
# Arrowstar

# First in the Arrowstar Series

# C.K. Thomas
**Text copyright © 2011 C.K. Thomas**

**Smashwords Edition**

**All Rights Reserved**

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This book or any portions thereof may not be reproduced for any purposes other than review without the written permission of the author.

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

### Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Preface

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Other books by C.K. Thomas

Preview of _Charade_
For Cleo and Peanut, who were beside me all the way.

### Acknowledgments

_Sincere thanks to Lu Sanford, my friend and copy editor, and to Kimberly Gallagher, my content editor._

### Preface

_"I often tell my readers, if they genuinely want to know how I came to live way out West in a small Arizona mining town, it will require a long tale before they can truly understand the answer."_

_-Star Lance, July 2010_

### Chapter One

_Mineral City, Arizona – Thursday, July 8, 2010_

Grant Cobb slammed his fist down hard on the lawyer's heavy oak desk top.

"What do you mean you don't have a copy of the will?" he shouted angrily.

"It's missin' from my files," the lawyer answered slurring his words slightly and leaving an unmistakable hint of Scotch whiskey floating in the air between him and his irate client.

"How could it just go missing? You called me when my uncle was found murdered in his own living room based on information from his will. Can't you reconstruct it from your computer?"

"Hold on now, son," Ray Long said in his low, slow Texas drawl as he tilted back in his chair and placed his boots on the corner of his desk. The overstuffed leather chair might easily have swallowed his five-foot-five frame if not for the girth of his belly that seemed wedged firmly between its armrests. "I'm working on that now, but Mary's been on vacation, and I only discovered the will was missin' yesterday. Your uncle should have had a copy in his files. Have you looked for it in his personal papers?"

"I assumed you'd have everything we needed, so I haven't even thought about looking. Anyway, the movers came and loaded up everything in the house. There's nothing left to look through."

"Well, now, I suggest you walk over to Main and Muddy Basin and talk with Star Lance."

"Who? Why?"

"Well, the word around town is that Ms Lance bought the whole kit and caboodle for her antique store inventory. Arrowstar I think she's calling it. Don't you remember offering the contents for sale and signing off on the deal?"

"Oh, that. Yes, of course, but since then I've been embroiled in a lawsuit concerning some business interests I have in the UK. I haven't even been over to the house since the day the movers loaded the truck," Grant sighed and mumbled under his breath, "infernal international business."

"Let me know if you find it. It'll save Mary the trouble of digging it up on the backup disk and reprinting it when she gets back in a couple weeks," Ray said without a hint of apology.

With that pronouncement making Grant fume internally all the more, he stalked from the office and headed for Arrowstar Antiques.

"Oh, that miserable buzzer!" Star Lance mumbled to herself as she ran to the front of the shop from the storage warehouse out back, into the kitchen and parlor and through the clutter of assorted antiques to be shelved in the front room.

Grant Cobb stood ramrod straight on the front porch of Arrowstar Antiques, absently taking in the red brick bank to the west with Its barred windows and unexpected cactus-filled flower boxes. Turning to look east, he barely noticed the rosemary cascading over the rim of whiskey barrels on the broad front porch at Carla's Bar and Grill, and the Century plants standing sentry along the raised boardwalk out front. The tiny lights topping the square-cut adobe building housing the bar attracted his attention though, along with the neon _We're Always Open_ sign, winking on and off in a small transom window above the door. He seriously considered walking over there for a cold beer if somebody didn't answer the door pretty damn soon.

Just then Star pulled the shop door open, and Grant turned and blurted, "Are you the woman who bought Bobby Flint's household goods?"

"Good morning to you, too," Star said as a wary smile turned up the corners of her mouth, and her eyes took in the long-legged, tanned figure on her doorstep. While not a particularly handsome fellow, Grant had a basketball player's build with long arms and large hands and feet. Star tried not to focus on the tantalizing blue of his eyes and his smoky gray hair as it ruffled slightly in the breeze escaping out the door from the evaporative cooler.

"I'm sorry," he said, trying not to stare at the tall, sun-streaked blond staring him straight in the face. Her clear green eyes, level with his, surprised him with their unashamed appraisal and slightly impudent stare. In spite of his efforts not to, his gaze traveled downward to take in the curve of her breasts and the sturdy angular shape of the rest of her.

"I'm Grant Cobb, and I need to look through my uncle's personal papers. I think they were mistakenly sent over here with everything else."

"Star Lance, pleased to meet you. I meant to call you first thing this morning, but I got sidetracked. I was surprised to find all Mr. Flint's personal correspondence in a packing box."

"Yes, well, I haven't been paying very close attention to the estate I'm afraid. My mind has been on other things," Grant explained.

Star led her visitor through the disarray of the front rooms into her large and somewhat outdated kitchen. Grant glanced quizzically at the old pump perched on the sink and the old-fashioned, wood-boxed telephone with a black speaking tube and listening piece attached to the wall in the parlor.

"The pump still works, but the phone's dead," Star said as she followed his gaze. "How about a cup of coffee?"

Star put the pot on the stove to warm up and set out the sweet rolls Ricki had dropped off this morning on her way to work.

Ricki Wade, daughter of the town's sheriff, had lived in Mineral City since she was a girl. Expecting a boy, Sheriff Vince Wade picked the name Richard well before the baby was born. When a sweet little baby girl showed up, rather than pick a new name, Vince talked his wife into naming her Ricki.

The secondhand shop, The Second Thyme Around, was Ricki's way of contributing to the greening of the earth and the well-being of the not-so-prosperous citizens of her hometown. Ricki's shop was on Muddy Basin Road just around the corner from Carla's Bar and Grill and shared four marked spaces in Carla's rear parking lot. On Saturday nights those spaces filled up with Grill customers, but Ricki's store wasn't open in the evenings anyway, so it was an unspoken arrangement that worked well.

"Sure, yeah, okay, I guess," Grant answered, accepting Star's offer of coffee. "Can I look through the roll-top desk while the coffee is brewing?"

"Actually, the desk is out back in the warehouse, and it's empty. I was just contemplating how I could best move it into the house when you came to the door. Everything was packed in boxes, and as I said, I've come across at least one box full of old letters and other papers. It's in the parlor where I've been unpacking things. You can have a look yourself if you'd like."

"Looks like you could use a hand with all this stuff. It's going to be a devil of a job sorting out, isn't it?"

Yesterday, as the movers stacked the boxes in the big front room of the old house, Star wondered what in the world she had been thinking when she'd gambled her last nickel to buy the entire contents of the estate over on Cattletrack. Maybe it had been an unorthodox way of starting an antique store, but the price was right, and Star thought it would yield enough antiques to at least have something to display when her shop had its grand opening next month. Also, she thought the fact that the house sat boarded up for six months while Grant Cobb made his leisurely way back from Europe to deal with his uncle's estate added even more mystery to curiosity seekers.

"Probably, but I enjoy it for the most part," Star answered him as she again secretly questioned her own judgment.

"It's a good thing," Grant observed as he pawed through the contents of the packing box.

"Well, it doesn't look like my uncle's will is in this box," he said, sounding exasperated.

"I tell you what, why don't you lend me a hand while we drink our coffee and help me open a few more of these boxes. It's bound to be here somewhere," Star offered.

"Sounds like a good way to get some free labor out of me," he laughed, showing a captivating smile Star had not expected.

"Actually, if I wanted free labor I would have marched you out to the storage shed and ordered you to bring in that heavy roll-top!"

"I'm tall, but I'm not sure I have the muscle to move that thing all by myself," he admitted.

The morning turned into afternoon as the two of them sorted through box after box of documents, old checks and tax forms to no avail.

"Well, this is going nowhere fast," Grant complained.

"Why don't you come back tomorrow morning, and we'll take another crack at it," Star suggested.

### Chapter Two

_Evening – Thursday, July 8, 2010_

After Grant left, Star headed out back to take another look at the old roll top. She wasn't about to move the thing all by herself, but she was curious. She lifted the rolled lid, uncovering the stunning nooks and crannies that always drew her to these kinds of desks. It was evident this was a solid oak piece, no particle board in sight.

Star ran her hand over the edge of the writing surface worn smooth with use. Just under the lip of the desktop her fingers touched a spring-loaded clip. She pressed it and a panel next to the chair hole swung open. The door had a narrow tray at the bottom and it held an upright manila envelope tied with string. Just as she bent down to retrieve the envelope, the sound of that infernal buzzer up front made her jump. It was almost 6:30 p.m., and she couldn't imagine who'd be stopping by when most people in Mineral City would just be sitting down to supper.

Star quickly closed the hidden compartment and made a dash for the house, but something made her stop when she reached the kitchen door. She had the uncanny sense that someone was inside waiting for her. She pulled back her hand and took the three steps up to the gate that led to a walkway around to Main Street. Quietly she crept around the front corner of the house and sucked in her breath at the sight of three muscled bikers in black leather jackets, pants and motorcycle boots, standing on the porch lighting up cigarettes. They had parked their bikes by the horse railing out front, and she counted four Harleys.

"Where was the other rider?" she wondered as the hair on the back of her neck stood up and her hands began to shake as she tried to close the front gate without clinking the latch. She slipped behind a large oleander at the corner of the house and waited. In a few minutes, a big guy with a full beard came out of the house onto the porch.

"There's nobody home, and the desk in the shed out back is totally empty," he grumbled to the others. "Unopened boxes are all over the place. It's going to be impossible to find anything in there. I vote we tell Kat we searched the place and didn't find nuthin'. Any objections?"

None heard, the bikers mounted up and roared off down the street. It wasn't exactly a secret departure. Most business owners along the street had already closed up and gone home, but at least one door opened up the street at Perry's Bicycle Shop when the group roared past, and several people on the porch over at Carla's turned their heads to watch.

Star's heart was beating fast as she entered the house by the front door, rebuking herself for leaving it unlocked again. Just because this was a small town didn't mean there weren't people around who would take advantage of an unlocked door. It didn't appear anything had been disturbed in the house and the roll top was just as she had left it. She sat down in the desk chair and breathed a sigh of relief. Something in the back of her mind nagged at her as she clicked the hidden compartment and the little door opened just as it had before. Bikers, who were they? What were they looking for? She slipped the envelope out of the tray and put it aside to take back into the house.

Right now, she wanted to survey this remarkable desk, so she put all speculation about the bikers aside. She placed the manufacture at around 1910, judging from the scalloped handles on each of the four small drawers. A small door opened to a neat cubby at the midpoint of the console. On the right there were six vertical slots for papers and an additional four horizontal spaces on the left. All the little cubbies made her treasure this old piece even more. There were four large drawers on either side of the chair hole, each with the same scalloped handles that adorned the smaller drawers under the roll top.

Star opened the small cubby door in the middle of the desk just above the writing surface and felt around inside for a trap door in the bottom that was often a part of a desk like this one. She was disappointed not to find one. Just as she was about to give up her search for another secret hiding place, her little finger slid across a tiny button obscured by the decorative handle on the little door. She pressed it and to her surprise the top of the cubbyhole dropped down to reveal a space about six inches deep and lined with red velvet. She didn't see anything inside, but searched the little space with her fingers and grasped a tiny tin box. She lifted the lid and pulled out a small silver key that looked like it might fit a diary or a very small padlock.

"Looks like this is my lucky day," she mused, hopeful she'd find whatever the key fit in one of the as-yet-unopened packing boxes.

She carried the envelope she had found earlier into the house and opened it at the kitchen table. It was Bobby Flint's will, but it was dated 1952. Surely he had updated his will since then. "Oh well," she thought. "This is not my problem, and I'm too tired to think about it right now anyway."

Star's dreams that night were anything but pleasant as she wandered through large rooms filled with stacks and stacks of cardboard boxes. At one point she became lost in a narrow passage through the boxes and began to run. In the dream she was certain she could hear footsteps behind her and a rustling sound growing louder and louder as she ran toward a light that got further and further away the harder she ran. Suddenly the light winked out and she woke up in a sweat. She sat straight up in bed and listened for whatever might have awakened her.

She heard something outside right below her second-story bedroom window. Reaching under the bed, she pulled out a Smith and Wesson, Model 36, Classic revolver she'd learned to shoot last year when she'd made the decision to move out West. She wasn't under the delusion that everyone in the West packed a pistol, but she was newly single and wanted to feel safe.

She hadn't been in the market for a reproduction revolver with a hefty price tag, but she'd spotted this one offered at a gun show she'd attended with her employer and long-time friend, Jake Nally. It was priced well under what they usually sell for at $500. It was brand new, nickel plated, and she loved the feel of it in her hand. Jake had talked her into blowing some of the money she had from the sale of her house since she was obviously in love with that gun. Right at this moment, she was really glad she had taken his advice.

Holding the gun low and to the side with both hands, she sneaked up beside the window to take a look. She couldn't see much of anything since clouds now obscured the usually clear sky, and street lights didn't figure into the town's slim budget. It was dark as pitch outside that window. Then she saw a flash of white fur and heard a low growl and bark identifying the culprit as a lost dog after a bite to eat and not another intruder of the human species. She laughed at herself, put the gun away and went back to bed.

About an hour later Star awoke with one overriding thought spinning around in her head. Bobby Flint had been shot in the head, and as of yesterday, she had all of Bobby's personal possessions. Maybe Mineral City, Arizona, hadn't been such a red-hot choice of a place to escape the constant reminders of Mac's death after all.

Wide awake now, Star sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, resting her feet on the cool slats of the hardwood floor. She squinted to see out the window and wished for a breeze in the hot stuffy room. She'd turned off the evaporative cooler earlier thinking she wouldn't need it tonight. The window in this upstairs bedroom wouldn't budge above half open, but Star stood in front of it hoping for a breath of air. The sky, looking angry and dull, showed streaks of heat lightning cutting yellow gashes in the soft velvet black of the night. Star struggled to pull the window up higher, but it stubbornly refused to budge even another inch.

Frustrated, she pulled on her jeans and shirt and slipped into the sneakers she'd kicked off at the foot of the stairs. She pushed open the front door of the shop and sat down on the top step of the wide porch. Every now and then heat lightning lit up the street, and she could see the peaked roof of the white frame church at the end of Main Street where Tyler Spring Pike took off north to ranching country and south to the old Weaver mine operation. The double front doors of the church looked slightly ajar, and the lightning reflected back at her from the peaked stained glass window above them.

Had someone left the church door open or was it just a shadow making them look that way? Curiosity got the best of Star, and she stood, brushing off the seat of her jeans, and began walking up the street along the boardwalk in front of the buildings. As she neared the intersection, she could see that the doors were slightly ajar. The wooden steps were sturdy, and Star made her way silently to the top. The door swung easily open, and Star stepped inside.

The only light came from the eternal-flame candle hanging over the altar on a long gold chain looped from the apex of the tall ceiling. It cast soft shadows over the padded step for kneeling, and the polished maple of the prayer railing reflected its light. The stagnant air smelled like the pages of ancient books and cedar-scented furniture polish. Star slid into one of the pews near the front and watched the flame dance inside its red glass vase.

The cool wooden pew felt good where it touched her legs and back. A sigh escaped her lips as she thought of the last time she had sat in a church, a church miles and miles away from this place. It was the day she said her final goodbye to Mac. The closed casket had rested in front of the altar in that big old sanctuary where years before she and Mac had stood to recite their marriage vows. And, as she spoke from the pulpit about their years together to all the friends and family gathered there, in the back of her mind swirled the words they'd repeated at their wedding. How blithely they had proclaimed, "'til death do us part." But, it wasn't supposed to be now, this soon, this way. They were supposed to be old and wrinkled, and their great grandchildren would be there to witness this day.

The thought brought the warm flow of unrestrained tears along with the memory of how she had cried out before the funeral when the ushers had closed the casket lid, shutting Mac's body inside. The moment had sneaked up on her, so final, so cruel. So unexpected was her reaction that it had taken her breath away. It felt as if she again had landed hard on her back on the cement of the driveway when she fell from her bicycle as a child. The sadness and pain followed her even to this new life she had dreamed up, this fresh start, this empty nest, this hair-brained solution to grief she thought she'd found. Star closed her eyes and ran the all-too familiar story through her mind's eye for the millionth time.

_We were so innocent when it all began, a typical Midwestern American family of four, Julie, 17; Mark, 19; and Mac and me both coming up fast on fifty. Mac had been feeling ill for over a month with a hacking cough and tiredness that just wouldn't go away. He kept working at the drugstore and insisted he'd be just fine when allergy season was over. Finally, he kept his regular appointment with his cardiologist. His blood pressure was sky high, so the doctor prescribed a higher dose of blood pressure medicine and told Mac to quit taking the old stuff._

_As a pharmacist Mac knew better, but he stopped taking the old medicine before he filled the new prescription. The next morning, he blacked out in the bathroom after I left for work. When he came to, he was barely able to dial 911 on his cell phone, and the next time I saw Mac, he was flat on his back in a hospital bed suffering from the aftereffects of a stroke. The hospital doctor ordered extensive tests when he found out Mac had been coughing up blood, something I had no clue was happening._

_Mac had been a smoker since college, but had given it up about a year ago. Unfortunately it wasn't soon enough, and the tests came back positive for lung cancer. Surgery was not an option, so we brought him home with orders for chemotherapy and physical therapy for the weakness in his right hand and leg from the stroke. We had a wheelchair and a hospital bed delivered to the house. Physical therapists came and went, and the chemotherapy treatment commenced._

_The first and second rounds of chemotherapy were unbearable for Mac, causing bouts of vomiting and diarrhea that smelled like a chemical factory. He soon abandoned that regimen of treatment when the doctor finally admitted to him that he could only expect to live maybe six more months. The chemo was a last ditch attempt to give him a few extra months. A-few-more-months-of-hell is what Mac called it. "What's the point?" he reasoned._

_We no longer thought of ourselves as a typical American family. We were a family looking at a father and husband with a fatal disease, one that would certainly end in death. We even knew about how long we had left to call ourselves a family of four. Mac decided to keep up the physical therapy, and he forced himself to eat when he didn't really want anything. We poured the protein drinks down him and stuffed him with fresh fruits and vegetables. The cough continued to plague him, but gradually and miraculously strength returned to his leg and hand._

_Mac wasn't the type to lie in bed, and as soon as the intensive physical therapy allowed him to walk again, he was out the door with his cane in hand. We walked the neighborhood first, stopping often for coughing spells. Then we took on some of the easy hiking trails in the state park adjacent to our neighborhood._

_In spite of our efforts at good nutrition, Mac began to lose weight and became someone I hardly recognized as the sandy-headed, robust outdoor guy with a square jaw and cleft chin I'd met in college and fallen in love with on a weekend during spring break down on the Indiana University campus. Mac was about to graduate with a degree in pharmacy from Purdue, while I was a year behind him studying to be a writer at I.U. We were young, healthy, and full of hope, without a clue that our dreams of growing old together would never be realized because Mac could not or would not give up cigarettes. Then, when he finally did, it would be too late._

_Of the two kids, I think Julie took it the hardest. She and Mac were special buds - they both loved the outdoors. Julie was always up for fishing trips and skiing with her dad, while Mark and I were happiest knocking around bookstores, flea markets or antique shops together. Mark was stoic about the whole thing, stepping up to take his dad's place as the head of the family, as its protector and steady guy you can count on._

_It was Mark who suggested we all take a family vacation instead of moping around the house. We took off for Cape Hatteras where we had spent so many lovely times with the kids when they were small. We flew kites on the beach while Mac sat under a sun umbrella and watched. Some days he was able to amble along the beach with us picking up shells and watching the sun come up. We had cookouts and sat on our deck looking out to sea as the sun went down each night._

_When we returned home, Mac was very weak and couldn't keep any food down. Hospice nurses made sure Mac had the medication he needed to keep pain levels low. I sat by Mac's bedside and read to him for hours. When I'd think he was asleep and stop reading, his eyes would flutter open, and he'd motion with his hand to keep turning the pages. And turn the pages I did until one day when I was reading I noticed a change in his breathing. I stopped reading and stood by the bed. His hand didn't come up to tell me to turn the page. I grabbed his hand and held on tight as if I could make life surge from me to him through our hands._

_With Mac gone, the three of us moved around the house as if through a dreamscape of endless tomorrows. Today was too painful to acknowledge and tomorrow, surely tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow we'd awaken and know for certain that life was still going on all around us. Somehow tomorrow this fog that shrouded the three of us in disbelief would lift, and we'd move on. It seemed an almost endless vigil that brought us finally to our senses and then to a painful entry into the bright harsh light of reality._

_Mark decided to move up to Seattle for his sophomore year of college at the University of Washington after soldiering on through his freshman year at community college in spite of the grief and chaos that had ripped apart our family in so many ways. Julie retreated into herself, and I thought I'd never hear the melody of her laugh again._

_The three of us muddled onward, and somehow Julie's senior year of high school came and went, and she was off to college before the numbness of losing Mac had even worn away a little bit. It was hell seeing her packing to go live in a dorm on the I.U. campus where not so long ago I had lived. And then she was gone, and I was left wandering through the rooms of the old house that had once held our family in its warm embrace while we laughed and lived and grew up._

_The walls were covered with pictures I had taken of Mac with the kids, Mac with the dog, Mac at the drugstore. The hospital bed was long gone from the living room, but I still looked up from what I was cooking in the kitchen, expecting to see Mac snoozing there._

_The days seemed endless now, and the nights crept up on me, thrusting chilly fingers around my heart and daring me to sleep and dream of Mac, us together on the boat, us walking down the block to buy a cone at Foster's Creamery. And then I'd awake in the dark, alone next to a cold deep place in the bed beside me where Mac once had slept._

_That's when I decided I had to move on to someplace that didn't remind me so much of Mac. My hand drifted across that empty place searching for something I'd never find again, and I knew it was time to go._

Star sighed and ran her fingers through her hair as she stood and turned to go, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. At the back of the church, she paused and let the quiet of the night in this sacred place steady her. Before moving on she sighed once again and took a deep breath. That's when she noticed something dangerous mixed with the scent of this old place -something she recognized immediately-natural gas. It was wafting up the staircase from the basement and wouldn't take long to fill the sanctuary.

She looked up at the eternal flame and knew she had to act quickly. She ran to the front of the church looking for a shut-off valve for the gas-fed candle. Frantically she jiggled the knobs of the doors on either side of the altar. They were locked. She stood under the flame and noticed a small shut-off valve, but couldn't reach it. Kicking off her shoes, she hoisted herself onto the altar where she was barely able to reach the valve and extinguish the flame. Without taking time to put her shoes back on, she ran down the aisle and propped open the double doors to the church. She noticed a light on at the sheriff's office and ran barefooted down the street where she pounded on the door.

Blanch Horn, the night dispatch person on duty, peered out the office window and recognized Star as a newcomer to Mineral City. Always the cautious one, Blanch radioed Marty Greer, the sheriff's deputy on night patrol duty, before answering Star's frantic pounding. After all, this woman had only moved here a few months ago, and Blanch wasn't taking any chances. She'd heard over at Carla's that this woman was from somewhere back East, and in Blanch's estimation, you just can't trust these big city people.

"Hey now, calm down before you wake up the whole town," Blanch said in a low husky voice that took Star by surprise.

Hesitantly, Blanch opened the door a crack keeping the chain lock in place. "Who are you, and what's the big emergency?"

Through the crack in the door Star could make out a tall, very skinny woman, who seemed to be all sharp elbows and arms. Her thick, pink framed cats-eye glasses sat extremely low on the bridge of her nose, and those glasses reminded Star of something she might throw in a bargain basket over at Arrowstar. She was wearing pink Capri slacks and pink flats with white and pink anklets that seemed to match her Capris perfectly. And, if Star wasn't mistaken, the white starched blouse she wore was a vintage Ship and Shore.

"There's a gas leak over at the church and the smell is very strong. It's coming up the stairway from the basement," Star told her.

"Oh, and what were you doin' inside the church at this time a night without your shoes on?"

Star couldn't believe this woman didn't see the urgency of the situation and took a step back from the door, hoping to relieve Blanch's obvious anxiety. At that moment, Marty pulled up in his patrol car. Star watched as he unfolded his long legs, swung them out of the car, and took his time walking up to stand beside her. He looked very military in his neatly-pressed uniform, shiny black boots and duty belt with various official-looking pouches hanging from it, including his pistol. When he turned the squelch down on his radio, Star noticed a Masonic ring like her dad used to wear, and right away she felt safe.

Marty seemed nonchalant and mildly amused as he pushed his hat back on his head to reveal slightly damp black hair above crinkled brows and questioning, wide-open eyes. "What's the trouble here, ladies?" he asked.

Both Blanch and Star began to talk at once until Marty held up his hand and whistled through his teeth.

"Oh, I recognize you," he said to Star. "We met recently at the top of Thompson's Bluff, didn't we? I noticed you haven't been in to pay that ticket yet or the one I gave you over on Muddy Basin the other day."

"Listen, Sheriff," Star began.

"I'm not the sheriff, I'm a sheriff's deputy," Marty corrected her.

"Well, whoever you are, you need to get the gas company over to the church because there is a natural gas leak in the basement. I was just over there, and it smelled very strong at the top of the basement stairway."

"Oh, my God, they've got an eternal flame going in the sanctuary!" Marty thought out loud. "Blanch, call Walt Bass right away and get him over to the church to shut off the gas at the main valve. He'll know right where to find it. It'll take the gas company too long to get here from Ellenville."

"Oh, what about the organ?" Blanch wailed as she loosened the chain lock and took a few steps out on the boardwalk to look up the street at the church. The pained expression on her face testified to the horror she felt at the thought of her beloved church going up in flames. Blanch had played the organ there since the congregation purchased it ten years ago with money from donations they'd been collecting for just as many years.

"Blanch, just make the call right now or there won't be anything left of the church, much less the organ," Marty urged as he pulled out his cell phone to wake up the sheriff.

At last it dawned on Blanch that she held the key to the survival of the church building, and she moved inside to make the call faster than Star thought possible, considering how extremely long it had taken her to grasp the situation.

In a surprisingly short time, Walt roared up in front of the church in his big Dodge truck, making enough noise to rouse the dead. Without taking time to sniff the gas leak for himself, he sprinted around the side of the church to turn off the gas at the main valve. Star met him on the steps when he came around to the front of the building, and she noticed right away that he upstaged her considerably in the height department, and his upper body had the look of a man who knew his way around a weight room.

Star expected to see an annoyed sharp-featured face and a shaved head on a man built like Walt, but to her surprise, his black hair was neatly trimmed and the look on his face was of genuine concern. His drawn eyebrows and creased forehead reminded her of a John Wayne caricature, and she half expected him to grin and say, "Evenin' Ma'am." However, Walt said nothing, but stood staring at her as if he needed to memorize her face for later identification in a lineup. To fill the uncomfortable silence, Star spoke up.

"I managed to extinguish the eternal flame by standing on the altar and turning off the little valve by the candle," Star explained as she noticed Walt's steady gaze had traveled down to stare at her bare feet. "I took off my shoes to stand on the altar, but I left them inside when I ran to get help."

"Oh, man, is that good news!" Walt said as he pulled Star into a spontaneous bear hug. "When I opened the back doors to the basement after turning off the main valve, the smell of gas was so strong I was amazed the building hadn't already exploded. Now I guess I know why. Let's let some of this gas dissipate before we try to retrieve your shoes. We'll have to get the gas company out here tomorrow to find out what caused this."

"That makes you some kind of a hero, Ms Lance," Marty said as he walked up the steps.

"Does that mean I don't have to pay my speeding tickets?" Star asked with a grin. "And please call me Star."

"Not unless you have some pull in the Sheriff's office," Ricki shouted as she and her father joined them on the steps.

Star was struck by how much Ricki favored her father as they stood side-by-side on the church steps. She had his dimples and unruly brown hair that curled every which way and peeked out under the brim of the Diamondbacks baseball cap she wore. Her face was round like his, but she stood a full head taller than her dad and had a lean body with narrow hips and waist. Her father, while still well built and strong-looking, showed the beginnings of a middle-aged pot belly straining under his belt buckle, and a few gaps next to his shirt buttons betrayed a once-thinner frame in the not too distant past.

"Well, we might dig up a medal we can give you or something," Sheriff Wade said as he clapped her on the back and shook her hand. "Tell me, do you often run around town barefoot in the middle of night?"

### Chapter Three

_Six Months Settling In at Arrowstar_

After the excitement of the night before and her new "hero" status, Star felt somewhat better about her decision to open a business in this little town. Blanch had promised her a homemade coconut cream pie for saving her beloved church organ and invited her to the church potluck coming up on the following Sunday afternoon. Walt had retrieved her shoes from the front of the church and walked her home, all the while telling her stories about Mineral City, and how he had grown up there before leaving for a time to work in the Texas oil fields. He'd just about convinced her there wasn't a better place on earth to call home.

Walt told her Mineral City's population varies between 1500 and 1600 depending on whom you ask. He said it hadn't taken long for word to get around when Star purchased the only remaining house in the business district. Just about everyone knew she planned to live in the back and open an antique store in the front room and parlor.

Most agreed the location she'd chosen on Main Street near Muddy Basin Road between Mineral City Bank and Carla's Bar and Grill was ideal as far as visibility. Also, they thought it was about time some small businesses took advantage of the improved business climate. The discovery of a small vein of gold in one of the old worked-out mines in Mineral City and the demand for copper once again opening the Big Spur Mine up the road in Ellenville, had recently revived Mineral City as a tourist destination and home for several of the copper-mining crowd and their families.

To top that, hardly anyone had seen the inside of the house over on Cattletrack in more than 30 years. Speculation about the reclusive old man who had lived there and what the house might contain was _the_ topic of conversation over hamburgers and beer at Carla's ever since Grant Cobb arrived in Mineral City to settle the estate.

Word was the old man who owned the house used to run with the Sugar Loaf Gang back in the waning days of the big train robberies. He was 95 when he finally died six months ago, but no one knew he'd kicked the bucket until some kids playing baseball broke the front window and found the old guy sprawled on the floor in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs.

Thing was, it got around town that the old man had a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead right between the eyes. A heavy-duty safe with a combination lock was standing empty in the parlor that opened on the hallway where the body was found. Sheriff Wade investigated as much as the evidence allowed, which wasn't much because the doorknobs and most all surfaces had been wiped clean and no weapon was found.

Old man Flint had already been dead at least a week when the boys stumbled upon his body and there were no witnesses. The only thing of significance the Sheriff found was out in the barn lot, a ring of keys on a long chain like bikers sometimes carry. None of the keys fit any of the locks in the house or outbuildings. The Sheriff kept that piece of information to himself, secured the property, and quietly continued his investigation. People sort of forgot about the whole thing until Flint's nephew, Grant, showed up to settle the estate.

* * *

_Wednesday, July 7, 2010_

The day before Grant Cobb arrived on her doorstep, Star signed the delivery order for all of Bobby Flint's household goods, paid the moving-truck driver, and sat down in the middle of the towers of boxes to survey her inventory and drink a cup of coffee. All the furniture from the house was stored out back in her new prefab warehouse. Curiosity soon got the best of her, and she opened her Buck knife to slit the tape on the first box. It contained kitchen implements, and she was glad that Ricki at the Second Thyme Around store around the corner had agreed to take whatever didn't fit the antiques category.

Judging by the half-used bottles of black ink, pads of paper, envelopes, stationary and unopened mail, the next box evidently came from the big roll-top desk that now resided in her warehouse. Star was surprised to see that nothing had been sorted, and she now possessed all of Robert Flint's correspondence and legal papers.

She made a mental note to contact Grant Cobb to let him know the movers had packed all his uncle's personal papers. Just as she reached for something shiny in the bottom of the box, the front door bell buzzed, and she thought how she would much prefer chimes to that awful buzzer.

"Oh, hi Ricki. You're just in time for the great unveiling, and I've already come across a box you can take over to your place," Star told her.

"Great! I'm glad I decided to check up on you. Actually, curiosity has been tugging me over here all morning, but I waited until I saw the moving truck leave. What a huge amount of stuff!" Ricki exclaimed.

"However are you going to get all this sorted out all by yourself?"

"I'm not, as long as you're here."

