by Gwen Moffat
‘She has her family for support.’ With the exception of her granddaughter. How soon would Jen appear? It was unlikely that the girl would be waiting at Benefit, at least to be visibly present. Having to face family and friends after ten years’ absence would be bad enough; in the circumstances, escorting the body of her grandfather, the situation could be unbearable for her. ‘Some good could come of it,’ Miss Pink murmured, to be taken up by Sophie immediately.
‘For whom?’
‘Everyone. Jen will surely come to the funeral. Families draw together after a death and Charlie was the head of the family. I suppose it’s possible’ — Miss Pink seemed to be talking to herself — ‘that he left his granddaughter well provided for.’
‘Probably, I would think.’
‘You mean you — that is, Edna — doesn’t know?’
‘Yes, I do know.’ Subterfuge was difficult with Miss Pink, especially when one was tired. ‘It’s not a surprising will, if you know the background. The bulk of his fortune’s left between members of the family, although most unfairly in my opinion. Jen gets the lion’s share; she’s going to be very rich indeed and she gets the horses — most of ‘em. Edna is to live at Glenaffric for her lifetime, although the ranch is willed to Jen.’
‘And Clyde and Val?’
‘About half a million each, I believe. Enough so’s folk won’t talk but not much considering Charlie’s — was — a multimillionaire. There are bequests to institutions and charities, the usual kind of thing. Like I said, it’s not surprising, except in degree. It’s hard on Edna but she gets to keep her home and presumably Jen will provide the upkeep since the house will belong to her.’
‘Do the beneficiaries know the provisions?’
‘How formal you are, Melinda. Yes, they know. Not from Charlie directly but by way of Edna. Jen won’t know unless Charlie told her. I get five of Ali’s colts, incidentally, and that’s a sick joke. Charlie knew I didn’t like Ali. However, the colts will fetch a tidy sum in a sale; no way am I going to ride any of ‘em, let alone put anyone else up on ‘em.’
‘So Jen has to appear in order to claim her inheritance,’ Miss Pink said absently and then, quickly, ‘I’m sorry, that was in bad taste.’
‘Not at all.’ Sophie was unperturbed. ‘I don’t give a damn what brings her back as long as she comes back. Val’s suffered too much over this business. I’m willing to bet that at this moment she’s far more concerned about Jen than about the load old Jake’s carrying.’
Miss Pink looked to make sure the load wasn’t slipping. ‘Does she know that Jen was pregnant when she left?’
‘Edna’s told her but it didn’t come as a surprise. Val and I had held so many post-mortems over the years that we’d considered it ourselves: that she could have left to have a baby.’ And now they knew that the girl had rejected her mother and gone to her grandfather for help. But they had only Charlie’s word for it that she’d been pregnant; if he was lying about that he was a monster. Charlie Gunn had a lot to answer for. Miss Pink smiled grimly. And, in a way, he’d answered for it.
‘Joke?’ Sophie asked.
‘He was a nasty piece of work, your brother-in-law.’
‘Now he’s gone I’d prefer to forget that we were related, even by marriage.’
The helicopter was at Benefit. It had landed on what would have been the main street when the mines were in production. Now it was no more than a stretch of dust bordered by the few houses left standing. Most structures had collapsed, probably under the weight of winter snows.
Miss Pink relinquished her horse and its burden to the men and moved back. Ostensibly she was keeping out of their way but in reality she was on the alert for a pale horse. She didn’t expect to see its rider.
Bret Ryan’s cabin was obvious: the only one with glass in its windows and a screen door. It stood a few yards back from the street, shaded by cottonwoods. The roof was shingled, the chimney stack built of bricks. A serviceable pick-up stood at the gate of a garden full of marigolds. There were corrals at the back, a barn, sheds and the usual collection of rusting trucks. The horses in a corral were dark; Miss Pink moved to see into the others when — ‘You riding with me, ma’am?’ Sam Jardine called, trudging through the dust to a pick-up and trailer. She started to say no, she’d go home on her horse and then she remembered that this was Jen’s father. She beamed.
‘That would save me five miles,’ she admitted, ‘and I’m saddle-sore. But isn’t it out of your way?’ He lived down the valley, towards Irving.
