The Coyote's Cry

by Jackie Merritt

  “Gran, Willow’s been working in the store long enough to take over. Isn’t it time you retired?” he said just before taking his leave.

  “You’ve been trying to retire me for years, Bram,” Gloria said briskly. “What do you want me to do, sit around up here in this apartment and watch soap operas and talk shows on TV?”

  Bram had to laugh. “Forget I mentioned it, Gran.”

  “And you forget it, too.”

  “For tonight,” he agreed with a twinkle in his eye. Leaning down, he kissed her cheek. “See you soon.”

  Bram’s home was a two-hundred-acre ranch twenty miles out of town. Known in the area as the Colton Ranch, it had a big rambling house, a couple of barns, and fertile soil—soil rich enough to produce a nutritious grass ideal for raising quarter horses. The ranch had belonged to his parents, Trevor and Sally, and had been passed to their five children after their deaths. None of the five wanted to sell the family home, but the only one who wanted to do any ranching and live on the place was Bram. Much as he liked his job as sheriff, there was something in his blood that demanded a portion of his life be lived outdoors.

  And he loved horses, as his Comanche ancestors had, for history books touted the Comanche as the most skilled riders of the Southwest. Bram broke and trained his own horses, but he was so good at the craft that sometimes other ranchers asked him to break one of their wild young stallions. He did it willingly and free of charge. What he knew about horses, he believed, was in his genes and had come to him from his ancestors.

  Bram also had a dog, and when he arrived home that night Nellie came bounding out of the smallest barn, barking a joyous hello and wriggling her hindquarters back and forth. Nellie was a black-and-white Border collie with pale blue eyes. She was a love of a dog, and her main goal in life was to herd sheep, cows, horses, chickens or anything else that moved. Anytime Bram wanted some horses brought in from a pasture he whistled to Nellie, and off she’d go to get them. Bram’s best friend, his fishing and hunting buddy, Will Mitchell, had three wild little boys, and all three adored Nellie and would let her herd them around Bram’s yard when Will brought them out to the ranch.

  Bram knelt down now and gave Nellie a hug, then scratched her ears. “Did you get lonesome today, girl?”

  She wriggled again and licked his face. “Hey, that’s going too far,” Bram said with a laugh, rising to his feet. “Come on, let’s go and scare you up some dinner.”

  It had been a long, busy day, and when Bram went to bed he was ready for sleep. But as he closed his eyes he promptly saw an image of Jenna Elliot. Punching his pillow in frustration, he turned to his side and tried to relax. But Jenna was still there, glowingly beautiful and causing him all sorts of physical distress.

  Bram always thought of Jenna as Black Arrow’s golden girl. Her hair had been twisted on top of her head today, but he knew what it looked like cascading down her back—like a golden waterfall. Its color nearly drove him mad, and he was positive it would feel as silky as it looked. Even Jenna’s flawless skin had a golden hue, as though sprinkled with gold dust. Add her deep blue eyes to that mix and she sparkled. In Bram’s eyes, anyway, Jenna Elliot sparkled more brightly and more beautifully than any Fourth of July fireworks he’d ever seen.

  He recalled how much easier he’d breathed when she went away to college, and how the world had begun spinning crazily again when Jenna came home to help care for her terminally ill mother. After Mrs. Elliot’s funeral Bram heard that Jenna had left town again, but not to return to college; she had decided to become a nurse. That had surprised him. Nursing was a service profession much like his own, and he’d wondered about a golden girl working such long hours. It wasn’t as if she had to earn a living. Old Carl owned half the town and almost as much of the county. Everyone knew he had more money than he could count, and that he doted on Jenna. Hell, she’d never have to work a day if she didn’t want to.

  So that nursing business confused Bram, and he’d decided it was nothing but rumor, until he heard Willow mention it. He never asked Willow about Jenna because his baby sister was sharp as a tack and would catch on in a heartbeat if Bram so much as hinted he gave a damn about anything Jenna Elliot might do or say. But every so often he would pick up a tidbit of information about her from Willow. She had no idea that Jenna haunted her big brother’s dreams. No one had any idea about that.