"Okay, I'm in, but only for about an hour. I left the at-lunch sign on my door. By the way, I brought a bag of sandwiches I picked up at Carla's," Ricki said as she surveyed the tower of boxes and sighed. "I'm eating my sandwich before I tackle this job."

Ricki had spent a couple of years in Phoenix taking some business courses, but found the heat and the crowds of nameless people too much to bear. When she returned to Mineral City, she brought her boyfriend Matt with her, but the small town life didn't suit him, and he was soon history. Ricki was edging up on 35 and longing for a family, but it's not every day an eligible bachelor needs something from a second-hand store.

Ricki turned out to be a gift for Star's tattered soul when she arrived in Mineral City six months ago friendless and still grieving for Mac. Alone after 25 years of marriage, forging ahead without Mac seemed overwhelming. But now following her decisions to name the store Arrowstar Antiques and order the sign that should arrive this week, she felt jazzed. She and Mac had often talked about chucking everything and making a new start after the kids moved out. However, the idea to launch a new business venture out here in the middle of the Arizona Sonoran desert had been hers alone. Jazzed or not, one question lingered for Star, "Can I make this work without Mac by my side?"

Whenever that question threatened and stole her ability to sleep nights, she found comfort by gazing out her bedroom window at the millions of stars that seemed close enough to reach out and grab a handful. As she watched an enormous Arizona moon come up glowing and grinning at her over the Gila Mountains, the nights no longer felt quite so lonely. She'd send skyward her prayers that the ache she felt in her heart would heal here where daylight brought an intensely blue sky and the promise of a clear day filled with new dreams. Hard as it was to leave the familiar Indiana landscape behind, each day here in the sun proved to be a balm for her tender spirit.

Mineral City caught her interest because here lay the very land where the great Cochise once roamed. As a girl she watched reruns of Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, and the Lone Ranger on television, dreaming of being a cowgirl riding a wild pony across miles and miles of open land. As an adult she still secretly wanted to wear cowboy boots and live in the Wild West where truth and legend blended together in a history dusted with superstition and free-wheeling imagination.

Even though Mineral City nestled in the middle of settled, irrigated farmland and scrub desert drifting away into the foothills of the Gila Mountains, the cactus were real and the coyotes sang their songs in the dark just as they had for hundreds of years. At night Star could hear the far-off wail of a train whistle, and she imagined exploring the old boarded-up mines hidden in the hills nearby, along the wide swath made by railroad tracks.

Once in a great while some unfortunate soul fell into an unmarked mine shaft. The sheriff and the volunteer fire department got involved in those cases, but crime was at a minimum and hardly anyone locked their doors unless they were going to be gone at least a month. It was the kind of place where you could sit for hours on the front porch looking at the sky, pondering when you'd see rain again, and no one would think a thing about it. In fact they might just "set apiece" with you, provided you could offer a glass of sun tea or lemonade and a comfortable place to "set."

Star became enchanted immediately with the little house she discovered for sale right in the middle of the business district. The white frame two-story had a porch swing suspended from the roof of a wide veranda that ran its width. Delicate gingerbread trim with spindles decorated the edge of the porch roof and a sturdy railing, interrupted by two broad steps that led up from the street, framed the porch.

The Arrowstar Antiques sign would look classy hanging on a couple of short chains above the wide steps. The sign was shaped like an arrow, pointed on one end and indented at the other with the name bracketed in drawings of barbed wire with stars on it. She'd designed it herself and was anxious to know how her artwork translated to the sign.

After six months of settling in, Star finished off the entry to the house with a couple of planters of flowers hanging off the porch rail on either side of the steps and a fresh coat of white semi-gloss. In the winter petunias would do well there, but this summer she'd temporarily planted some small Texas sage bushes in the boxes and hoped to transplant them around back this winter. It was hard to get used to the growing seasons here and seemed strange to be thinking about planting an herb garden and putting in flowers in the fall. She also picked up an old wagon wheel that had been leaning up against the wall over at Dan's Fill 'er Up Station on Tyler Spring Pike.

Dan told her, "That old wheel's been there ever since I can recall. You can have it if you promise to keep your eyes peeled for old license plates I can add to my mechanics' bay collection. I heard ol' Bobby had a bunch of 'em tacked to his barn wall."

The wagon wheel came home in the back of Star's Jeep and now leaned up against Arrowstar's porch steps out front. She wanted to lay it flat and plant herbs between the spokes, but there had been no time to invest outside of getting ready to open the shop.

Next door, picnic tables filled the boardwalk and porch in front of Carla's Bar and Grill, and anyone waiting to get a spot for lunch or supper in the small cafe perched there with beer in hand. Some of the crowd threw darts at the regulation British dartboard hung precariously on a large post at the end of the porch. Star often found darts stuck in the side of her house and had to remember to duck when using the walkway that led around to the backyard. She'd been using that path quite regularly lately as she unpacked the contents of the boxes and stacked them outside to wait for Walt's Trash and Hauling Service to stop by to pick them up.

"Look at this antique fountain pen I found in the bottom of the box from the old roll-top desk!" Star exclaimed as Ricki plopped down on the sofa to eat her sandwich. "It's a beauty. I believe it's real silver filigree. I think I'm going to have trouble putting some things up for sale. I love this pen and I might just have to hang onto it."

"Oh, look out. Falling in love with your inventory does not make for a successful entrepreneur," Ricki chuckled.

"I know, but I'm in love with everything about this place. I'm going to be running an antique shop in an antique house and that aligns with the universe just right to my way of thinking," Star said as she reached for a jar of ink to try out her newfound treasure.

"How does that square with your cell phone, computer, and credit card processing equipment?" Ricki asked with a satisfied look on her face.

In answer, Star stuck out her tongue, and Ricki grinned back at her.

The lid on the ink jar was stuck, so Star tried running it under hot water and tapping it with a knife, but the old tin lid wouldn't budge.

"Well, I guess I'll just let this soak in a pan of hot water and then see if it will open later on."

"Sure is a pretty pen," Ricki said picking up the silver cap. "Look at this. Did you see the initials around the middle in script? K.L.F. I wonder if it belonged to old man Flint's mother?"

"Why, what was her name?"

"I don't have a clue, but I don't think he ever married, so it had to be his mother or possibly a sister, or maybe it's something he picked up in one of those train robberies everyone said he was involved in."

"Do you really think those stories about the train robberies are true?" Star asked.

"Well, there was a Sugar Loaf Gang named after those flat topped mountains up by Tyler Spring. The gang had a cabin over that way. It was tucked in the mountains, so they could see anyone approaching for miles. Some of the guys in my high school class used to hike up there. They claimed, at that time, it was still standing, and there was an old mine entrance out back," Ricki told her.

"Anyone ever find anything interesting out there?" Star wanted to know.

"Sure, lots of kids said they found things, but mostly it was all stories and talk. That's what I think. Besides, if there was something valuable out there, I'm sure it long ago disappeared."

"What kinds of things did they say they found?"

"Oh, you know, spent shot gun shells, old tin coffee pots, plates, and one guy claimed he found a valuable ruby ring hidden in a small box under a loose floorboard. There could be some antiques out around that place, but it's a hike getting up there. I'm not sure it would be worth the trip."

"If I had a horse I could get out there in no time, but bringing any large items back would be a problem. Oh well, I've got plenty to keep me busy right here, right now," Star said with a sigh. "Hey, maybe when things get settled, and I find some free time, I could see if the Jeep would make it up there."

"Speaking of time, I've got to get back. I've unpacked all the china, including the cups and saucers, but the stemware is still missing in action. Good thing you got your shelves and display cases up before this stuff arrived. Well, I'm off. I'll stop by in the morning and see how you're doing."

"Thanks for the sandwich, Ricki. See you later," Star called after her as the screen door banged behind her.

Star picked up the pen Ricki had placed on the kitchen table on her way out the door. She studied the initials on the cap more closely. The hand engraving appeared to be expertly applied, and the little cap snapped neatly over the pen's point.

"Mac would appreciate this fine craftsmanship," she thought and felt tears welling up in her eyes. She took a swig of coffee to clear her head and realized she'd let it get cold. Brushing a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand, she rinsed out her coffee cup in the sink and placed the pot on the stove to warm up.

The old tin coffee pot sizzled over the gas flame and made tiny popping noises as it heated. Mac had threatened to throw that pot away so many times, and she had pulled it out of a trash bag more than once. There was something endearing about well-used implements that made her unable to part with them. Star focused on the heating pot and let her mind wander back to the little shop where she'd worked for several years restoring antiques.

The day Star told Jake she had plans to move to Arizona burned in her brain like it had been imprinted there with a red-hot branding iron.

"You're kidding, right?" Jake asked, turning from the workbench where he'd been soldering a handle back on an old teapot.

He ran his hand through his unruly red hair and carefully turned off the solder gun he'd been using, while he thought about how to respond. Sliding his heel on the first rung and wrapping his long legs around the old barstool he kept beside his workbench, he easily lifted his bulk onto the padded red seat and leaned his muscled torso against the edge of the workbench.

Jake had been a wrestler through high school and college and still kept in shape at the local gym. The restoration work he did sometimes called for moving big items like old coke machines and juke boxes, plus he just liked the notion that he could still probably take on some of those young studs he saw hanging around the gym.

"No, I'm not kidding, and I've got a line on a house on Main Street where I can set up shop. I've already put in a bid on the household goods from an estate there."

"But this is all so sudden!" Jake stormed. "You don't know a soul out there, do you?"

"No, but I can make new friends."

"Star, you're nuts. This is never going to work!" Jake told her after weeks of trying to convince her to abort her plans.

Even after taking her to the gun show at the coliseum and urging her to purchase a pistol, he didn't even come over to say good-bye when the moving truck left with her things. She pulled out of the driveway taking one last long look at the house where she and Mac had been so happy together raising their family.

Maybe Jake had been right. Maybe this was the world's worst idea. What had she been thinking? She remembered Julie and Mark urging Jake to at least drive out to Arizona with her, but he remained stone-faced and unyielding in his opinion. He told the kids he couldn't bear to be part of what certainly would turn out to be nothing but a colossal disaster.

"Your mother is going to come limping back to Indiana without a penny to her name, and I'll be here to welcome her home," Jake told them.

So, reluctantly, the kids left for college, Julie to study architecture at I.U. and Mark to finish in engineering geology at Washington State. In a few short years Julie would graduate, and where she ended up was anyone's guess. Julie had been very supportive when Star announced her plans. She, alone, understood how much her mother longed to live out West and stood up for her when Jake tried to change her mind about the move. Mark, bless his heart, had just shrugged and said, "Whatever."

The old house seemed unusually quiet and empty after Ricki left, and as she poured her coffee, Star continued to dwell on memories of Mac and the kids. Mac had been her childhood sweetheart, and she could hardly remember a time when he hadn't been a part of her life. He worked odd hours and long shifts at the drugstore and had encouraged Star to get out of the house and find something she liked doing to fill her time after the kids were in school. She'd taken a job restoring antiques at Jake Nally's shop in their neighborhood. She'd walk to work every day and be home in time for Mark and Julie to get home from school.

After Julie left for college, she shared with her mother how much it had meant to her that Star had been there for her after school each day. It was something she missed at the end of her long days of freshman year classes at Indiana University. Star thought she was ready to let the kids go live their own lives, but when Mac died she had to fight against the temptation to encourage her kids to stay close to home.

It had been difficult to let Mark go when he chose to finish his degree at Washington State. When Mark pulled out of the drive, Star felt like running after the little white truck he had packed to the gills for the trip to Seattle, but instead she smiled and waved as he drove away. From the pages of his letters in the months that followed, Star could tell that Mark had fallen in love with the upper northwest and would probably settle there after college. Star secretly hoped Julie might decide to join her in Arizona someday.

Julie understood just how much Star loved bringing old things back to life with soap and water, glue, paint, polish and whatever else it took to restore something that would bring a little joy to whoever bought it. Star was fascinated with the intricate designs she encountered in the restoration process and was impressed with how ornate even everyday items were when people took pride in creating them.

Star especially treasured antique desks and the way the drawers smelled of old paper and precious keepsakes. Many she had worked on had hidden doors and secret panels, just the kind of thing that piqued her prolific imagination. In what spare time Star could find, she loved to write stories, and the antiques she handled seem to spark the ideas she needed to create situations and characters.

That evening Star went to the sink in the kitchen to get a glass of water and noticed the ink bottle soaking on the counter. She turned the lid easily and when the pen was filled with black ink, she settled herself at the kitchen table to try out her treasure. The nib was in excellent shape, and the pen fairly glided across the page. She began writing as if she were a reporter for the _Mineral City Star_.

_Mineral City, Arizona_

_Saturday, April 30, 1920_

_The infamous Sugar Loaf Gang has once again plundered the Southern Pacific on its way to the bank. Wells Fargo has yet to assign a value to the certified mail taken from the railroad's mail car at 11:00 p.m. Friday night, but there is speculation that more than $200,000 in gold and silver fell into the hands of the train robbers. While this report cannot be verified, reliable sources close to the investigation said the secret shipment was bound for the Wells Fargo bank in San Francisco._

_Early this morning Federal agents moved in on a mountain-top hideout without success. Wells Fargo agent, Glen Richards, refused to comment on the progress of the investigation when approached at Carla's Bar and Grill this afternoon. Unnamed sources say the investigation is in disarray._

Star smiled at what her imagination had conjured and turned the lovely pen in her hand to look closely at the monogram and filigree. She was sure this pen would never land on her inventory list for the store. This little gem would remain a keepsake to remind her of her first days as owner/operator of Arrowstar Antiques. In the back of her mind she mulled moving the roll-top desk into the downstairs bedroom off the kitchen that she had designated as her study. The more she considered it, the more certain she became that tomorrow's first order of business would be to round up someone to help her move the desk.

That night Star slipped between clean white sheets and clicked off the lamp. Her window framed the moon and a million white stars floated in the deep well of sky. A coyote yelped somewhere out on the mesa and his brothers answered with their throaty calls. A barn owl took up a chant of her own and a cricket chirped from the corner of the room. Star's breathing blended with the cricket's call as she drifted into the peaceful sleep of the innocent and totally exhausted.

### Chapter Four

_Bobby Flint Remembers_

Bobby Flint picked up the silver pen and turned it over in his hands, admiring the artist's representation of climbing roses reproduced in silver filigree. He remembered the day he had bought it in Mexico City back in 1921 and had it hand-engraved for his only daughter whom he had never seen or held. His girl, Patsy, had told him she was pregnant, but before the baby was born, he had to leave the country after heisting a fortune in gold and silver. She wrote him about their baby girl, Katherine Loraine, and kept in touch for the next six years, but after that he hadn't heard another word. The money he sent regularly had come back stamped "not at this address."

His life had been centered on Patsy and their so-called Sugar Loaf Gang, so running to Mexico had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. They'd been friends for as long as he could remember, always hanging out at the shack by Tyler Spring. None of them had much to expect from life, but they wanted more. Planning, conniving and drinking beer up at the shack sustained them as they struggled with menial jobs. Patsy Rodriguez worked in the office of the mine up in Ellenville. Bobby and Dexter Girard mined copper, but Tom Porter had landed a white-collar job at Mineral City Bank as a teller. They all had a taste for striking it rich, and Bobby remembered quite clearly the day their plans became solid and irreversible.

"Look, we've got to come up with something we can pull off quick and then disappear," Dexter urged his three friends gathered around the table in the cabin at Tyler Spring.

"I think we should hit the bank on Main Street. Tom could set it all up from the inside. We wouldn't even have to break down the door or blow the safe," Bobby said.

"No, it's too risky," Tom warned. "There's guards posted all night, and the safe only opens when two of us enter the numbers of the combination we know. Besides, Main Street is way too visible. Hell, the sheriff's office is practically across the street."

"What are ya carvin' there, Dex?" Patsy asked as Dex closed up his pocket knife.

"Read 'er yourself," Dex answered as he slid aside, so she could read his inscription on the table top.

"P.R. LOVES B.F.," Patsy read aloud as her face turned practically scarlet.

"Come on, Dex, quit foolin' around. You know how cranky Bobby can get when you tease him," Tom grinned. "We need a plan here, guys."

"Very funny, Dex, but true," Bobby said giving Patsy a peck on the cheek. "So what's it gonna be, guys?"

"Okay, I promised myself I wouldn't get involved in your crazy schemes," Patsy said. "But, have you thought about stopping the train out by the railroad tunnel?"

"Whoa, Patsy my girl. Train robbery's gonna set us up to be hunted down by federal marshals," Bobby cautioned.

"Not if we take it the night they ship the Big Spur Mine receipts down to the Mineral City bank," Tom put in. "That's a local transaction, so as long as we leave any Wells Fargo money alone, it'll be a matter for the local sheriff."

"How will we know what's what?" Dexter asked.

"It's always packaged with paper wrappers and all the bundles have Big Spur stamped on 'em," Tom told them.

"So, we just have us a big bonfire inside the tunnel. When the train stops, we just waltz right up and take it," Bobby said.

"What about the safe on the train? How are you going to open it?" Patsy asked.

"I'm pretty good at reading combination locks," Tom offered. "I could probably have it open in a matter of minutes. I've been practicing."

"I can 'borrow' some dynamite from the mine in Mineral City. They don't keep it locked up like they do at the Big Spur. I've been working in that dirty stinkin' mine up in Ellenville so many years, I can guarantee I know my way around a stick of dynamite. I can set it so it gets the door open without killing us or blasting the safe to smithereens," Dexter said.

Finally the night came, and Bobby kissed Patsy good-bye, promising to write and send money. Everything went off without a hitch, but once inside the mail car, Tom spent 15 precious minutes fooling with the combination lock before he agreed to let Dexter set a small charge to blow off the door.

As soon as they'd divided the loot, Bobby wasted no time heading for the Mexican border. The Sugar Loaf Gang had pulled off its one and only heist and officially disbanded on the same day. They all knew they could never return to the cabin up at Tyler Spring, so Tom struck out for the East Coast and Dexter headed north into Canada. Patsy just hunkered down in Ellenville and continued working at the mine office. The Sheriff down in Mineral City questioned her, but she gave up nothing she knew about the heist or the possible involvement of her three friends.

Bobby arrived in Mexico a green kid, but he was smart enough to know the heist money wouldn't last forever. He hooked up with some high rollers in a poker game and kept his ears open when they began talking about the oil business. His investments in the Mexican oil fields had proven quite lucrative. He'd entered Mexico in the heyday of Mexican oil production, bought acres of land surrounding the oil fields and sold out just before production began to slump in 1928.

He lived high on the hog in Mexico for 13 more years before returning to the States in 1941. He made his way to his mother's place in Flagstaff where he invested heavily in the lumber industry and looked after his sister, Lucinda, who at 20 was struggling financially after the death of their mother. Lucinda eventually married one of the guys at the lumber mill and had a son. Bobby treated Grant like his own son, and spoiled the kid to death until Lucinda asked him to butt out. So he did, by making plans to return to Mineral City, but not before setting up a trust the boy would get when he turned 18.

In 1951 Bobby waltzed right into the bank on Main Street in Mineral City and slapped down $5,000 cash for the old Walsh place on Cattletrack. The house had been abandoned for years, and even though it took him awhile to fix it up, it was right nice when he'd finished. He did all the finish work inside himself and added a few clever touches that amused him. A few old timers remembered he'd been a member of the Sugar Loaf Gang, but no hard evidence had ever turned up linking the gang with the train robbery in 1921. There were whispers and long looks, but beyond that Bobby lived a quiet and lonely life in Mineral City, hoping that maybe one day Patsy or even Tom or Dexter would return.

Now he was 95 and taking care of loose ends, including making an updated will. Bobby regretted that when he finally located his daughter Katherine with the help of a private detective, he couldn't convince her to accept him as her father. His hopes of winning her over ended when she died in the inferno of a house fire, following a lightning strike at her country home in Pennsylvania. He still kept the silver pen with her initials in the top drawer of his desk. He'd made his first will well before locating his daughter and discovering Patsy had married Tom without ever bothering to tell Katherine that Bobby was her real father. Katherine, totally convinced that Tom Porter was her father, heatedly rejected Bobby's efforts to insinuate himself into her life. Looking at the engraving now, he said her name out loud, "Katherine Loraine."

"Hey old man, I know that name!"

Startled, Bobby turned to see four leather-clad bikers standing on his front porch on the other side of the screen door.

"Hey, whaddya want! You scared the crap outta me!"

"We broke down on the road out back and took a look through your barn door at that nice stable of old Indians you got out there. Got any tools to go with 'em?"

Bobby picked up his cane and hobbled toward the door. "Did I hear you say you know that name?"

"Sure that's Kat," the bearded biker said. "I've never heard her use her full name. Her husband always called her KP, but once I saw the name Katherine Loraine Porter on a legal document of some kind she had lying on her desk, looked like a will maybe. Anyway, we always thought Erin callin' her KP had somethin' to do with how much she hated being on kitchen patrol for him and all the ranch hands. It weren't hard to see that Kat would most likely prefer shovelin' horse manure over cookin' and cleanin' up. Why one time she ..."

"How old a woman you'd say this Kat is?" Bobby interrupted when he realized that the man had obviously seen a copy of his daughter's will.

"Oh, I'd say she's in her fifties at least."

"Well, I've got some tools you can use in exchange for some information." Bobby said. "How can I get in touch with this woman?"

"She owns a ranch about five miles east of Ellenville. The boys and I bunk there on the weekends and do upkeep for her in return for storing our bikes there and using the big workshop she has out back of her place. It used to be a horse operation, but now that Kat's retired from ranching, we just use it as a place to hang out and work on the bikes. Kat's husband, Erin Abbi, used to ride with us, but he took a leap off the side of a mountain about 10 years back. Hell of a crash. Since then we've sort of looked out for Kat."

"I see," Bobby mumbled as he unlocked the heavy padlock on the barn door and showed them where to find the motorcycle tools they needed. "Just pull the doors shut when you finish up out here. I'll come out and lock up later on."

The next day, Bobby personally returned the endorsed copy of the updated will to his attorney.

"Ray, I suspect my granddaughter has moved into the old Rodriguez house east of Ellenville. She must have inherited the place when her mother burnt up in that fire. I want her, at the very least, to have the property up at Tyler Spring, the silver pen engraved for her mother, my silver saddle and those bearer bonds. If it turns out this woman isn't my granddaughter, just make sure everything goes to my nephew, Grant Cobb, even though I suspect he doesn't really need or want it. I think I locked the deed and the bearer bonds in the safe in the parlor, but for the life of me I can't remember the combination. Never did write it down. Thought someone might find it and steal something. Anyway, I'd like to see what all I've got stashed in there, and I seem to recollect giving that combination to you for safe keeping, Ray."

"Nope, I've got no memory of that, Bobby, but don't you worry. I'll take care of everything. We can just add an addendum to this new will to stipulate the items you want your granddaughter to have, and you can initial it. Just make sure you destroy all the copies of the former will so there won't ever be any confusion."

"Well, there might be a copy of the old will in the safe, but unless I figure out the combination, or you run across it in your files, that one will survive. It's dated, so it shouldn't make any difference. Grant will take care of getting the safe opened. You just make sure you treat that boy with respect, Ray, and give him the help he needs to settle the estate. I haven't seen him in years, but at one time, he was like a son to me."

"I understand."

"One more thing, Ray, I'd like you to drive up to Ellenville tomorrow and find out if this Kat Abbi is my granddaughter. If she is, then maybe you can convince her to come see me. I'd like to give her the silver pen in person and tell her about the addendum to the will. As you know, it was getting the property up at Tyler Spring into my will that concerned me the most. If you'll recall, Ray, I bought that spread long after I made that first will."

"Yes, yes, I remember I tried to talk you out of that little transaction. It never made sense to me why you'd want that worthless piece of land perched up in the back of nowhere. All you've got is liability if someone stumbles into that no account mine and gets lost," Ray grumbled.

"It's none of yer damn business, Ray. I've paid you enough over the years to buy a button on that big fat lip of yours. So let it go, Ray. Just let it go," Bobby said over his shoulder as he headed out the door.

Bobby wasn't senile, and his short-term memory might be shot to hell, but he remembered rather clearly giving the combination of that safe to Ray Long. That old son of a bitch would steal the last nickel off a blind widow if it meant he could buy into a high stakes game of Texas Hold 'Em. Having lived 95 years, and quite a bit of it in and around Mineral City, meant Bobby knew a thing or two about what went on in his seemingly sleepy little community.

So many things had changed since he wrote that first will, all of his old friends dead since then. Both Tom and Dexter had died early and untimely deaths, Tom of a heart attack in his private office at the bank he established in New York City and Dexter in a mining accident in Wyoming after returning from Canada. Patsy died during the influenza epidemic in New England in the spring of 1951. He always thought if he could have talked with her that she would have been willing to tell their daughter the truth. Perhaps, he reasoned, his granddaughter would be more open to accepting some small tokens from his estate. In that case, Ray would tack on the addendum to the new will.

As soon as he arrived home, he brought out the soft leather-bound ledger where he kept track of all his business dealings, unlocked the silver hasp and began to write a new entry. When he finished, he initialed it at the bottom of the page and tucked his copy of the new will in the pocket inside the back cover.

### Chapter Five

_Night Encounter – Friday, July 9, 2010_

Star awoke to the sound of Walt's Trash Service picking up the boxes stacked at the side of the house. She groaned and turned toward the clock.

"Six in the morning. Thanks a bunch Walt. I could have slept another hour," Star thought as she closed her eyes and tried to reclaim the dream that she remembered as tantalizingly delicious. Then she remembered the bikers from last night and all thoughts of the dream evaporated. She dressed quickly and on a hunch walked next door to Carla's.

"Hey, Sheriff Wade, I thought I'd find you at Carla's at this time in the morning. Can I join you?" Star asked as she breathed in the mingled scent of frying bacon, eggs and fresh-baked cinnamon rolls wafting out of Carla's kitchen.

"Well sure. Just pull up a chair and make yourself at home. Here, have a cinnamon roll," he said waving Alice over to take Star's order. "Alice, have you met our newest member of the Mineral City business community? Star Lance, meet Alice Deming. Star owns the antique store next door. You two should get to know one another."

The two women nodded to each other as the Sheriff kept on talking, "I just can't resist these cinnamon rolls, but Alice keeps tellin' me I'm gonna have a heart attack if I don't lay off. You don't really mean it though, do you, Alice? You just keep serving 'em right on up."

"Yes, I do mean it Vince, but I still need to keep my job even if you are bound to kill yourself," Alice chuckled as she poured coffee in Star's cup and wrote down her order for bacon and eggs and another batch of cinnamon rolls for the sheriff.

Alice stuck her pencil through her pale blond hair behind her ear, tucked her pad in a small pocket of her starched uniform and winked at Star before turning to hand out menus and greet a table of six ranch hands in the back corner. Her laugh sounded musically tuned as she traded barbs with the cowboys. Star noticed how Alice tilted her head to the side and propped her hand on one hip as she listened to the friendly banter. How Alice kept such a trim figure on her small frame around all this irresistible food, Star couldn't even begin to imagine. It was obvious more than one of these cowboys wouldn't mind getting to know Alice a little bit better, but she seemed immune to their flirting comments.

"Sheriff, I need to file a report with your office about some unwanted visitors I had at my shop last night," Star said as she proceeded to tell him about the motorcyclist who entered her home.

"After we eat I'll walk down to the office with you, and we'll get the paperwork filled out. The fellas you describe have been around town before. In fact, I questioned them about Bobby Flint's murder, but it turned out they had been at some sort of motorcycle rally down in Daytona, Florida, when Bobby was killed."

"Are they dangerous?"

"Well, that's hard to say. They all live over near Toliver and haven't been in any trouble over here. In fact, for the most part they're hard-working people who just happen to like dressing in leather and riding motorcycles on the weekends. Only one seemed to be a hard-core biker, and as I remember, they all work part time on a little ranch up north of Mineral City. A gal name of Kat owns the spread and keeps the boys around to look after the heavy lifting so to speak. She's feisty, and seems to do all right way out there on her own."

"That fits because I heard the biker who entered my house say that they'd tell Kat they didn't find anything," Star said. "They seemed especially interested in whatever used to be in the old roll-top desk from the Flint estate."

"Well, they all had iron-clad alibis when I talked to them after the murder," Sheriff Wade said. "I wonder what Kat was doing the night of the murder? Looks like I best get her in for questioning, even though I don't think she had anything to do with it. To tell you the truth, it looked like a professional hit with the shot between the eyes, and everything wiped clean like it was. There was just no solid evidence to go on, and the trail gets colder with each passing day. It really does concern me having an open murder investigation on the books for six months with no solid leads in sight."

"Do you think there's any truth to the stories about the Sugar Loaf Gang that Bobby Flint was supposedly involved with?" Star asked.

"No, those stories are way overblown. There never really was a Sugar Loaf Gang. It was just some locals hanging out at a cabin up by Tyler Spring. No connection was ever found to link them with any train robberies around here. They were just wannabe's trying to spice up their humdrum existence. According to the files on that unsolved train robbery back in the 20s, the three guys in the so-called Sugar Loaf Gang did disappear right after that robbery, but the woman who was sweet on Bobby Flint kept right on working in the office up at the mine in Ellenville. I believe her name was Patsy Rodriguez.

"As I recall, the files say she was questioned and said the boys had struck out for California to try to make it rich in the gold fields. She said she couldn't go because she was pregnant, and in fact, she did have a baby about six months later.

"The biddies up in Ellenville made it so uncomfortable for her around town that, just before the kid was ready to start school, she moved out of the state. There was gossip around Ellenville that she bought a one-way train ticket for New York City, and that's the last anyone heard from her. In fact, that ranch Kat owns belonged to Patsy's folks, and when they died, Patsy never even came back to claim the property. The sheriff at the time noted when she left in the case file, because he always suspected the Sugar Loaf Gang was involved in the train heist even though he couldn't prove it. Guess he'd been keeping track of Patsy to see if any of the boys ever showed up in Ellenville."

"So how did Kat end up at the Rodriguez place?"

"It sat boarded up and vacant for years until Erin Abbi paid the back taxes on it sometime in the early eighties. He and Kat came out here from Pennsylvania without a clue about how to manage a ranch. Got a lot of chuckles out of the other ranchers up that way, I guess; but eventually he got the hang of it and did fairly well running a few cattle and breeding horses. I heard through the grapevine that Kat learned how to ride, shoot, and rope better than old Erin. Maybe that's why he got into motorcycles and left the horses to Kat. Couldn't compete. Know what I mean?"

"Yes, I guess I do."

When Star returned to the shop after filing the report with the Sheriff's office, the UPS truck was parked out front and Grant Cobb was standing on the porch talking with the driver.

"Hey, did you bring my sign?" Star called out to the driver as she approached the porch.

"Good morning,' Ma'am. I'm not sure what I've got, but it's a long box and kind of heavy," the driver explained.

"Hello Grant. I was hoping I wouldn't miss you. Did you just get here?" Star asked.

"Oh, I've been here a few minutes. Not long."

Inside the shop, Grant helped Star unwrap the unwieldy package. It was indeed the highly anticipated sign.

"Whoa!" Grant exclaimed as he struggled to pull the heavy sign out of the box.

"It's just perfect!" Star added as she saw the stamped lettering and the carved and painted barbed wire roping around the name. Stars took the place of barbs and the effect was just as she had hoped. It truly looked like a Wild West sign that would lure visitors into her shop. The blond pine board gave the black lettering and art a perfect backdrop.

"Yoo-hoo, anybody home?" Ricki said as she let herself in the screen door at the front of the shop.

"We're in here, Ricki," Star answered. "in the kitchen."

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know you had company."

"Hello, I'm Grant Cobb."

"Hi."

"It's okay, Ricki," Star explained. "Grant was just helping me unpack my new sign. What do you think?"

"Oh, I love it, Star!"

"Me too. What do you think, Grant?"

"It's okay," Grant said rather flatly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I should have told you right away," Star apologized when she realized Grant was anxious to find his uncle's will.

"Told me what right away?" Grant asked.

"I found the will. In my excitement about the sign, I forgot entirely! Here let me get it for you."

"Fantastic!" Grant said as Star handed him the manila envelope.

"Where was it, Star?" Ricki asked.

