High Desert Detective, A Fiona Marlowe Mystery (Fiona Marlowe Mysteries) (12 page)

Hoover nodded.
“Thought as much.
Those
boys are long gone by now. I can’t see that they would come back, the
reputation they have. I haven’t heard anyone hiring them. Everyone knew they
were thieves. No one in their right minds would have anything to do with them.”

“My gut feeling is it’s someone we employed in the past.”

“It would help if you could supply me a list.”

Jake nodded and didn’t say anything else.

Fiona watched the interplay of the two men. It was apparent that
they respected each other though at the same time they were rivals for her
attention. In a way she was sorry she was the one to come between them, but
then she imagined she might not be the only woman that had caused that problem.

“I can help with the list of employees,” she said. “I might be able
to track down where they are on the Internet.”

“Thanks,” said Jake. “I’ll take you up on the offer. You can use our
computer. It’s pretty up-to-date. We even have a decent internet connection via
satellite.”

Opal handed plates to everyone, and they helped themselves to
fried chicken, macaroni salad and Cole slaw. They ate standing since the buckaroos
had been sitting on a horse the better part of the morning. Fiona enjoyed the
camaraderie of the gathering. People here had an easy way with each other and
seemed genuinely interested in what someone had to say.

“You look so serious,” Rosemary said to her.

“I was enjoying the moment. Sorry if I look bad. I didn’t feel
like a cowgirl today. That’s why I’m still in sweats.”

Rosemary shrugged. “Suit yourself. This isn’t a fashion show here.
Ranch life is very practical.” She was dressed in jeans, long sleeve shirt,
boots and hat. The suntan lines on her face gave her a seasoned look that
wasn’t unattractive. Esme looked the same but for some reason favored a
baseball cap today.

Esme said, “You look better than the last time I saw you.”

“Sleep helps. My throat feels better, and I didn’t have to take
any pain killers.”

“Better get a hat on your head though.”

Fiona felt her head. She had forgotten a hat.

“I got a visor cap in the cab of the rig,” said Opal. “You’re
welcome to use it.”

They didn’t linger over lunch. Jake and crew mounted up and
continued on down the road with the herd of cattle.

“Opal, let’s drive out to that valley. I want to look around a
bit,” said Hoover.

“You’ll have to get out and walk at the end.”

“Walking is good. I can look for clues easier.”

Six

Fiona rode along with Opal and Hoover to the end of the good
road, that is, the road that was passable by motorized vehicle. The rest was
hardly a deer path which meant riding a horse or walking. They got out and
walked, Sheriff Hoover no longer joking and flirting, intent on where they were
and what was on the trail. He walked briskly ahead, stopping now and then to
study the ground or the brush by the side of the trail. His attention to
business impressed Fiona. This was a new side of Sheriff Hoover.

Opal said, “Fiona, I don’t think you should walk all the way. He
might be a while. Let’s you and I sit in the truck and wait till he finishes.”

“Good idea.”

They went back to the truck and sat with the windows down, doing
what most anyone else would do while waiting in a wilderness. One admires the
scenery and watches.

“Not much moving,” said Opal. “This time of day all the critters
take to the shade to keep cool.”

“What shade?” said Fiona.

“Why under the sagebrush, rabbit brush, and greasewood. You
wouldn’t think there’s much shade in all that scrubby looking stuff but there
is. There’s some bitterbrush around here, too. It has a real pretty yellow
flower. The high desert has a beauty of its own when you take time to look at
it.”

Fiona looked around with new eyes while they waited. Opal pointed
out the difference in the brush. Greasewood had thorns, and the older stalks
were woody. Sage brush was gray green with narrow leaves, rabbit brush greener
and lacy looking. They couldn’t find any bitterbrush in bloom.

In half an hour the Sheriff was back, his eyes shaded by his wide
brimmed hat. He was still looking around.

“What did you find?” asked Opal when he got back in the truck.

“I found the tracks your boys said were there. I’m going to need
horses and help to ride the trail and find where those tracks go. Can you spare
Jake? He’s the best tracker around.”

“Sure,” said Opal. “I’ll go along, too.”

“No, you won’t,” said Hoover. “We could be gone several days.”