‘I’m taking the stud to Val’s place. Saves him the walk too. Val’s gonna look after him. Can’t expect Edna to be in a fit state to doctor him, ‘specially when he starts to recover. He’ll soon be hisself again, there’s no bones broke.’
They loaded the horses in the trailer. The others rode away towards the swing bridge and, once all the animals were clear, the helicopter took off. There was no hurry, no urgency.
In the cab of Sam’s pick-up Miss Pink stretched her legs and sighed deeply. He glanced at her, concerned. ‘Nasty thing for you to see, ma’am.’
‘Oh, that. I’m used to it, Mr Jardine. I’m just relieved to be sitting on a seat that doesn’t move.’
‘You’re used to bodies? How’s that?’
‘I was in Search and Rescue.’ The lie came easily. ‘Falls down mountains can produce the most bizarre injuries, although I’ve never seen anything like this. How could it have happened?’
‘Why, he were drug. You saw the ground: rocks and stuff; clothes would be scraped off of him first, then the skin.’
‘I meant how could this happen to an expert rider? First he was thrown, then his boot was caught in the stirrup. Two coincidences: isn’t that unlikely?’
‘It happens.’ But he was thinking. ‘Third coincidence,’ he said. ‘Bear stands up from behind a rock: a she-bear with cubs. Up goes the stud, maybe falls over backwards, and Charlie’s not ready for it — you see? He could have hit his head as he fell and was knocked unconscious. The weight of the body’d twist that stirrup and his foot would be locked in there. Then his horse bolts.’
She said nothing. The evening sun came streaming to light the ridges and deepen the shadows in the canyons. Timber was a folded green pelt, crags were rosy, water was silk set in emeralds. She saw none of it, she was seeing a body suspended, hurtling and bouncing over rocks.
‘Does Jen ride a buckskin?’ she asked at length.
‘Jen — my girl? A buckskin? I wouldn’t know.’ He paused. ‘Was there a buckskin at Benefit?’
‘There was a rider on one above the lake, on the canyon rim.’
‘And you thought it could be Jen.’ He showed no surprise nor resentment that she should be privy to this family secret.
‘I hoped it was her.’
He nodded. ‘I were wondering if she was holed up with Bret Ryan. She’ll be in touch shortly. Can’t do nothing else now she’s come this far. She’ll be missing her mom. Bret will work on her, convince her she has to do the right thing. She’s a good kid at heart. He’ll make her see sense.’
She didn’t pursue the subject; she was relieved to find him a sensible man and well-disposed towards his former wife.
They unloaded the horses at Val’s ranch and he drove away, Miss Pink insisting that she could cope with the animals, it would be something to do while she waited for the riders. In fact, she’d scarcely finished brushing Jake when Sophie arrived. She had left Val and Clyde at the swing bridge and they’d gone straight to Glenaffric. ‘They’ll stay with Edna,’ she said, ‘so we’ll tend to this animal’ — eyeing Ali grimly — ‘put some stuff on those cuts and then we’ll head for home. What did Sam have to say? Any news of Jen?’
They talked as they worked: unsaddling Sophie’s horse first, then Miss Pink held Ali while Sophie went over him carefully, cleaning and dressing the cuts. There was some swelling due to bruising; they’d have the veterinarian out tomorrow, give him a thorough check, make sure nothing had been missed. V
al would be here in the morning, Sophie said, Clyde would stay at Glenaffric. She shook her head. ‘Edna shouldn’t go on living there, the place is far too big for a widow lady. Maybe I can convince her to come to the Rothbury.’
Miss Pink was scratching the stallion’s skull, mumbling to him, her eyes glazed. Sophie straightened from a hind leg and stared. Slowly Miss Pink focused.
‘You bonded!’ Sophie was incredulous.
‘It could be that his problem wasn’t genetic after all. He had the wrong master. He could have been whipped.’
‘I know he was.’
‘I mean, back there: at hunting camp, when Charlie was thrown.’
They regarded the horse’s dark eyes: clear but sleepy. Sophie said, ‘Charlie was about to leave. He’d packed up, cleared the cabin, loaded the pack-horse.’
‘Ye-es.’ Now what was coming?
‘Then he caught sight of a bear.’
‘It would be hanging around?’