"It was in a secret compartment in the old roll top," Star answered.

"Well, now that I have what I came for I guess I best get going, and let you two get back to sorting and unpacking," Grant said.

"That's Bobby Flint's will, isn't it?" Ricki asked.

"Yes, that's exactly what it is," Grant said.

"I wonder if he listed particular things that would go to certain people. Maybe some of the stuff Star has here is mentioned in his will. In that case, it would be good to get those things out of Star's inventory before she opens the store for business," Ricki suggested.

"I really have no idea what might be in it except that it's all supposed to come to me," Grant admitted. "Ricki has a good point though, if you don't mind me hanging around some more."

"It's not a problem. I've got a few days before the grand opening, but I really would like to get the old roll-top desk into the downstairs bedroom sometime today. I think it will make a great addition to the shop office," Star said.

"Walt could probably round up some guys to move that desk for you," Ricki offered. "I've got to get back to the store, but I'll give him a call for you."

"Thanks, Ricki. Sounds like a plan," Star called after Ricki as she headed out the front door.

Star heard Ricki speak to someone out on the boardwalk and turned back toward the door to see who it might have been. It was none other than Blanch Horn carrying a pie with luscious-looking meringue on top.

"Hi Blanch," Star called to her. "I hope you're coming this way with that pie."

"I tried to talk her out of it, Star, but she says it's for you," Ricki yelled over her shoulder as she continued on her way over to Second Thyme Around.

"I can't stay but a minute," Blanch told her as Star held the screen door open. "I just wanted to come by and drop off this pie."

"Oh, it looks so good. Can't you stay and have a piece with me?" Star encouraged.

"Oh my, no, honey. If I ate a piece of every coconut cream pie I made I'd be wide as a barn door," Blanch laughed. "I know this is small thanks for saving our church, but I hope you enjoy it."

"I'm certain I'll enjoy it, Blanch, but I hope you'll come back when you can stay longer. I'd like to get to know you better."

"Well, I can't promise. I'm a very busy person with the night job and all, and then there's the music to practice for Sunday mornings and pies to bake, and well, I could just go on and on. But, really, I've got to run. I'm expecting an important phone call from Phoenix."

"Thank you so much, Blanch," Star said grabbing the screen door before it could bang shut after Blanch's hasty departure. "Hope you haven't missed your call!"

Star watched as Blanch hurried down Main Street toward the sheriff's office where she slung open the door letting it bang closed behind her. Star shook her head and wondered who might be calling from Phoenix and why that call would come through the sheriff's switchboard. Of course, she knew it was none of her business, but she couldn't help but be a bit curious. In fact, there were many things about Blanch to wonder about, like why she favored vintage clothes and preferred night shift work. Star told herself she might be joining the ranks of the small-town busybodies, so she banished all such thoughts and carried Blanch's lovely pie into the kitchen where Grant stood reading over his uncle's will.

The will actually did have several things specified that Star had in her inventory. The silver filigree pen inscribed K.L.F. was to be given to Katherine Loraine Flint along with half the estate in the event she could be located within six months of Bobby's Flint's death. The collection of antique Indian motorcycles in the barn was to be donated to the motorcycle museum up in Sturgis, South Dakota, and a silver-trimmed saddle was to be shipped to Dexter Girard at an address in Wyoming. Fifty bearer bonds valued at $5,000 each and issued by the Ellenville Mine were to be delivered to Tom Porter at a law firm in New York City. It specified the remainder of the estate would go to his nephew, Grant Cobb.

"I don't get it!" Grant sighed. "Who the hell are Dexter Girard, Tom Porter and Katherine Loraine Flint? My uncle didn't have any children, and his only sister was my mother."

"I did find a pen with the engraved initials K.L.F. I'm guessing that your uncle must have had a daughter you didn't know anything about, but she'd probably be in her late seventies or early eighties by now. Maybe this is an earlier draft of the will. See here, it's dated over forty years before your uncle was killed," Star said. "Also, there is no sign of the saddle or the motorcycles he mentions here. What became of those things?"

"Yes, and what about these bearer bonds? This is a lousy situation considering the attorney told me on the phone that the entire estate would come to me. Now I find out that other people are involved in this whole mess!" Grant fairly shouted. "I'll have Ray Long disbarred over this! The drunken bastard should have stopped practicing law years ago!"

"Hey, settle down. This is obviously an old will. Just get the new one, and everything might become clear."

"Long's office lost the will, remember?" Grant said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Yes, but you said Mary would be back in a couple of weeks, and then she can find the will on the backup disk. Two weeks isn't very long. Stick around. You can help me unpack and get ready for the grand opening," Star offered. "And in the meantime we can each have a piece of Blanch's pie."

As if he hadn't heard a word she'd said, Grant Cobb turned on his heel, stormed out the screen door and slammed it behind him.

"Well, excuse me," Star mumbled to herself as she stared after him.

Later that afternoon Walt showed up with a bunch of guys to move the roll top desk, and finally Star's office was taking shape. Even though she spent the rest of the day opening all the boxes she thought might have items that came from the desk, she found nothing the little key from the secret cubbyhole would fit and no sign of a second will. Walt hung the new sign over the front steps before he left, and the shop's exterior looked ready for business.

"Is this really going to happen?" Star thought to herself as she walked through the clutter and out onto the front porch. "The sign sure says it is, and now I've got to deliver."

Boxes were piling up by the side of the house again, but her living room and parlor were still stacked full of saleable items that needed to fill the space on the display shelves.

"Maybe if I just get the office arranged, then I'll feel more in control. Mac would have loved this place," she thought as a familiar ache welled in the pit of her stomach.

"I don't think I can do this without you, Mac," she whispered as she walked back inside and through the kitchen into the office.

The sight of the old roll top cheered her somewhat, and wearily she began filling its little slots and drawers with all the necessities for doing business. It wasn't long before she put her head down on the desk, breathed in the scent of lemon wax and old ink and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

When Star awoke night had fallen, and the house was completely dark. She made her way in the dark across the office to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door to get a beer. The light from the open door lit up the clock on the wall. It was past midnight already. She had slept longer than she thought. She stood looking out the back door and wondering if she'd made the biggest mistake of her life by coming out here all by herself. The silence that filled the night blindsided her, and tears sprang dangerously close to the surface. She took the last swig of beer and bit her lip.

"If I don't stop this kind of thinking right now, I'm going to fall apart," she thought as she stepped out on the porch to toss her can in the garbage pail she kept by the back door.

A scuffling sound under the porch startled her, and she jumped back inside. From the window she watched as the stray dog that had awakened her the other night shimmied out from under the porch and began sniffing around the garbage pail.

"Hey, puppy, you look like you could use a square meal. How long have you been hiding under my porch?"

Star pulled the remains of a meatloaf out of the fridge, crumbled it into a cereal bowl, and took it out on the porch.

"Come on girl, take a taste of this yummy stuff. You sure are a sight. If you're still around in the morning, maybe I can rustle up some breakfast for you. I just bought a dozen eggs. We can share 'em," she said as she tentatively reached out and stroked the dog's dirty white fur.

"What do I think I'm doing?" Star thought to herself as she headed upstairs. "Haven't I got my hands full enough without adding a dog to the mix?"

Star didn't even make it to the fourth step when her newfound friend began to bark and growl at the back door.

"Star, open up! Open the damn door! Star, Star Lance," a male voice yelled.

Star turned back toward the door and flipped the switch for the outside light. Grant Cobb was banging furiously on her door with his fists, and he was bleeding all over himself while the white dog sunk her teeth into his pants leg and growled a low scary growl.

"Grant, oh my God, what happened to you!" Star said as she grabbed the white dog by the scruff of the neck and pulled it off his pants leg.

Grant was bleeding from a cut over his eye, and the knuckles on both his hands were skinned up pretty good. Besides that, he had a bloody nose that looked like it just might be broken. Star led him to a chair at the kitchen table and turned on the overhead light, so she could assess the damage. The dog followed them into the kitchen still growling and trying to get between Star and Grant as she helped him sit down. Star could smell whiskey, but she could tell that whatever had happened, it had pretty well sobered him up.

"Get that mutt away from me!" Grant shouted.

"Hey, watch your tone mister. She's just trying to protect me," Star said as she calmed the dog and made her lie down on a rug in front of the sink.

Star got a towel and some ice for the angry bump that was beginning to puff up above Grant's eye and a basin of warm water to clean up the blood that seemed to be everywhere.

"Here, tilt your head back and hold these paper towels against your nose. Try to get it to stop bleeding while I clean up all this blood and see how badly you're hurt."

Star could tell by the way Grant was holding his body that some ribs were broken, and his shirt was so ripped and muddied that she helped him take it off and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders as soon as she had wiped away all the blood.

"You know what, I think you'd better lie down at least until we can get your nose to stop bleeding. Come on stand up, and I'll help you upstairs."

"Can't I just lie down on your couch a minute?" Grant groaned.

"No, the couch is covered with stuff for the store, and the only place to lie down is on my bed. Come on now, and don't give me any more arguments."

Slowly they made their way up the stairs to Star's bedroom, and Star sat next to Grant on the bed holding the ice on his forehead while he pressed the paper towels to his nose. Finally the blood stopped, but Star refused to let him get up for fear it would just start bleeding again.

"Listen, Grant. You need to lie here and try to go to sleep," Star told him as she pulled off his shoes and quickly pulled the covers up to his chin before he could protest.

"I can't stay here," Grant said as he pushed up on his elbow and fell back when his broken ribs protested.

"You need to be still and keep warm so you don't go into shock," Star said not knowing if that were true, but it sounded good. "Just shut up and go to sleep."

By this time it was 2:00 a.m., and Star was really weary. Grant drifted off quickly, and Star lay down next to him holding the towel with the ice to the bump on his head. It felt good to feel the warmth of his body next to hers, and she thought about how very long it seemed since that luxury had been hers.

In the morning Grant was no longer in the bed beside her, but the white dog made its way up from the end of the bed and nuzzled against Star when she awoke.

"Hey, puppy, I thought I left you in the kitchen last night," she said as she rubbed the dog's belly. "You are a sweet lady for sticking around. More than I can say for some people. Why didn't you wake me up when he left, Ladybug?"

Just then the dog's ears perked up, its hair stood on end, and a low growl came from deep inside. The sound of someone trying to be quiet on the creaky stairway made Star reach for the pistol tucked in the bedside table. The dog sprang off the bed and began barking furiously at the door. Star could see the glass doorknob turning, and she took aim.

"Hold it, now. I come in peace," Grant chuckled as he elbowed his way into the room carrying a white bag and two cups of Carla's coffee, while uneasily pushing the dog back with his foot. Grant had obviously showered, shaved and rounded up a change of clothes.

"It looks like you've been busy for this early in the morning," Star teased.

"What do you mean early? It's 10:30 a.m."

"You're kidding! My gosh, I haven't stayed in bed this late since I was a kid. I need to get going."

"Come on now, you have to eat, and I've brought cinnamon rolls from Carla's. How can you resist?"

"What happened to you last night, Grant?" Star asked as she sipped the coffee he'd brought.

"I want to apologize for coming over here drunk and in such a bloody mess."

"Okay, apology accepted. Now tell me what happened," Star persisted as she tasted the sugary topping of nuts and drizzled icing on the warm cinnamon roll.

"After I left here, I went straight over to Ray Long's office to have it out with him over the missing will. He wasn't there, but there was a note on the door saying he was over at Carla's. I hot-footed it back over there and caught him in the middle of happy hour. Walt was there as well as another beefy guy. They were all clustered together and had been drinking more than a few beers. Ray was obviously drunk, and he started talking loudly about my uncle's will.

"I stepped up to the bar, ordered a whiskey and asked the bartender to leave the bottle. I listened and drank. The more I heard, the madder I got. Ray Long's fondness for alcohol seems to have clouded his judgment, and I'm surprised he's still able to practice law. He was certainly not thinking about attorney-client privilege as he talked about my Uncle changing his will and then giving him all sorts of instructions after the fact."

"What started the fight?" Star asked.

"Well, Ray told these guys that someone had broken into his office last week, used a secret password to sign on to the computer system and deleted my uncle's will. He said he reported it to the sheriff and then discovered the hard copy of the will was missing as well. Then he proceeds to tell them that I came in all puffed up like a baboon wanting a copy of the will, and how it wasn't his fault his place had been burgled. He called me an asshole, and they both agreed."

"He hadn't told you the office had been broken into! The idiot let you believe it was a clerical error! What was he thinking?"

"That's just it, he's pickled his brain, and he's not thinking at all. Anyway, by this time I was drunk enough and mad enough that I grabbed Ray's suit coat by the collar and pulled him off the barstool. The other two quickly overpowered me and proceeded to beat the crap out of me. When they finished, they threw me out in the alley in the mud."

"So you picked the closest place to Carla's where you knew you could get help," Star finished for him.

"Yeah, but I didn't count on your valiant protector being right outside your back door. She really blindsided me with all the growling and pulling on my pant leg. That's why I ended up yelling and banging so hard on your door. I'm really sorry. I must have scared you to death."

Grant was sitting on the edge of the bed and reached out his hand to caress her cheek as he apologized. Star tingled at his touch and held his wrist with her hand. She looked up into his earnest blue eyes and felt like a teenager on a first date. Grant gently cupped her chin in his hand, and tilted her head up to meet his lips.

Star felt transported with his gentle kiss, and when his hand slipped under her t-shirt, she felt it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I've wanted to kiss you since the first day I saw you standing in the doorway of Arrowstar." He breathed the words in her ear as his arms went around her and settled her onto the bed.

Star had every intention of resisting, but instead she abandoned herself to the moment. His tongue was in her mouth, and his hands seemed to be everywhere on her body at once. She pulled in her breath as she felt a stirring between her legs and suddenly felt the urgent need to return his caresses. She pulled his mouth to hers, and the rest of the morning slipped quickly away. When they at last exhausted themselves with loving, Star looked around the room for the dog. Evidently, it had made a quick departure when things heated up.

"Lady, ladybug, where are you?" Star called as she and Grant made their way downstairs to the kitchen. The back door was not closed all the way, and Lady was sunning herself on the back porch.

"Looks like you've got a permanent boarder," Grant said. "I see you've already named her."

"I guess you're right, but I don't know what I think I'm doing taking in a stray dog when I've got so much work to do around here for the opening," Star moaned. "She really needs a bath."

"Listen, I didn't intend to come over here and seduce you, even though I'm far from sorry it happened. I want to help you get ready for the opening while I'm waiting on Mary to get back and reproduce the will. If I don't get busy doing something, I'm going to keep getting into trouble," Grant confessed.

"I'm not sorry it happened either," Star said as she gingerly slid her arm around his waist without bumping his broken ribs. They stood side by side looking out the window at Lady.

"I've been feeling so lonely since Mac died, and you couldn't have stumbled into my kitchen at a better time. I'd love it if you would help me with the shop."

Grant turned and kissed her on the lips and slid his strong arm around her waist, pulling her up close to his body. He held her next to him and slid his hand up and down her back as if he would never let her go. They stood there a long time lost in each other's embrace until Lady scratched at the screen door, and together they let her in.

"She really does need a bath, Star, before we do anything else."

They spent the rest of that magical day scrubbing the dog and putting inventory on the shelves. The shop was beginning to take shape, and Star was unbelievably happy again. After a quick cup of coffee in the kitchen with Star, Grant left to return to the hotel down the street where he was staying. Lady had parked herself under the table near their feet while they drank coffee, and Star thought that scene in her kitchen seemed like some sort of dream from which she hoped she wouldn't soon awaken.

Grant promised to return tomorrow morning early, so they could get the rest of the boxes unpacked and stock the remaining shelves in the front room and parlor. The next big project was restoring the small antiques and furniture they had set aside as they worked. It would be good to work on some small repairs after putting so much energy into getting things squared away on shelves. There were only a few more boxes left to open, but it was almost time to meet Ricki over at Carla's for dinner.

On her way out, Star lingered in the parlor and front room to admire everything now displayed on the shelves and in the front windows. When Ricki popped in for a few minutes in the early afternoon, she winked at Star when she saw Grant there giving her a hand. Star could tell Ricki was itching to ask her what was going on, and she was grateful when Ricki had just smiled and said she had to get back to the store.

### Chapter Six

_Ricki – Friday, July 9, 2010_

The front door to Ricki's shop was standing open when she returned from running a few errands after lunch on Friday afternoon. The sign saying when she'd be back was on the floor by the door, and she could see from the porch that things inside were strewn about the shop. It appeared that the door to the storeroom in back, that she always kept locked, was wide open as well. She sighed when she saw that the little crystal lamp from the corner of the service counter had been shattered, leaving broken glass sparkling on the floor in the sunshine from the skylight.

Ricki knew better than to go inside to investigate, so she retreated across the parking lot to the steps at Carla's back entrance to use her cell phone.

"Dad, someone has been inside the shop while I was out. The door is standing open, and it looks like some drawers have been tossed," Ricki said when she reached the sheriff's office on her cell phone.

"Where are you now, Ricki?"

"I'm on the back steps at Carla's where I can see the shop. I don't think anyone is still inside, but I'm keeping an eye on the back door just in case."

"Stay right there. I'm on my way over. Don't do anything until I get there."

The front of the shop hadn't been disturbed, except for the broken crystal lamp and a few drawers full of linens that had been dumped. The storeroom, however, had been thoroughly trashed. All the boxes she had brought over from Arrowstar had been cut open and dumped. Stemware, flatware and dishes had been emptied from their boxes. Broken china and glass littered the storeroom floor. The box of kitchen implements was scattered by the back door, and buried in a heap of dishtowels, napkins, and tablecloths, Ricki uncovered a shallow metal box with broken hinges and a small padlock still intact.

"Well, it doesn't look like anything was stolen except for what may have been in that box. Can you tell if anything else is missing?"

"No, Daddy, it doesn't look like it, but I don't know what all might have been in the boxes from Arrowstar that I hadn't opened yet. They were all marked either kitchen or pantry, so I brought them over to get them out of Star's way."

"I'll stop by Arrowstar on my way back to the office and let Star know about this. In the meantime, I want you to keep the doors locked even if you're only going over to Carla's for a bite. I don't think this will happen again, because it looks like whoever it was got what they were after. From now on, when you're here by yourself keep the back door locked. I don't want you taking any chances," her father cautioned.

Ricki picked up what was left of the little crystal lamp on the counter and was sweeping up the pieces when her cell phone rang.

"Ricki, your Dad just left. I'm so sorry you're in the middle of whatever someone wants from the Flint estate. I'm coming right over to help you put things back together," Star said.

"No, Star, I'm perfectly all right, and you need to stay there and finish getting ready for your opening on Monday. It's not going to take very long for me to clean up this mess. Walt is sending a guy who works for him to lend a hand."

"How did Walt find out?"

"Oh, he came out the back entrance at Carla's while I was waiting for my Dad to get over here."

"That's interesting. Listen, Ricki, there's a bunch of stuff I'm dying to tell you. Can you meet me at Carla's for dinner tonight around seven?"

"That sounds great. I'm anxious to hear all your news, especially about you and Grant."

"You're not going to believe it, Ricki."

"I can't wait. Oh, there's a guy walking up the steps out front. It must be Jim from over at Walt's. I'll catch you later."

"Okay, see you at seven."

Jim struggled to open the front door, and Ricki realized her dad must have locked it when he left. As she moved toward the door something shiny on the floor by the leg of the desk caught her eye. It was a silver dollar with a hole punched through it as if it had been a key chain fob. Ricki absently picked it up and tossed it into the open desk drawer behind the counter as she headed toward the door.

"Hi, sorry you couldn't get in. I don't usually lock the door when I'm open for business."

"No problem, ma'am," Jim said as he self-consciously removed his somewhat battered Stetson and held onto it with both hands in front of him. "Name's Jim. Walt said you needed a hand down here," he said while shifting his weight from one foot to the other and looking down at the floor.

"Good to meet you Jim, I'm Ricki. Thanks for coming over," Ricki replied as her eyes took in the lanky, sandy-haired cowboy standing in the doorway. "Well, come on in. I'm just sweeping up in here. Why don't you start picking up what's been dumped all over the storeroom at the back."

A hot lazy breeze blew through the shop and a fly buzzed on the window pane. Ricki finished sweeping and wandered aimlessly into the back room to see how Jim was getting along. She leaned against the doorframe and looked wistfully out the wide back doors to the mountains beyond and sighed audibly.

"You sound as if you'd like to be somewhere else," Jim said quietly as he picked up the last of the linens and stowed them in a large crate.

"I haven't had time to do much riding in the hills lately, and I miss that feeling of flying free of all this," Ricki said as she made a sweeping gesture with her arms at all the items waiting for attention in the storeroom.

"I'd say I'll have all this broken stuff cleaned up in less than an hour, ma'am," Jim said.

"You're making me feel like my mother calling me ma'am, and besides, I think we're probably about the same age. My name's Ricki. Feel free to use it."

"Yes, ma'am, I mean Ricki," Jim said as his face colored a beet red. "I'll be out of your way here real soon."

Ricki could see he was flustered with her standing there, so she returned to the front of the shop and straightened up the desk where the lamp had been broken. After she put the linens back in the drawer from where they had been scattered on the floor, she put on the pot for coffee, hoping that Jim might stick around and talk after he finished in the back.

The bell at the shop door jangled, and Ricki turned to see Walt striding across the shop toward the back door as if on urgent business.

"Hey, Jim, you about finished over here?"

"About another half hour or so I reckon. Why, what's up?"

"Well, that colt of yours keeps nippin' at my bay, and I'd like to git him on outta there."

"You can bring him on over here, and tie him up out front if you'd like to Jim," Ricki offered.

"Hi Ricki," Walt said. "Sorry to bother you. Did you find out anything about who might have tore up your place?"

"No, nothing obvious has turned up, but Dad is going to send over a guy from Ellenville that knows how to dust for fingerprints. Of course, by the time he gets down here, we will probably have ruined everything useful," Ricki said.

"Yep, two-horse town, and I don't figure we'll get much better at crime fightin'," Walt laughed. "Well, I hope your dad catches the culprit."

Ricki didn't let on that her Dad had carefully bagged the metal box and driven it up to Ellenville for testing. Walt seemed like a nice guy, but living in a small town and being the sheriff's daughter had taught her more than a few things about sharing information.

"You stayin' in town tonight or goin' back up to the ranch?" Walt asked Jim.

"I guess I might ride ol' Toast up to the ranch and drive the Jeep in tomorrow morning."

"Toast, your horse's name is Toast?" Ricki laughed.

"Well, now that's another story," Jim said with a wink.

"I see," Ricki said as that little wink drew her to the deep pools of amber in Jim's eyes.

"I'll bring ol' Toast down here for you, kid," Walt said as his eyes took in every nook and cranny of the store room. "Looks like you're gonna be awhile here."

"You should have just called, Walt. Saved yourself a trip," Ricki said.

"Nah, I just wanted to see if Jim here was doin' a good job for you," Walt called over his shoulder as he headed out the front door.

"Well, that was an unexpected visit. Why don't you come have a cup of coffee when you get finished. I've just made a fresh pot."

"I'd like that a lot," Jim said as he shoveled the broken glass and china into a barrel.

The two of them pulled up chairs in front of the big open door of the storeroom and lingered over their coffee after Walt brought the colt around.

"How old is Toast?" Ricki asked.

"Oh, he's a three-year-old and still a bit feisty, but he's gonna be a hell of a cutting horse. I've been training him over at my Dad's ranch."

"How far is your Dad's place?" Ricki asked.

"It's about fifteen miles out toward the mountains there. I work part time for Walt, and the rest of the time I spend helping out my Dad at the ranch," Jim said as he stood up to leave.

"Stop by when you're in town. I've about always got the coffee brewing," Ricki ventured.

"I'd like that, Ricki," Jim grinned as he tipped his hat and slung his long leg over the saddle.

"Hey, you forgot to tell me why your horse is named Toast."

"Yep, I guess I did. Maybe next time," he said as he touched his hat as goodbye.

Ricki watched him ride off toward the mountains until he was lost in the dust and scrub. Something was stirring inside her that she hardly recognized. It was a giddy, happy feeling that made her smile and lightened her step. She was anxious to tell Star about Jim, so she closed up shop and headed over to Carla's.

Carla's was fairly quiet this early in the evening, and the sweet smell of barbecued ribs was wafting into the dining room. Star arrived before Ricki and found a table in the corner a little way back from where the band would set up around 9:00 p.m. The dining room would be crowded by the time the music started. Ricki came in a little before seven while Star was enjoying a beer and a little loaf of warm wheat bread fresh from Carla's oven. Alice stopped by and took their order for ribs, beans, and baked potatoes, the favorite Friday night fare.

"You're never going to believe this, Ricki."

"What?"

"I've got a dog."

"That's not what I expected you to say. What do you want with a dog and what about Grant?"

"The dog is a stray, and I've named her Lady. She was hiding under my porch, and when Grant showed up all bloody, she proved her worth as a watch dog."

"Grant was all bloody! What happened?"

"He got into it with some guys right here in the bar. Evidently Ray Long was with Walt and some other big bruiser of a guy. Ray was very drunk, and he was talking loudly to Walt and this other guy about Bobby Flint's will and how the most recent copy had been stolen and the computer copy deleted. Grant got thoroughly pissed listening to them and confronted Long. Walt and this other guy got in the middle of it and proceeded to beat the crap out of Grant. He showed up at my back door, and the rest is history."

"What rest of it?"

"Well, he slept in my bed, and, Ricki, I really like the guy."

"I guess you better if he's sleeping your bed!" Ricki laughed. "I'm happy for you, Star."

"Anyway, I wanted to show you something I found in a secret compartment in Bobby Flint's roll top desk."

"It looks like a key to a diary."

"That's exactly what I thought."

"Seems weird for a guy like Flint to have a diary key. It doesn't make sense," Ricki said. "You know what, though; it might fit the little padlock on an empty metal box with busted hinges I found buried in the linens."

"Can we go over to the shop and try it? I'm so anxious to see if it fits."

"Star, can you keep a secret?"

"Well, sure, but what about?"

"Dad took the box up to Ellenville to have it dusted for prints. It probably won't be back to Mineral City for a few days at the very least."

"Oh, nuts, I was hoping to have solved that little mystery tonight. Do you really think they'll come up with fingerprints they can identify?"

"That depends. If the person who burgled my shop doesn't have a record, then we're still S.O.L."

"Did you get everything cleaned up over there?"

"Yes, but that's not the best news. I'm hooked on this cowboy Walt sent over to help out."

"Really, tell me more."

"Well, I made us some coffee, and we sat and talked. He's a quiet kind of guy and really shy, but I'm so drawn to him, Star. He said he'd stop in at the shop for coffee when he's back in town. I'm planning to ask him over for dinner. He's a skinny guy, but I bet I can put some meat on those bones with some good-old-fashioned fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy."

"Uh, oh, somebody better warn this guy you're comin' at him through his stomach," Star laughed.

"Seriously, Star, I'm really taken with this guy. He's got a horse named Toast, and you know how much I like to ride."

"Toast? You've got to be kidding!"

"Yep, Toast, and I'm sure he won't believe it when he finds out my filly is named Marmalade!" Ricki giggled.

"No doubt it was predestined that you two meet," Star said as she smiled at her friend's excitement.

Just then Walt came in the front door with a giant of a man close on his heels. He immediately spotted Ricki and Star and headed in their direction.

"Hey, Ricki, it looked like you and Jim were getting along just fine over at the shop this afternoon," Walt smiled and tipped his hat in Star's direction.

"Yes, well, he did a good job cleaning up in the back. Thanks for sending him over, Walt. Who's your friend?" Ricki asked.

"Oh, yeah, this is Tanner Papp. He's a Texas friend of mine from back in the days when we both knew our way around an oil rig."

"Pleasure is all mine, ladies," Tanner returned in a gravelly voice. "Yeah, ol' Walt here was just a worm when I met him. Taught him everything I know about bein' a hand on an oil rig."

"You were a worm, Walt? Enlighten us," Ricki teased.

"Cut it out, Tanner," Walt laughed. "These ladies don't understand that kind of slang. Don't pay any attention to him. He just means I was a new guy on the rig when we met. Had to wear an orange hat and find the key to the V door. Right, Tanner?"

"Sure did, but it didn't take long for Walt to get the hang of things," Tanner told them.

The two men laughed as they shared an inside joke, and Tanner clapped Walt on the back, knocking him slightly off balance. Tanner's build testified to a life of heavy lifting on the job, and he looked as if he could pick Walt up and easily throw him across the room if it suited him. A thick black braid down his back slicked his hair off his face and revealed a widow's peak centered on the forehead of his long face.

"What brings you to Mineral City?" Star asked, eying the stylized black letters that said Texas Oil tattooed on the inside of Tanner's right forearm.

"He's up from Mexico and helping me out with the trash business for a spell," Walt answered before Tanner could respond.

"And I don't much like a small town. Already lost my lucky silver dollar, and Walt's got me getting up at 4:00 a.m. to drive his dang trash truck," Tanner added before Walt could get another word in.

Star saw a startled look cross Ricki's face and then vanish into a sweet smile before she said, "Well, I hope you learn to like it, Tanner. I didn't like Phoenix when I moved there, but it did have some redeeming qualities. Small town life isn't for everyone, but I for one wouldn't trade it," Ricki said with a clenched jaw.

"Well, I'm heading back to Mexico just as soon as I make me a wad of money to spend on some lucky Chiquita when I get back. I just got hungry for a taste of the States. Them Mexicans dump salsa on everything they cook. So far Carla's home cookin' has 'em beat by miles, and I'm here to git me some more."

"Oh, I almost forgot," Walt said. "The gas company finally got back to me on that gas leak over at the church."

"What caused it?" Star asked.

"The church ladies had cleaned the basement kitchen that day and decided to move the stove out to clean up under it. Evidently the flexible gas connection had a slight break in it and separated enough to let gas escape when they pushed the stove back too tightly against the wall. They left the front doors open because the smell of the oven cleaner was so strong in the stairwell when they left. They expected the janitor to close it when he made his evening rounds, but he skipped going over there because he got hung up at his kid's sixteenth birthday party. We've got it all repaired now, but it could have been a real disaster if you hadn't discovered it." Walt told them.

"I just happened to stumble upon it," Star said. "I'm really glad you knew where the main valve was located."

"Hey, let's get some dinner," Tanner urged Walt impatiently.

"Ladies," Walt said tipping his hat as he and Tanner moved toward the back of the restaurant. Star watched them go and then turned to face Ricki with a questioning look.

"I found a silver dollar on the floor by the front counter today when I was sweeping up," Ricki whispered.

"You've got to let your dad know about this, Ricki. Do you think Walt and Tanner are in this together?" Star asked.

"Walt's been around for years. Grew up right here in Mineral City. We were grateful when he returned from the oil fields and started hauling trash. Before that, a guy up in Ellenville came down to pick up the trash, and the service was expensive and haphazard at best. I wouldn't put anything past this Tanner guy, but I'll bet he's getting paid by whoever wants something valuable they think Bobby Flint left behind," Ricki answered.

Star stood up abruptly and headed for the kitchen just as Alice came through the door with a tray full of food. She and Star spoke briefly, and Star returned to the table.

"What was that all about?" Ricki asked.

"Alice is going to snag the glasses from Walt and Tanner's table, so we can pass them on to your Dad for fingerprints."

Star and Ricki finished supper and hung around until the band started to play. Several people got up to dance, and neither Star nor Ricki were short on dance partners. It was after midnight when Star noticed that Walt and Tanner were long gone. She and Ricki stopped by the kitchen to pick up the glasses that Alice had set aside. They found her out back leaning against the corner of the building smoking a cigarette.

"What's up with the detective work?" Alice asked.

"Ricki's place got robbed today, and we were just curious to see if Walt and Tanner could have had anything to do with it," Start confided. "You won't say anything, will you Alice?"

"Honey, I've lived here long enough to know better. The secret's safe with me. We girls have to stick together. Heaven knows we can't trust these cowboys. No offense Ricki, but why would anyone want to go to the trouble to steal the kind of stuff you sell at the Second Thyme?"