“They’re my cattle, and I certainly can go. I’m not dead yet,”
said Opal, as she expertly turned around without hanging up in any of the brush
and maneuvered Old Faithful down the rutted road.

Hoover shook his head. “Suit yourself.” But he didn’t look happy.

As they rambled along, Fiona thought about her bunkhouse and what
she should do, debating whether to leave or rebuild. That brought to mind Brewster
and the girlfriend who never showed up.

“Sheriff,” she said, “I was asked to pass along information about
a girl who disappeared. Maybe it will be useful in your investigation.”

Hoover looked at her. “Where did this information come from?”

“Jim Brewster. He had a female friend who was coming to see him,
and she never showed up. He thought she stood him up, but now he’s not so sure.
She never showed, and he never heard from her again.”

Hoover snorted.
“Smart girl to stay away from
him.”

“I’m merely passing on information.”

His face shifted from a grimace to a lopsided smile. “Thanks. I’ll
follow up with him.”

Hoover was a nice looking man, and he had his charm. But there
was something dark about him that Fiona couldn’t name. She returned the smile
and looked away. She had done her job as messenger. The girlfriend not showing
up intrigued her. She might have to question Brewster more about it.

They passed the herd on the way back to the ranch. The riders
looked dustier than ever, but they were on the last leg of pushing the cows
into a pasture closer to the house where the hands could keep an eye on them.

As they approached the ranch house, Opal sat up in the seat. “Who’s
that?”

Fiona and Hoover looked in the direction where she was pointing.
An enormous red vehicle was parked in front of the house.

Fiona smiled. “Do you know anyone who drives luxury vehicles?”

Opal shook her head.

Hoover said, “Never saw a rig like that in this valley.”

“Then it has to be Olympia. She found us.”

Opal pulled Old Faithful alongside the bright red SUV and cut the
engine.

“
Yoo
Hoo
.
Yoo
Hoo
.” Olympia waved at them
from the front porch. “Where have you been? I thought you were sick. Where is
everybody?”

Olympia hurried out the walk to meet them. She surrounded Fiona
in a big hug and then held her at arm length to have a look.

“Sweat suits don’t become you, dear, but other than that I don’t
see any visible scars. What have you been up to in the middle of this
emptiness?”

Fiona laughed in spite of herself. Olympia could put a shine on
any day.

“It’s great to see you. Meet Opal, my hostess, and Hoover, the Sheriff.”

Hoover had held back, maybe unsure of the vision before his eyes.
He looked from Olympia to Fiona to the vehicle and back.

“What kind of rig is that?” he said.

“Rig?” said Olympia. She followed his look. “You mean my new
Firenze Red, Range Rover with ivory leather seats and cherry wood interior
trim?”

“You bought it?” asked Fiona.

Olympia sighed. “I don’t know, Fiona. I was in Portland with
these writer friends, and we had a little too much to drink, I guess, and they
told me that I needed a really good vehicle to get around in southeast Oregon.
One thing led to another, and we ended up in a Land Rover dealership. I picked
it up this morning. They programmed in the directions for the vehicle to get me
here, and here I am.” She smiled at the Range Rover. “Isn’t it a dream?”

Opal looked from Old Faithful to the Range Rover.
“Got a pretty good paint job.
How does it drive?”

“Like suspended in clouds.”

“Mine, too,” said Opal. “Can I get you something to drink?” She
led the way to the porch. “Sit down and make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring
out the iced tea.”

Olympia checked her watch. “It’s happy hour somewhere in the
world. Do you have anything stronger?
Maybe red wine?”

“You bet. You sit and visit.” And she went off to the kitchen.

Hoover, for the first time since Fiona had met him, seemed at a
loss for words.

Olympia beamed. “Sheriff Hoover is it? I’ve never met a Sheriff
before.
Only in my dreams.”
 

Hoover appeared to be assessing the situation.

No man had ever tamed Olympia. She was taller than Fiona, wore
her dyed hair, red this time, in incredible swirls upon her head, and always
dressed to kill, this time in sparkly cowgirl vest and skirt. She lived an immensely
romantic existence within the worlds she created in her books which sold by the
millions. You couldn’t pass a bookstand in any airport in the world without
seeing her name.

