“Except for fences, there doesn’t seem to be.”
“But people live out here.”
“Well, of course.” She frowned at him. “The ranchers, the hired hands, there are even some small properties here and there near the roads.”
“Anyone you can think of who seems to be doing better than ordinary, just recently? Places where you might be able to conceal some box trucks? Off dirt roads?”
“Everybody has a barn,” she remarked. “Sheesh, Buck, these are impossible questions. We have a couple of ranchers who’ve been doing well enough since I can remember. We’ve got plenty of others who are scraping by. The only sudden wealth I’ve seen anywhere was at Ray’s funeral.”
“Where do the Listons live? In town?”
She bit her lip, suddenly a little nervous. “No. They have a small homestead, just barely enough to get by on. And I do mean barely. They eat what they raise, they wear clothes from church donations—can you imagine how hard that was for Ray?”
“I can. Go on.”
“Any cash they have comes from selling whatever extra they grow. At least a couple times a week in the summer, they’ll come into town and set up a little farm stand along with some other people and sell produce and eggs. They raise hogs and chickens mainly, all corn fed, from their own crop. In the autumn when I was kid, and the hogs were all nice and fat, my dad used to buy a side from them and fill the freezer. A lot of other people did, too, I seem to remember. Pork, bacon and cured hams. Apparently it was just enough to get by on.”
“Any kids other than Ray?”
“One, an older boy. He left town just before I went to high school. I barely remember him.”
“So they’re on their own and getting older and living a hardscrabble life.”
“That’s not a crime.”
“No, but it might make someone easy prey for a get-rich scheme. And they may not even know what’s going on. How do we get there?”
She hesitated, then finally said, “I don’t like this, Buck. They’ve never had a lick of trouble with the law, except for that time that Ray got into a fight. They’re good people.”
“I didn’t say they weren’t. I just need to check it out.” He turned in his seat, resting his forearm over the steering wheel so he could look straight at her. “I’ve got very little to go on here, Haley. The only thread is the Listons. They might have nothing to do with this, but I have to check it out. Maybe Ray was the only one involved. Or maybe he got his parents into something they barely understand or know about. I’m not
accusing
them.”
After a minute of internal warfare, she finally nodded. “Okay. Give me the map. It’s been a while and I need to refresh my memory.”
He pulled it from the visor over his head and passed it to her. She studied it, then said in a quiet voice, “It’s amazing how well I remember it all.”
“What do you mean?”
“My mom used to love Sunday drives. We drove all over the county time and again, and then when she got too sick to drive anymore, I used to take her out. She said the wide-open spaces, the fresh air, did her a world of good.”
He clasped her shoulder, saying nothing, just offering silent comfort. She was glad he didn’t say anything, because that memory had brought a huge lump to her throat.
She forced herself to focus on the way to the Liston place, and when she felt it was safe to speak again, she started giving him directions.
No, she didn’t like this at all, but she had to admit he was right. Unless something landed in his lap, he had to start with the Listons.
* * *
A dirt-and-gravel road was their last turn to the Liston homestead.
“Well,” Buck remarked, “this is the right kind of road to spray a truck with mud.”
“Do you have any idea how many roads there are like this in this county? Or how many driveways to ranches are simply graded dirt?”
“Don’t smash my illusions.”
Haley laughed in spite of herself. She was quite confident this was a wild-goose chase anyway. She just couldn’t imagine that after all these years the Listons would suddenly decide to break the law. If they were that type, they’d surely have done it decades ago.
The farmstead appeared in the distance. All the necessary buildings were there, from the small two-story house to the barn and the smoking shed. The outlying fence wasn’t in the best of conditions, but nearer to the buildings it improved. Hogs and goats began to dot the landscape, and the large chicken coop appeared a long distance behind the barn. An expansive field of corn was turning golden behind the buildings. In front of it sat a rusty tractor and implements that looked as if they had been salvaged from the dust bowl. The whole place looked sad and neglected. Most people would have passed it without a second glance.
“See?” she asked Buck. “They have nothing.”
“They have a barn,” he remarked.