"It looks like they were after something from the Bobby Flint estate I might have brought over from Star's shop," Ricki answered.

"Bobby used to eat most of his meals at Carla's. His hair was a silver gray, and even though he was a small, wiry guy, he seemed strong. He never looked his age, and I was shocked when the paper said he was 95 when he was killed. I never would have guessed that. He didn't even walk with a cane and always came in here under his own power.

"He was an interesting guy. Liked to sit in the corner with his back to the wall. He told me stories about the old days in Mineral City, and his blue eyes would just dance as he talked. I think the guy was lonely. Sometimes, if business was slow, he'd ask me to sit down for a spell. He knew a lot about mining and oil production. Guess he struck it rich in Mexico and returned to Mineral City to share his good fortune with his friends. Unfortunately, they'd all moved on by the time he got back."

"Alice, keep your ears and eyes open, will you? There's something really weird going on that probably leads back to Bobby's murder. If you overhear anything, give me a jingle over at the shop or call the sheriff," Star told her.

By the time Star laid her head on her pillow that night, the first rays of morning were beginning to light up the mountains.

### Chapter Seven

_Ray Long – Friday, July 9, 2010_

"Are you nuts, Tanner!" Ray Long shouted as he slammed his office door behind him.

"Hey now, don't git your pants in a jiffy, old man," Tanner said with a grin as he leaned farther back in Ray's office chair and propped his boots on the desk. "What's on your mind?"

"You know good and well what's on my mind. What were you thinking, breaking into Ricki's place like that? If you'd been caught, Sheriff Wade would have put two and two together in an instant and come up with Ray Long, Attorney at Law," Ray fumed.

"Come on, Ray. Nobody has a clue you and I are connected in any way. What makes you think that two-bit sheriff might connect the dots? He hasn't even been over to the house on Cattletrack since he locked it up. Even if he discovers the motorcycles missing, as Bobby's attorney, you'd be the last person he'd suspect."

"Well, that may or may not be true, but what reason were you prepared to give if you'd ended up across the desk from the sheriff? Tell me that, smart ass."

"Look, Ray, I didn't get caught, did I? I don't need you to tell me my business. We need to find those motorcycle titles, and you know it. If those titles and that old will show up, that's when everybody's gonna start connecting the dots. You're the only one with easy access to the house on Cattletrack since the old man got shot. What else have you pilfered from the Flint estate over the past six months to pay off your gambling debts, Ray?" Tanner growled as he stood up and towered over the diminutive attorney.

Ray brushed his graying brown hair off his sweaty forehead and plunked himself down in one of the side chairs he kept in front of his desk for clients. His suit pants strained over his rotund belly, and his right pant leg hiked up to reveal a Colt Mustang .380 automatic tucked in an ankle holster.

"I need a whiskey."

"Yeah, that's just what you need, you no account loud-mouthed son of a bitch. Every time you get drunk, you come a little bit closer to giving away the store. One of these days you're going to shoot yourself in the foot with that Colt. I heard you used to be a crack shot, but I bet you can't hold steady enough now to hit the broad side of a barn. While you're sitting here real cozy, sipping your whiskey and pickling your liver, think about what's going to happen if I don't locate those titles?"

"Forget the titles! I searched that house and barn over and over again looking for Billy's copies of both wills and the deed to the Tyler Spring property. Don't you think I'd have run across the titles by now? There's not a chance in hell Grant will find either the old will or those titles in that house," Ray said.

"Maybe you should read Bobby's love letters. Could be there was a reason the old goat padlocked them in a metal box and stuffed them in the linen closet. I'm riding the last Indian down to Agua Prieta tonight while you sit here and keep trying to solve your little problem with the new will and the Tyler Spring property. We'll talk about how much my cut's gonna be when I get back."

"We've already got an arrangement, Tanner; and that's not going to change," Ray shot back.

"You might want to reconsider, Ray, seeing as how the other night when you got sloshed, you let me in on how Bobby's new will really disappeared. You might not remember, you were so far gone, but after Walt went home to nurse his wounds from rousting Grant out of the bar, you got mighty weepy as I was dragging your sorry ass into your crappy little apartment upstairs. Sure as hell have come down in the world from that big spread you used to have, Ray. You planted that virus in your network yourself. You'd best get your story straight before Bobby's nephew nails you to the wall. A little fist fight isn't gonna keep him off your back, you know that, don't you? You've got your tail in a sling, and I'm prepared to cash in on it old man," Tanner whispered as he paused to lean over Ray on his way out the door.

"Wait a minute," Ray shouted. "Go out the back door, you damn fool. Someone might see you."

After Tanner left, Ray groaned as he heaved himself out of the chair with one hand holding the throbbing spot on his forehead. He opened the wet bar and poured himself a shot of Black Label to calm the beast raging in his head. Tanner knew too much. Something had to be done. He shouldn't have trusted him to bring a crew from Mexico up to the Sugar Loaf Mine at Tyler Spring. That had been a grave error. He had only intended to use Tanner to sell off the motorcycles. Ray knew he could have rounded up some guys from Ellenville on his own to work the mine, but it was too late for that now.

What Ray really needed much more than he needed those titles was the deed to the Tyler Spring property. With the deed in hand he could forge Bobby's signature on a quit claim deed, back date it and transfer it to his own name all nice and legal. If the deed didn't turn up, he'd have to get as much gold out of the old mine as possible before somebody stumbled on his operation. Now that a new vein of gold had been discovered in the old Weaver mine in town, it wouldn't be long before someone thought about the Sugar Loaf Mine and started poking around out there. If he could just hold Grant off long enough, he could put away a tidy little sum and disappear into Mexico.

It wasn't ten minutes after Tanner left out the back door that Grant Cobb burst into his office, and one of Ray Long's worst fears came home to roost. Grant threw the copy of the old will on Ray's desk and asked for an explanation.

"I'll tell you all about this old will if you just give me a chance, man."

"Oh, I'm all ears, Ray. Let me hear it."

"Well, I knew there would be confusion, so I told Bobby to get rid of any copies of his former will when we drew up the new one."

"Yes, you got that right; I'm confused, Ray. Enlighten me. I want to know who all these people are Uncle Bobby refers to, and where are these motorcycles, bearer bonds, and the silver saddle he mentions here?"

"I don't have any idea how Bobby may have disposed of those things over the years. After all, this will was written back in the 50s." Ray said, surprising himself at coming up with a credible answer on the spot.

"You mean the new will doesn't mention these things?"

"As I remember, Bobby was a lot less specific in the updated will. He just left the whole shebang to you. You'll see when Mary gets back and locates the new will on the backups."

"Ray, you were drunk the other night at Carla's, but I heard you tell Walt and that other guy that you were robbed, and that's when you discovered the will missing. Why did you let me think this was all a clerical mistake?"

"I just didn't want it getting around town that someone had compromised my computer files. Wouldn't do for everyone in town to come in worried about their own documents. Besides, when you showed up, I had just discovered I couldn't pull up your Uncle's will on the computer, so I went to the filing cabinets looking for it."

"So, are there other things missing?"

"To tell you the truth, son, I think we've had a virus infect the whole system because there are other computer files either missing or incomplete. Those files are password protected, and except for the missing hard copy of your uncle's will, I haven't found anything else in the office out of place. As far as I can tell, I've got backup copies of everything else in the filing cabinets. Mary keeps the backups of the computer network at her house, so I'm hoping to God that she'll be able to recreate everything that's missing from the computer when she returns."

"What are we going to do if she can't?"

"That I don't even want to consider because of all the other documents that have been compromised, but I think we'll be okay as far as your uncle's will is concerned. Since you're the only living relative, the estate will automatically go to you regardless. Unless someone comes out of the woodwork and contests it, we can go ahead with probate. It probably won't take any longer than six months."

"Six months! I would have thought you would have started the probate process before now!" Grant exploded.

"Considering the ongoing murder investigation, I believed it would be of benefit to you to wait to start probate in case stolen property was recovered. You know your uncle's safe was standing open when his body was discovered. Who knows what may have been in that safe? Possibly these bearer bonds he mentioned in his earlier will. We just have no way of knowing. Since your only instruction to me concerned disposition of the body, frankly, I concluded you would communicate further concerning probate. The sheriff and I decided to seal the place and await your instructions, hoping something would break in the murder case."

Confronted with this new information, Grant sat down and trained his eyes on the tin ceiling without really seeing it. An involuntary sigh escaped his lips, and he turned to look Ray Long in the eye.

"So, you're telling me this delay is really all my fault for letting six months pass before I could get away to deal with my uncle's estate. I know I should have taken care of this sooner, but I've been dealing with a messy divorce and delicate business interests back in the UK. This whole estate issue just kept getting shoved to the back burner. I should have handled this long distance, but I felt such an obligation to at least travel to Mineral City. I owed him that. He gave me the chance to expand my world when he set up a trust for me years ago.

"My mother told me Uncle Bobby spoiled me rotten when I was a little kid, and I do have some vague memories of him. She resented him for some reason and tried her best to turn me against him. Then, after she died I found out the money that helped me go to school and get started in business had been from a trust Uncle Bobby had put in place for me. I always intended to look him up and thank him, but I never did. I don't know anything about him, much less who these people in his former will might be. Do you know who they were?"

"Let me see. Okay. Well, Tom Porter and Dexter Girard were old friends of Bobby's, I think. Bobby named his daughter, Katherine, in his first will, but he had never seen nor heard from her. I know he kept searching for her over the years, but I don't know if he ever found her or not. Evidently he didn't because she isn't mentioned in the new will. As I said, you inherit the whole estate."

"I never even knew Uncle Bobby had a daughter. Strange that he never mentioned anything more to you about whether he located her or not, isn't it?"

"Not really. Bobby kept to himself. I don't think he had any close friends, and our relationship was strictly business."

"What if she shows up and claims Bobby's estate?"

Ray shifted in his chair, lifted his hand and studied his manicured nails as he continued to concoct a history of Bobby's life that worked to his advantage.

"That's highly unlikely. She'd be in her eighties by now, and chances are she's already dead. Rumors around town indicated Bobby spent a fair amount of money trying to locate her. Evidently he finally gave up. No, I think that scenario is an impossibility."

"I don't know that I can stick around here for six months. Isn't there a way you can get the probate court to speed things up?"

"That's not likely. They have their own agendas, I'm afraid." Ray said confidently as he stood up and extended a hand to Grant.

"Okay, then," Grant said as he stood and ignored Ray's proffered hand. "It looks like I'll have to return to the UK while the estate works its way through probate. To be blunt, Ray, I'm reluctant to leave this matter in your hands after the incident at Carla's. You've destroyed my trust with your flagrant violation of client-attorney privilege. I'll be in touch when I've found a new attorney to handle the estate."

Deflated, Ray poured another shot after Grant left, kicking himself for thinking he was so close to a solution to all his problems and seeing it slipping so easily away.

"Where did you stash the deed and your copy of the will, you senile old man?" Ray shook his fist toward the ceiling as if addressing Bobby directly. "You told me all your important papers were in your safe along with those bearer bonds, you old goat!"

Ray clumsily dribbled more whiskey into the shot glass and threw it back with abandon. His sodden mind traversed the years back to Texas, and the days of his prime when he worked as an attorney for the big oil companies, back to the place where he first met Walt Bass and Tanner Papp.

Young, naive and built like a tank, Walt worshipped Tanner as if he were a god. Ten years Walt's senior, Tanner basked in Walt's attention and introduced him to what he considered the high life of strippers, dark clubs where the food was plentiful and cheap, and ways to make a quick buck without doing much work. They both were valued workers on the big rigs with their muscle and willingness to take risks. They made a good living, but quickly squandered it on back room poker games and willing women.

Ray remembered bailing the two out of jail more than once after a brawl or a joy ride in a muscle car they found parked on some dark street corner outside a bar. Those two were inseparable until Tanner upped the ante and started roughing up the women he slept with and stealing cars he unloaded across the border in Mexico. Walt soon abandoned the high life, saved up enough money to open his trash and handyman service in Mineral City and abandoned the oil fields, while Tanner lingered in jail serving a two-year sentence for robbery and assault. Walt headed back to Arizona where he'd grown up under the guidance of his God-fearing Mormon mother, Lucille, who he knew wouldn't have approved the lifestyle that Walt had at first found so appealing.

Walt left five hundred bucks of his final oil-field paycheck in an envelope to grubstake Tanner when he finished his sentence. Tanner recognized Walt's undeserved loyalty and made a vow to leave the kid alone at Ray's insistence. Now Ray wished he'd left well enough alone and never made it possible for Tanner to insert himself back into Walt's life. Walt didn't have enough sense to see through Tanner's back-slapping friendship, welcoming him back with a grin and a job at Walt's Trash and Fix It.

Ray sighed, threw back another shot of whiskey and thought about his wife Mildred and the times Walt had strung out a simple job fixing something out at the ranch just to get a piece of Mildred's irresistible cherry pie when it had finished baking. Walt volunteered as a pall bearer when Mildred died and sat with Ray through the long, lonely hours before daylight during those horrible grief- and whiskey-saturated days that followed. After that, gambling became Ray's solace. Walt warned him against getting mixed up with the syndicate guys who ran illegal gambling after-hours in a back room at the Big Spur Mine. Ray ignored the warning and buried himself financially in a big hurry.

The first time enforcers came to Ray's apartment, they broke his right knee and homed in on the other one when Walt burst in and broke it up. On their next visit Ray came away with a broken nose and couple of broken ribs, and the toughs limped away with lead from Ray's ankle pistol in one guy's thigh and a nasty graze across the cheek of the other. That's when Ray started pilfering Bobby's Flint's assets and hoping Grant Cobb never showed up to settle his uncle's estate.

Now that Grant Cobb was in the picture, Ray viewed Tanner Papp's greed as the dynamite that could blow his plans to smithereens even before Grant could get around to finding a new attorney.

### Chapter Eight

_Sunday Night Storm at Kat Abbi's Ranch_

Lightning sliced though the sky above the barn, and Kat ran through large spattering raindrops to the kitchen door. The wind caught the screen door, whipping it out of her hands and slamming it against the side of the house. She turned the key in the lock, stepped into the kitchen and reached out to grab the screen door, fastening it with the hook. Then the wind claimed the inside door, slamming it behind her, and the sound ricocheted around the dark kitchen like an errant bullet.

The switch on the wall refused to bring forth light, and Kat fumbled in the junk drawer for the flashlight. Her hands found a pack of matches, and she lit the candle she kept in the middle of the kitchen table. She shivered as much from being alone in the dark as from the chill that seemed to be a constant companion in the old ranch house since Erin died. Using the weak flicker of light from the candle, she quickly found the big flashlight.

The rain pelted the siding of the house as it came in at an angle, and sharp cracks of thunder announced garish flashes of lightning that lit up the entire room. Each time, Kat jumped in spite of herself and stared intently into the black interior of the old house, expecting to see the orange glow of fire. She sniffed the air for smoke and listened intently for the crackle of burning timbers. Nothing; and she allowed herself to breathe.

Storms had never bothered Kat until the summer her mother died trapped in an upstairs bedroom of the big house in Philadelphia. Her dad had burned his hands and arms badly trying to save her. He could hear his wife's screams as she frantically tried to push open the bedroom door that was blocked by a beam that had fallen across it. The window in her mother's room had been replaced with double-paned glass and sealed when they installed air conditioning that spring, so there was no escape from the inferno quickly engulfing it.

Erin had National Guard duty that weekend, so Kat stayed over with her folks, sleeping in the downstairs guest room at the front of the house. She awoke when the lightning struck a transformer out in the yard with a loud pop and sizzle. Her dad had been downstairs in his study reading when the lights went out. He ran to get a flashlight in the kitchen, and when the rafter upstairs burned through, he heard it crash to the floor.

Evidently an earlier strike had left the attic in flames being whipped by the fury of the wind. Kat heard her mother's screams and rushed upstairs to tug on the beam beside her dad. They tried in vain to move it away from the door. Finally Kat threw a wet bed sheet over them both and struggled to pull her dad downstairs to safety as the attic ceiling gave way completely and ignited the stairway and hall. Kat mustered all her strength to drag her dad down the stairs and out to the front lawn before the upstairs floors began to disintegrate and fall into the downstairs rooms.

By the time the fire department arrived, the top floors were completely destroyed. The lower walls stood smoking and smoldering, awash in water and heavily coated with black soot, when the fire trucks pulled out. One fireman slept in his car to keep watch over stray embers and prevent curiosity seekers from kicking through what was left. Kat found him there still asleep when she and Erin arrived early the next morning from the hotel in town where she spent the night near the hospital. Erin had driven in from New York around midnight. The doctors told Kat her father's second-degree burns would heal, but the emotional trauma would be very difficult for both Kat and her father.

And, in fact, her father never did completely recover and suffered from vivid dreams and flashbacks of that night for months. When he died a year after the fire, Kat and Erin took off for Arizona with the idea of putting the violence of that night behind them and making a new start. At 36 they were still young, full of enthusiasm and a yearning for adventure. So here she was, still in Arizona, but now on her own without Erin to share the responsibilities of keeping the ranch going. No strong arms around her as a buffer from a lightning storm or worse. A night like this one made her forget the freedom she felt after a day riding horseback around the ranch and long for the comfort a man can give.

Fuck!" Kat exclaimed as she struggled to pull off her muddy boots and lost her balance. At that exact moment, Jag came bounding though the doggie door thoroughly soaked. He leaped to her side, planted a sloppy kiss on her face, and the two of them rolled around on the wet linoleum floor.

"Jag, your timing is impeccable as usual," Kat laughed as he shook himself, leaving her sodden and lying in a muddy puddle. "What a mess we've made. It's a good thing Erin isn't here, or we'd both be in a hell of a lot of trouble."

Jag answered her with the thudding of a happy tail against the lower cabinets and more licks to her face. Erin brought home the Golden puppy four years ago against her loud protests, but she thanked God every day for his companionship since Erin died. Jag practically named himself, because every time Erin revved up the old Jaguar he was restoring out in the shop, the puppy leaped into the passenger seat ready to peel out on the back roads with his master. Not a trip to the grocery store or anywhere else, for that matter, got made without Jag in the passenger seat of the truck or the sports car. Whenever Erin took off on the Harley, Jag moped around the place like a rejected lover until he returned. It took months after Erin's accident on the bike for Jag to come out of his funk.

Taking the big flashlight in hand, Kat found her way into the mud room off the kitchen, deposited her muddy boots, and picked up a mop and an oversized bath towel. With the floor mopped, her wet clothes exchanged for her terry bathrobe and Jag toweled off and snoozing at her feet, she sat at the kitchen table and stared into the wavering candle flame, willing the lights to come on. The teapot whistled on the gas stove, and Kat poured the hot water into the drip coffee pot. The aroma filled the kitchen, giving the otherwise creepy scene a feeling of warmth and welcome. Out on the road she heard a motorcycle thundering up the hill heading for Thompson's Bluff at the top of Sandy Hill.

"I can't imagine what anyone would be doing out on a bike on a night like this," Kat said aloud to Jag. "Hope he's got a rain suit handy. Poor bastard."

A typical July monsoon storm, it moved through quickly. Soon the thunder began to rumble further and further in the distance, and the lightning settled into a comfortable flare that barely intruded into the kitchen. The worst was over by the time the lights flickered to life, and the refrigerator began to hum. Kat poured herself a cup of thick black coffee and looked out across the barn lot where the security light paved a round circle of yellow over the barn and bunkhouse. The guys would be back out here on the weekend tinkering with their bikes, sleeping over in the bunkhouse and making the place feel more like home. God, she missed Erin, but no one could take his place. In four more years she'd be 60, and what were the chances she'd hook up with another fella? Slim to none was her guess.

Not that she hadn't tried the dating scene, such as it was in this remote corner of the desert. The guys often brought friends and acquaintances out to the ranch and tried their best to be matchmakers. Unfortunately, most of their buddies were motorcyclists, and so far none of them wanted anything to do with horses or ranching.

Still, the four of them persisted in their determination to "fix Kat up." Once in awhile a guy would show up who knew his way around a dance floor, and the six of them would spend a Saturday evening down in Mineral City at Carla's Bar and Grill doin' the two step and enjoying their quota of live country swing music and beer. Those nights Kat would insist on hitching up the wagon or driving the truck into town. No way would she climb on the back of a motorcycle driven by a sleepy, beer-soaked biker. Nor would she let any of them ride on their own. All six of them piled in the truck or the wagon, and Kat always drove on the way home.

Kat thought about how much it tickled her to see the guys, Stan, Kevin, and Mike dressed in their "civvies" in town or over at Dan's Fill 'er Up during the week. Stan Hale worked at a dental clinic and wore a white medical jacket, Kevin Macleod wore white as one of three chefs at a fancy resort over in Tucson, while Mike Quinn dressed in a white cowboy outfit with a white Stetson topping it off. He played lead guitar and sang at bars all over Southern Arizona and sometimes in the summer took a gig in Flag just to avoid the heat. Kat called those three the "Doughboys," and Lee she called "Chopper" since his custom bike had tall handle bars, known as ape hangers, and long front forks.

On weekends the "Doughboys" dressed in leathers, boots, and bandannas and played like "bad-ass bikers." But, Lee alone lived the biker lifestyle seven days a week, and worked at a bike shop up in Ellenville. He had a small bungalow on a little piece of land his dad gave him when he turned 18. Built the place with his own two hands, and often had a couple of bikers and their girlfriends, who might be just passing through, staying there for a few days.

Lee never settled down with just one woman, but seemed to have no trouble finding one who would ride second seat with him on his bike when he felt like it. Lee preferred not to hang with any of the biker gangs because he didn't drink, and he didn't do drugs. His mottos were, "stay sober, stay alert, stay alive" and "ride to live and live to ride." Lee loved to go fast, and that bike of his could really scream down the road. Kat dreaded the day he came to the end of his good luck charms. Chopper seemed to rein in his bike when he rode with the Doughboys on the weekends, but out on the road alone, according to his stories, he was "hell on wheels."

Kat smiled thinking of these four unlikely pals, Chopper with his tattoos and scraggy black beard and the Doughboys, clean cut, lean and fit. The four of them showed up for awhile most weekends just to hang out in Erin's workshop or lend a hand at the ranch when she needed them. In a way, they were the closest to family she had now that her mom and dad and Erin were gone.

Kat felt guilty that she missed her dad more than her mother, especially since her mother had died in such a tragic way. Somehow, trying to deal with the trauma of the fire by banishing that night from her memory had dulled her memory of her mother. She had been closer to her Grandmother Patsy and thought of her often, even though she had died when Kat was only six years old. Maybe that time in her life was so clear to her because she and her mother had moved from New York to Pennsylvania right after her grandmother had died of the flu. It had been difficult to lose both her grandmother and the familiar friends and surroundings of their home in New York.

Grandmother Patsy had left a substantial estate, and along with that money and a healthy investment by her dad, she had been able to take riding lessons at a young age to learn the art of dressage. For her seventh birthday, her dad bought her the horse she had begged for all during her sixth year while she struggled to adjust to the move from New York. She could walk the mile and a half from their suburban Philadelphia home to the elite riding academy where the horse was stabled. At one time Kat's dream had been to compete in the Olympics, but then she'd met Erin in her senior year of high school and allowed him to fill her time and replace her dreams with his.

Kat sighed and pulled the clip at the back of her neck and let her shiny brown hair fall free over her shoulders. Walking into the parlor and through the living room, she flicked the switch in her bedroom. Both bedrooms in the old ranch house opened on the living room and parlor. Erin used to sleep in the one off the parlor because he snored like crazy. It was always more romantic anyway when he slipped into her room after midnight, and they made love like two star-crossed lovers at a secret rendezvous. She noticed it was only eight o'clock by the travel alarm clock she kept next to the bed, so she pulled on her jeans and one of Erin's old flannel shirts.

She stopped to pick up her book and reading glasses off the floor in the parlor and was about to plop down in the overstuffed rocker when a muffled sound from Erin's bedroom made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. Jag's hair stood up, and he growled.

"Oh, that really makes me feel better, Jag," she said as she moved toward the door, listening intently before pulling it open. Hearing no other sound, she slowly turned the knob, reached in and flipped the light switch. The overhead light sizzled, buzzed, and promptly went out. Kat retraced her steps into her own room and pulled the pistol out of the bedside stand. Grabbing the big flashlight from the kitchen, she kicked Erin's bedroom door all the way open and pointed the flashlight with the gun beside it around the room. It smelled musty and damp, and then she noticed the crumpled pile of plastering on the floor in the corner. Shining her light up to the ceiling, she could see where the rain had leaked in and caused a chunk of the ceiling to fall. Through the narrow lath boards she could see into the attic. Over by the ceiling light the plastering was wet, and the glass light fixture was full of water.

"Oh shit, Jag. Now I get to learn how to plaster the ceiling and have fun climbing around on the roof in the morning."

In the far corner of Erin's room were three steps leading to the door to the attic. The skeleton key unlocked most of the doors in the house, so Kat kept it stored in the attic door. Unlocking the ancient door, she turned the glass knob, grabbed the wide grooved door trim, and stepped around the corner as the narrow stairs turned abruptly, leading up along the other side of the bedroom wall.

"I guess I may as well survey the damage. Wanna come up with me, boy?" she asked, clucking to the dog.

Using her long legs to full advantage, she took the steps two at a time. She was tall enough to reach the turn switch on the bare light bulb hanging near the doorway, but even before the flashlight found the spot, she felt the fresh outside air on her face and knew there must be a sizable hole in the roof.

"Oh, Jag, look at this mess," she said as she turned off the flashlight, letting the bare bulb illuminate the whole attic.

Kat began moving boxes and old trunks to the low-ceiling side of the attic where a small door opened into the area without floorboards. She turned the small knob on the black square latch and pulled open the short door. Crouching down and using the flashlight, she determined it was dry and undamaged inside.

As she flashed light on the walls and ceiling of the small storage space, she could see that some boards had been placed over the insulation and propped on the ceiling studs, making it possible to crawl around in there if you stayed on the boards. Something metallic reflected light back at her from above the crosspieces that supported the roof. It was just beyond her reach, so Kat inched her way along the boards, until she could reach above her head and investigate the reflection. It looked like a copper clasp of some kind, but there were uninviting spider webs, making Kat reconsider using her bare hands to retrieve it. She took the flashlight and ran it through the webs, and years of accumulated dust sifted down on her head.

"Damn it all," she mumbled as she brushed her hand though her hair and sputtered and spat as the dust coated her face. "This better be worth it."

Gingerly, she shoved her hand into the space and pulled out a hand-tooled leather book of some kind. The clasp that had caught her eye was broken and hung open on a leather strap. Jag stood at the little door whining and several times putting his foot on the narrow board before pulling it back as if he were about to come in after Kat.

"Stay there, Jag. The last thing I need is you falling though the ceiling into Erin's bedroom!"

Carefully, Kat managed to turn around on the narrow board, still clutching the book and flashlight. She inched her way across the board and back into the attic without falling though the ceiling. After moving everything to the dry corner of the attic, she put a board across the damaged attic floor, so she could place an old chamber pot under the hole in the roof. Finally, she picked up the book and headed down the narrow stairway to survey what she had found in better light.

By this time the clock by the bed showed 10:00 p.m., and Kat was running down, but she couldn't wait until morning to see what treasure she had rescued from the attic. She carried her find to the kitchen and used a damp cloth to wipe off the dust and grime that had built up over the years. She traced her fingers over the vines and ivy tooled in leather around the edges of the covers on both the front and the back. In the middle of the front cover was a beautiful horse with a woman rider sitting on a saddle inlaid with silver and turquoise. The back cover showed an open fan with lapis and opal defining the staves in each of the folds.

Wanting to keep the mystery going a bit longer, Kat carefully laid the book on the bedside table as she pulled on her pajamas and propped pillows against the headboard. Climbing into bed and sinking back into the pillows, she pulled the book onto her lap and opened the first gold-edged page. Written in fine even script she read,

_To Patsy, my love, on the occasion of the birth of our daughter, Katherine Loraine, on this 29 th day of April, 1921. All my love, Bobby._

### Chapter Nine

_Sunday Trip to Tyler Spring_

"Hey, Star, come sit with us," Ricki called.

"Hi, you two, what's on your Sunday agenda?" Star asked as she joined Ricki and Jim at their table in Carla's breakfast room.

"Star, I'd like you to meet Jim Kane," Ricki said as Jim touched his hat and said, "Ma'am."

"We're taking Toast and Marmalade out for a trot!" Ricki giggled.

"Oh, so Ricki told you she has a friend for Toast," Star said pulling up a chair next to Jim.

Jim blushed and grinned at Star, but didn't say a word.

"I've been dying to know why you named your horse Toast," Star added.

"We were just talking about that when you walked in, Star," Ricki offered.

"Look, there's Grant. Shall I invite him over?" Star asked

Before anyone could answer, Grant spotted the three of them and sauntered on over.

"Anybody order cinnamon rolls yet?" Grant asked and winked at Star.

Hey, Grant, sit down, sit down," Ricki urged. "Grant Cobb, meet Jim Kane."

"Glad to meet you, Jim," Grant said as he extended his hand. "You three look like you're up to something."

"Well, Ricki and Jim have two horses named Toast and Marmalade, and we were just discussing how such a coincidence could possibly have occurred," Star joked.

Now Ricki's face got red, and she smiled at Jim and put her hand on top of his on the table.

"Listen, you two, we're going to go for a ride, so why don't you rent a couple of horses and go along. We could take a picnic and make a day of it!" Ricki suggested.

"I'd love it, if Jim doesn't mind us horning in, and if Grant is game to ride horseback," Star said.

"Actually, I'm not crazy about horses," Grant said. "However, I wouldn't mind a ride in that red Jeep I saw parked at your place, Star."

"Uh oh, Grant, you don't really know what you're getting into here," Ricki laughed.

"Why, what don't I know?"

"Well, for starters, Star has been known to stir up a lot of dust in that little Jeep. I know for a fact she has three tickets pending at the sheriff's office, and she's going to be in traffic school for about a month," Ricki said.

"Lay off, Ricki. I'm going to pay those tickets as soon as I've got some money coming in at the store."

"Oh ho, so you like to go fast, I take it?" Grant guessed and his eyes twinkled.

"Are you afraid to ride with me?"

"Nope."

"Well then, we could meet you guys somewhere. I've got the store shipshape to open on Monday, so this looks like the first free day I've had since I got here. We could get Alice to pack a lunch for the four of us. Hey, what do you say we meet up at the old cabin at Tyler Spring?" Star asked. "I've been wanting to take a look around up there."

"What do you say, Jim?" Ricki asked. "Could you give Star directions for getting up there?"

"No problem," Jim answered with the first two words strung together Star had ever heard him utter.

Star and Grant walked next door to Arrowstar after breakfast, and Star showed Grant the glass cases full of items ready to sell. She still had some restoration work to do, but that could be accomplished between customers. Monday morning would be her open house advertised as "Cookies and Tea at Arrowstar." She was anxious to meet a lot more of the populace of Mineral City, and hopefully they would buy a thing or two.

The butterflies in her stomach took flight from excitement to dread every time she thought about the opening. What if nobody showed up? What if the fliers she put up in Ellenville and over at the Weaver gold mine in town didn't bring any tourists her way; or worse, what if they showed up but didn't buy anything? She had a whole string of what if's that kept looping though her mind. She was glad to be going out for a ride that would interrupt that continuous loop for a while.

The July day was hot, but a monsoon cloud cover screened them from the fury of the sun as they rode along in the open Jeep. Grant hung on to the handle on the frame as Star roared around the corner to the east of Arrowstar, turned right on Main, heading for Tyler Spring Pike. Dust whipped out behind them, and when they stopped at Dan's Fill 'er Up Station, Grant seemed relieved to hop out and fill up the tank. Star picked up a stack of old license plates on the backseat and went looking for Dan.

"Hey, Dan," Star said as she opened the door, causing the bell on the door frame to jingle. "I've got to get one of those."

"Don't do much to alert me I've got a customer when I'm over in the garage though," Dan admitted. "Need one of them buzzers like you got."

"Well, maybe we can trade!" Star suggested. "I've brought you some old license plates I found in the bottom of one of the boxes from the barn over at the old Walsh place."