“I’m the real thing,” said Hoover, “and I need to get back to
town. I’ve got crimes to solve.”

He tipped his hat.
“Nice to meet you.
Welcome to Harney Valley.”

“Thank you, Sheriff. I’d love to talk to you again when you
aren’t so busy.”

Hoover nodded and trotted out to the big white truck with the Sheriff’s
office emblem on the door and sped away.

“Was that Mr. Hunky?” asked Olympia.

“That is Hunky No. 2. Hunky No. 1 is moving cows. He’ll be a
dusty specimen when he arrives.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Fiona, surrounding yourself with these
gorgeous men.”

Fiona laughed. “I know Hoover will figure in your next romance
somewhere.”

“Yes, indeed. I’ll have to do another Western series.”

Opal returned with a tray. She handed a glass of red wine to Olympia
and another to Fiona. She kept a tall of iced tea for herself.

“Sit down, ladies, enjoy the afternoon,” said Opal.

“This is quite a place you have here,” said Olympia, sitting on
the love seat. Her billowing skirt filled the seat so Opal and Fiona sat on
cushioned seats on either side of her.

“Yum,” said Olympia, “wine never tasted so good. What a long
drive it is out here. What scenery. What ruggedness. What big skies.
So different than Portland.”

Opal chuckled. “You don’t find many people from Portland
re-locating to Harney Valley. They come as tourists, and that’s probably for
the best.”

 
Olympia gushed on.
“A real cattle ranch.
I have not had the experience of a
real cattle ranch.
My-oh-my.”

“We’ll have to take you on a trail ride. Do you ride?” Opal
asked.

Olympia took a sip of wine. “Yes, I do. That is, a long time ago,
I rode a horse. I might have to practice up a bit.”

Fiona smiled. That Olympia knew how to ride was news to her.

The phone
range,
and Opal went inside to
answer.

Olympia focused her attention on Fiona. “Tell me everything. What
have you gotten yourself into?”

Fiona nodded to the knoll. “See that black rubble up there. That’s
what is left of my bunk house.”

“No.” Olympia grabbed her throat.
“How
terrible.
What happened?”

Fiona gave her the short version of the fire, the longer version
of finding the bones, and topped it off with the cattle rustling.

“You have had a time of it. The Wild West is still wild then,
isn’t it?”

Fiona could hear the ideas rumbling around in Olympia’s head for
her next book.

“It’s different,” said Fiona. “Vastly different from city
living.”

“I believe you like it here,” said Olympia, peering at Fiona.
“Fiona Marlowe, I believe you
like
it
here.”

Fiona smiled and toyed with her wine glass. “Maybe I do.”

“What about Mr. Hunky? I’m dying to hear all the details of your
romance.”

“He likes me, and I like him. That’s all there is to it.”

“Really, Fiona, I find that hard to believe.
Two
grown adults of a certain age only liking each other?
That’s not how it
plays out in romance novels.”

Fiona smiled. “This isn’t a romance novel, Olympia, you goof.
This is real life.”

“Humph,” said Olympia, clearly disgruntled that Fiona was not
forthcoming with any juicy details.

“Speaking of Mr. Hunky,” said Fiona, “here he comes now.”

Olympia followed the direction of Fiona’s gaze.

“I can’t see anything except a dust cloud.”

“That’d be the buckaroos, as we say in Harney Valley, coming home
from a hard day on the trail.”

Olympia jumped up. “Let’s go meet them.”

Fiona laughed. Olympia’s enthusiasm always burned full flame.

“Best we wait here. You don’t want to get caught in the cloud of
dust and a bunch of tired horses and riders.”

Opal rejoined them. “That was the Sheriff calling. He wanted Jake
to go with him tonight to follow that trail. I talked him into going first
thing in the morning.”

“Are you going with them?” asked Fiona.

“You bet. I wouldn’t miss this trail ride for the world.”

Fiona said, “Hoover didn’t look like he wanted a woman along on a
man’s mission.”

 
“Where are we going? We
could all go,” said Olympia.

Fiona and Opal looked at each other.

Opal said, “This wouldn’t be a trip for green horns. I’m a
seasoned rider, and the Sheriff thinks I should stay at home.”