  Bram fully intended to keep it that way, too. In truth, he would give almost anything to have Jenna move away permanently. He’d sleep better, since every single time he’d seen Jenna—starting with the day he’d discovered, or admitted, how she affected him—was lodged in his brain and came roaring out too damned often, especially at night.

  One of the memories driving him batty had occurred on a hot day last summer. He had been slowly cruising a downtown street when he’d spotted Jenna strolling along the sidewalk, looking into store windows. She’d had on white shorts and a blue tank top. The sight of her long, gorgeous, deeply tanned legs had made him forget all about being behind the wheel of his prowl car and he’d come dangerously close to running into a light pole.

  He’d hit the siren and taken off so fast that his tires had squealed, but he was pretty sure Jenna hadn’t seen his embarrassingly narrow miss with that pole.

  It was a memory Bram actually hated, for invariably it was followed by sexual contemplation of how it would feel to have those incredible legs wrapped around him, which led to other erotic thoughts that never failed to cause him more misery than he believed he deserved.

  Sucking in a ragged breath, he forced himself to think about something else. The first topic to come to mind was the odd events occurring around town—the fire at the courthouse, for one, and the burglary of the local newspaper office for another. It appeared the fire had been arson, which made little sense, for why would anyone want to destroy Comanche County’s courthouse? Of course, arson was usually senseless to everyone but the person who actually lit the match. It was too bad Jared and Kerry hadn’t gotten a look at the arsonist that night. It was almost inconceivable that they had been in the very next room when the perpetrator had lit those candles. Thank God they’d seen the glow of the fire once it had gotten started, or there wouldn’t even be a shell of the courthouse left. But the whole thing was as disturbingly mysterious tonight as it had been from the start.

  And why in hell would someone break into the newspaper office and then leave without taking anything, when there’d been computers and other costly items throughout the place? That reporter had been right to question the motivation for that seemingly senseless crime.

  There was one more thing nagging at Bram. He’d heard rumors about two different strangers asking questions about the Colton family. They had to be connected to the courthouse fire and possibly the Chronicle break-in, but why didn’t they simply contact him? Or his grandmother? No one knew Colton history better than Gloria, or Great-granddad WhiteBear. But there were plenty of Coltons to confront if someone wanted to know something of their ancestry. Even so, Bram couldn’t make heads or tails of the whole thing, for why would any outsider give a whit about any of the Coltons, none of whom had anything to hide? It was a damn weird mess, Bram decided again, having reached that conclusion quite a few times in the past few weeks.

  Then, even through that maze of thoughts, Jenna’s image threatened again, and Bram groaned and sought another subject to dwell on until he fell asleep. Fishing was a good nerve-settling topic, and Bram grasped at it, pondered it for a while and then decided to ask Will if he could go fishing this coming weekend. They had a couple of favorite fishing spots, and Bram never cared if Will took one or more of his sons with them. Maybe they could leave on Saturday and camp out that night. He would check his work schedule at the sheriff’s station in the morning, and if he was free this weekend, he’d give Will a call or stop by his place.

  The next day Bram checked the duty roster and saw that he had the weekend off. Feeling good about it, he drove by Will’s house on his way hom
e from work that afternoon. Will’s three boys, nine-year-old Billy, eight-year-old Stevie and six-year-old Hank came running from the backyard yelling, “Bram! Bram! Daddy, Bram’s here!”

  Bram grinned. Dressed in cutoff jeans and T-shirts, the trio were barefoot and dirty. Before bed Bram knew that their mother, Ellie, would see to baths and fresh pajamas, but during the day there was no keeping her wildcats clean.

  “Didja shoot your gun today, Bram?” Hank asked.

  “Not today, Hank.”

  “Aw, heck,” the youngster said.

  Will had come out of the house and approached the group. “Hi, Bram. How’re tricks?”

  Will Mitchell was as fair as Bram was dark. Will had straw-colored hair, pale hazel eyes and skin that never tanned. The two had been friends since high school.