"Oh, you mean Bobby Flint's house over on Cattletrack?" Dan asked.

"Yep, that's the one. It looks like Bobby might have had them hung up in the barn. Some of them are for motorcycles, and most of the larger plates are from Mexico. There are a few Graham County plates from the fifties, though, that might float your boat."

"Hey, that's great! Thanks for bringin' 'em by, Star. By the way, Sheriff Wade has his deputy, Marty, shooting radar about six miles north just as you come over that crest on Sandy Hill heading for Thompson's Bluff. I think, from what I hear, you've already met him a couple of times," Dan said with a wink as he brushed back a stray stand of reddish-brown hair that had escaped from the rubber band around his ponytail.

"Word gets around fast, don't it?" Star said breaking into the local vernacular. "Guess I better clean up my act."

"You go right ahead and keep it up, girl. Graham County can use all the revenue you can provide."

"Now that's one way to think about it," Star said as she paid for the gas. "Thanks, Dan. See you later."

"You come back now, ya hear! And thanks again for them plates," Dan said, waving the rag he'd wiped his greasy hands on. He stepped up on an unopened box of motor oil behind the counter and craned his neck to better see who had filled Star's tank while they talked.

"Hey, come on by the store tomorrow. I'll be open for business," Star called back at him over her shoulder as she crossed the parking lot toward the Jeep.

"Yep, so I've heard, so I've heard," Dan said hitching up his dungarees and adjusting his red suspenders over the name patch on his blue work shirt. He watched Star out the big front window and wondered about her hooking up with that new fella in town. Then, he just shook his head and began filling the soda machine, mumbling to himself about minding his own business for a change.

Star jumped into the Jeep on the passenger side, since Grant had made himself comfortable in the driver's seat while she was talking to Dan.

"Chicken," she said as Grant drove off.

Grant came flying over Sandy Hill about eleven miles over the limit, and Marty got an opportunity to use his siren and lights. Star was delighted when the deputy took extreme pleasure in presenting Grant with a Graham County "certificate of accomplishment" as Star had a habit of calling her speeding tickets.

"You must not have stopped at the Fill 'er Up, or you would have known I was out here," Marty observed as he filled out the ticket.

Grant looked at Star accusingly, and she grinned back at him.

During the remainder of the trip Grant told Star about his visit to Ray Long's office. She was surprised and a bit hurt to hear that Grant would be returning to the UK as soon as he could round up another attorney. By the time they found their way to Tyler Spring on the back roads, Grant's broken ribs were complaining, he was hungry as hell and not in a terrific mood. Star hauled the picnic basket out of the back, and they found a flat spot near the spring to spread out their blanket.

"We thought you guys would never get here," Ricki complained as they sat down to eat.

"That's because Grant insisted on driving," Star reported with a chuckle.

"I see," Ricki laughed. "So that's why we've been waiting here an hour."

Don't worry, though. Grant managed to get a 'certificate of accomplishment' anyway," Star laughed.

"Oh no, don't tell me Marty set up radar on Sandy Hill again!" Ricki laughed.

"You got it," Star said.

"That was wicked of you not to warn me he was there, Star," Grant snarled.

"Hey, you drive'a my Jeep, you take'a your chances!" Star joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Grant smiled, and his sour disposition improved a bit as they filled up on Carla's chicken, chocolate cupcakes and ice cold apples. Alice had packed more than a few beers in the cooler, and they took their time finishing them off as they stretched out on the blanket.

"Where's the old cabin you told me about, Ricki?" Star asked.

"It's a quick hike over that ridge. Jim and I already investigated, and it looks like somebody has been hanging out over there," Ricki said.

"There are canned goods and plastic cups and plates on the shelves, plus a big plastic water container in one corner. The six old chairs are all pulled up to the table as if somebody eats regular meals there. It appears deserted today, though," Jim said, surprising everyone by stringing three sentences together.

"Now I'm intrigued," Grant said. "Let's go check it out."

"You guys go on ahead. Ricki and I will scout around on horseback to see if we can locate the old Sugar Loaf gold mine," Jim suggested. "It's about a mile and a half from the shack, but it's concealed in the foothills, making it rather hard to find."

"Okay, but wait just a New York minute," Star said. "You never did tell us the story about how Toast got his name."

"Well now that's a long story," Jim grinned. "And I think we better save that for another time because if those dark clouds in the west roll in much closer, we're all going to get wet before we get home."

"So, you've already heard this story, huh, Ricki?" Star asked.

"Yes, and it's funny, but Jim's right, it is a long tale. And while I'm thinking about it, we ought to fill up some of these empty beer bottles with water from the spring and put them in the cooler. We'll probably all be thirsty after running around exploring," Ricki said.

Star held the bottles under the continuously flowing water from a pipe in the hillside used to drain off spring water and let it flow into a metal animal watering tank below. They all noticed a shiny new aluminum drinking dipper hanging in a nearby mesquite tree.

"Well, I guess we shouldn't be surprised to find a handy dipper now that we know someone has been using the cabin," Grant said as he helped Star fill the empty beer bottles.

"It's my guess a crew might be doing ore testing out at the Sugar Loaf," Jim said. "They probably take the weekends off."

"If that's the case, you guys be careful," Star said. "They might have posted a guard. I've heard stories about gold miners being pretty persnickety about people nosing around their claims."

"Who owns this land anyway?" Grant asked. "Are we trespassing?"

"The last I heard, there were about 80 acres up here, including the cabin and mine owned by the Big Spur Mining Company up in Ellenville. It's never been posted that I know of, and I've been coming up here since I was a kid," Ricki said.

Marmalade and Toast meandered down the narrow dirt track behind the shack, nibbling at tender green plants growing alongside it. Ricki and Jim weren't in much of a hurry, and the quiet among the desert pines occasionally interrupted by the whinny of a Gila Woodpecker looking for his mate suited them just fine. Jim sat back in his saddle, and Ricki felt comfortable ambling along beside him, thinking about the good conversation with friends at lunch and the sweet taste of freedom she felt with the open sky above her.

"My best days are ones I spend just like this," Jim told her in almost a whisper as a warm soft breeze gently tussled the pine boughs. Glancing at Ricki, he noticed the relaxed way she sat her horse and lightly held the reins across her palm. It seemed to Jim the two of them riding side by side fit together just like jam and bread, just like Marmalade and Toast, and he chuckled at the thought.

"What's got you tickled?" Ricki asked him as she roused from her thoughts and clicked her tongue, so Marmalade would pick up the pace a bit.

Jim kept pace with her, and told her what he had been thinking.

"Me, too," Ricki told him, and just like that, Jim pulled Toast in close to Marmalade, slipped his hand across Ricki's lower back and planted a quick kiss on her cheek before kicking Toast up to a trot and disappearing around the next bend.

Ricki caught up with him in front of the Sugar Loaf Mine entrance where he had already dismounted and stood, holding the reins in his hand, watching for her. She moved up beside him, set her foot on the ground, and dropped Marmalade's reins to the ground. In less than a heartbeat, Jim's arms were around her, and there wasn't anything quick about the kiss they shared. This time, instead of letting her go, Jim held Ricki to him in a long embrace. Ricki could feel Jim's heart beating slow and steady, and she never wanted him to let her go.

Finally, Jim loosened his embrace and guided her, with his hand at the small of her back, around the grazing horses to stand in the shade of the mine entrance and feel the cool breeze from its mouth. Ricki looked up to find Jim's face lit up with a big grin, and she couldn't help but smile back at him as she placed her hand on the side of his face.

"I think we've just sneaked up on one of my dreams," Ricki said.

"How's that?" Jim asked her, taking her hand from his face by the wrist and kissing her knuckles.

"I've always wanted to be kissed by a cowboy named Jim out by the Sugar Loaf Mine on a Sunday," Ricki winked and tossed her hair as the breeze blew it into her face.

"Don't you think you might be stretching the truth just a little bit there, lady?" Jim said, still holding on to her hand and smiling down at her.

"Well, I would have dreamed it if I'd known," Ricki teased. "I hate to mention it at a moment like this, but judging from these no trespassing signs, I think we'd best be going in search of Star and Grant before we get ourselves shot."

"Okay, but before we go, I just want to take a quick look inside," Jim told her.

"Fine, but don't take any chances, and don't go too far inside. I don't want to have to send in a search party. If you're not back in 10 minutes, I'm coming in after you."

Jim spent only about five minutes inside before the two of them mounted up and started back toward the cabin at a slow trot. The clouds had begun to turn gray and angry- looking above them, and the temperature was dropping as the breeze picked up. Jim set out at a faster pace, and soon the two of them were moving at a gallop toward the old shack, each of them thoroughly enjoying the excitement of the ride.

After Ricki and Jim rode off toward the Sugar Loaf, Grant and Star hiked over the ridge and found the old shack tucked in next to a large hill of granite boulders stacked haphazardly behind it. The door was off its hinges and leaning against the doorframe, and on either side of the door opening the windows were just naked holes that once had wooden shutters attached. Now the rusted hinges clung to the sides of the windows; useless. A mouse skittered under a loose floorboard as Star stepped into the one-room shack and surveyed the ancient table and chairs so neatly arranged in the center. Grant stayed out on the porch after taking a quick look through the window.

"Doesn't look like much," Grant said as he plunked himself down on the step and pulled out a cigarette.

Star didn't respond, but sat down at the old table and ran her hand over the weathered surface. The table had been used as a carving block, and lots of initials and graffiti-like symbols decorated the old pine boards, some smooth with age and others sharper and much more recent. Dusty brown bottles of various sizes stood in the deep window sills, and cobwebs flowed gracefully across the corners of the narrow room. A few seeds and green leaves littered the rotten floor, and gritty dust from the desert crunched under her boots.

As she thought about what it might have been like for the four friends Sheriff Wade had told her about, sitting right here and planning to rob a train, she had more questions than answers. Were they scared silly, or were they too desperate for a better life to be bothered with taking such an enormous risk? Why had Bobby Flint returned to Mineral City if he was so unhappy with his life when he had lived here? Whose baby was Patty Rodriguez carrying when her friends deserted her? What a story this would make, Star mused as her fingers traced a smooth heart shape carved into the table's top. Looking closer she could just make out the initials inside the heart.

"Grant come in here and look at this," Star yelled.

"Hope you found something valuable," Grant groaned as he clutched his broken ribs protectively and reluctantly hauled himself to his feet.

"Look right here, it says P.R. LOVES B.F."

"Yeah, so?" Grant said unimpressed.

"Don't you get it?" These are your uncle's initials and P. R. stands for Patsy Rodriguez!"

"Who is Patsy Rodriguez?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Sheriff Wade told me that Patsy Rodriguez worked at the mine in Ellenville, and after the 1921 train robbery, she had a baby on her own. After that she moved out East somewhere. New York, I think he said. Don't you see? This means your uncle was probably the father of Patsy's baby."

"Okay, so you're saying that this Katherine Loraine from Uncle Bobby's will might be Patsy's kid?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I think, because Sheriff Wade said Bobby and his friends hung out up here, dreaming up ways to get rich. That's why the former Sheriff suspected the Sugar Loaf Gang of being behind the train robbery, but Sheriff Wade thinks there was nothing to it."

"Do you supposed Patsy hooked up with Tom Porter out in New York?" Grant said.

"He was one of the guys mentioned in the old will, wasn't he?" Star asked.

"Yes, and his contact address was for a law firm in New York City. Who knows what happened way back then," Grant said in frustration. "I just want Mary to get back and recreate the new will, so I can get the hell out of Dodge. I don't even want to think about some long-lost cousin showing up to challenge the will."

"If she was born in 1921, she'd be at least 80 years old by now," Star reasoned. "Seems to me, if she knew Bobby was her father, she would have shown up before now."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. Wasn't this supposed to be a 'get away from it all day'?" Grant complained.

"Yes, yes it was, but I've got to tell you, Grant, that I'm a bit hurt and surprised that you're planning to return to the UK so quickly," Star ventured.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I just didn't know how to tell you, Star, so I just blurted it out. We need to talk about this."

At that moment, Ricki and Jim came galloping up to the cabin.

"Somebody's got quite an operation going on up at the Sugar Loaf. I'd say they've been at it for at least six months or maybe more. Looks as if they've found a new vein of gold where one of the old tunnels collapsed on itself. They've built up a new tunnel at a right angle with the old one, and it appears to be a handsome strike," Jim explained.

"Looks like they've had a whole crew up there building, blasting, and carting out ore," Ricki added. "Wish I had struck it rich. Lucky stiffs."

"By the way, there wasn't a guard, but they have posted the area around the mine, so we didn't linger up there" Jim said.

"Is it hard to find?" Star wanted to know.

"It's not too bad, but it would take some time to get the Jeep up there," Jim said.

"I'm not up for exploring anymore," Grant said. "I probably should have stayed in town today and nursed my broken ribs."

"We need to head back anyway," Jim said. "That storm is moving this way, and it looks like it's carrying plenty of rain with it. From the top of the ridge, you can see it moving fast; plenty of lightning too."

"It's almost five o'clock now anyway," Ricki said, looking at her cell phone.

"You've got a signal all the way up here?" Star asked; incredulous.

"Yep, in fact, there's a new cell tower not far from the mine entrance."

"Wow. Looks like the Big Spur Mine folks are serious about working this old mine. Bet they're glad they held onto this property all these years," Grant speculated. "I'm surprised they didn't sell out when copper went on the decline twenty years ago."

Star drove the Jeep all the way back to Mineral City, while Grant folded himself into the small back seat and managed to sleep most of the way. When Star stopped at Dan's to get gas, they felt the first drops of rain, and Grant moved up to the front seat. The wind picked up, and great big drops of rain began to blow through the Jeep. Just as they were pulling out the rain gear Star kept in a bag in the back, Dan ran out of the office and motioned for them to drive the Jeep into the mechanic's bay until the storm passed. As the lightning flashed and thunder pounded overhead, Grant leaned over and put his arm around Star.

"Star, I really do want to talk about what our future might be, but this isn't the time," Grant said at last. "Let's get together for dinner this week. I want to take you somewhere fancy. Maybe we'll drive over to Tucson and go to that great restaurant at the Arizona Inn. What do you say?"

"That sounds nice, Grant, but this is going to be a really busy week for me with the store opening tomorrow."

"I predict by Friday you're going to want to be anywhere but Mineral City. You'll need to get away. Come on, what do you say?"

"Let's just see how the week goes. You'll be around, won't you?" Star asked.

"I'll be making some calls to locate another attorney, but other than catching up on some business dealings in the UK by email, I should be around."

The desert air was heavy with the scent of mesquite after the storm, and the night air was fresh and cool on their faces as they headed into town.

I'll stop by the shop to see how you're doing tomorrow," Grant said when Star dropped him at his hotel. "Don't worry, it's going to be perfect."

Before heading up the walk, he hesitated; then turned around and walked over to the driver's side of the Jeep. Taking Star's face in his big hands, he kissed her soundly and passionately on the mouth. "I do care about you Star, and I don't want to leave you. Remember that."

Feeling weary from the day and confused by Grant's sudden passion, Star drove the short distance home, pulling the Jeep around to the back next to her warehouse. The security light on the back porch failed to come on as she approached the back door, and Lady wasn't on the porch waiting for her. Star could hear her muffled barks coming from somewhere inside the house. She fumbled in her purse for the door key, but the door creaked slightly open when she touched the lock with her key.

"Oh great, I must have forgotten to lock the door again, and Lady has been in the house all day. I thought sure I let her out this morning, and didn't Grant remind me to lock the door?"

Without turning on the lights, Star headed upstairs, following the sounds of Lady's frantic barking.

"Hey, girl, what are you doing shut in my bedroom, and what's got you so riled up, huh?"

Lady pushed past Star and down the stairs, growling and barking ferociously. Star reached into the nightstand for the Colt, flipped on the stairway light and pressed against the wall. With the gun held high, she made her way into the kitchen where everything seemed normal in the glare of the overhead light. Crossing the kitchen, she flipped on the light in the office where Lady stood in the doorway growling. The old roll-top had been thoroughly gutted, and the contents of every drawer strewn all over the room. The secret niches stood open and empty. Propped against the desk chair, the bottom drawer leaned on end, revealing a false bottom lying to the side and quite empty of whatever it had concealed.

"Damn, I should have thought of looking for a false-bottom drawer!"

As Star moved through the rest of the shop turning on the lights, she began to scream, "No, no, no. This can't be happening. No, not now. Not this!"

All the beautiful glass cases were broken, and the contents strewn on the floor. The elegant antique furniture had been slit with a knife, and all the stuffing pulled out. It was more than Star could bear, and she sank down in the middle of the floor and sobbed, shaken to her very core.

Somewhere a phone rang, pulling Star out of a stunned stupor. Someone banged on the front door, calling her name. It was Alice and some of the customers from Carla's. They heard her screams and came running. The phone in her purse out in the kitchen finally stopped ringing, but a humming inside her head made it hard to think. Gently, Alice helped her up off the floor and took her into the kitchen away from the awful ruin of Arrowstar's front rooms. People from the bar began to arrive on the porch, looking in the door and shaking their heads in disbelief as they surveyed the damage. Luckily, Marty was making his 10:00 p.m. rounds in his patrol car and took control of the situation.

"Everybody stay out now. What's going on here? Go on now. The show's over!" he said as he pushed his way through the crowd gathered on the porch.

Alice called Sheriff Wade after getting Star into the kitchen, and he arrived with sirens screaming soon after Marty. The sound of the sirens blaring through town brought others out of the neighborhoods, and people began to arrive in pickups and cars from all over town. They stood around in the street out front speculating on what might have happened and straining to get a look though the big front window. Marty soon cleared everyone off the front porch and placed crime-scene tape across the porch steps directly under Star's newly-hung Arrowstar Antiques sign.

"Have you got any idea who might have done this, honey?" Sheriff Wade asked gently as Alice placed a cup of coffee in front of her at the kitchen table.

Star looked up at him helplessly as tears again welled up in her eyes. "It must have something to do with Bobby Flint's estate," she managed to choke out.

"Probably the same character who tore up Ricki's place," Sheriff Wade speculated.

And then Ricki was there beside her, hugging her and pulling her away from the table and upstairs to the bedroom.

"Dad can ask his questions tomorrow, Star," Ricki said firmly. "Right now, you're going to take these pills I got from Dr. Morrison and go to sleep."

"What about the opening?" Star said miserably.

"That, we will worry about tomorrow. Right now you need to sleep. Here, swallow these," Ricki insisted.

Star drifted off into a deep dreamless sleep, completely unaware of what was taking place back up at the Sugar Loaf.

### Chapter Ten

_Sunday Night at the Tyler Spring Cabin_

"How dare you drag me up here in the middle of the night, you son of a bitch," Ray bellowed at Tanner.

"We gotta talk, Ray. I told you that," Tanner replied as he lit the old propane stove in the Tyler Spring cabin and put on a pot of coffee. "But before we discuss cuts, just be aware that I finished wiring the explosives up at the mine in case things get out of hand, and you need to blow it."

"Cobb showed up after you left my office, and he's bringing a new lawyer in on the estate," Ray groaned.

"Well, whoop-de-do, old man. Have I got a surprise for you! Lookie what I found at Star Lance's place tonight," Tanner said as he slapped the motorcycle titles on the table in front of Ray.

"You broke into the antique store?" Ray asked, incredulous.

"Yep, and I tore it up pretty good too lookin' for the deed to the mine, but at least I found the titles. I think I'm entitled to a fifty percent cut now that I've solved another one of your problems, Ray."

"I keep tellin' you, it's not the titles I'm worried about. It's the deed to the mine I need to make things legit."

"I don't want anyone poking around down south and finding any of those bikes I unloaded down there. These titles are just road maps to me and the people who bought the bikes," Tanner said as he crumpled each title, tossed it into the fireplace and struck a match to them. "Burn, baby, burn!"

"Okay, okay, so you've got a deal. I just hope the sheriff doesn't nab you before you get that last Indian down to Mexico. You may as well just stay down there, because I have a feeling I won't be far behind you. It looks like blowing up the workers inside the mine might be the best way to close down the whole operation. People will think it was just some mine accident, and there won't be anybody left alive to tell the tale," Ray explained.

"You need to pick up your car back in Ellenville, so I'll take the motorcycle off the trailer and ride it straight on down to Mexico. It's lookin' like a storm's comin' up outside, so I need to get ahead of it," Tanner said as he headed out the door. "You sober enough to drive? That's Walt's truck, you know."

"Sure, sure, I can drive," Ray told him. "I'll just sit here awhile and have another cup of coffee before I start out."

Before the sound of the bike cleared the lane to the cabin, Ray leaped into the truck and followed Tanner back to the main road.

"No way I'm splitting 50-50 with Tanner Papp," Ray thought. "No way at all."

The storm roared like a banshee by the time Ray ground the truck's gears and belted up the backside of Thompson's Bluff hot on Tanner's taillights.

"Say hello to Erin Abbi, you no good son of a bitch," Ray growled as rain splashed his face through the lowered truck window, and he watched as Tanner's taillights disappeared over the cliff.

Ray barreled off toward Sandy Hill and rolled into the parking lot at the Big Spur a half hour later. Transferring the trailer to his own hitch, he left Walt's truck parked and headed for Tucson to return the U-Haul trailer, where no questions would be asked about why Tanner wasn't returning it. It was 2:00 a.m. by the time he tumbled into a bed at the Motel 6 on the freeway.

* * *

_Monday, July 12, 2010_

Sheriff Wade was waiting on a bench outside his office door when he pulled into Mineral City around ten the following day.

"Lucky I showered and bought new slacks and a shirt over in Tucson," Ray thought as he heaved himself out of his freshly-washed Caddy.

"How can I help you, Sheriff?" Ray asked easily.

"How are things going with the Bobby Flint estate, Ray?"

"Slow, Vince, really slow. Why, what's up?" Ray asked.

"Alice mentioned that Walt and his friend Tanner got rowdy the other night and roughed up Grant Cobb pretty good out in the back alley. You know anything about that, Ray?"

"Well, I might, yes, I might, Sheriff," Ray said thinking fast. "Let's go in my office, and I'll fill you in."

Ray took his time turning on lights and mumbling about Mary being on vacation. He poured himself a shot of whiskey and held up the bottle.

"No thanks, Ray. So what happened the other night?"

"Well, I was pretty drunk, but I think those boys took after Grant because he was pressing me for more information about his uncle's will. He just wouldn't let up, and he'd had more than a few himself. As I said, I really don't remember much."

"You need to lay off the sauce, Ray. Since Mildred died, you've been hitting it a little hard, man."

"I know, I know. Damn, I miss that old girl."

"She wouldn't want to see you like this, Ray, and you know that better'n me. She didn't hold with strong drink as I remember."

"Okay, okay, I heard you the first time, Vince. Now lay off me," Ray said with more anger in his voice than he intended.

"Listen, Ray, you need to talk to Walt and Tanner. I know Walt used to hang out at the ranch when Mildred was alive, and he'll listen to you. I can't have bar fights goin' on in this town. We're just gettin' back to havin' some tourist trade, and I don't want Mineral City gettin' a reputation for bein' rowdy. Plus, we had another break-in over at Star Lance's place last night, and it's pretty tore up. She came home to quite a mess, and it's a real shame with this bein' her openin' day and all."

"That right?" Ray said trying to sound surprised.

"You got any idea what somebody might want out of Bobby's estate?" the sheriff asked.

"Can't imagine. His estate's pretty much tied up in that house, and whatever was in that safe was already hauled away by whoever knocked him off. Course, you never know what the old bastard may have stashed under the mattress. Always been a lot of rumors about the old man," Ray chuckled.

"You probably knew him the best, bein' his lawyer and all. Got any ideas who might have broken into Ricki's place and then tore up Star's antique shop? You don't think this Tanner Papp would be nosin' around thinkin' he might turn up some hidden cash, do you?"

"Not likely," Ray said as he pulled out his handkerchief and wiped away the sweat that had begun to bead on his forehead. "Tanner spent some time in jail over in Texas some years back, and I think he fairly well learned his lesson."

"Okay, Ray, but keep an eye on those two guys and let me know if you come up with anything. I need something to break on this Flint murder soon. I can't help but think these break-ins are all tied in with Bobby's murder. I'll let myself out."

Whiskey spilled on Ray's desk as his hand shook when he poured a shot and again wiped the sweat from his forehead. He sat down heavily and began to think about how soon he needed to close down the mine and head across the border. It might be a few days or even a week or so, before someone discovers the wreck at the bottom of the bluff. At that thought, Ray began to relax, and the whiskey helped stop his hand from shaking as he poured another shot. But the relative calm Ray felt would last only a day or two at the most. The sand in the hour glass might just run out faster than Ray could ever possibly imagine.

* * *

_Kat's Ranch – Monday Morning – July 12, 2010_

Kat saddled her horse and headed out for a late morning ride. The night had been a restless one with visions of a grandfather she never knew flitting around her dreams. Grandma Patsy's journal described, in vivid detail, the life she led in Ellenville and the time she spent with friends up at Tyler Spring in the early 20s. But what about the times, as a little girl, she'd visited the grave of her Grandpa Porter in New York and placed flowers there, while holding her Grandmother's hand? The stories the diary told were fascinating to Kat, but coming to terms with a whole new ancestry unsettled her. Could it be that she was the sole heir to Bobby Flint's estate? Did she want to claim what rightfully belonged to her? What of Bobby's nephew, Grant Cobb? Should she approach him first or look up Ray Long, who was probably the author of Bobby's will? So many questions without answers made her wonder if she'd ever again have a peaceful night's sleep.

Without thinking much about it, Kat headed up toward Thompson's Bluff. The air was fresh after last night's storm, but the humidity would soon turn steamy. The day promised to be a scorcher, one where you stayed inside while the air conditioning struggled to keep the indoor temperature at 78 degrees.

The horse took off across the desert at a gentle trot, but when Kat reached the road, she kicked up to a gallop. The road was deserted this early in the morning, and Kat soon topped the bluff. She pulled up her horse and dismounted at the very spot where Erin had plunged to his death. The memorial she had placed on the edge of the cliff had blown over, and the artificial flowers scattered with the wind from last night's storm. As she positioned the small cross back in place and gathered the flowers, she noticed wide skid marks across the right-hand lane and a deep narrow groove in the mud at the edge of the cliff.

Squinting into the sun, she leaned over to look for the site where Erin had crashed. For a minute she thought she saw Erin's motorcycle at the bottom of the chasm, but she knew the bike had long since rusted away and become one with the desert. Still, there was something glinting back at her.

Kat retrieved the binoculars from her saddle bag, and what she saw made her draw in her breath sharply. A man's body lay bloodied and still next to a shattered motorcycle where a broken rear-view mirror reflected the sun back at her in brilliant flashes. Kat looked and looked again to make sure her eyes weren't playing a trick on her. This wasn't her imagination; there was a body at the bottom of Thompson's Bluff. Kat pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911.

It would take at least 45 minutes for Sheriff Wade and the ambulance to arrive at the site, so Kat decided to climb down the cliff face and see if the guy might still be alive. The shale on the narrow trail was loose, causing her to slip and slide when the going was steep. She wished for tennis shoes instead of the riding boots she wore. Grabbing a handful of mesquite, she inched her way over a boulder and back onto the trail beyond.

It looked as if no one had been down this way since Erin's body was brought out. The trail was barely visible in many places where Kat had to guess where the switchbacks headed next and forge her own trail. She remembered now that the trail had been so rugged that the wrecker driver took one look and declined to try to retrieve the bike. It had been left there at the bottom of the gorge just where it had crashed.

The scene at the bottom made her scramble into the bushes to vomit. She knew when she started down that there was little chance anyone could have survived a leap off the bluff, but she couldn't just stand there doing nothing. Being careful not to disturb anything, Kat skirted the scene, using the binoculars to see things close up. If she wasn't mistaken, the motorcycle was a vintage Indian. Not too many of those around these days, and she hadn't seen one of those since Erin restored one in the shop about a year before he died. High above she heard the sirens of the ambulance and Sheriff Wade's squad car. Soon, several men were scrambling down the path with a stretcher.

Back at the house, Kat fixed coffee for Marty and Sheriff Wade.

"Any idea who the guy might be?" Kat asked.

"The body is in pretty rough condition, but he did have a driver's license in his wallet. It's Tanner Papp. He's up here from Mexico and has been hanging out with Walt Bass, doing odd jobs. Rough character," Marty answered.

"From the looks of the skid marks up on the road, it seems like there may have been another vehicle involved. Appears as if he was forced off the road," Sheriff Wade said.

"Oh, my God, you don't mean intentionally!" Kat said.

"Hard to say, but whoever was involved left the scene. We'll be calling on the forensic guys up in Ellenville to take a look at what's left of the bike. Hopefully we can track down the son of a bitch," Sheriff Wade grumbled.

"You know, that's a vintage Indian he was riding," Kat offered.

"Yep, I noticed that, and it reminded me of something. Bobby Flint had six of those antique Indians in his barn. The barn has been boarded up since Bobby got killed, and Marty drives by there pretty regularly. Guess I'd best be taking a closer look when I get back to town. Anyway, speaking of Bobby Flint, did any of the guys that hang out up here know Bobby?" Sheriff Wade asked.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, a gal name of Star Lance is fixin' to open an antique shop there on Main Street. She bought out the Flint estate from Grant Cobb to stock her store, and last night someone tore up the place pretty bad. Not only that, but a few days before this vandalism, she had some visitors pull up on bikes. They rang the buzzer and then let themselves in the front door and poked around a bit. They seemed especially interested in Bobby's old roll-top desk. She wasn't about to confront them, so she hid out beside the house and heard one of the guys mention your name."

"My name? Are you sure?" Kat asked.

"Said something like, 'We'll tell Kat we didn't find anything.'"

"Oh, I bet I know what they were after. One of the guys lost a whole ring of keys that Erin used to keep out in the shop. Didn't really miss them until recently when I decided to sell that old Jaguar of Erin's. Couldn't find the keys anywhere. When I asked the guys about the key ring, they told me they'd taken a couple of Erin's old bikes out for a spin, but when they got back, they'd lost his key chain. Didn't figure I'd ever take the bikes out, so they didn't mention it. They told me they broke down coming through Mineral City on Cattletrack that day. Bobby Flint let them use some tools he had in the barn to get them going again. I told them they'd better find those keys, and that the shop would be off limits until they did," Kat explained.

"I'll bet those keys of yours are in an evidence box down at my office."

"Evidence for what?"

"Bobby Flint's murder."

"You don't think one of the guys killed him, do you?"

"No, I don't. During the week Bobby was murdered, they were all at some motorcycle rally down in Florida. I questioned them because of the biker's key chain we found out in the barn lot. Thought maybe it might have belonged to one of your guys. Never did tell them about the keys, though. Kept that as quiet as I could. Didn't want a bunch of vigilantes suspecting every biker riding though town of murder. They must have thought Bobby might have found the keys and tossed them in his desk in case they came back for 'em."

"Looks like Erin's Jag is just going to have to sit out in the shed a few more years."

"I can't see any reason why you can't have those keys now that we know the story. Stop by the office when you're in town, and I'll let you have them. I hate to ask you this Kat, but do you remember where you were when Bobby Flint was murdered?"

"You don't think I shot him?"

"Well, word around town is that you know your way around a pistol, and with those keys belonging to Erin and all, you know I've got to ask you."

"If it was Speed Week at Daytona, I was here alone," Kat admitted. "I remember one of the horses was foaling, and I had the vet over here a couple of times that week. Besides, why would I want Bobby Flint dead? I didn't even know the man."

"You use that vet up in Ellenville, what's his name?"

"Bud Tate. Yes, he's the one, but I doubt he'll remember after all this time."

"Never hurts to ask, and he probably has paperwork on it."

"We'd best be gettin' back, Sheriff. We've got a load of paperwork to fill out on this accident, if it was an accident," Marty said.

"Yep, 'spect you're right, son. Listen, Kat, don't worry about this thing with Bobby Flint. You don't have any motive to kill the man anyway. I just need to follow up on all leads no matter how thin. I hate having a murder case pending for six months. Makes me look like a tinhorn sheriff."

"I understand, Sheriff," Kat said as she held open the screen door.