“Everyone does!”
“But who would be most likely to rent it out?”
That silenced her. As they got close to the house, though, Buck nearly jammed on the brakes. “Do you see what I see?”
She could hardly miss the brand-spanking-new silver sports car parked in front of the house. It looked so out of place that it was jarring. “Maybe Jim came home,” she said finally, her mouth dry. “He’s Ray’s older brother.”
“He must have been successful.”
“Maybe he’s the one who sent money for the funeral. I mean, if he owns a car like that...”
“Then why wouldn’t they have said so, instead of claiming it was an anonymous donation?”
“Maybe Jim didn’t want them to feel bad.”
“Maybe.”
They were just approaching the rutted drive when Haley suddenly said, “Turn in.”
“What? And set off alarms?”
“I have a perfect excuse to drop in. I’ll find out if the car is Jim’s. Just turn in.”
He seemed to hesitate, but then he gave a sharp turn to the wheel and they bounced their way along the deeply rutted drive. Haley noticed the ruts, although she said nothing about them right then, but it remained there wasn’t a farmer or a rancher out here who couldn’t grade his own drive. It was a necessity unless you could afford to hire the job out.
“When did it last rain?” Buck asked.
So his thoughts were following the same path. “We’ve had some heavy rain this year. Maybe ten days ago?” Plenty of time to grade this mess.
He pulled up near the silver sports car and muttered something about eighty to a hundred grand. Haley was a bit stunned. Who spent that kind of money on a car?
“I’ll wait out here,” he said. “They don’t know me from Adam. Just be careful what you say.”
“I’m not an idiot,” she said sharply. “I’m just a neighbor stopping by to see if they need anything.”
“Forty-five minutes out of town is a little more than dropping in.”
He was right, and nervousness started to twist her stomach and dry her mouth. She looked again at that car and hoped like hell Jim had come home and that he’d found a successful career wherever he’d gone.
Her palms had grown damp and wanted to slip on the door handle. She tightened her grip and climbed out.
“Five minutes,” he said. “Or I’m coming in.”
The way he said that led her to believe that he felt he could take on half an army and win. She wondered if that was true.
She steadied as she walked to the door, climbing weathered and uneven steps, crossing a porch with planks that were warped and splintering. When she reached the wooden door, she knocked.
A minute later, the yellowing sheer curtain twitched as someone looked out and then the door opened, revealing Mrs. Liston.
“Haley! What are you doing here?”
“I was out on a drive with a friend and I just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing. To ask if you needed anything.”
“We’re fine, just fine. Come in.”
“I can’t stay,” Haley said as she crossed the threshold into a ragged-looking parlor. “My friend is waiting.” Then she gave Mrs. Liston a hug and looked around. Mr. Liston sat in an armchair that boasted duct tape over worn fabric. Another man sat on an ancient couch covered with horsehair. He resembled Ray, only neater, cleaner and better fed.
“Jim?” she said, managing to sound surprised.
He smiled at her. “Sure enough,” he said easily. “I wish I could have gotten here in time for the funeral.”
“Well, it’s nice to see you again. Life treating you well?”
“Well enough. I do pretty good selling cars down L.A. way.”
She smiled and crossed the room to shake his hand. “It’s good to see you again. It seems like forever. That’s some car you have out there.”
He laughed, dragging his gaze appreciatively over her. She didn’t like that look, as if he was mentally stripping her. It made her skin want to crawl.
“I wish it were mine,” Jim said. “I get to drive some of the dealer models. Maybe someday.”
She turned her attention to Mr. Liston and went to bend over him and give him a light hug. “How are you doing?” she asked.
“About as well as can be expected,” he said, a bit angrily. “Losing a son ain’t easy.”
“No, it’s not. I’m so sorry about Ray.” She hesitated, noting that she hadn’t been offered a seat or a beverage, both common forms of local hospitality. But maybe it was because they were grieving.
“Well,” she said, just as it seemed the silence was about to grow too long, “I just thought I’d check in and see if I could help somehow. I guess with Jim here to look after you, you certainly don’t need me. You take care.”