‘Right. Only just in case the sheriff asks questions, I suggest we keep quiet about Jen. Val and Clyde agree. About that phone call, I mean, when Jen called Charlie. Edna needn’t have overheard anything. Clyde will convince her to forget it.’
‘I won’t mention it.’ Miss Pink was a bit stuffy. ‘It’s not my business.’
‘Nor the sheriff’s. There’s no need to complicate matters by mentioning Jen.’
Fine. So the phone call was a coincidence, as was Jen’s return at the same time — about the same time — that her grandfather died. As was the fact that Val and Clyde were only a few miles from hunting camp where he died. Coincidence, coincidence — and there was yet another, or two: Val and Clyde were each in line for half a million dollars and Jen was in for a whole lot more. Miss Pink shook herself mentally. My criminal mind again, she thought. How fortunate it was that Charlie’s death was so obviously the result of an accident.
*
It was late by the time they reached the Rothbury. When they entered the apartment Sophie dropped her saddlebags on the floor and made for the drinks cabinet. ‘First things first,’ she announced, pouring whisky and bourbon with a generous hand. Miss Pink took only a token sip before excusing herself. On the drive home conversation was a monologue; Sophie, evidently anxious to avoid personalities, had concentrated on the disposal of Charlie’s horses. Miss Pink had had as much of bloodlines as she could stand. She shut herself in her bathroom, turned on the taps and sat on a padded stool, sipping her drink and too exhausted even to undress.
There was a knock at the door but Sophie was only telling her not to dress, just to put on a robe and they’d eat in the apartment, they’d have dinner sent up from the kitchen.
*
It was another balmy evening. They sat at the window eating lobster Newburg, the food furnishing an excuse not to embark on distasteful topics of conversation. Wondering if Sophie would return to family problems with the conclusion of the meal, about to suggest another early night, Miss Pink was startled by the ringing of the doorbell.
They glanced at each other, then down at their robes. Sophie swallowed and stood up. She looked through the peephole, shrugged and opened the door. Russell Kramer stood there, diffident but solid. The time of evening, the absence of advance notice, indicated the diffidence was assumed.
‘Do I apologise and retreat?’ he asked. ‘Or shall I slip into something more comfortable and join you?’
‘Don’t be silly, Russell.’ Sophie drew him inside. ‘You know you’re always welcome. What will you drink?’
‘Talisker?’ He looked coy.
‘I keep it for him,’ Sophie told Miss Pink who was smiling weakly and wishing she’d combed out her hair after her shower.
Russell sat down with an air of purpose and glanced at the view. ‘Isn’t it a beautiful evening? If the Absarokas weren’t in the way you could see the Tetons.’
Miss Pink’s jaw dropped. She said faintly, ‘If it weren’t for the curve of the earth —’
‘— you could see the Colorado plateau,’ Sophie completed drily, placing a bottle, a shot glass and a tiny crystal jug of water in front of him.
‘How are they taking it?’ The sudden switch made him sound aggressive.
Sophie sat down and focused on Miss Pink’s glass. ‘Val is — contained, I’d guess you’d say’ — raising her eyebrows — ‘Clyde was upset, but then he shows his emotions more than her and — well, she talked to him, you know?’
‘It was an appalling shock for him. I mean, Charlie was his father after all.’
The women stared. He stared back, as if mesmerised. ‘What I’m saying’, he went on haltingly, ‘is that when he heard Charlie was missing, he was very concerned. As anyone would be in the circumstances. Charlie is — was — an old man and Clyde said that horse is wild. He was worried that… What happened exactly?’
Sophie sipped her bourbon. ‘He was thrown but his foot caught in the stirrup and he was dragged… It’s not a common accident, Russell, but it’s the sort of thing could happen to an old person, particularly with a nervous horse.’
‘Poor Clyde. And Val — all of you. Terrible: finding the body.’
‘How did you know?’ Miss Pink asked.
‘Clyde called me from Glenaffric. He didn’t say much, I guess Edna was close by. No details — except Charlie was thrown from his horse, not even when it happened.’ He wasn’t asking a question but his eyes were.
‘We hadn’t really thought about that,’ Sophie said. ‘We all saw the pack-horse ready to go around noon, so it must have happened yesterday morning.’ She frowned, her eyes met Miss Pink’s and sheered away.