Kat stood at the door watching as Marty and the Sheriff pulled out on the main road and disappeared in a cloud of dust. Goose bumps rose on her arms when she thought about what the Sheriff would think about her motive to kill Bobby Flint if he knew she was his granddaughter. How would she be able to prove that she didn't have any idea until last night that she had any connection to Bobby Flint at all? With that thought, she moved quickly into her bedroom, picked up her grandmother's diary from the bedside table, and ran up the steps to the attic. She crawled way back in the attic and put the diary back up in the rafters where she had found it.

Inheriting Bobby Flint's estate wasn't worth being accused of his murder. As soon as the guys arrived this weekend, she planned to get more details from them about their encounter with Bobby Flint and their more recent foray in Mineral City. She should have thrown all of them off her property after Erin died, but having them around made losing Erin a bit easier to bear. She probably shouldn't have let them off so easily when they couldn't find the keys to the Jag either.

Kat knew she was kidding herself. She had a real soft spot for Chopper and the Doughboys. Besides, she was used to the sound of motorcycles on a Saturday morning, and having them in and out gave her a reason to hang on to Erin's shop and the bikes he'd owned. Not to mention the repairs and errands they were glad to do in return for the use of Erin's tools and built-in motorcycle lift. Even the sheriff was convinced they'd had nothing to do with Bobby Flint's murder. Right now she thought it looked like she might become more of a suspect than the guys ever were if someone figured out she was Bobby's granddaughter.

### Chapter Eleven

_Arrowstar – Monday Late Afternoon – July 12, 2010_

Star woke with a splitting headache. The pounding inside her head blended with the sound of hammering and sawing downstairs. Lady, lying perfectly calm on the end of her bed, didn't seem to mind the sound of voices floating up the stairwell. The dog sensed Star was awake, scooted up beside her to give her a big sloppy kiss on the mouth. Star sputtered and spit, wiping her hand across her mouth.

"Ugh, I've been kissed by a dog! How are you, Lady?" Star said, petting Lady on the head. "I feel like I've been asleep for years."

Holding her hand over the throbbing spot on her forehead, Star got up, pulled on her shirt and jeans and headed downstairs. Ricki met her on the landing with a cup of steaming coffee and plate of corn bread with butter and maple syrup.

"Bless your heart for bringing me food and coffee. What's going on anyway?" Star asked as she gratefully swigged down some coffee that made her headache feel better immediately.

"It's a surprise, and you have to stay in the kitchen," Ricki told her.

"You know that's not going to happen. How long have I been asleep?"

"All night and more than half of Monday. It's about 3:00 p.m."

"Oh my God, what about the grand opening and the mess from last night?" Star shouted, leaping from her chair and barreling into the parlor.

There were people everywhere, and Walt was stationed behind the cash register, ringing up a sale. Jim was there putting trim around a pair of newly constructed glass cases, and the front porch seemed to be full of people shopping.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Walt said when he caught sight of her.

"What's going on?"

"Grand opening today if you remember," Walt teased.

"Yes, but everything's a mess. What's happened?"

"We just decided to make it a sidewalk sale," Jim offered with a grin.

"A sidewalk sale? I don't understand."

"The whole town rallied around after you went to bed last night. Ricki organized the ladies from the church, and they gathered up all the antiques you had displayed, while the men set up big tables on the porch and along the street out front. Jim's been here all night repairing the damage to your cases, and when we close down in a couple of hours, you can help us move everything back inside," Walt told her. "We took all the ruined furniture out to the warehouse. I don't know if you'll be able to repair it or not."

"I, I'm overwhelmed," Star said as she stared out the front door at all the customers on the porch and in the street.

"Not only that," Ricki said, walking up beside her. "We've already taken in over $900 in sales today. Alice sends all the customers from Carla's over here after they eat, and Dan at the Fill 'er Up directs all his traffic down this way as well. We've got a couple of people over at the mine with fliers telling the tourists about Arrowstar and the story behind the source of the antiques."

"Yep, and those tourists all come in here wanting a souvenir from the crime scene," Jim added. "Walt's sold a bunch of those horseshoes from the barn."

"I'm speechless," Star said. "You guys are something. I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you."

"Don't worry about that," Jim said. "Mineral City always helps its own. When my Mom died, we had meals for a whole month. No questions asked, no thanks needed. It's just what is."

"Hey, maybe now I can pay my speeding tickets," Star laughed and hugged Ricki. "Thank you so much everyone. I'm ever in your debt."

"Oh, and one more thing, lots of customers have been asking for a write-up of the story about the Bobby Flint murder to go with their purchases," Ricki told her. "You told me you sometimes write stories about your antiques, so I got their names and addresses for you in case you want to follow up with them."

"Ricki, that's a fabulous idea!" Star said with a jolt of enthusiasm she hadn't felt since Mac died. "This could be the start of something big, or whatever that line was."

"I think it's more like, 'This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.'" Grant said as he walked in the front door.

"Grant, can you believe all this?" Star asked.

"I know, this is my second trip over here today, and each time I've walked away with something under my arm," Grant said. "You were asleep the first time I dropped by."

"Wait a minute, you sold me all this stuff and now you're buying it back!" Star said with a grin.

"Looks that way," Grant said sheepishly. "Could be I'm carrying a torch for the owner, huh?"

Star didn't know what to say to that, but she didn't have to respond, because their conversation was interrupted by a short whoop of the siren on Sheriff Wade's patrol car. Everyone turned to watch as the sheriff and Marty got out of their patrol car and walked up to the porch. Sheriff Wade put his foot on the first step and stood looking up at them without speaking.

"What is it, Daddy?" Ricki asked, breaking into the sheriff's seeming indecision.

"There's been an accident up at Thompson's Bluff," he answered.

"Oh, no," Ricki said. "Is it bad?"

At that moment Walt walked out on the porch. Sheriff Wade motioned Marty inside and led them through the parlor into Star's kitchen. When they were all seated around Star's kitchen table, the Sheriff stood leaning on the old pump by the sink, still finding his voice.

Marty finally broke the silence. "I'm glad we caught up with you, Walt, before you heard this from someone else. Our first stop was over at your place."

"It's Tanner Papp, Walt. He took a dive off Thompson's Bluff last night during that storm. He didn't make it, Walt." Sheriff Wade said laying his hand on Walt's shoulder.

"Damn fool!" Walt said his voice wavering. "I told him not to start out for Mexico with that storm brewing, but he insisted he had to get back right away. Something about a friend of his needing his help in a hurry. I suppose my Dodge is at the bottom of the bluff in about a thousand pieces."

"He borrow your big ol' truck, Walt?" Marty asked.

"Yeah, he said he needed transportation since he wrecked his bike a few weeks ago, and it's still in the shop," Walt said. "Why? Was it so destroyed you didn't recognize it?"

"He was riding an old Indian motorcycle," Sheriff Wade told him.

"An Indian, where'd he get an Indian? I haven't seen one of them things around here in years," Walt said.

"Wait a minute, my uncle mentioned a collection of vintage Indians in the old will we found in the roll-top desk," Grant said. "But there weren't any motorcycles at all in the barn to go with the tools that were still there."

"You mean to tell me you didn't find the ten motorcycles out in the barn when you sold off everything?" Sheriff Wade asked.

"Not a one, Sheriff. I didn't even know Uncle Bobby was into motorcycles," Grant answered. "When I asked Ray Long about the bikes mentioned in the old will, he said he had no idea what Bobby might have done with them since the first will was written."

"Damn, son, those bikes were still in the barn when I boarded up the place," Sheriff Wade said.

"I drove past the house real regular and never saw anything out of place," Marty offered.

"It looks like somebody might have hired Tanner Papp to sell those bikes in Mexico," Grant suggested.

"Now, wait just a goldurn minute!" Walt shouted as he came to his feet. "Tanner gets killed, and now you're accusing him of bein' a thief when he can't be here to defend himself. That beats all. Sure, Tanner was rowdy, but I've known him for years, and he wouldn't get involved in that kind of thing. You yearnin' for another trip to the alley, bucko?"

Grant backed away from Walt, and Marty got hold of Walt's arm.

"Walt, just hold on a minute. We're just starting to investigate, and we don't know enough for you start beating the crap out of anybody. Just simmer down now. Simmer down," Marty soothed.

"Marty's right, Walt. We're not sure what went on, if anything at this point. One thing I didn't mention, and I'd like it to stay in this room for now. The skid marks look like someone may have run Tanner off the road," the sheriff said.

"Son of a bitch!" Walt yelled. "Who the hell would do a thing like that? This is a hell of a thing to deal with. This is just too much," Walt said, and he slammed out the back door.

Star ran after him, but Walt had disappeared into the back door of Carla's place. Marty was on Star's heels and persuaded her not to follow Walt into the bar.

"He just needs to cool off, Star," Marty said. "Let him be."

"I just wanted to thank him for all he's done for me at the shop. I hate to see him stalk off like this. He's just lost a good friend," Star said looking miserable. "I owe him a lot."

"Don't worry, Walt's always been a hothead, but he'll come to his senses and be back around to see you, I'm sure," Marty said as they walked back into Star's kitchen.

"Where's Ricki?" Star asked.

"You got another customer, so she went out front to take care of it," Grant said.

Star had gone from being elated to see the shop open and things selling, to being nearly undone by the news that Tanner Papp might have been murdered. All the amazing possibilities for the store seemed trivial in light of such a horrible death, and the possibility that it all might be connected to Bobby Flint's estate. What had she gotten herself into?

Star closed the store at 5:00 p.m., and Grant, Jim and Ricki helped her carry everything back inside. The men from the church came over to retrieve the tables, and Arrowstar looked fairly normal, at least out front. The inside of the store was still in disarray, but Jim had finished the glass cabinets and put them in place, so she had a place to display the smaller items she brought in from out front. Her office was a mess, and there was plenty of work to keep her busy all evening if she was going to open again in the morning.

Ricki offered to stay and help, but Star insisted she and Jim go on home after spending the whole day helping with Arrowstar. Grant stayed about an hour, but then made a hasty retreat, saying he needed to go ring Ray Long's chimes about the missing motorcycles. Star tried to talk him out of getting involved until the Sheriff had time to investigate, but Grant was hard-headed and determined. After he left, she sank back in the desk chair and put her feet up. Lady lay at her feet, and she closed her eyes trying to quiet the questions buzzing through her head.

But the questions kept up their insistent yammering. Someone tried to shut her business down before it got going. Was it all because of something she might have from the Bobby Flint estate, or was someone trying to run her out of town? Should she be afraid for her life, or was the sacking of her store pure vandalism? What had been in the false-bottom drawer? Could she keep the kind of foot traffic she'd seen today going without the kind of help she'd had from so many people today? How was she going to repay all those people? How could she pay Jim for building those cases for her? A nine-hundred-dollar day was great, but she couldn't count on that every day. What had she been thinking? How could she possibly make a living selling antiques in such a small town? Would whoever tore up the store return? Would any customers show up tomorrow?

Finally, Star got the desk put back together, and her business papers all in place. After a few hours of grunt work, the front room and parlor again looked ready for business tomorrow. It was after 1:00 a.m. when she finally dragged her tired body up to bed. Sleep didn't come easily, and she tossed and turned for an hour before finally drifting off into an exhausted, restless sleep.

* * *

_Tuesday, July 13, 2010_

After what seemed to be about 15 minutes, the alarm went off, and Star crawled out of bed to face her first full day on her own as chief operating officer of Arrowstar Antiques. She had imagined it would be a much happier occasion when she took the reins in her own hands. As it was, she felt defeated, and she'd only just begun.

"Oh, Mac," Star whispered to herself, "why did you have to die and leave me all alone? I'm afraid I've really blown everything we worked so hard for. I've sunk it all in this shop, and I don't think there's a chance in hell it's ever going to be successful."

Star bit back her tears and went to hang the OPEN sign in the front window. After not seeing any sign of a customer for over two hours, Star wandered into the kitchen for a second cup of coffee. As she picked up the pot, she heard the sound of a jingling bell from the front room and sprinted though the parlor to see who it was, all the while wondering what happened to that awful buzzer.

"Hi, Mom!"

"Julie! For heaven's sake where did you come from? You're supposed to be in school."

"Summer semester is over, and I'm yours for a month. Surprise!"

"But I thought you and your roommate were going to her parents' place up at Lake Michigan for the month of August."

"Well, what a welcome home. Want me to leave?" Julie said, flashing her an impudent smile.

"No, no, of course not. I'm thrilled to have you here," Star laughed, stepping back to take in the welcome sight of her slim young daughter as tall now as her mother and dressed in skinny jeans and a western shirt. Her straight ash-blond hair curled slightly just below her dimpled chin, framing her lovely oval face. "You couldn't have come at a better time."

"Good for me," Julie said with a wink.

"When you came in the door and those bells jingled, I realized for the first time that the buzzer has been replaced," Star said, shaking her head and smiling. "It looks like Dan might have traded the bells that were at the filling station for my buzzer setup!"

"Why would he do that?"

"It's a long story. Come have a cup of coffee with me, and I'll bring you up to speed."

Just as Star finished telling Julie all about the situation at the shop and her generous neighbors, the bell on the front door jingled again. Julie headed upstairs to unpack, and Star went to meet her first customer of the day. It was a tourist Alice had sent over from Carla's. She was full of questions about Mineral City and, more specifically, Carla's Bar and Grill. She couldn't understand why there was no Carla.

"The place is packed with the lunch crowd right now, so I hated to ask a bunch of questions," said the short, solidly-built woman. Star admired the long, thick black braid peppered generously with gray that pulled the woman's hair tight against her head as she introduced herself as Carla Rojas. "Alice, who waited on my table, seemed beside herself trying to serve everyone. There was only one other waitress waiting tables with her."

Star could see the woman's dark eyes flash in her expressive face as if the noontime chaos next door had really gotten under her skin.

"Yes, they always seem short-handed over there during the lunch rush. I can tell you what I've heard through the grapevine about the absence of Carla, though I can't guarantee it's true. The locals say that when the sign for Carl's Bar and Grill arrived, it said Carla's instead. When the owner saw it, he just laughed at the mistake and hung the sign. My friend Ricki told me that last year Carl handed the keys over to Ray Long, who helped him though an especially troublesome bankruptcy. Ray left the day-to-day management to Alice and hired an accountant to keep the books. Most people don't have a clue that Carla's belongs to Mineral City's only attorney, or that Alice actually runs the place," Star explained.

"Do you think he'd be interested in selling?" Carla asked.

"From what I've heard, Ray Long probably would be happy to get the place off his hands. I don't think he's really interested in running a bar and restaurant, so he leaves Alice pretty much to her own devices," Star answered.

"I just sold a large restaurant in Tucson, and I've been looking for a place to buy in a small town. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw the sign. Obviously, I wouldn't change the name," Carla laughed.

"It would be great to have you as a neighbor," Star said. "Ray Long's office is just across the street and two doors down next to the bicycle shop. His secretary is on vacation, so if he's not around, you might stop in at the bank next door for information. They'll know if Ray has the place listed with a realtor."

"Thanks for your help. The possibility of settling down here and moving at a much slower pace sounds so good to me right now."

"Things do move rather slowly In Mineral City. I've been here less than a year, and already it seems like I've always lived here. The people are good neighbors, I'm finding out. I'll bet you can swing a deal with Ray Long. Good luck and let me know how it goes," Star called as she watched the woman walk away without buying anything.

"I've got to do something about my sales technique," Star thought. "At this rate, I'll have to hire Ray Long to manage my own bankruptcy before the end of the week."

"What's the matter, Mom?" Julie asked as she bounced into the shop from the parlor. "You look like you just lost your best friend."

"Actually, I think I may have just made a friend, but I am worried, sweetheart. I think I overestimated my earning potential when I opened this shop."

"Come on, Mom, you'll probably get lots more business on the weekends than midweek."

"Yes, but yesterday was Monday, and they were piling in here like gangbusters."

"Sure, but you had all those people helping you. Don't worry, Saturday and Sunday will be great. Besides, now that I'm here, I can go out and drum up business over at the mine entrance and remind Dan to keep sending his traffic this way."

"Evidently Alice is still sending people over, because I just had a woman here who ate lunch over there. Unfortunately, she didn't buy anything, but I really liked meeting her."

"You're a people person, Mom. That's what's going to make this place go, not some sales technique you think you need. I'll be back in a hour, and I bet you'll have sold something by then," Julie encouraged.

"Okay, from now on I'm on my best behavior. That woman's name was Carla, and she's looking to buy Carla's Bar and Grill. She seemed like someone I could be friends with. See, I can find something positive to say about a "no sale."

"You get points for that," Julie laughed. "See you later."

The place was quiet as a tomb after Julie left, so Star began to write in her journal and soon became engrossed in writing some text for the tags people had requested about Bobby Flint's estate and his unsolved murder. She jumped when the bells on the front door jingled and Grant walked in with a big smile on his face.

"Guess what!" Grant teased.

"I give up. What?"

"I've got reservations for two at the Arizona Inn restaurant for Friday night."

"I don't know, Grant. My daughter, Julie, unexpectedly showed up this morning, and she's staying to help out for a month. I'm not sure I should just run off and leave her this soon after she arrived."

"Bring her along," Grant said easily.

"No, we need to talk and that would just make things awkward."

"Well, don't decide now, just think about it. Check it out with her, and see how she feels about it. Where is she anyway? I'd like to meet her."

Star explained what Julie was up to, and as they stood in the shop talking, Grant picked up one of the tags she'd been writing.

"Listen, Star, if you're really going to write about where these antiques came from, you need to go over to the house and look around. The old man added a lot of unique touches to the Walsh place when he restored it."

"Like what?" Star asked.

"Oh you know, little alcoves for displaying art and a classy built-in telephone stand in the hallway. He had a knack for creating little cubbyholes for storage and built-in bookcases for all those antique books you bought from me."

"I've always wanted to see the inside of the house. The mystery surrounding your uncle's life and death certainly begs investigation. When can you show it to me?" Star asked.

"Why don't you bring Julie by the hotel tonight for dinner so I can meet her, and we'll all walk over and see the house together."

"Great, it's a date. Oh, by the way, what did Ray say about the missing motorcycles yesterday?" Star asked.

"Without his secretary around, it appears there's no way to get in touch with that guy. I phoned and then went over there and practically knocked his door down, but there was no answer either way. Who knows where he disappears to for hours on end. I even walked over to the courthouse and checked in at the sheriff's office. No one had seen him since early yesterday morning," Grant told her.

"You know what, check with Alice over at Carla's. She seems to know more about the people in this town than anyone else since most people eat there at least once a week; some of them every day."

"Good idea. I'll run over there and see if the lunch rush has abated by now. Want me to bring you anything?"

"No thanks, but tell Alice I've got news for her when she has a minute to run over here."

"Sounds mysterious. I'll tell her. See you tonight."

"Sure. I hope you get a line on Ray before then."

"Me too," Grant said over his shoulder as he headed next door.

The screen door banged behind Grant as he stepped into Carla's. Alice looked up from the newspaper she was reading at the bar. The lull after the lunch rush had left the place nearly deserted.

"What's up, Grant?"

"Thought I might find Ray Long over here feeding his face."

"Oh no, not on a Tuesday afternoon," Alice told him. "He's probably deep in debt by now up at the Ellenville mine."

"How so?"

"Oh, it's a back-room poker game that's been goin' on for years every Tuesday since I can remember. There's not many Tuesdays Ray misses, either. In fact, his secretary takes the afternoon off every Tuesday because she knows law practice—and that's what Ray does, you know, _practice_ —won't be happenin' on Tuesdays," Alice chuckled.

Grant parked in the sprawling lot next to the mine office in Ellenville and gravel dust settled on his boots as he walked to the door. Inside, the worn-wood floorboards creaked and groaned with each footstep as he approached the large counter taking up most of the small room. A calendar, showing a bull-riding cowboy gracing the cover of a 10-cent issue of the _Saturday Evening Post_ from July of 1945, hung askance on the wall above the counter. The Regulator clock on the wall next to a window, overlooking the almost empty parking lot, ticked out the seconds like a metronome as the pendulum swung endlessly back and forth inside its case, and a horsefly buzzed angrily in the window pane. Grant almost turned around and walked out, thinking the clerk must have gone home for the day, when the door behind the counter opened, and a lanky old guy, wearing a blue shirt with a Big Spur Mine logo above the pocket, walked in.

"Oh, you surprised me. I didn't hear you come in," the clerk said easily. "What can I do for you, son."

"I heard there was a card game a fella could hook into up here."

"Well now, that's the truth, but them boys already cleared out. You just missed 'em. Need to get here about noon to catch the action. Help you with anythin' else?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact you can. I rode up around Tyler Spring just not long ago with some friends, who were surprised to see the Sugar Loaf Mine up there operational again. What's the story on that?"

"I couldn't tell ya. That piece of property got sold off years ago."

"That right? Got any idea who bought it?"

"Not a clue, but you could check with the Graham County Recorder's Office over in Safford."

"You don't happen to know Ray Long down in Mineral City?" Grant asked.

"Sure do. He's a regular up here on Tuesday afternoons. Man, he was drunk as a skunk up here the other night. Let's see, it was the night of that big storm we had. The guys were trying to talk him out of drivin' on home when this big burly guy blows in through the back door and says he'll take him home. He had a big older-model Dodge truck with a motorcycle on a trailer behind it. Ray just left his car in the lot and climbed in with the guy. Next morning Ray's car was gone, so he must have sobered up and come back and got it."

"Huh. So, Ray's a pretty good poker player?"

"Well now, that's another story. Tuesday afternoons are just friendly games with the locals, but that deal the other night was high stakes. Ray was into some of those guys for some pretty substantial money and has been for a few years. Talk is he still owes upwards of $50,000, and that doesn't include the interest built up over the years."

"You'd think they would have collected a pound of flesh off him before this then, wouldn't you?" Grant asked.

"No, see these guys make a steady income off guys like Ray. Typically they string along these white collar guys who make a decent living, but have gambling problems like Ray. They want to keep them healthy to insure a return on their investments, so to speak. I know Ray got roughed up a couple of times in the past, but lately he's been making some pretty large payments against his debt and even winning a few hands. I should know. I keep the books for them fellas on the side. It's sad really, because some of these poor bastards will never get out of debt. They can't seem to help themselves, and they just keep comin' back for one more game hoping to win themselves out of the hole they've dug."

### Chapter Twelve

_Bobby Flint's House – Tuesday Evening – July 13, 2010_

After dessert at the Grub Stake restaurant inside the Mineral City Hotel, Grant walked between Julie and Star as they headed down Main Street, pausing to chat with the sheriff in front of his office next to City Hall.

"Sheriff Wade, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Julie," Star said. "I think you already know Grant."

"Yes, we've met. Ricki told me you broke a couple ribs the other night."

"Boy, nothing's a secret in this town," Grant laughed as he shook his head.

"Hello, Sheriff Wade," Julie said, extending her hand. "I met your daughter this afternoon over at the Weaver Mine. She drove me over to Dan's Fill 'er Up Station after I finished passing out fliers about Arrowstar to the last group of mine visitors for the day."

"What was Ricki doing over at the mine?" Sheriff Wade asked.

"Oh, she said something about delivering a scrapbook she'd found among some household goods she recently got into the shop. It had lots of old news clippings about the opening of the Weaver mine way back when and some pictures of the miners who first worked the claim. It looked like pretty interesting stuff," Julie told him.

"It's amazing what kinds of things Ricki comes across while she's sorting through all that second-hand stuff. Once she found a pair of diamond cuff links, tie tack and a gold diamond ring in the pocket of a suit coat donated by Natalie Duncan after her father passed away. When Ricki returned them to her she sat right down and cried. She had some debts to clear up after Earl died, and that jewelry helped her pay for his funeral," Sheriff Wade said. "The next week, Natalie delivered a cherry pie to the Second Thyme Around, and every so often another one shows up over at the house."

"Oh, that's a wonderful story," Star said.

"I think it says a lot about Ricki's character," the Sheriff told them with a hint of pride in his voice. "I'd like to think her mother and I might have had a little something to do with that."

"It also tells me who I need to get to know when I get hungry for a slice of cherry pie," Grant announced. "Where'd you say this Natalie lives?"

"Cut it out Grant, you know you can always get a slice of pie over at Carla's," Star laughed.

"I know, I know, but I'm just keeping my options open. After all, you got a coconut cream from Blanch, so I don't see why I can't develop a source for cherry."

"Nice to have met you, Sheriff," Julie said. "I think we'd best be moving along before Grant has you making a list of all the ladies in Mineral City who can make a decent pie."

"Well, that would be about all of 'em!" The Sheriff laughed, tipped his hat and winked as they started to move on down the street.

"Oh, wait a minute, hold up now. I had planned to walk over to see you this evening, Star," Sheriff Wade said. "I don't know if you knew it, but I took some prints from the break-in at Ricki's place. I just got them back today, but they didn't match with any in our database. However, they did match the prints we took from those glasses you two snagged from Carla's, not Walt's prints, but Tanner's. We double-checked the prints against those they took at the morgue when they brought Tanner's body in."

"Oh, so he _was_ the one!" Star blurted. "I mean, well, Ricki told me she found a key fob near the desk at her shop that obviously belonged to Tanner. Since he'd never been in, we figured he must have been the one who broke in. Now that he's dead, we can't ask him what he was looking for among Flint's things. Oh yes, I almost forgot. I found a small silver key in that old roll-top desk, and I was wondering if it fit that box with the broken hinges that you found at Ricki's place."

"Bring it over tomorrow, and we'll check it out. It seems like we've come up with a whole lot of nothing, but Tanner probably wasn't working alone, so I'll be talking with Walt to see what he knows or if he's involved in any way. I'm also anxious to speak with Ray Long about those motorcycles, but I haven't seen him today."

"I was looking for him today, too, and I found out he was up at the Big Spur in Ellenville playing cards earlier this afternoon," Grant told him. Also learned that he owed a couple people some pretty substantial money in the way of gambling debts up there. The clerk in the mine office told me Ray went off the other night with a big guy in an older, white Dodge Truck that had a motorcycle and trailer on the back."

"Sounds like Tanner Papp, doesn't it? Well, this is getting more and more interesting by the minute. Glad you guys stopped by tonight. I'll be visiting with Ray real soon," the Sheriff said as he tipped his hat and strode up the street toward Ray Long's office.

The evening air was soft, and the twilight cast a glow over the buildings along the street. Everything was backlit as if the town were part of a stage set ready for the show to begin. The music coming out of Carla's completed the image and made Star think of a play she and Mac had seen just before he was diagnosed with cancer. She felt tears forming behind her eyes, but she took a deep breath as they turned south on Miner Street toward Cattletrack, and began talking about the old house they were going to see.

"I hope you'll find a buyer for your uncle's house who will appreciate all the work he did to restore it. It will be fun to see the nifty little touches he added to make it special, Grant. Thanks so much for taking us to see it."

Grant fumbled in his pocket for the keys as he propped the screen door open with his foot. Star reached out to steady the door, and soon Grant flipped the switch for the porch light, and the foyer lit up with light from a lovely chandelier in the entry.

"I asked the utility company to leave the electricity on until the place gets sold. I've also got lights on timers that come on every night to make it looked lived in. The people came and removed the plywood from the windows just today," Grant told them.

Their footsteps echoed in the empty house as they traversed the foyer, only to come upon the chalk outline of Billy Flint in the hallway across from the parlor. The place remained a crime scene, and Sheriff Wade had left the case open.

"Gives me the shivers to think of Flint getting shot right between the eyes in his own home," said Star.

"Pretty gruesome," Julie agreed.

"Maybe the old man would be happy he died that way. After all, he was a train robber," Grant offered.

"No way," Julie came back at him. "No one longs to get shot in the head. I don't care how tough they were in life, it's a nasty way to go."

"I'm with you, Julie," Star replied.

"Still, I don't think my uncle would have wanted to linger with say, an incurable disease or something."

"My, aren't you just a little ray of sunshine tonight!" Star laughed. "Let's run upstairs and take a look around," Star said as she skipped the second step and attempted to run to the top, taking two steps at a time. About half way up the old staircase, she tripped and landed with a thud. She hurriedly placed her palm on the nearest step and braced herself to stand up, when the riser on the step below creaked and popped showing a crack all the way across the step. On closer inspection Star noticed the riser was hinged at the top where it was joined to the step above.

"What's this?" Star said, lifting the panel upward to expose a sizable cubby hole under the step. "I think there's something in here."

Star pulled out a leather-bound journal with a silver, keyed clasp.

"Wow, Mom, look at that fancy work on the cover and the silver corner protectors," Julie said. "Looks like Mr. Flint wanted to keep that book under wraps. Open it, Mom."

"Okay, okay, but it's locked, so we need to take it back to the shop first," said Star. "Now I think I know what my little silver key from the roll-top fits!"

"Wait a minute," Grant said. "Don't you want to see the rest of the house before we go? After all, we just got here."

"You're right, Grant," Star said. "Who knows what else Flint might have stashed away in some other clever hideaway?"

They toured the rest of the house, looking at the built-in china cabinets in the dining room, built-in bookcases in the parlor and bedroom, and arched alcoves for showing off small sculptures in the hallways. The woodwork looked as if it had been imported from Mexico with sculptured details worked in a light oak finish. Whoever bought this old house would certainly be getting a treasure. They pushed and pulled, knocked and tapped, but had no luck locating any more hidden treasures Flint might have secreted away. Still excited about finding the locked journal and what it might contain, they gathered around the kitchen table back at Star's place to take a look.

Star turned the key in the lock, and the hasp unfastened in her hands. She turned page after page of figures and notes beginning back in the 50s when Billy first came to Mineral City. Star leafed through until she came to blank pages and backtracked to the final entries in the ledger.

"Look, this shows a payment to Ray Long for an updated will and a list of all the VIN numbers from the Indian motorcycles out in the barn with recent appraisals on each one," Star said.

Grant looked over her shoulder and pointed to another entry showing the silver saddle with an estimated value of $10,000. "Wow, that must have been some saddle, and it doesn't indicate that he sold it after he got it appraised."

"What's on the page before this one?" Julie asked.

"Oh my, listen to this," Star said as she read from the page Billy wrote after asking Ray Long to look into the possibility that his granddaughter might be living up at Erin Abbi's place.

_Enclosed in the back pocket of this ledger is a copy of my new will and the deed to the Tyler Spring property. It is my intention to add an addendum to this will to include my granddaughter. I have instructed my attorney, Ray Long, to make inquiries into the identity of Kat Abbi, who lives on a ranch near Ellenville, and whom I suspect may be my granddaughter. If she proves to be my granddaughter, I want her to inherit my silver saddle, the bearer bonds located in my safe, the property at Tyler Spring that includes the Sugar Loaf Mine, and a silver pen that represents a sentimental token of my love for her mother, Katherine Loraine Flint, my daughter who was born to Patsy Rodriguez while I was away in Mexico. I tried without success, before her untimely death, to convince Katherine that I was truly her father. The pen may be found in my roll-top desk and is engraved with the initials, K.L.F. The remainder of the estate will go to my nephew, Grant Cobb._

"Look, he initialed this page at the bottom as if he expected Ray Long might not follow through."

"And it's dated the day before my uncle was killed," Grant added.

"Didn't Ray tell you that Bobby never found his daughter?" Star asked.

"Well, not in so many words, but he also didn't bother to mention that Bobby thought his granddaughter might be living close by," said Grant.

"So, do you think Ray Long contacted this Kat Abbi?" Julie asked.

"I certainly think she would have contacted Grant if she knew about her grandfather," Star ventured. "Ray obviously knows a lot more about the new will and your uncle's intentions than he's told you. We really need to find Ray, and we need to talk with Kat Abbi and see if she knows about all this."

"First, we should inform the sheriff what we've found and see what he knows about Kat Abbi," said Grant.

"I know where she lives, and I know a couple of things about her as well," Star said.

"You know her, Mom?" Julie asked.

Grant's eyebrows went up as he looked at Star in disbelief. Star explained how she had talked with the Sheriff about Kat after the motorcyclists had entered her house.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about this, Star," Grant said.

