The Coyote's Cry

by Jackie Merritt

  Bram walked over to the counter. “I’m Sheriff Colton. Did I hear your name correctly?”

  “I’m sure you did. Rand Colton.” He extended his hand.

  Bram shook it. “Come on back to my office.” He led the mystery man into the room and gestured at the chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

  “Thanks.” Rand sat down.

  The two men looked each other over. Bram spoke first. “Are we related?”

  “That’s one of the things I’m trying to figure out. Let me explain.”

  “Believe me, I would appreciate an explanation. I’ve been told by at least a dozen good citizens that two strangers have been in town asking questions about the Coltons.”

  “Two strangers?”

  “The other guy isn’t with you?”

  “No, and I can’t imagine who he might be.”

  Bram studied the frown on Rand Colton’s face. “No idea at all?”

  “Do you have a clue to his identity?”

  “I didn’t have any clues about either one of you. Your being a Colton and walking in like this is one very big surprise. Someone said you were driving a pale gray Lincoln, and I’ve been looking for it ever since.”

  “I’ve been staying in Oklahoma City and driving over here.”

  “To stay out of sight?”

  “Sheriff, I don’t have any reason to stay out sight. No, I’ve been staying in Oklahoma City for various reasons, one of which is simple enough. I like the place. Maybe I should start at the beginning. I live in Washington, D.C. My father’s name is Joe and I have an Uncle Graham. Other than siblings and kids, Dad and Graham are my only living blood relatives. About four, five months back, Dad was going through some old boxes stored in his attic that had once belonged to his father, and he ran across some old letters from a Gloria Colton. No, that’s not right. What he found were envelopes with Gloria’s name in the return address corner. Her name and the name of this town, without, I might point out, a street address. Whatever had been mailed in the envelopes—letters, I’m assuming—were missing, either accidentally misplaced or deliberately destroyed by my grandfather.

  “I’m a lawyer, and Dad asked me to look into it, for, uh, reasons of his own. I agreed, of course, and went to Oklahoma City and began searching records. To my surprise I kept bumping into the Colton name—obviously a prolific family. Births, deaths, marriages…everything’s recorded in the capital. But I still don’t know exactly who Gloria Colton is and what connection she has to the Oklahoma Coltons, or if your family and mine are related. I would have come here to see you the minute I hit town if I’d known the sheriff was a Colton, but I only recently stumbled upon that fact. That’s about it. I checked records at this courthouse as well, but…”

  “Did you burn it down, too? Or try to burn it down?”

  Rand looked stunned. “Good Lord, no! I heard it was arson, but I’m not a criminal, Sheriff.”

  “Bram. My first name is Bram.”

  “Well, Bram, who’s on your family tree that might be related to some ancestor on mine? Can we discuss it?”

  Bram eyed him speculatively. Sheila was right. Rand Colton looked well-groomed and well-off. He was dressed casually, but he hadn’t bought those slacks and shirt at a discount store. Still, what in hell was this all about? Gran hadn’t told any of them about her past. Was there any way she could in her present condition? If this guy calling himself Rand Colton wasn’t some kind of con artist, and there was something to tell, that is?

  “Before I discuss anything with you about Colton family business, I’d like to do a little checking of my own. Any objections?”

  “None whatsoever.” Rand got up. “Do you want to call me or should I call you?”

  Bram shoved a pad and pen across the desk. “Write down where you’re staying in O.C., and the phone number, if you have it. I’ll phone when I have something to say.”

  “Fair enough.” Rand bent forward and wrote on the pad. “Thanks for seeing me, and I wish I’d known the law around here was headed up by a Colton. This would have been my first stop. I think it would have gotten us off on a better footing.”

  Bram rose, they shook hands again and Rand left.

  Bram fell back into his chair, feeling all but stupefied. One more shock like that one and he’d be a gibbering idiot.

  “Hell’s bells,” he mumbled.

  Thomas and Alice dropped in, each carrying a gift of food. Jenna had come to genuinely like this uncle and aunt of Bram’s, and she greeted them warmly.

