Alberta Alibi (8 page)

Huntley simply stood there, waiting for her answer and looking as miserable as she felt. If she told him to mind his own business, would he?

Maybe. But, then again, maybe this was his business too. If her dad was involved in something bad, then his mom was probably part of it too. “Okay,” she whispered and they tiptoed down the hall together.

They pressed their ears to the office door.

“Where were you last night?” asked a police officer.

“Right here.”

“You mean right here in this house?”

“No, I mean right here in this office. I slept in here because I'm worried about that missing rifle. I figure if someone got in once, they might come back.”

“And just who might that be?”

“I lay awake half the night thinking about that. No one around here would be careless enough to not lock up a rifle after use.”

“Are you sure you didn't use it yourself?”

“Of course I'm sure. When I take a gun out, I always return it as soon as I get home. I lock it up before doing anything else.”

“I see.” The officer sounded like he didn't believe a word. “So you haven't seen the missing rifle?”

“No. I had this one out the same night as the shooting. As I told you before, I took it with me out to the range where wolves have been reported.”

“I see,” the same cynical voice said. “And exactly where did you say these wolves are?”

“North of here, on the open range. They've been killing our cattle.”

“Who, besides you, has access to the gun cabinet?” a deeper voice asked.

“Only Ben, my foreman. He sometimes needs a rifle for the same reason I do, to scare predators away from the herd.”

“And Ben wasn't using this other rifle on the night in question?”

“No, he was here. I asked him to stay in the house with Huntley.”

“Huntley?”

“Huntley James. The boy who's staying with me while his mother is in Calgary.”

“I see,” the first voice said. “And Huntley's mother would be Adele James, the owner of the land in question?”

“She is.”

“Well, Mr. Walton, this time we brought a search warrant. We got it early this morning, after the fire. I'm afraid we'll need to search your house and property. We'll be taking the rifles in question at this time. You might want to get those kids out of bed upstairs before we search their rooms.”

Chairs creaked as the men got to their feet. Huntley pulled at Sheila's sleeve.

But Sheila didn't move. She wanted to hear the answer to the question she hoped her dad would ask. He did.

“What fire?”

“Haven't you heard? There was a fire over at the development last night. One of the buildings was destroyed and the fire chief believes it was arson. I don't suppose you were up that way around three o'clock this morning?”

“I told you, I was right here.”

“Alone?”

“If you're asking whether I have an alibi, no, I don't.”

“Mr. Walton, if you don't mind waking those kids up, we'd like to begin our search now.”

Sheila and Huntley fled to the kitchen.

A moment later the office door opened and closed. Her dad walked into the kitchen, rubbing one hand over his stubbly chin and studying the floor at his feet.

“Hi, Dad!”

His head jerked up. “Sheila! Huntley! I didn't know you were awake!”

Sheila had pulled the fridge door open and stuck her head inside. She reached for the orange juice. Huntley opened a drawer, looked inside and closed it again. “Yep,” he said, “yep, we're up all right.”

Sheila shut the fridge door. “Were you working in your office all night?”

“I…Listen, kids, there's something I need to tell you. Come sit at the table.”

Sheila's heart pounded so hard it hurt as she crossed to the table and sat down. She clutched the jug of orange juice in both hands. Was her dad about to confess?

But he only told them the police were in his office with a search warrant and explained why. Sheila and Huntley listened politely and nodded occasionally, as if they knew nothing about it. When he was done, Dad said, “You'd better go upstairs and wake your friends.”

Sheila and the others sat at the kitchen table, eating cereal and watching the two police officers walk past carrying stacks of papers. They even took the recycling bin. Just as Huntley had predicted, they took the computer and then returned for the rifles.

While the police searched upstairs, the kids went outside. They stopped near the police vehicle. “We need to watch them,” Katie whispered, “and see what they take.”

“Sure, but we can't just stand here and stare,” Rusty said.

“No,” Sheila agreed. “But we could watch from the corral. How about Huntley and I give you guys a riding lesson?”

Rusty turned pale. “I don't think so,” he said. “Besides, we already know how to ride. We spent all day in the saddle yesterday, remember?”

“Well, yeah,” Sheila nodded. “But the police don't know that. Besides, you could use some practice trotting.”

“Oh man!” Rusty groaned.

“How about you two give us a demonstration?” Katie suggested. She seemed as hesitant as Rusty.

Sheila and Huntley looked at one another. They both grinned. “Okay,” Sheila said, “but only if you admit you're a little bit sore from yesterday.”

“A little?” Rusty asked. “I may never again sit down without pain!”

They all turned to Katie. “Okay, I admit it, I have a sore butt! If it means I don't have to ride today, I'll admit to just about anything. Besides, I need to take notes.”

While Sheila and Huntley put their horses through their paces, Katie and Rusty took up positions on the fence where they could watch the riders, the front door and the police vehicle. But the results were disappointing. The men came outside carrying large bags that they placed in the back of their SUV. It was impossible to tell what was inside the bags.

Sheila was trotting Silver around the corral when the Mounties walked over to her dad's truck. The thinner man leaned inside and lifted something from the floor. He passed it to his partner, then leaned inside again. Sheila pulled her horse up short. The Mountie returned to his vehicle carrying a red plastic gasoline container.

Sheila's stomach turned over when the second Mountie followed, carrying a rifle at his side. Sheila tapped Silver's sides until he broke into a canter.

12

S
heila slowed Silver to a walk and tried not to watch the white SUV drive slowly down the long driveway, but she couldn't pull her eyes away. She was afraid it would stop, reverse and come roaring back to the house, lights flashing and siren wailing.