"There was no reason to tell you about her then, Grant. I didn't even know she was your cousin at that point! The sheriff said he would talk with her about what those guys might have been after at my place. I wonder if he forgot to tell me what he found out. Maybe we should walk on over there right now and talk with him."

"At least we know about your silver pen with the initials on it, Mom," Julie interjected hoping to diffuse the anger she felt building in Grant.

"Yes, and I hate to give it up, but I wouldn't want to keep something I know belongs to someone else. Especially something that holds such sentimental value," said Star.

"It's too late to catch the sheriff tonight. It's nearly 11:00 o'clock," Grant growled.

"Look, Grant, you've got no cause to be angry with me, so just cool it. It's been a crazy couple of days, and we all need to sleep on this and decide what to do," Star said.

"One thing I noticed," Julie interrupted. "The old will didn't even mention the Tyler Spring property. Did your attorney tell you the estate included a gold mine?"

"That's just one more thing to ask Ray Long," Grant noted.

"Grant, don't think about all this tonight. Go on back to the hotel and get some sleep, and we'll take what we have to the sheriff in the morning," Star said as she led him to the front door of the shop.

* * *

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

The following morning, the sheriff had gone to Ellenville to check on the fingerprints gathered from the break-in at Star's place when Star and Grant stopped by to show him Bobby's journal.

"Let's head on up to Kat's place," Star suggested. "I'm not willing to sit around until the sheriff gets back."

"What about the shop?" Grant asked.

"We'll stop in when we pick up the Jeep, and I'll ask Julie if she'll watch the place. I doubt she'll have many customers. I think I grossly overestimated the potential for an antique shop in such a sleepy little town."

"Don't give up too soon, Star. I'm sure things will pick up. There's always a ramp-up period before you're profitable."

"Well, I didn't figure that ramp into my finances. I think I've got to somehow diversify if I'm going to make ends meet anytime soon. I still have one more speeding ticket to pay off. One of these days Marty is going to show up with handcuffs if I'm not careful. Next thing you know I'll be having Ray Long file bankruptcy for me."

"No, not Ray Long, never even think about asking that idiot for legal advice. You can use the attorney I round up in Tucson if you ever need anything like that, and I certainly don't think you will." Grant assured her as he pulled open the shop door and made the bells jingle.

"Hey you guys. What's up?" Julie asked.

"Hi Honey, could you keep an eye on things while Grant and I run up to see Kat Abbi?"

"Sure, but can I close this afternoon? Ricki invited me to ride up to the Kane ranch this afternoon to see the horses and hang out with Jim," Julie answered.

"Okay, sounds fine. After all, now that I'm the owner I can open and close the shop whenever I feel like it," Star said. "We'll see you later today, honey."

"You want to drive my Jeep on our way up to Kat's place, Grant? I can't afford another ticket, and Marty's probably camped out at Thompson's Bluff just waiting for me," Star laughed as they headed out.

Grant made it a point to grin and wave to Marty when he spotted him fairly well hidden in the bushes along the road at Sandy Hill.

"Marty loves his job," Star chuckled.

Not a half hour after Star left, Carla Rojas stopped by the shop to let Star know she'd spoken with Ray Long's real estate agent about buying the restaurant.

"Let Star know I'm going to be her neighbor, will you Julie," Carla said after introducing herself and learning Star had gone to visit Kat. "I've signed the paperwork, and I can take possession of the restaurant early next week if the title search and the loan go smoothly."

"Mom will be so pleased. I might run into her this afternoon since I'm heading up that way with some friends. We're going on horseback."

"Oh, I love to ride," Carla said.

"That's great. My mom rides, but she's always wanted to take some lessons. She's hoping to get that chance now that she lives in the Wild West," Julie chuckled. "Say, would you like to ride along with us? We can ask Ricki if she can round up another horse from the stables where she boards her horse."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude, but if you're sure your friends wouldn't mind, I'd love to go along," Carla smiled.

### Chapter Thirteen

_Kat's Ranch – Wednesday, July 14, 2010_

After finding Tanner's body and being interviewed about it, Kat got to thinking about what she would do if the sheriff found out she was Bobby's granddaughter. It wouldn't be too hard to see that she could use the money to fix up around the place. She had plenty to keep her comfortably, but not so much that she could afford to be extravagant with what she had put aside for retirement. Just keeping feed for her horses kept her hustling to get more people boarding horses with her or taking riding lessons. She'd not been unhappy with the way things were, but looking though someone else's eyes, it might not seem so clear that bumping off Bobby early might have brought some much-needed capital her way.

Maybe she needed a lawyer just in case things got dicey. She picked up the phone and dialed Ray Long's number.

"Ray Long here."

"Hello, this is Kat Abbi, and I think I need a lawyer."

Ray sucked in his breath when he realized who was calling. This could spell the end to his plans for Tyler Spring. The delay in probate with Grant Cobb would buy him some time, but with the granddaughter snooping around the estate, things could fall apart fast. He'd need at least a month to liquidate his assets including selling Carla's to the woman who'd just made an offer, shutting down the mine operation, and disappearing into Mexico. He had thought he was home free with Tanner out of the way, but this was a whole new obstacle he wasn't prepared to navigate.

"What sort of legal advice are you looking for?"

"Well, I'd rather not go into it over the phone, but could I make an appointment as soon as possible to come to your office to discuss it?"

Ray was certain Kat had discovered her relationship with Bobby Flint and wanted to cash in on the estate. He quickly made up his mind what had to be done.

"I'll tell you what, I have an appointment up in Ellenville, so why don't I just stop by your place on my way. In fact, I was just on my way out the door, so I could head on up there if you'll give me directions out to your place. You're up that way aren't you?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I'm just north of Thompson's Bluff off the Tyler Spring Pike. Just take a right on Sugar Loaf Road and you'll run right into my place. I'll put the coffee on," Kat offered.

After Kat hung up the phone, she wondered how Ray Long knew where she lived or even recognized her name. Did Bobby know he had a granddaughter close by? No, that didn't make sense. He would have contacted her, wouldn't he? It bothered her enough that she began to wonder if her grandmother had known Ray Long when she lived in Ellenville. Possibly there was something in the diary in the attic about him.

Retrieving the diary from the rafters, Kat carried it to the kitchen table and began reading again where she'd left off.

_Bobby's gone along with Dexter and Tom, and I don't think I've ever felt so lonely. It's been such a comfort to come down to my folks' place to get away from the biddies and their talk up in Ellenville. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't hang out here on the weekends. The folks are over the shock of my being pregnant and looking forward to the new baby. Mom says I can stay here when the baby comes until I feel like I'm ready to go back to work. She even says she'll come up to Ellenville and take care of the baby during the day while I'm at the mine._

_I got a letter from Tom yesterday. He's in New York City! I was so surprised. He says he's started his own banking business and has some investors here in Ellenville. He'll be out here from time to time and will stop by to see me. I'm excited about that and hope his first trip will be soon. I get letters from Bobby regularly, and he's excited about the baby. He wants to come back when the baby is born, but I've told him not to take the chance. The sheriff down in Mineral City showed up at the mine office again just last week, asking if I'd heard anything from the boys. He suspects I know more than I'm telling, but he doesn't have any proof, so I just keep repeating the same old story. It worries me though, and I'm wondering if I'd be better off moving away. I hate to even think like that, because my folks are so looking forward to being with their grandchild. I only feel this way after the sheriff makes one of his unannounced visits, or when one of the ladies from the church makes some remark about unmarried girls having babies._

_Right now, all I want to think about is holding my baby and someday introducing him or her to Bobby. I dream all the time about the day when we can be together again._

Leafing through the rest of Patsy's entries, Kat looked for any mention of Ray Long, but didn't find anything. One entry did catch her eye.

_I've been saving all of Bobby's letters in a safe place where the sheriff would never think of looking for them. Bobby wrote that he has all of mine tied up with violet ribbons because he remembers how much I favor the color of the flowers that bloom all around the Tyler Spring cabin in early spring. He says he pictures us taking a picnic there, spreading a blanket for the baby to lie on, and dreaming away the afternoon in the soft breeze and sunshine. It's a scene that brings tears to my eyes, because I know it will never happen._

_I know Bobby's working hard down there to build a nest egg that will give us the life we always dreamed about when we were working out our future up at the cabin all those times when we were just kids. He probably won't be satisfied to come back until his fortune's made. I just don't know where I'll be by that time._

_Tom Porter showed up here last week, big as you please, walked right into the sheriff's office down in Mineral City and told the sheriff to quit harassing me and that hadn't he noticed I was nine months pregnant and didn't need that kind of pressure. He also came up with an alibi for the night the train was robbed, and one of his biggest investors up in Ellenville backed him up. So now Tom can come and go around here without a hitch. Since that day, the sheriff hasn't bothered me._

_I wrote and told Bobby what happened and couldn't he do the same, but Bobby says it's just too risky. As much as he'd like to see me and our baby, he doesn't feel safe coming home yet. He said Tom always had respectability because he worked at the bank. The sheriff would be less likely to believe him or Dexter since they were just blue collar guys._

Kat marked the page, closed the journal, and absently put it next to the bread box on the kitchen counter. So Bobby Flint set out to make his fortune in Mexico with money he got from robbing a train down by Mineral City. The stories she'd heard about him were the truth and stashed around here somewhere were Bobby's love letters to Patsy.

Kat thought about what it would be like to discover those letters and peek into her grandmother's young life and Bobby's escapades in Mexico. She wasn't sure if she really wanted to know, because just knowing Bobby was her grandfather had pushed her into a corner she'd like to escape from. Maybe when Ray Long got here, he'd have some good advice for her. After all, there was that attorney-client privilege thing, wasn't there? That would mean he couldn't report anything she told him to the sheriff.

* * *

"Now, tell me what this is all about," Ray said as he settled himself into one of Kat's kitchen chairs with a cup of hot coffee in front of him.

Kat told him she had discovered something in this house, where her great grandparents had lived, that made her think she might be Bobby Flint's granddaughter. She was reluctant to tell Ray about the diary, because she didn't fully trust him as yet. In fact, he had surprised her by arriving at her door more quickly than she expected, and the diary was still on the counter next to the bread box. She had tossed a dish towel over the book before she let Ray into the kitchen.

"I'm worried that the sheriff will see me as a suspect in Bobby's murder if he knows I'm his granddaughter. I'm not sure how I should handle this, so I thought you might be able to help me," Kat explained.

"Show me what it is you've found that would make you think you're related to Bobby," Ray said.

"First, I need to know something," Kat said.

"Shoot."

"How did you know where I lived?"

"Guess, I heard the sheriff mention you in connection with some bikers that broke into Star Lance's place not long ago. He said he was going to talk with you about it," Ray said.

"Oh, that. Yes, he did, and we cleared that up."

"So that's another reason why the sheriff's radar would go up if he found out you were Bobby's granddaughter and stood to inherit his estate."

"Yes, I guess it might," Kat said. "He brought it up when he was here after I found Tanner Papp's body at the bottom of Thompson's gulch."

"Hmm, you could be in over your head here young lady, but before I decide that, let me see this information that makes you believe you're related to Bobby."

Kat still did not feel comfortable with this man, so she lied and told him the journal was hidden in the rafters up in the attic. Knowing where the journal was hidden was enough for Ray, and before Kat could take two steps as if to retrieve the book, he grabbed her around the neck and placed a gun to her forehead.

"You and me are going to take a little ride up to the Sugar Loaf now," Ray growled into her ear. "Don't give me any trouble, or I'll bloody up your kitchen floor right here and now."

Kat screamed and tried to pull away, but Ray had strong arms and held her fast as he half dragged her out the back door just as Star and Grant came roaring into the barn lot kicking up gravel and dust. Ray panicked and shoved Kat into the path of the Jeep and ran to his car. Grant turned the wheel and stood on the brakes just barely missing running over Kat's arm. Star watched as Ray wheeled his car out the road heading toward the Sugar Loaf.

Grant yelled, "Get out, Star, I'll go after him!"

"There are no turnoffs on that road, and we know exactly where it ends up. There's no back way out of there except on horseback, so don't try to keep up with him, Grant. I'll send the sheriff after you and call the paramedics."

Star slammed the Jeep's door, and Grant roared off toward the Sugar Loaf Mine. Kat lay motionless in the dirt driveway, and Star gently placed her jacket under Kat's head. Inside the kitchen, she grabbed the dishtowel off the counter, and Patsy's journal fell to the floor with a thud. Ignoring the book, she ran cold water over the dishtowel and ran back outside to try to revive Kat.

"At least she's not bleeding," Star thought as she placed the towel gently on Kat's forehead.

Kat moaned and tried to lift her head.

"Don't try to move, Kat," Star said. "I'm a friend, and Ray's gone. You're safe now."

"I'm okay," Kat said to Star as she rose on one elbow. "Let's get out of this dirt and into the house. The only thing that hurts is my wrist. I think it might be broken."

Star helped Kat get inside to a chair at the kitchen table.

"Thank God, the journal is still here," Kat said when she saw it on the kitchen floor.

"Here, let me wrap your wrist to keep it stable," Star said as she scooped up the journal and placed it on the table near Kat.

"Thank you, ah, I don't even know your name."

"Star Lance, and I also keep a journal, although it's not quite as fancy as that one. I'm a writer of sorts, but right now I'm trying to keep an antique store called Arrowstar afloat down in Mineral City. I may have made a serious mistake about making a living selling antiques, however."

Star couldn't believe her mouth was spewing forth words about her personal life to a person she barely knew. For some reason, she felt extremely comfortable with this long-legged, brown-eyed woman. Kat's long black pony tail was still neatly pulled back at her neck and held in place with a handsome silver clip with inlaid turquoise chips. She hardly appeared ruffled from the rough handling she'd survived.

"Oh, it's not my journal," Kat replied. "It belonged to my grandmother."

"This tattoo on your wrist looks like a ranch brand," Star commented.

"Yes, it's the Diamond R. That's the name of this place. My great grandparents, whose last name was Rodriguez, worked this ranch for many years; but my mother grew up back East and didn't care to ever live out here. When my mother died in a lightning-caused house fire, I inherited this place. I've lived here about 15 years now and made my living one way or another with horses. Right now I consider myself retired from all that, and I've sold off the majority of my horses. I still board a few just to pay the bills and keep myself happy. I enjoy riding around out here."

"I've always wanted to learn to ride. I've got this crazy desire to be a cowgirl like the ones I used to watch on television growing up," Star laughed. "I guess that sounds a bit juvenile, doesn't it? But I've always wanted to wear boots and live in the Wild West."

"After what we've been through today, you must feel like you've surely come to the Wild West," Kat said.

"If you don't mind my asking, what set Ray off like that anyway?"

Kat hesitated, and Star wondered if she'd made a mistake throwing out that question.

"I'm not sure I should tell anyone really. I'd asked Ray up here for some legal advice, but he must have known what I wanted to ask before he even got here. It really all started when I found my grandmother's journal," Kat said as the sound of the siren on the paramedic's truck put an end to their conversation.

Two extremely well-proportioned young medics entered the kitchen with all their equipment and began taking Kat's vitals and examining her broken wrist. Star winked at Kat over the shoulder of one of the medics as both women enjoyed the attention they were getting from these handsome young men.

"You need to get this wrist x-rayed and set at the hospital. I'm pretty sure it's broken and not just sprained. You'll be in a cast for awhile. Hopefully, you're not left handed."

"Nope, not a southpaw," Kat answered.

After the medics left, Star fixed coffee, and the two women sat at the table, waiting for some news from the mine.

"If you have a vehicle, I could drive you over to the hospital to get that wrist set," Star offered.

"It's feeling pretty good now that it's wrapped and splinted, so I think I'll just wait and call the orthopedic doc up in Ellenville in the morning. One of the guys will run me up there," Kat decided. "I'd like to stick around here and see what happens with Ray Long. That man should be locked up."

"I'm sure my friend Grant would agree. Ray Long's handling of his uncle's estate led him to find another attorney in Tucson. In fact, we were on our way here to see you because we wanted to talk with you about a possible connection between you and Grant's uncle, Bobby Flint. I'm sure you heard about his murder in Mineral City several months ago."

"Yes, yes I did," Kat said warily. "What exactly did you want to see me about?"

Taking a deep breath, Star came right out and asked, "Is there any possibility you could be Bobby Flint's granddaughter?"

"What would make you think such a thing?" Kat countered.

"Well, we found a journal entry Bobby made the day before he died," Star told her. "He indicated he had asked Ray Long to look into the possibility you might be his granddaughter. This was written at the same time Bobby updated his will, and he wanted to be sure you were included if you were indeed his granddaughter. It appears that, for some reason, Ray failed to carry out Bobby's intentions, and that Bobby suspected he might."

Kat sat in silence as she considered whether she could trust Star. Star sensed her hesitation and continued to fill Kat in on the missing motorcycles, silver saddle, and bearer bonds.

"Bobby also wanted his granddaughter to have the property up at Tyler Spring that includes the Sugar Loaf Mine," Star told her.

Kat held her breath as Star continued to tell her the story of the break-in at Ricki's store and the vandalism at her antique shop.

"Whatever was in the metal box at Ricki's has disappeared along with whatever, if anything, someone took from my shop," Star continued. "When we got back from our ride to Tyler Spring, my shop was a total disaster, and I'd give anything to know why someone trashed the place. It really set me back, and if the neighbors hadn't pitched in, I think I would have boarded up the windows and slinked back to Indy."

By this time there were tears running down Star's cheeks, and Kat felt a real kinship with this spunky woman who had risked everything to try to live her dreams out West. Star's sincerity won Kat's confidence, and she began to tell Star all about her grandmother's journal.

"So you _are_ Bobby's granddaughter!"

"It appears that I am, but I'm frightened to let anyone know because I didn't kill Bobby. I don't want to be accused of murder. That's why I called Ray Long to represent me."

"Sure, you'd have motive in the sheriff's eyes, wouldn't you?"

"You don't think I'd kill my own grandfather, do you?

"Of course not."

"What am I going to do?"

"Let's keep this information between us for now," Star said. "Perhaps things will become clear once the sheriff is able to question Ray Long. It looks like Ray Long hired Tanner Papp to sell those antique Indian motorcycles down in Mexico and probably had something to do with running Tanner off the road up at Thompson's Bluff."

"Do you think he's responsible for the rest of the missing items as well?" Kat asked.

"It makes sense that Ray might take advantage of the estate when he owed so much money in gambling debts."

"Do you think Ray Long killed Bobby Flint?" Kat gasped.

"It's looking more and more like either Tanner or Ray might be responsible," Star said. "Why would you kill Bobby when you weren't strapped for cash, and Bobby would most probably die of natural causes within the next few years anyway. Ray Long probably couldn't afford to wait that long."

"Did they ever find the weapon that killed Bobby?"

"I don't think so," Star answered. "The only evidence the sheriff had was those keys he found in the barn lot. The hollow-point bullet destroyed itself going through Bobby's skull, so information about the gun that might have fired it wasn't definitive either."

"He asked me about those keys the day I found Tanner's body," Kat said as she related the story behind the missing key ring.

"So two questions remain," Star said, "Where are the motorcycle titles, and who killed Bobby Flint?"

"Those missing titles might explain the break-ins at both your place and Ricki's," Kat reasoned.

"Of course," Star said as she came to her feet. "And we just found the deed to the Sugar Loaf Mine, so that would be the other reason someone would want to go through Bobby's things. Wait until I tell my daughter, Julie. She was there when we found the new will and the deed hidden at Bobby's house. I'd call her right now, but she's probably on her way out to Jim's ranch by now."

* * *

Julie closed the shop in Mineral Springs around 11:00 a.m. and called Carla and Ricki on her cell. The three women mounted up at the downtown stable and headed out across country for the Kane Ranch. The ride didn't take nearly as long as going around by the road since Jim had shown Ricki a shortcut though a low pass in the Gila Mountains. They completely bypassed Sandy Hill and Thompson's Bluff and arrived at the ranch in time for lunch.

Marmalade picked up the pace when she saw Toast up ahead, and Ricki came galloping into the barn lot, stirring up dust and alerting Jim they had arrived. Julie and Carla trotted along lazily behind her, and by the time the two women dismounted, Ricki called to them from inside the barn.

"Meet my friend, Jim and his father, Zack. This is Carla Rojas and Julie Lance. Carla hopes to soon be the new owner of Carla's Bar and Grill in Mineral City, and Julie's mother, Star Lance owns the antique store next door."

Zack Kane leaned his tall, lean frame against a stall and propped himself up with one foot. His high forehead showed puzzled creases as he tried to digest all this new information about his visitors. "Well then, pleased to meet you." It seemed Zack Kane was a man of few words just like his son.

"How about some lunch and then a tour around the ranch?" Jim offered.

The group walked toward a sprawling Spanish ranch house with a lovely adobe-walled patio where a three-tiered Mexican fountain bubbled lazily in the sunshine. Cascades of bougainvillea boughs, full of brilliant red blooms, complemented the white walls and made a dramatic background for a succulent garden. The arched doorway, almost hidden by trailing cape honeysuckle, opened into a large foyer where a wide stairway led up to a book-lined mezzanine overlooking an open floor plan. A large living area and galley kitchen opened into a wide dining area, and the large hearth on the native stone fireplace was filled with flowers.

Zack and Jim began to place bowls of fruit and plates of cheese and cold cuts on the long trestle table, while Carla pitched in to set out plates and flatware and fill the water glasses. Ricki began slicing a loaf of homemade bread, and the others found seats around the big table.

"This looks great," Ricki said. "Who's the bread baker?"

"Dad and I both like to pound dough," Jim smiled easily, obviously comfortable in his own home.

"Everything looks just scrumptious," Carla said. "I hope the new Carla's Bar and Grill makes good food look this inviting."

"Dig in everybody," Zack instructed. "Welcome to the Kane's table. We're pleased to have you."

"Tell us more about your plans for Carla's," Ricki urged as they began to pass the plates of food around.

Jim wanted to know if Carla intended to keep making cinnamon rolls, and his dad was concerned about the barbecue and dancing offered on Saturday nights. Carla assured them that she intended to continue the traditions already in place and add a few of her own.

"Let's not talk too much about the new place until the deal goes through, though. I'm a bit superstitious that way. I can tell you about my restaurant in Tucson if you'd like to hear about it."

"Sure, tell us about it," Zack encouraged her. "I get up to Tucson once in awhile. I might even have eaten at your place at some time or another."

It started as a tiny little Mexican take-out place with just four tables inside and a couple on the sidewalk out front. We were tucked in among tall business buildings not far from the Hotel Arizona on Broadway," Carla told them.

"Sure, I know the place. _Dos Hermanas_ , right?" Zack asked. "I ate lunch there a few times whenever I stayed at the Arizona Hotel years ago. Great food. I remember it well."

"Right you are. I'm glad to hear you enjoyed it," Carla said smiling. "During the lunch hour we got lots of foot traffic, and in the evenings, we had an early-bird-take-home special beginning at 4:30 p.m. It was a convenient place for the downtown working crowd and people staying in the hotels to make a quick stop on the way home in the evenings, so we thrived. Unfortunately, we thought at the time, the bank next door wanted to expand into our lot.

"As it turned out, we were given first choice of a business front in the downstairs lobby of the bank building. There were several retail stores around us, and our old patrons kept right on coming in after the new building went up. I hope I'm not giving you more information than you wanted to hear," Carla said as she paused to take a bite of food and a drink of iced tea.

"No, not at all," Jim said. "I'd like to hear more about the food you served. What was your specialty?"

"Everyone loved our tamales," Carla smiled, happy to be talking about food. "We sold them in white cardboard boxes of 24, so people could take them home for dinner and then freeze some. In the evenings, we offered variety packages of enchiladas, tacos, and beans and rice that were very popular. You could even buy flan in a little plastic cup to go with your take-out.

"As our customer base grew, with more people spending time downtown at events in the evenings, we were able to expand into the space next door where we had room for twenty tables. We enlarged the kitchen and crew and started serving liquor, so we expanded our name to _Dos Hermanas Cantina y Restaurante_.

"Two Sisters Bar and Restaurant, right?" Ricki translated.

"Yes, that's it, and the new owners have kept the name, so maybe you can eat there the next time you're in Tucson," Carla said.

"It sounds like a great place. If you don't mind my asking, why did you sell it?" Jim asked.

"Well, my sister decided she wanted to return to Mexico and reconnect with some of our family down there, who live close to the ocean. For many years she'd talked about going home, and I guess turning 50 gave her the push she needed. After she left, I began to feel the pressure of running the entire operation on my own, so I started looking around for someplace smaller.

"To tell the truth, I missed our family as well, but I had no desire to return to Mexico. What I longed for was a place where I could spend some time making friends and enjoying more of my life instead of working so hard. I've been searching for a new location off and on over the past two years, and I hope I've finally found it," Carla said crossing her fingers. "I've contacted my lawyer in Tucson asking her to look over the paperwork to make sure everything is as it should be."

"My mother's friend Grant is looking for a lawyer to take over the probate of his uncle's will. Would you recommend your lawyer for something like that?" Julie asked.

"Oh yes, she does wills and has lawyers in the firm for real estate and other civil matters," Carla told her. "I'll be sure to give your mother her card the next time I'm in the shop."

After everyone pitched in to clear away the lunch dishes, the group trailed Zack and Jim as they pointed out various horses and showed them the tack room in the large barn. In the tack room, Ricki's eye caught a glint of silver peeking out from under a horse blanket in the corner.

"Take a look, if you'd like to," Jim offered.

"What a gorgeous saddle," she exclaimed as she pulled the blanket back to show off the impressive silver-trimmed saddle. "Wherever did you find it?"

"I picked that up for a song from Ray Long down in Mineral City," Zack told her. "He seemed mighty glad to have the cash, but I really felt like the deal he made me on it was too good to be true."

"Do you have any idea where Ray Long got it?" Julie asked.

"Nope, but he asked me not to ride it in any of the parades down in Mineral City for a few years. Said it had been a gift from a long-time friend, but now that he no longer had the ranch, he didn't have a use for it," Zack answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Grant Cobb, who inherited the Bobby Flint estate recently, came across an old will from the 50s that Bobby Flint stashed in a secret panel in his roll-top desk. My mother Star Lance bought all the household goods from the estate, so she got a look at the will when Grant found it. One of the items mentioned in the will, but not found among the stuff from the estate, happened to be a silver saddle like this one."

"You think Bobby Flint would give his attorney an expensive gift like this saddle, Dad?" Jim asked.

"Don't know, son. I didn't have much contact with either one of those guys, bein' out here a ways from Mineral City. I heard through the grapevine that Bobby Flint brought some elaborate things from Mexico when he came back, though. You think this saddle could have belonged to Billy?"

"If Mr. Flint gave it to him, why would he care if you used it in a parade? Bobby Flint was murdered six months ago, and he'd be beyond caring about such a thing," Ricki pointed out.

"Julie, I think it would be a good idea for you to let your mother and Grant Cobb know about this saddle. Maybe I shouldn't say anything since I've only met Ray Long briefly when he stopped in to sign paperwork at his Realtor's office, but he seemed rather shady to me," Carla said. "I even considered passing on the deal he gave me on the restaurant property, but the people at the title company and the bank vouched for him, so I went ahead."

"You know, we could take the horses and ride on up to Kat Abbi's place this afternoon. My mom and Grant were headed up that way this morning, and they might still be there," Julie suggested. "I could give Mom a call on my cell to see if they are."

"No reception out here," Jim said. "But, we could ride on up to Tyler Spring. There's a new cell tower over that way."

"That's right. Jim and I were up there on Sunday with Grant and your Mom. It looked like someone had been working the old Sugar Loaf Mine," Ricki said.

"Carla, are you up for a longer ride?" Julie asked.

"Why not," Carla said. It will give me an opportunity to meet more people who live around here and see your Mom again."

"How about you, Dad? Want to mount up and go along. It's a nice day for a ride," Jim offered.

"No, son. You folks go on ahead; I've got some things I need to do around here this afternoon."

While Jim saddled Toast, the women shook hands with Zack and thanked him for giving them lunch and showing them around the ranch. The desert looked green after Sunday's rainstorm and the four riders stayed out of the sun by riding their horses along Sandy Creek where the Cottonwoods grew tall and lush. The creek took them right up to where Tyler Spring gushed and gurgled, spilling its clear sulphur-smelling "egg water" into the animal tank.

"What a spectacular view!" Carla exclaimed as they passed the old cabin and trotted over toward the Sugar Loaf Mine.

"Hey, my Mom's Jeep's here," Julie called back at the riders as she rode on ahead of them and caught sight of Grant heading into the mine entrance. "Hey, Grant, Grant!"

"Is your Mom here?" Ricki asked as she rode into the clearing by the mine.

"I didn't see her, but Grant just went running into the mine entrance," Julie said. "He didn't hear me calling to him."

"Hold on a minute, you guys. Before we go exploring old mines, let's go back and fill up our water bottles at the spring. I don't know why we didn't do that when we were over there," Jim said, turning his horse back toward the cabin.

"Race ya," Ricki said as she turned Marmalade sharply and took off ahead of Jim.

"This I gotta see," Julia shouted to Carla. "Toast doesn't like to be last. Come on Carla!"

Just as Jim and Ricki galloped into the clearing at the cabin, the ground shook under them. The horses spooked and turned in circles, but the two riders successfully pulled in their reins and kept them in check. Marmalade reared up, but Ricki stayed in the saddle and managed to settle her down.

The rumble of a terrific explosion came from the direction of the mine and thick dust billowed into the clearing through the trees and rose high above them. Julie and Carla rode their startled horses into the clearing just as Ray Long came bounding out of the woods and jumped into a dilapidated truck parked next to the cabin. Without a word to the stunned group of riders, he peeled off toward Tyler Spring Pike.

"I'm going after him," Jim yelled. "Julie, call your Mom."

"Wait Jim, I'll go with you," Ricki shouted.

"No, stay here, Ricki, and get hold of your dad."

Ricki reigned in Marmalade to keep her from chasing after Toast, and the three women dismounted in front of the cabin while Ricki called the sheriff, and Julie tried to reach her mom.

"I can't raise my dad," Ricki said as she dismounted.

Carla shushed Ricki when she heard voices approaching the cabin. They were speaking Spanish, and it sounded like several men. Before the three women had a chance to move out of sight, six mine workers walked into the clearing in front of the cabin.

Carla spoke to them in Spanish and found out it was their truck that had been parked next to the cabin. Carla tried to explain that Ray Long had taken the truck, but the men were sure the women had something to do with stealing their truck. One of the men pulled a knife and started toward Carla. A shot stirred the dust at the man's feet, and the group of men took several steps back. Carla turned to see Ricki, with feet spread and pistol expertly balanced in both hands.

"Tell them to get into the cabin, Carla," Ricki called to her as she motioned at the men with her pistol.

"I got through!" Julie yelled as her cell connected with her mom. "Mom we're up at the Sugar Loaf, and we need help. There's been an explosion at the mine, and I saw Grant go in there just before it blew! There's a bunch of Mexicans here, and they're not very friendly. Ricki's holding a gun on them."

Star said, "Oh my God! Are you all right?

"We're okay for now, Mom."

"It's a long story, but the paramedics left here not too long ago. I'll have the dispatcher turn them around and head up there, along with as many rescue people as they can find to look for Grant. The sheriff should already be on his way, and Marty is shooting radar at Sandy Hill, so dispatch can raise him on the radio and get him up there to help you guys."

"Nice shooting, Ricki," Carla said. "Thank God you know how to handle a gun, and that you brought it with you."

"I always carry a gun on my saddle. I don't go anywhere on horseback without it. Dad taught me that much and also how to shoot like a cop. These guys aren't going anywhere until Marty gets here."

"Carla, can you ask those guys if they saw Grant in the mine?" Julie asked.

"Sure, but I don't know how cooperative they'll be."

Carla spent some time talking in Spanish to one of the men through the cabin window, while Ricki continued to point the gun in their direction.

"They say they've been working the mine for Tanner Papp and Ray Long for several months. As soon as they started work, they built an escape tunnel because they didn't trust the old timbers in the main shaft. When Ray forced them into the mine, they found their way out the alternate tunnel they had built, but by the time they crawled out, Ray had set off the charge and skedaddled. He owed them several weeks' worth of back pay," Carla told them.