He left soon afterwards. ‘Dear me,’ Sophie said, closing the door behind him. ‘He’s very fond of Clyde.’ She started to help Miss Pink who was clearing the coffee table. ‘He had to make sure there was no way Clyde could be involved,’ she went on. ‘Silly boy.’
Miss Pink murmured noncommittally. It was uncertain which ‘boy’ was meant: Clyde or Russell. She hesitated, but it had to be said. ‘There’s no way it could have been anything other than an accident.’
Sophie gasped. ‘Of course it was an accident! What can you be thinking?’
‘Not me. The police. There’s no need to protect people: Russell trying to make sure Clyde isn’t involved — your words. And not mentioning Jen’s call to Charlie, or their meeting… It looks suspicious —’
‘No way is there anything suspicious! Clyde was miles away, Jen was nowhere near the cabin. There’s nothing to be suspicious about.’
‘I meant that your not wanting to mention those facts looks suspicious in itself.’
‘The reason why we’re keeping quiet about Jen’s phone call is that we’re not going to have our family business gossiped about all over the county. Once the sheriff knows, he’ll ask why Jen had to go to hunting camp in secret, why couldn’t she meet her family in the open, instead of in the back country, and her grandfather on his own at that? He’ll want to know what’s wrong with this family. You agreed you wouldn’t mention it, Melinda.’ She was pleading now.
‘How are you going to silence Ryan? If Jen’s with him then he knows about the arrangement to meet Charlie, and he’s not bound by family loyalty.’
‘We can work on him. I tell you, no one need know that she made that phone call. Edna can be persuaded to forget it. You do that too, Melinda. You said yourself: it had to be an accident.’
7
A night’s rest and the security of a corral had revived the stallion. When Sophie pulled up outside Val’s cabin he was still favouring one leg but his head was up and he’d watched the Cherokee’s approach with interest.
‘Doesn’t he look good?’ came Val’s voice as she opened the screen door. ‘The veterinarian was here and Ali stood like a lamb while he was being examined. Isn’t that something? I tell you, this is a different horse.’
‘There’s no serious damage?’ Sophie asked.
‘Not physically. Just a sprain. ‘Fact, he’s more tractable n
ow than he was before. Mind you, it could be a different story when we get up on him again.’
Sophie was disapproving. ‘There’s no need to ride him, Val, even if we do keep him. I don’t know that I want to anyway. For heaven’s sakes, who gets Ali? I have no idea.’ They stared at each other.
Miss Pink marvelled how they could focus on trivial concerns when the previous owner had been virtually kicked to death by the animal. Her eyes strayed to the hoofs. No sign of blood there.
‘Who’s this?’ Sophie asked. A pick-up and trailer were coming along the track, slowing for the entrance to the homestead.
‘That trailer was at Benefit,’ Miss Pink said. If this were Bret Ryan, Jen could be with him, which would explain the wary stance of the others. She was pleased, happy for them, then she tensed in her turn. It was Ryan and he was alone.
He parked with care, turning in the space between cabin and corral. The women hadn’t moved. He walked towards them, stiff in the face of their united attention. ‘Hi, Bret,’ Val said, rather too loudly. She indicated the stallion. ‘No harm done. The veterinarian says the leg’s just a sprain.’
He nodded and regarded the horse without expression. Sophie was frowning at the trailer. No horse was visible through the slats. Val said neutrally, ‘You’ll stay for coffee, Bret?’
‘I just come for the stud,’ he said.
The women were immobile. A yellow butterfly flickered past the group, the horse lowered his head and plucked at a weed. ‘We’re not with you,’ Sophie said.
He inhaled sharply and looked towards the creek. He said distantly, ‘Charlie left the stud to Jen. She wants him there.’ He swallowed. ‘At Benefit.’
Val’s eyes widened and she started to shake. Sophie moved in front of her and said, not unpleasantly, ‘If Jen has business with her family, Bret, she must come herself and discuss it. There’s no way family property can be distributed like this, and so soon. You have no authority.’
‘I do. She’s my wife.’
Someone gasped. He went on hurriedly, ‘She needs time to — to think things through. She just lost her grand-daddy’ — he flicked a hostile glance at Val — ‘so she’s asked me to pick up the stud. He’s valuable. She wants the care of him.’