  “My tricks are nonexistent,” Bram said dryly. “You’re the man with the tricks…three of them, to be specific.”

  Will grinned. “Boys, your mother asked me to tell you to go in and wash up for supper.”

  “Aw, heck,” Hank said again. But he raced to the house only a step behind his older brothers, shouting, “Bye, Bram. See ya later.”

  “Want to come in and eat with us?” Will asked.

  “Thanks, not tonight. I’ve got this weekend off and I was thinking about a fishing trip. With two days, we could go to Ridge Reservoir and camp out overnight. The boys would like that.”

  “Hey, they sure would. So would I. Let me talk to Ellie and see if she’s got anything planned for the weekend. I’ll give you a call. Two days at the reservoir would be great, wouldn’t they?”

  “Yeah, they would.”

  “I wish Ellie liked camping and fishing.” Will paused, then grinned again. “She said to not say a word to anyone until she’s certain, but I don’t think she meant you. Bram, she’s pretty sure she’s pregnant. She says this time it has to be a girl. You know how she longs for a daughter.”

  Bram looked at his friend’s excited face and felt the strangest ache in his gut. He covered it with a teasing wisecrack. “You’re just full of tricks, Mitchell.”

  “You could be, too. There isn’t a gal in the county who wouldn’t jump at the chance to marry you and you know it.”

  “Bull,” Bram exclaimed. “No one’s pining to marry me. Hell, I can’t even get dates for the Saturday night dances at the Grange Hall.”

  “You’re so full of it, it’s coming out of your ears, Colton. You don’t have a girlfriend only because you don’t want a girlfriend. You’re afraid she’ll rope and hog-tie you, and you’re scared spitless of commitment and a wedding ring.”

  “Will, blow it out your ear.” This was a common conversation for them. Will thought Bram—at thirty-seven years of age—should be married, and when Bram got tired of the subject he ended it with that one directive—“Blow it out your ear.” Will always laughed and that was the end of it…until the next time.

  Ellie called from the front door of the house. “Supper’s on the table, hon. Hi, Bram, come on in and eat with us.”

  “Thanks, Ellie, but can’t do it tonight. Some other time, okay?”

  “Anytime, Bram.”

  Will said, “I’ll call as soon as I know about the fishing trip.”

  Bram nodded and climbed into his car. “Great. Talk to you then.”

  As he drove away he thought about Will and Ellie having another child and Will being so thrilled about it. Bram wanted kids, too, but not with just any woman. And since he couldn’t have the one woman he wanted, he’d probably never have kids.

  He muttered a curse, then told himself to cool down. What made him think he needed kids of his own? When his parents were killed in that plane crash in 1987 he’d been twenty-two and had taken over as head of the household. He’d seen to it that his four siblings—Ashe, Jared, Logan and Willow—finished their education and continued to live as good, decent citizens, just as their mother and dad had taught them.

  No, he didn’t need kids, and he sure as hell didn’t need a wife he didn’t love. He would take bachelorhood for the rest of his days over that sort of mess.

  He ate dinner with his grandmother, and it was only after he left and was driving out to the ranch that he realized she had looked a little peaked. Or maybe it was just his imagination; Gloria had bustled around her kitchen as always, hadn’t she?

  Will phoned the following evening, which was Friday. “Ellie’s got a quilting thing—some kind of craft show at the fairgrounds—tomorrow. She said to take the boys and go fishing, with her blessing.” Will chuckled. “Sounds like she’s looking forward to a quiet weekend.”

  After they hung up Bram began gathering his camping and fishing gear. He grinned when he realized that he was probably as excited about the coming weekend as Will’s boys undoubtedly were. Nellie was in the house, sniffing the sleeping bags and fishing poles Bram piled on the floor in the middle of the living room, and it was apparent to Bram from the collie’s happy gyrations that she knew a fishing trip was in the making. Bram always took her along, and she wore herself out trying to herd chipmunks, squirrels and gophers. The boys would wear her out, too, but that was a two-way street, for Nellie wore them out, as well. Truth was, they would all have a great time.