  After discussing Gloria for a few moments, Alice said softly, “You’re here six days a week, Jenna, dear. Why don’t you regard our visit as an opportunity to get away for a few hours? We’ll stay with Mom while you’re gone.”

  “That’s very generous of you,” Jenna murmured. “There is something I’d like to do, and it wouldn’t take more than two hours, probably less.”

  “Wonderful. Just tell us if there’s anything we should do for Mom while you’re gone.”

  “Thank you, but there’s nothing right now. She’s had lunch and her scheduled medication, and I believe she’s napping. Just sit with her quietly until she wakes up. I’m sure she will be pleased to see you.”

  “I wish I were sure of that,” Thomas said.

  Jenna sympathized with the man wholeheartedly. His mother was daily losing ground, his grandfather was already mourning her demise, and the whole tragic scenario had to be one very bitter pill for Thomas to swallow.

  But Jenna suspected he was swallowing it, however painful. George WhiteBear, after all, had practically raised Thomas and Trevor. He had to have been a strong influence in the twins’ development, and Jenna could hardly fault Thomas for respecting his grandfather’s ways and beliefs when he’d grown up with them.

  Still, a tale about a message from a coyote wasn’t something Jenna could just accept and go on from there. Her logical mind worked on proved facts. Most of the time, anyway. She wasn’t very logical about Bram, she knew, which could very well be the reason she suffered such bone-jarring ambivalence whenever she thought of him.

  Anyhow, she accepted Alice and Thomas’s kind offer and drove away from the Colton Ranch enjoying the warm and sunny end-of-June day. The Fourth of July was just around the corner, and Black Arrow always put on a parade, a carnival and after-dark fireworks. This year she probably wouldn’t be attending any of the events because of her patient.

  Tears suddenly stung Jenna’s eyes as she wondered if she would still have Gloria for a patient on the Fourth.

  “Damn,” she whispered, and wished all the way into Black Arrow that she hadn’t volunteered her services that day in the hospital when she’d overheard Dr. Hall talking about needing a full-time nurse for Gloria. Jenna had wanted to force something to happen between her and Bram, of course, and it had.

  But it wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind, and now she was all confused about Comanche lore and worrying constantly about Gloria.

  Bram might have dropped his guard for a few teasing remarks on the phone this morning, but he had reverted to his usual brusque self mighty fast, practically hanging up in her ear.

  Jenna sighed. She must lie in the bed she’d made. The situation was nobody’s fault but her own, and despising Bram for being himself wasn’t an option. He was, after all, no different today than he’d ever been.

  In Black Arrow she drove directly to her father’s huge home, parked her car and entered the house with her key. “Martha?” she called.

  The cook and housekeeper appeared. “Why, Jenna. How nice to see you. You’ve been busy with Mrs. Colton for how long now?”

  “Maybe a little too long, Martha,” Jenna said with a smile, then realized how her reply might have sounded. “I don’t mean to imply that I have a problem with caring for Gloria Colton. It’s something else. Anyhow, I had a couple of hours off and came here to pick up a few things.”

  “Well, it’s your home.”

  Jenna wanted to say that it wouldn’t b
e her home for long. She’d been watching the Chronicle’s classified section for apartments to rent, and eventually realized that there were always units available in and around Black Arrow. When she was ready to rent a place and move out of her father’s house, she would have very little trouble finding something to her liking.

  “I don’t have much time. It was nice seeing you, Martha.” Jenna hurried up the stairs and went to the bed and bath suite that had been hers since childhood. Everything was in place, just as she’d left it, and she gathered a few items of clothing and then some things from the bathroom. She was putting them in a small overnight case when her father walked in.

  Startled, she merely said, “Oh! I…didn’t expect you to be home.”

  “I didn’t expect to see you, either. Martha told me you were here when I came in.”

  “I’m only going to be here for a minute, Dad. I came to pick up some things I need at the ranch.” She saw her father’s expression change from elated to furious.