No one suggested she stay, but she could understand that, too. Fifteen seconds later she had been ushered out the door and was headed back to the car and Buck.
She climbed in. He didn’t say a word, simply turned them around and headed away from the house. When the farmstead began to disappear behind them, he finally asked, “Well?”
“I was right. Jim is home. That’s his car.”
Buck gave a low whistle. “He’s doing damn good for himself. You think he’d help the family out.”
“It’s not his car. He says he works for a dealer who lets him drive demos.”
Buck didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes and she wished she knew what he was thinking. Finally she asked, “Buck?”
“Think about it, Haley. If you were a dealer, would you let one of your salespeople drive a car that expensive up to the wilds of Wyoming? And unless you owned that car, would you want to risk the dings that you could get on a gravel road? It could cost you your job.”
“Oh.” She twisted her fingers together, considering it and realizing he was probably right. “It doesn’t add up, does it?”
“No, but I’m glad you thought it did. At least you didn’t do or say something to make them think otherwise. Anything else?”
“Not really, except I didn’t feel welcome. There’s no crime in that. The Listons are grieving, and anyway, I’m practically a stranger. I guess I was expecting too much.”
“They might just be grieving,” he agreed.
She replayed the entire encounter in her mind and realized that there was one other thing that had made her feel unwelcome: neither man had risen to greet her. In these parts, men still stood when a woman entered a room like that. They definitely hadn’t wanted her there, and had done nothing to extend her visit. But that certainly wasn’t evidence that any of them were up to something wrong.
“You really think he owns that car?” she asked, running over everything one more time, seeking something she might have missed.
“Well, if he doesn’t own it, then he lied about where he was taking it.”
“That’s possible.” Then another thought struck her. “He might be lying to his parents. If he’s making that kind of money, you’re right, he should be doing something for them. Maybe he hasn’t done one blessed thing and is hiding his success.”
“It’s possible. He wouldn’t be the only person that selfish.”
They wandered some more of the gravel-and-dirt back roads, but nothing seemed to catch Buck’s eye, or if it did he said nothing about it. She got the feeling he was building a mental map, but its meaning to her was opaque. Must be a military thing.
He broke the silence finally with a question. “Does Claire live in town?”
“She used to, but a couple of years ago she married Murdock Bertram. He’s got a sheep ranch near here.”
“How are they doing?”
She could, if she let herself, resent the way he seemed to be suspicious of nearly everyone. Given how little he knew about the area and what he was trying to figure out, though, she supposed she could excuse him.
“All right, I guess. Better than some. Claire sometimes talks about quitting her job but she always comes back to her policy, never trust a man.”
He chuckled at that. “Bad experiences?”
“This is marriage number three. She says she’s never again going to be dependent on anyone.”
“Makes sense. Do you feel the same way?”
“I do about being independent.”
He nodded. “Smart.” Then, “So where exactly is Claire’s place?”
So she guided him to it, even though it meant going back the way they had come. The Liston and Bertram houses were only about ten miles apart. Most of the road to the Bertram place was paved, but like on so many other ranches, the road up to the house and outbuildings was not. Buck pulled in at the gate and turned the car around.
From this distance, the Bertram ranch looked to be doing okay. White clapboard gleamed in the sun, and sheep grazed the pastures as far as the eye could see. Green lawn graced the front of the place, well tended and unusual in these parts where most ranchers had more important things to do than tend an acre of useless grass. A relatively new steel barn dominated a small rise not too far from the house.
“They’re definitely doing okay,” he remarked.
“Wool prices haven’t dropped as much as other things, I hear,” Haley explained. “And Murdock has started to raise alpacas, too. Claire was complaining how expensive those animals are, but I guess their wool is worth it.”
“Must be.”
He scanned the area, and she thought a little wryly that he was probably disappointed that he didn’t see a white box truck in plain view.
Then he put the car in gear again and headed them back toward town. “Let me buy you lunch,” he said. “And please don’t suggest the truck stop. You spend enough time there. I did notice, though, that there aren’t a lot of restaurants.”