  Bram finally had everything in a pile, except for the food he would take with him. He’d get up early, pack the three ice chests with ice and food, and load his SUV. Then he’d drive over to Will’s house and pick up him, the boys and all their gear. Eyeing the mound of items, Bram was about to go for a down-filled jacket—just in case the weather changed over the weekend and it got cold—when the telephone rang.

  He picked it up. “Hello?”

  “Bram…oh my Lord…Bram, Gran’s on her way to the hospital. I found her—”

  “Willow, slow down!” Bram’s heart leaped into his throat. “What happened?”

  “She went upstairs early, and I figured something was wrong then. But I was busy with customers, and when I finally had a moment to check on her I found her on the floor. The ambulance driver said something about a stroke. I’m hoping he was only guessing, but oh, Bram…” Willow began weeping.

  “Okay, take it easy. Have you called the rest of the family?”

  “I called you first.”

  “Good. I’ll leave for the hospital as soon as we hang up. You stay there and call everyone. They all should be told.”

  “What about Great-grandfather? Should I try to reach him?”

  George WhiteBear wouldn’t permit electronic gadgets in his small, simply furnished house on a hundred sixty acres of land about thirty miles southwest of Black Arrow, and that included a telephone. Reaching George by phone meant calling his closest neighbor and asking her to drive over to George’s place to pick him up and haul him back to her place. Annie McCrary would do it—she had in the past during family emergencies—but Bram was worried about imparting this kind of bad news over the phone to his aged great-grandfather. He made a decision.

  “No, don’t call Annie. If it’s necessary, I’ll drive out to Great-grandfather’s place later on. See you at the hospital, Willow.” Bram put down the phone and hurried out to his SUV, relieved that he hadn’t already loaded it with camping gear.

  He’d gotten out of his uniform the second he’d arrived home, which was standard procedure, and he was wearing faded jeans and a black, short-sleeved T-shirt. Thinking of nothing but Gran, and praying she was all right, he pushed the speed limit all the way to the hospital. He parked close to the emergency room entrance and ran from his vehicle to the door. Immediately he saw Coltons everywhere, all but taking up the entire waiting room. He went over to them.

  “Do we know anything yet?” he asked.

  He got teary answers from everyone. No one knew anything, except that Gran was in the emergency room. Thomas, a twin to Bram’s father and Gloria’s only living child, said, “Maybe they’ll let you in there, seeing as how you’re the sheriff and all.” Thomas had married Alice Callahan in 1969, and they had had six chi
ldren. The way the waiting room was overflowing, Bram was pretty sure that every Colton in the area had come to the hospital.

  “I’ll see what I can find out,” Bram said, and walked away. He simply pushed open the door that bore a Keep Out sign and then checked the curtained cubicles until he found Gran. A doctor and nurse were with her. Bram’s heart sank when he looked at Gran, whose eyes were closed. She looked small and old and gray, and at that moment Bram knew that whatever had befallen her was serious.

  Dr. Vadella motioned for Bram to follow him, and he took him to a quiet corner of the ER. “She suffered a stroke, Bram. What we don’t know at this point is its severity.”

  “But it doesn’t look good, does it? Is she going to be paralyzed? Is she going to live?”

  Dr. Vadella looked him in the eye. “Bram, don’t ask me questions I can’t answer tonight. To be perfectly honest we won’t know the extent of the damage the stroke inflicted for several days, maybe longer. Look, I know the family is in the waiting room. Do them and yourself a favor and tell everyone to go home. Mrs. Colton is going to be taken to Intensive Care. We’ll start running tests tonight, but most of them will be done in the morning. The family can see her tomorrow in between tests, but only one person at a time and each for only a few short minutes.”

  Bram looked away. His chest ached and his eyes burned. He wanted to take Gran from that gurney, carry her out to his vehicle and drive her home. She hated hospitals. Always said that people died in hospitals and no one was ever to bring her to one. He felt like a traitor because she was here, and he also felt the same kind of pain he’d suffered when his parents died, the kind of pain one couldn’t eradicate by good-intentioned doctors with common-sense explanations.