She held her breath when it stopped at the road. Her hands fidgeted with the reins. Then the police vehicle made a right turn. Flashes of white appeared and disappeared along the row of pines that lined the fence until finally it was out of sight.

Sheila's stomach fluttered as she walked Silver to the barn door and dismounted. She led him through the wide doorway, knowing Huntley had stopped near the fence where Katie and Rusty stood. She refused to look at them. They would be all sorry and sympathetic, they would smile and try to cheer her up. If only they would simply go away, she could handle that much better.

Sheila knew exactly what they were thinking, and she couldn't blame them. They thought her dad was guilty. Maybe she should climb back up on Silver and ride away. Take off across the grasslands where she wouldn't need to talk to anyone. She patted Silver's neck, but she didn't feel like riding, not anymore.

Sheila removed Silver's saddle and bridle and put them in the tack room. The horse didn't need grooming, but she stood beside him anyway and brushed his thick silver mane.

“At least
you
don't think he's guilty, do you, Silver?” “Who's guilty?”

Katie's voice, so close behind, made Sheila jump. “I wish you wouldn't sneak up on me like that!” Sheila snapped.

“I didn't mean to sneak. I just walked across the barn like a normal person. I thought you knew I was here. I thought you were ignoring me again.”

“What do you want?”

“Nothing, Sheila—I just want to talk to you.” Katie hesitated. “You okay?”

“What do you think?” Sheila growled. She ran the brush through Silver's mane.

“I think it's time we got busy,” Katie said.

Outside, Huntley was trying to convince Rusty to go for a short horseback ride down to the swimming hole.

“I'm not riding anywhere,” Rusty insisted. “How about I walk and meet you there?”

At the fence, Sheila listened and thought how good a swim would feel. The sun already beat down hard, and a hot, dry wind stirred dust into the air. She turned to ask Katie what she wanted to do, but Katie wasn't there.

A flash of white caught her eye, and she spotted Katie's T-shirt and red shorts just disappearing behind the cottonwoods. Sheila ran and caught up to her on the lane that led around the grove of tall trees.

“Where are you going?”

“To question the foreman.”

“What? Ben? You can't question him!”

“Why not?” Katie didn't stop, didn't even slow down.

“Because it's not like he's just a ranch hand; he's more like a friend or…something.” Sheila struggled to find words that would convince Katie to give up this stupid idea. She didn't want Katie to go stomping into Ben's house and accuse him of something he didn't do. Ben might not mind shooting animals, but he was no more likely to shoot at a person than her dad was. For as long as Sheila could remember, Ben had lived here. He helped her learn to ride and train Silver.

“I'm not going to question him, exactly,” Katie said. “I just want to find out if he knows anything.”

“Don't you think he would have told us by now?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Sometimes witnesses don't realize they saw something important until you question them.”

“So Ben's a witness now?”

“Could be.”

The cottage looked a lot like the main house, but on a smaller scale. It was painted white, with a covered porch across the front. Its steep roof had two dormer windows that made it look as if there were bedrooms upstairs, but Sheila knew there was only a loft up there, where Ben had his office.

They reached the front door—still green, Sheila was pleased to see. She lifted the door knocker, shaped like a horse's head, and tapped four times.

A minute later the door swung open and Ben stood on the threshold, grinning down at them. “So this is your friend Katie?”

Sheila nodded.

“Pleased to meet you, Katie.” He shook her hand. “Any friend of Sheila is a friend of mine. Come on in, girls. I was just finishing my coffee in the kitchen. Ryan's gone to the city for a couple of days, left last night.”

Just as in the main house, to the right of the front door was a row of pegs for jackets, a top shelf for hats and a low shelf for boots. Ben's old, brown winter jacket hung on one peg, a brown leather vest on another. There was one cowboy hat, light brown, on the top shelf. Sheila smiled to see that it still had the leather band she braided for Ben the same year she made the white one for her dad. Ben's was brown of course. It seemed everything Ben owned, other than his work shirt, was brown. Even his last name was Brown.

She wondered if Ryan liked brown as much as his father did. Ryan used to wear a cowboy hat the same as his dad's, but it was probably too small for him now. Come to think of it, she hadn't noticed him wearing a hat.

The living room and dining area to the right were flooded with light from one of the dormers above. The door on their left was closed, but Sheila knew it was Ben's bedroom. Behind his room, along a short hall that ran behind a steep ladder-like stairway to the loft, was the bathroom, and beyond that was Ryan's room at the back of the house. They followed Ben through the wide-open living room and dining area to a small kitchen.

Ben's kitchen might be tiny, but it was as neat as a kitchen can be. Unlike Sheila's dad, Ben always insisted that everything be in its place. His coffee mug sat on the counter in front of a high stool with a newspaper neatly folded by it. The coffeepot was already washed and sat gleaming on the coffee machine.

“Have a seat, girls.” Ben waved at the two high stools in front of the counter.

“Uh…if you don't mind, I'd rather stand,” Katie said, eyeing the hard wooden stool.

“Suit yourself.” Ben smiled knowingly, winked at Sheila and then said, “I've got some chocolate milk.

Do you still like it as much as you used to, Cowgirl?”

“Sounds good,” Sheila said, although she didn't feel like drinking anything right now, with the way her stomach was leaping around. She worried Katie would embarrass her or hurt Ben's feelings, or both.

Katie stood at the end of the counter and flipped open her notebook. She thanked Ben for the chocolate milk and ate one of the graham wafers spread with peanut butter Ben put on a plate.