  “I had hoped you were through with that band of Indians!” Carl said with a sneer.

  Jenna winced at his crudity, but held her head high. “Well, I’m not, and if you must talk about some very nice people in that arrogant, holier-than-thou manner, please do it somewhere else.”

  Carl looked as though she had physically struck him. “I can’t believe you would say something like that to me, your own father.”

  “I’m not a child anymore. Dad, I haven’t been a child for fifteen years! I have a mind of my own and everyone has a right to like whom they please.”

  “Well, that includes me, missy, and don’t you forget it.”

  “I’m sure I won’t,” Jenna said, and lowered her eyes to the things in the little suitcase. “That about does it.” She zipped the case shut.

  “Is that big sheriff chasing you around his house yet? Maybe you’ve let him catch you, huh? Is that what all this rebellion is about? I knew a long time ago that your being friends with that Willow Colton would cause me trouble.”

  Jenna stared at her father with unconcealed pity. “I feel sorry for you, Dad.” Gripping her suitcase, she walked from the room.

  Carl followed her down the stairs. “You feel sorry for me? I feel sorry for you! What in hell’s come over you? You’re sure not the same girl you were before your mother died.”

  Jenna whirled around at the foot of the stairs. “I don’t claim to be. And you don’t feel sorry for me, you’re concerned strictly with yourself and how other people perceive you. Do you actually believe that people would think less of you if you mingled with Native Americans? Called some of them friends? Dad, what makes you think you have a spotless reputation around town? Throughout the entire county, for that matter, or maybe the whole darned state?”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Carl snarled.

  “I’m sure you know, or you would if you’d let yourself face the truth.” Jenna walked away and exited by the front door, the same way she’d come in only minutes before. She got in her car, drove away and then had to pull over to dry her eyes. She had never talked so harshly to her father before; especially painful to her was the cruel way in which she had referred to his unscrupulous business methods. Even if people did talk behind his back, she shouldn’t have hurt him like that.

  Troubled all afternoon about Rand Colton’s sketchy tale of a possible blood tie between the Washington Coltons—wasn’t that what he’d said, that he was from Washington, D.C.?—and the Oklahoma Coltons, Bram drove around aimlessly after eating dinner at a downtown diner. He knew he should still be on the job, looking for the missing gun, working on finding Black Arrow’s infamous arsonist and also the person who had burgled the newspaper office—maybe the same guy, maybe not—but he couldn’t force himself to concentrate on anything but personal problems, which just seemed to keep stacking up.

  The jolt delivered by Rand that morning was one for the books, though. How could there be a whole other branch of Coltons that no one in Oklahoma had ever mentioned? Did Uncle Thomas know anything about it? If there were any truth to it Gran would know, but even when she tried her hardest to speak—which wasn’t often—Bram found it nearly impossible to understand her. And if Gran did know about the Washington Coltons, why had she never talked about them?

  Bram found himself slowly cruising the street that Will and Ellie lived on. He hadn’t seen or talked to Will since right after Gran’s stroke, and he suddenly felt a strong desire to communicate with the best friend he’d ever had. Bram pulled into the Mitchells’ driveway and got out of his patrol car. Will’s pickup was there and so was Ellie’s compact. Everyone was home.

  Bram rapped on the front door and Will opened it. “Hey, look who’s here! Come on in. Ellie’s putting the boys to bed. How about a beer?”

  “I’m driving a patrol car, so thanks, but no. I’ll have a cup of coffee, though, if there’s some made.”

  “There’s always coffee in this house. You know that.” They went to the kitchen and Will filled two mugs with coffee and brought them to the table. They sat and sipped hot coffee and eyed each other. “What’s wrong?” Will finally asked.

  “So many things I wouldn’t know where to start,” Bram admitted.

  “Well, I’m listening if you want to talk.”

  “I know.” Will was the only person Bram knew that he could sit and drink coffee with and not feel pressured into talking even if he had nothing to say. At the same time Will was the one person to whom Bram could tell something and not worry that it would get around town with the speed of light.

