smile on my face must have given me away.

  “You could try a little harder to get to know her,” Gabe said wryly, looking over the newspaper at me. “Try giving her a chance.”

  Somehow it seemed to have flown right over his head that she didn’t seem real anxious to get to know me. “Maybe we should talk about what other things in your life you’ve kept hidden from me,” I answered, pouring myself a cup of coffee. I slathered a biscuit with butter and blackberry jam, giving him time to digest my point.

  He gave an irritated grunt and retreated behind the paper.

  “So, what are we going to do today?” I said after my third biscuit.

  He folded up the paper and set it on the table. “I thought I’d go look up some old high-school friends. Then I’ll probably go see Rob. Otherwise, I’m just going to goof off. You want to come?”

  “No, thanks. How about giving me an idea about what fun things there are to do in the Derby metropolitan area?”

  “Don’t you have some quilt thing with Becky?”

  “That’s not until three o’clock.” I glanced at the plastic sunflower clock on the wall behind him. “It’s only ten-thirty.”

  “I could drop you off at the mall in Wichita.”

  I contemplated that. “I’m not in the mood to shop. Why don’t you just drop me off downtown? I’ll find the feed store. I’ll need some gloves to work with Sinful. Maybe I’ll walk over to Otis’s. It’s not that far, is it?”

  “About three miles. I don’t want you walking that far in this heat. Let me grab a quick shower, and you can take me to the police station. I’ll bum Dewey’s truck off him, and you can have the car. By the way, we’re having dinner with him and Cordie June tonight.”