  He took the medallion from his shirt pocket and laid it on the table. “I found this on the floor of the old depot. Take a look at it.”

  Will reached for it, held it up and peered at it. “Is this engraving or whatever it is the head of a coyote?”

  “Looks like it to me.”

  “And you found it?”

  “At the old depot.”

  Will’s eyes met Bram’s. “Kind of spooky, if you ask me. I mean, considering your great-granddad’s relationship with coyotes, it strikes me as pretty darned odd that you’d walk into the old depot and find something like this.”

  “It strikes me that way, too.” Bram picked up the medallion again and frowned at it. Then he dropped it back in his shirt pocket and heaved a sigh. “I talked to a man today who thinks he and his kin might be related to me and mine. He’s from Washington, D.C., and I’m assuming that’s where his whole family lives, although they could be scattered to hell and gone for all I really know about them. To tell you the truth, Will, I was so rattled by this guy introducing himself as Rand Colton that I didn’t ask him a lot of the questions I should have asked. But he said he has some old letters—no, envelopes—with Gran’s name on them that once belonged to his grandfather, which was what got him digging up the past.”

  Will slowly shook his head. “Your life is never dull, I’ll give you that, Bram. But a guy you never heard of claiming to be a relative seems darned strange to me. What does he want? I mean, in the end, what is he really after?”

  “Good question.” Bram became thoughtful for a long moment, then said, “It can’t be money, Will. The Coltons around here have jobs, but no one’s wealthy by any stretch of the imagination. Just from his car and clothes I’d have to say that Rand—if that’s really his name—has more money than any one of us. Maybe more than all of us put together.”

  Ellie walked in. “Well, hi, Bram. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “I was about to leave, Ellie. I’m still on duty. Just stopped by to say hello.”

  “How’s your grandmother doing?”

  “Not very well, I’m afraid.” Bram got to his feet and drank the last of his coffee. “Will, thanks for the coffee. Ellie, tell the boys I’ll come by and see them when I get the chance.”

  “Try to bring Nellie with you,” Ellie said with a laugh.

  “I’ll try. Bye, Ellie.” When Will walked with him out to the patrol car, Bram asked, “Is she pregnan
t, Will?”

  His friend’s proud grin lit up his whole face. “Yes sir, she is.”

  Bram got into the vehicle. “I’ll pray for a girl this time.”

  “Do that. Nothing would make Ellie happier. Of course, if it’s another boy she’ll welcome him, too.”

  “She’s a wonderful mother and you’re a lucky guy.”

  “Hey, you could be just as lucky if you’d give the poor lonesome gals of Comanche County half a chance.”

  Bram started the ignition and began backing out of the driveway. “Blow it out your ear, Mitchell,” he called through the open window.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was going to be another long, lonely evening, Jenna thought while wandering Bram’s big empty house. She had completed her nighttime ritual with Gloria, and the elderly woman was already sleeping. Jenna knew it would be hours before she herself felt sleepy, and she had her choice of watching TV or reading, neither of which seemed at all appealing. She was on edge and had been since exchanging those cross words with her father. Thomas and Alice had stayed only a short time after her return to the ranch, but there had been Gloria’s needs to keep Jenna occupied. Now there was nothing to occupy either her hands or her mind, and while she restlessly roamed, resentments old and new gnawed at her.

  Volunteering to come out here had been a huge mistake, she thought unhappily. Sleeping with Bram had been an even bigger mistake, even though her lack of good sense in that department had been caused by her deeply rooted feelings for him. Obviously he didn’t suffer from the same weakness of mind and spirit that she did. When he thought of her at all—if he did—what went through his mind? Did he consider her cheap? Easy? Just another notch on the old bedpost?

  At moments like this she could easily hate him. No one would ever convince her that he had lived the way he was living now before she moved in. He stayed away from his own home as much as he could because she was in it.

  And yet she knew he didn’t want her to leave. He had praised her on her care of Gloria more than once, and Jenna believed wholeheartedly that Bram Colton didn’t hand out undeserved compliments to anyone.