"We've got to get back up to the mine and find Grant," Julie said.

"He may have found his way out the escape tunnel like these guys did," Ricki suggested.

"Well, we just can't sit here and do nothing," Julie said as she mounted her horse.

"Listen to me, Julie," Carla said. "Be very careful, because these old mines are unstable, and this one has just had a major explosion go off inside. We don't want to be searching for both you and Grant. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, I'll be careful," Julie promised.

"I'll stay here with Ricki until Marty gets here, and the rescue people shouldn't be too far behind. Stay in touch with us on your cell. Don't make us wonder if you're okay," Carla said.

At that moment, Star and Kat came roaring down the dirt track in Kat's SUV. Kat pulled a shotgun from the truck's window rack, and cradling it in the crook of her left arm, walked casually toward the cabin.

"Hi, I'm Kat," she said to Ricki as the two women looked toward the group of men in the cabin. "Looks like you've got everything under control up here, girl."

"You got that right. I'm Ricki, by the way."

"Nice to meet you."

"Take Marmalade, Star, and head on up to the mine with Julie and Carla. Kat and I have things in hand until Marty gets here," Ricki said.

Star swung easily into Marmalade's saddle, and the three women took off for the Sugar Loaf with Carla bringing up the rear.

### Chapter Fourteen

_The Sugar Loaf Mine – Wednesday, July 14, 2010_

Sheriff Wade spotted the old truck careening down the mountain behind him and closing in fast as he made his way home from picking up the forensics report on the antique store break-in. Just as he figured, the prints matched those of Tanner Papp. His eyes darted back and forth from the old truck's reflection in his side mirror to the narrow road in front of him. As the truck passed, he made the siren whoop and hit the lights, hoping the idiot driving the truck would take the hint and pull over. Shoot, he thought, we're coming up on Thompson's Bluff, and I swear I'm not gonna be the next guy droppin' into that canyon. We should close Tyler Spring Pike and reroute traffic around the other side of the mountain. He deliberately slowed his speed and radioed ahead. He knew Marty was shooting radar again today at Sandy Hill. He could throw out some stop sticks and nail the guy.

"I'm not at Sandy Hill," Marty replied. "I'm headed up toward Tyler Spring and just in sight of Thompson's Bluff. Suspect approaching way too fast to make that curve."

Ray slammed his foot hard on the brake and felt his foot touch floorboard. Nothing happened. The old truck continued to gather speed as it approached the curve above Thompson's Bluff. Frantically, Ray grabbed for the emergency brake, yanking it hard. The truck began a flat out skid that turned into a slide as the truck tires hit the gravel along the shoulder of the road. Ray stood on the brakes with both feet, lifting himself off the seat and pressing his back and shoulders into the headrest with his head pushed up against the headliner. He turned the wheel so the truck just skimmed along the new guardrail that had been put in place after the Tanner Papp accident. The braking sound of metal against metal screamed in Ray's ears as he willed the truck to stop.

The front bumper crumpled on the curved metal piece at the end of the guardrail, stopping the forward motion of the truck while the back end lifted briefly off the ground with the sudden stop. Ray breathed a sigh of relief, slid his feet off the brake pedal and backed away from the guard rail. He frantically cut the wheel to the left, peeled out across the road too fast, and bumped into the tall weeds on the other side, where the rough terrain and a pull on the emergency brake slowed his descent. The sound of Sheriff Wade's siren came within hearing as Ray's wheels spun in the soft sand next to the road. Sheriff Wade reached the scene just as the truck's tires found purchase on the solid rock under the sand and lurched forward.

Marty pulled in next to the sheriff's car about that time, and Jim rode in on Toast.

"That's Ray Long in the truck," Jim told Marty and the sheriff as the three men heard the truck's engine screaming in low gear and watched it leap back onto the road with Ray barely in control.

"Marty, we need to get back up to Tyler Spring," Jim shouted.

"What's going on up at Tyler Spring?" the sheriff asked as the truck lurched out of sight, heading down toward Sandy Hill.

"Ricki, Julie Lance, Carla Rojas and I rode up to the Sugar Loaf this afternoon from my Dad's ranch. Julie got there just in time to see Grant Cobb disappear into the mine entrance. Don't know if he's still in there or not, but right after he went in an explosion collapsed the mine tunnel. I told Ricki to call you, and Julie was on her cell trying to reach Star down at Kat Abbi's place when I left," Jim told him.

"So we've got Ray on the run for some damn reason and the possibility of Grant buried in a mine cave-in," the sheriff said as he removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I'll call the volunteer fire departments up in Ellenville and down in Mineral City to respond to the Sugar Loaf. You two get on back up there, and help organize a search effort to dig Grant out. I'll go after Ray. He can't get very far in that old truck before it gives up."

Just then the sheriff's cell phone rang. "Dad, we've got trouble up at the Sugar Loaf," Ricki told him.

"Jim's here and told us about Grant. Any word on his status?" the sheriff asked.

"No word on Grant, but here's the thing. Six Mexican mine workers showed up here at the cabin right after Jim left, and they're saying Ray Long forced them into the back of the mine at gunpoint. They figured he was going to blow them up, so they sneaked out an escape tunnel they had dug before they started working the mine a few months back. There's a possibility Grant could find that tunnel as well, but we haven't heard anything since Julie and Star headed back up to the mine."

"So Kat and Star are there with you?"

"Kat and I are holding these Mexicans at gunpoint, and we really need you guys to send border patrol to get up here and process them out. They gave us some trouble when they thought we stole their truck. Things are quiet for now though, but it'd be really great if these guys could get a free ride back to Mexico," Ricki told him.

"Volunteer firefighters are on the way from Ellenville and Mineral City, and I sent Jim and Marty on back up there. Just hang tough, sweetheart. I'll call border patrol."

"Kat's carrying a shotgun, so none of these guys are going anywhere, Dad."

"Ricki, listen to me. Don't get too relaxed about this. Stay alert until help arrives. Marty and Jim should be there soon. The paramedics and volunteers from Mineral City just cleared the bluff, so you'll be seeing them soon. Marty and Jim will fill you in on the situation down here. Love you, baby girl."

"You too, Dad."

The afternoon wore on as Julie, Star, and Carla called Grant's name at the mine entrance and scouted around trying to find the opening of the escape tunnel. Finally, Star sent Carla back down to the cabin to ask the Mexicans for directions on finding the escape tunnel exit.

"According to these guys, the size of the escape tunnel allows for passage only on hands and knees, and the hole to the outside won't be easy to find because it's covered with brush to hide it. They offered to help us find it and try to dig out up there using some tools stashed in a large metal box out in the woods," Carla told Julie on the cell phone as she looked toward Kat for advice.

"No," Kat cautioned. "I think we're better off waiting for help. Carla, go back up there and see if you three can find the box of tools. Now that you have directions to the escape tunnel exit you might be able to go in part way when you find it and see if it's still passable. Take the lantern from the back of my truck and place highway flares along your path as you go through the tunnel. Be careful! Oh, hey, those flares only last about 30 minutes, so time yourselves."

"Have you tried to reach Grant on his cell?" Ricki asked.

"No, but Star might have it plugged into her speed dial.

Carla alerted Julie by cell as she rode pell-mell back to the Sugar Loaf.

"It's ringing!" Star yelled, elated to think she might hear Grant's voice inside the mine. "Oh, damn, it rolled over to voice mail."

"Chances are he can't hear anything after that big explosion," Julie told her Mom as she put her arm around her shoulders. "Maybe he'll try to call out. We can only hope."

The dust from the explosion had settled by the time Carla got back to the mine entrance, but she stood like a statue in front of the mine, despairing of any chance to reach Grant from there.

"We need to take the horses and ride beyond that pile of rocks," Carla said pointing up the hill beyond the mine. "I've got some landmarks we can follow."

After a half hour of scouting around the boulders, the three women were sweaty, hot, and covered with gray-powdered dust from the explosion. The entrance to the escape tunnel still eluded them, and their thirst was getting the better of them after moving piles of brush away from the boulders looking for the tunnel.

"I'll go fill up some water jugs at the spring," Carla offered. "While I'm up that way, I'll stop at the cabin and speak with those guys again. There must be something we're missing."

Julie and Star sat down shoulder to shoulder to rest in the shade of a large Mesquite tree, and watched Carla ride away. Julie closed her eyes and leaned her head on her mother's shoulder. They sat in silence, too exhausted to speak, until both of them stirred at the same moment.

"Feel that draft on your face, Mom?" Julie asked. "It's so cool, and it smells moist like the inside of a cave or something.

Julie began crawling toward the source of the draft on her hands and knees. The draft wafting over their faces flowed from a small crevice between two very large boulders.

"There's no way we can move these suckers," Julie groaned.

"Maybe we can use a lever of some sort," Star suggested.

"This can't be the escape tunnel entrance those guys told us about, can it?"

"No, but maybe it's another way in. Maybe this cave or tunnel or whatever connects with the mine shaft."

"Let's go find those tools," Julie said.

With renewed energy the women trudged into the woods where they came upon Ray Long's car parked a few feet from the tool box.

"Why did Ray leave his car back here and how could those mine workers pass up a chance to drive off with it?" Julie wondered. "The keys are even in it."

Star slid into the driver's seat and turned the key. The engine turned over easily, but she heard a terrible scraping as the car strained to move forward.

"Something's really wrong," Star said as she threw it in neutral and got out to take a look. "No wonder he abandoned it and took the truck by the shack. He ran over part of an old fence and wound barbed wire around the axle.

"It's not going anywhere until Dan can get up here with a wrecker," Julie said as she walked over to the tool box "It's padlocked," she groaned.

"No problem," Star said as she slammed Ray's car door and returned to the clearing where her very dusty and shrapnel-dented Jeep was parked. She pulled the Colt from under the front seat, and soon they were pulling shovels, picks, and other implements from the metal box.

After much levering, digging, and hoisting of small boulders, they uncovered a rusted vent tube as the source of the draft they felt across their faces. They called Grant's name into the tube until their voices were thick and raspy, and then plunked themselves down next to the vent to wait for Carla to return with the water.

Walt Bass arrived with the volunteers from Mineral City, spotted the women's two horses and tracked them to the spot next to the mine vent.

"I've got food, water to wash with and water to drink. Anyone interested?" Walt said as he offered each of them a bottle of water and a wrapped sandwich secured with a red Carla's Bar and Grill sticker.

"Oh, Walt, we're so glad you guys are here!" Star exclaimed throwing her arms around his neck. "This is my daughter, Julie. Julie, meet Walt Bass."

"I heard you helped my mom out quite a bit at the shop, especially after the break-in." Julie said, shaking Walt's hand.

"Well, us Mineral City folks tend to gather round one of our own when trouble visits," Walt said smiling at Star.

A generator chugged to life in the distance, and a jackhammer began to pound as the volunteer crew from Ellenville started excavating the mass of fallen debris blocking the mine entrance.

"There's supposed to be a small exit tunnel back here, and that's what Julie and I were trying to find when we uncovered this old vent pipe," Star told Walt. "Maybe we can ask those mine workers again about the location."

"Well, Marty's down there right now with the immigration people, and they're fixin' to ship the whole gang back down to Mexico. An old army troop truck rolled in just as I was heading on up here to look for you two," Walt said.

"You don't think they'll be able to tell us anymore about it?" Star asked.

"Most likely their escape tunnel fell in right behind those boys. They were lucky to get out of there alive," Walt said while avoiding Star's hopeful eyes. "From the extent of the cave-in out front, that explosion must have been fairly massive."

"How long can Grant survive in there?" Julie asked.

"Hard to say. It depends on where he landed after the explosion and if he's injured," Walt told her honestly. "All of us will keep digging until we find him. We even brought lights, so we can work all night if we have to. They're setting some tents, with a field kitchen and a place to catch a nap on a cot, back up at the clearing near the cabin. You two ought to head on up there and get some rest. Jim just rode in and Carla, Kat, and Ricki just sat down to eat when I took off to find you two.

"Don't you think we should keep looking for that exit tunnel just in case it didn't cave in?" Star asked.

"I'll send some of the crew around here to take a look. Some of these guys are miners down from Ellenville. They'll be the best bet for finding something like that," Walt said.

The sun began to fade in the west, and harsh lights illuminated the mine entrance, making it look ghostly and otherworldly. The crew rotated as new hands showed up and others went to catch some rest in the sleeping tent by the cabin. Except for the pounding of the jackhammer and the scraping of shovels, the camp remained silent with hope, expectation and fear.

Around midnight, one of the volunteers from Ellenville walked into the camp and told them the remains of the escape tunnel had been located. It was passable for only a few feet before it became completely blocked with debris, so the escape tunnel crew had now moved around to the entrance to lend a hand.

Carla put her arms around Star and whispered something in her ear.

Star pulled her phone from her pants pocket and once again tried to call Grant's cell. The cell rang several times before Grant's recorded voice asked the caller to please leave a message. Silent tears ran down Star's face as she tried to be strong and not fall apart in front of all these people. Star was glad Julie had fallen asleep sitting up, and Jim had carried her over to a cot in the other tent around eleven.

Kat, Ricki, Carla and Star pulled a big blanket close around them and sat together near a small fire next to the kitchen tent. The night air felt chilly, and the blanket provided more comfort than actual warmth to the small group huddled there, waiting for news and praying for a miracle. A coyote yipped somewhere far out in the desert and an owl hooted from the roof of the old cabin.

Just to break the deathly silence in their little group, Star said, "Before I moved out West, I thought the desert might be a desolate place. But just listen to the sounds of the night, so much life, and it's so visible. Back East, you can't see the wildlife for the trees and undergrowth. Out here you can't miss the rabbits, quail, and coyotes. I love the nights here. Real comfort comes from hearing those familiar sounds, doesn't it?"

"You're so right," Kat responded. "When I lived in Pennsylvania before I met by husband Erin, I used to walk in the woods on my mother's property. Once I saw an owl that followed me, staying in the treetops as I walked. But, as a general rule, I didn't see much wildlife other than small birds. As a child learning to ride horseback, I did come upon a deer with a fawn. I'll never forget that. My instructor had allowed me to ride on my own through a small stand of trees and meet up with her on a bridge not far from the tree line on the other side of the woods. I had to agree to keep the horse at a gentle walk, so we were very quiet. I had stopped while my horse nibbled some green leaves when I noticed the deer in a clearing. I sat there and watched them for maybe two or three minutes before something startled them into bounding off among the trees. It took my breath away."

"I've always lived in the desert," Carla spoke up. "I love it because it says home to me. When I was a small child my father moved us to Nevada from Utah. The house we were supposed to live in wasn't finished being built when we got there, so Dad pitched a tent on the property where we lived for three months. I'm sure my mother thought it a terrible inconvenience, but my sister and I loved it. We went on expeditions into the desert every day and even ran into a rattler one time. Luckily, we were smart enough to skirt way around it. I think it's a crime that people kill snakes for no reason other than they find one in their path."

"I'm with you," Ricki said. "But, I tell you, I hate running onto one of those when I'm out on Marmalade. She gets spooked and takes off like lightning. It's all I can do to rein her in. So far, we've managed to avoid any real close encounters. I always keep an eye out for those suckers."

"I've yet to see a snake since I got here," Star admitted. "I'm willing to wait, that's for sure."

"You'll get used to all our critters after awhile and won't think a thing about it when you run across say a tarantula or a scorpion when you're cleaning up a woodpile or some such thing. It's not really that hard to coexist with them as long as you have a healthy respect and keep your distance," Kat told her.

"When we were living in that tent, I woke up one morning and found out I'd slept all night with a scorpion under my sleeping bag," Carla said. "If I had had any idea that thing was under there, I would have been petrified. I guess he was warm under there and decided not to sting me. Thank goodness. I've never been stung, but I hear the venom travels in your system until you hurt all over. They're really not deadly, but I'm not willing to find out if I can help it. So far so good. I always look inside my shoes before I put them on in the mornings."

And so the four women kept a vigil through the night, talking about anything and everything that came to mind from Ricki's high-school flings to Carla's cooking disasters. Kat and Star talked of how it was for them growing up out East and how they both fell in love with the romance and tales of adventure out West as children. All of them shared the small details of their lives to keep themselves from dwelling on how slowly time passed through the night as they waited for news from the mine.

* * *

_Thursday, July 15, 2010_

Around 4:00 a.m. Sheriff Wade drove into the clearing, and Kat grasped Star's hand tightly in hers, thinking he would somehow have news about Grant they hadn't yet heard.

"Ray stole a truck from a cowboy mending fences just south of Sandy Hill. He took the keys to the Mexicans' truck with him and left the guy standing in the middle of the road, watching his new Dodge disappear around the curve. At least we've got the plate number, and I put a BOLO out on it. Shouldn't be long before ...," the sheriff began, but was interrupted by a loud shout from the volunteers over at the mine.

"Oh my God, did they find Grant?" Julie shouted as she hurried into the kitchen tent.

Carla, Star, Kat and Ricki jumped to their feet and headed toward Kat's SUV.

"Wait up," Julie yelled as she ran to join them. The five women slammed the doors and were heading out when Jim rode into the clearing on Toast. He was covered in dirt, and his face was streaked with sweat. The strained look on his face told the story without words, and Carla pulled Star into her arms. Grant had been killed in the mine explosion.

Star insisted that Kat take her to see Grant's body, a decision she would come to regret. Both Kat and Jim tried to talk her out of it, but Star insisted she would never be able to accept Grant had died unless she could see him. Besides, she needed to say good-bye, and that request Kat just couldn't refuse.

### Chapter Fifteen

_Mineral City – Early September 2010_

The weeks following the explosion still remained fuzzy and remote in Star's mind as fall approached. Julie went back to school in Indiana, and Mark called often from Seattle, unable, since finishing school, to get away from work to visit. With Grant's death, it seemed to Star as if all the hurt and pain she'd felt at Mac's death had returned with double force, knocking her down and sitting on her chest with the weight of an enormous elephant.

In the little bedroom upstairs at Arrowstar, Lady kept Star company as she lay awake nights thinking of Mac and Grant and how alone she felt, how abandoned, how wronged. There were piles of books stacked by her bed that well-intentioned people dropped off almost daily. Cards with sobering verses inside them stood at attention on top of the bureau. The freezer was packed with casseroles, and then one afternoon Walt came up the stairs lugging a television set.

"I don't cook much, so I had this extra television and DVD player in the back room where Tanner stayed when he'd visit," he said matter-a-factly as he plugged in the set, connected the cable for the DVD and adjusted the remote control. "Ricki says you sleep a lot during the day. I hope me poundin' up the stairs didn't wake you."

"No, I wasn't asleep. I'm glad you came over, but you didn't have to bring anything, Walt."

"It's probably good for you to sleep, keeps you from thinkin' too much. After I heard about Tanner going over the edge up at Thompson's Bluff, I couldn't manage to sleep at all. I just sat over at Carla's thinking about it and drinking until I couldn't think anymore. What gets to me most of all is that Ray could have been ruthless enough to set an explosion intended to kill so many people. I've known him since I was a kid. Used to hang out up at his ranch when he still owned it. He'd let me watch him target shoot. He's quite a shot with a pistol and even showed me how to aim and shoot. I still can't believe he would do a thing like that."

"I felt so bad for you that day when you heard the news about Tanner. I followed you out the back door to thank you for the way you pitched in at the shop. You were already inside Carla's before I could catch you. Now my shop's closed, and I don't even care if it ever opens again. All my big plans seem so foolish now," Star admitted.

"Just don't you go givin' up on us now. Why, if you hadn't decided to move here, that little church at the end of Main Street would probably be a pile of boards, and the people would be holdin' church down at the high school like they used to. Took 'em a load of elbow grease and a bunch of bake sales to construct it and even longer to buy an organ for Blanch to play on Sunday mornings. My mother attended that church, and we buried her up behind there in the cemetery," Walt told her.

"I didn't know there was a cemetery by the church."

"Well, it's kind of hidden back in those cottonwood trees. I'll take you up there when you're feelin' better. Bobby Flint and a lot of old-timers are up there. It's quite a history lesson, reading those old tombstones."

"That's a day I'll look forward to."

"You do that," Walt said as he put on his baseball cap and turned to go. "Oh, I almost forgot, Kat asked about you when I saw her at the feed store up Tyler Spring Pike a ways. Said to tell you she plans to be in town tomorrow and will drop in to see you. She told me she hopes you feel like showing her around your shop a bit."

Star covered her head with a pillow after Walt left and let out a big sigh. She didn't feel like seeing anyone, much less showing someone around Arrowstar. She didn't have any idea when to expect Kat, so she'd have to be up and dressed in the morning. "Why can't people just leave me alone?"

The next morning, Star didn't manage to get out of bed until 10:00 a.m. She pulled on her robe without the belt and walked barefooted down the stairs to the kitchen where she put on the kettle to make coffee in the old tin drip pot and threw a slice of bread in the toaster. She plunked herself down at the kitchen table with Lady at her feet and ran her fingers through her tangled hair.

Before the kettle boiled, Kat came to the back door and caught sight of Star sitting at the kitchen table. Without knocking, she tried the door and found it unlocked.

"Hi," she said softly as Star brushed back her hair and straightened in her chair. At that moment the kettle whistled and without a word Kat picked it up, checked to make sure there was coffee in the pot and poured the boiling water to the brim.

"Smells good," Kat said. "Are you sharing?"

"Oh, sure, sit down, Kat. Walt told me you'd be stopping by. Sorry I'm not dressed," Star said and at the same instant became aware, for the first time, that she didn't smell very good either. Fleetingly she tried to remember the last time she'd showered.

"Star, you look like you could use a hot bath followed by scrambled eggs and bacon," Kat said as she poured two cups of coffee and placed one in front of Star.

Star just looked at her as if she didn't know exactly how to respond to such a frank assessment.

"I'll tell you what," Kat continued as she pulled the toast from the toaster and buttered it. "Drink your coffee, eat your toast, and then go upstairs and get yourself together. We're going over to Carla's for breakfast."

"No, no, I don't think I can eat anything, and I don't want to see a bunch of people," Star argued.

"Listen, Star, people are just what you need, and breakfast is on me, so quit arguing."

"But I thought you wanted to see the shop," Star countered.

"I came to see you, Star. It's been two weeks, and Walt, Carla, and Ricki all told me you haven't budged from Arrowstar in all that time," Kat told her. "Now go get dressed. We're going out."

By the time Star got out of the shower, Kat had packed a bag for her, stashed it in her SUV and proceeded to usher Star over to Carla's for a hot meal. Carla came and sat at the table while Star ate.

"It's good to see you out and about at last, Star," Carla told her as she gave her a big hug. "I was beginning to think Ricki and I were going to have to come and drag you over here."

Star hung her head and muttered something under her breath.

"Hey, now, is that any way to greet a friend," Kat said as she put her hand under Star's chin and tipped her face up. "Come on now, Star, eat a couple of bites and then we'll be on our way out to the ranch."

"I'm going back to bed," Star blurted.

"I don't think that's a good idea, kid," Ricki said as she approached the table.

Star looked up at her three friends as tears streamed down her cheeks, and she tried to choke out what she needed to say. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You know what, Star, yes, you are. I've got a room all ready for you at my place, and Carla and Ricki have promised to visit often. Lady can come too. I've already packed your bag, and it's in the car. As soon as you've eaten some more, you're coming home with me," Kat said with a note of finality in her voice.

"Okay, so that's settled," Ricki told her.

"Has anyone heard from Ray since he took off?" Star asked.

"No, but Mary has returned from her vacation and says she has no idea where Ray might be," Ricki said. "And furthermore, she told my dad she doesn't keep any backups of Ray's computer system at her house."

"Oh, the updated will. We found it," Star blurted.

"You did? When?" Ricki asked.

"Julie, Grant and I went over to Bobby's house the night before Grant and I went to Kat's place," Star told them. "I literally stumbled onto Bobby's ledger hidden behind a stair step, and the will and the deed to the Tyler Spring property were tucked inside it, along with some notes Bobby had made."

"Oh, so Bobby owned the mine Ray blew up," Ricki gasped.

"Ironic that Grant would die there when he didn't even know he owned it," Carla said.

"But he didn't, really," Star said.

"Well, if Bobby owned it, and Grant stood to inherit his estate, then ...," Ricki said.

"No, you don't understand. It's more complicated than that," Star Interrupted her.

Kat realized Star hadn't meant to let slip Kat's stake in the will, so she said, "Hey, you guys, I don't think this is a good time to get into a discussion about Bobby's will. I'm sure all the details will come to light when the sheriff finds Ray."

"My dad says Ray's probably over the border into Mexico by now," Ricki told them. "Oh, and I almost forgot. The day Ray took off in that old truck, my dad was on his way back from Ellenville with the forensics report on the break-in at Arrowstar. It was definitely Tanner Papp who broke into your place, Star, just as we figured."

"What does your dad think Tanner Papp wanted from Bobby's estate?" Star asked.

"Considering Tanner died riding an Indian motorcycle that might be one of the missing bikes from Bobby's place, he probably wanted to destroy the titles. At least that's my dad's current theory," Ricki told her. "He's trying to chase down the VIN number from the bike now."

"He might not need to do that," Star told her. "Bobby kept a list of the VIN numbers in the journal we found at his house."

"Where's the journal now? I'm sure my dad's going to need that as evidence," Ricki said.

"Oh my gosh, I don't know exactly where it is," Star told her. "Grant and I were on our way to see your dad with the journal that morning, but he had already left for Ellenville. We decided to go on up to Kat's place instead of waiting for him. I'm not sure what Grant did with the journal. I haven't even thought about it since ..."

Star hesitated and took a deep breath trying to hold back her tears. Kat reached for her hand and said, "It's time for us to leave for my place."

Kat brought Star up to the ranch and tucked her in the front bedroom. Kat slept in Erin's old room since the plaster ceiling had been replaced and repainted along with the walls. The guys had also fixed the roof quickly, and things were beginning to return to something that felt, if not the same as before, then at least like a calm and steady hum. A large CLOSED sign remained in the window at Arrowstar, and the glass cases Jim had built showed a fine coating of dust.

In the evenings, Jag moved off the floor pillow stenciled with his name onto a heavy rug in front of the stove in the kitchen, while Lady made herself at home in his bed. Occasionally, however, the two of them curled up together on the floor pillow. During the afternoons while Star slept, the two dogs ran from one corner of the property to the other, or dogged Kat's path when she took her morning rides. For the first two weeks at the ranch, though, Lady spent hours on Star's bed looking up at her with wistful eyes. Then, as Star began to get up and move around the ranch house, Lady followed her from place to place, always staying just within Star's reach.

Shortly after Star came to stay with her, Kat went out for her usual early morning ride. After saddling her horse, she discovered she'd left her riding gloves on the kitchen cabinet. When she came through the kitchen door, she stopped. Star, still in her nightgown, sat with Lady's head in her lap at the kitchen table, sobbing over a cup of coffee.

"Oh, sweetie," Kat whispered as she put her arm around Star's shaking shoulders and slid into the chair next to her. Heads together, Kat held Star until the wrenching sobs became a quiet murmur, and Star buried her head against Kat's chest.

Silent tears soaked Kat's shirt until finally Star raised her head and mumbled, "I was fine sitting here drinking coffee when the tears came, but then I couldn't stop."

"I know, honey, the same thing used to happen to me after Erin died. I'd be out in the barn lot or over talking to the guys in the shop, and something, just about any small thing, would remind me of Erin, and I'd lose it. And now here you are dealing with Grant's death and remembering Mac all at the same time."

"I hadn't known Grant very long, but there seemed to be such promise there of some kind of new beginning, but before we even got a chance to talk about the next step, he's gone," Star said as Kat handed her a warm cloth for her face.

As they talked, Lady edged over next to Jag, and the two dogs lay down on the rug by the stove.

"Just look at those two," Kat said, nodding toward the two dogs.

"Made for each other, huh?"

"Sure looks like it," Kat said, brushing a strand of Star's hair behind her ear. "Tell me, have you talked to any of your friends back East since this happened?"

"No, I tried the other day to reach Jake, the guy I used to work with, but no one was at the shop when I called, and all I could get was voice mail on his cell."

"What about girlfriends?" Kat suggested. "Surely, there's someone back there who is wondering how you're doing way out here in Arizona. It's been months since you pulled up stakes and took off."

"Well, yes, I do have a very good friend back there, but it's only been about a year since her roommate died. I don't want to burden her with my grief," Star told her. "She runs her own floral shop in downtown Indianapolis, and I'm sure she's very busy with that."

"So, you're just sure your friend won't think your pain is important, because she's carrying around some of her own, and she's got a job?" Kat said and looked at Star with a furrowed brow.

"Well, when you put it that way," Star grinned.

"Tell you what. When I get back from my ride, we'll fix French toast, bacon and scrambled eggs. While I'm out, call your friend. What's her name?"

"Susie Jessup, but it's too early to call her, and I'm not hungry," Star protested.

"Wake her up, and you'll be hungry when you smell the food, guaranteed," Kat promised as the screen door banged behind her with Jag close at her heels.

"Hey, Lady, I think we've both been abandoned, but not without instructions it seems," Star smiled to herself at Kat's take-charge attitude. "She's just the kind of person I need around me right now," Star admitted to herself. "Come on Lady, let's go round up my cell phone and get Susie out of bed."

Back home after her ride, Kat began banging around in the kitchen as Star, all dressed and showered, stood watching her from the doorway.

"So, did you talk with your friend?" Kat asked as she flipped the French toast.

"I did," Star said as she began setting the table. "I forgot about the time difference, so I didn't wake her up either."

"See, I do have good ideas once in awhile."

"Yes, you do, and she said she'd like to meet you someday."

"Great, invite her to come out here," Kat suggested

"She's just returned from a trip to the Bahamas, so I don't think she'll want to strike out for Arizona anytime soon," Star smiled. "It was so great catching up with her."

"Hey, you never know until you ask. I'll bet she's never been out West. Am I right?"

"That's true, but I think I'm happy with just a telephone chat right now. She told me the trip helped her soothe some of the anxiety she felt after her friend died. He was her benefactor, you know, and helped her finance her floral shop." Star told her. "She came home from being away a few days and found him dead on the floor of her parlor. His heart attack was very unexpected. They had been as close as if they had been father and daughter."

"Sad story," Kat said as she served up breakfast.

"Yes, but it's been over a year now since he passed, and Susie told me to be very good to myself and let the world just go right on spinning without me. She assured me there wasn't anything she missed doing, while she grieved, that couldn't wait for her to get back to it. Her biggest comfort was those people who stepped up to lend a hand when she needed it most. They weren't the ones she'd expected. You know. People just surprise the hell out of you, don't they?"

"Yep, guess so," Kat answered.

"You're quiet all of a sudden."

"I know, I was just thinking about the people who came around when Erin died," Kat mused. "They weren't the so-called horse friends I'd made competing in shows and riding with in charity parades. Mostly they were the other ranchers up this way, bringing in casseroles and stopping by for a chat on a regular basis. I didn't even realize some of them knew who I was or cared anything about my ranching over here. Truthfully, I thought they had a good time gossiping about Erin and me when we first tried our hand at ranching. The guys who rode bikes with Erin also pitched in, and they still do. I hadn't thought in a long time about how they were there for me when I was so broken up."

"They sound like a nice bunch of guys," Star said.

"Well, they are, but recently I had about decided to toss them out of here for being so careless with Erin's keys to the Jag and taking their access to the workshop for granted. I'm a little upset with myself for not remembering how much it has meant to me to have them around here for company. You know what? I think we should have them over for dinner some Sunday afternoon. The four of them are usually here on the weekends."

"I'll bet we could get Carla to cater it from the restaurant," Star suggested. "You're not going to be much good in the kitchen with your wrist splinted and in a sling."

"Hey, it's only a sprain, and the doctor says it should be good as new in a couple of days after being immobilized for a few weeks."

"Does he know you've been riding and using your hand?"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him. Besides, it feels fine," Kat assured her.

"You know, when you mentioned those keys, it made me start thinking again about where Grant might have put Bobby's ledger," Star told her. "It's driving me a little bit crazy because I know Ricki has told her dad about it by now. He's going to be up here questioning me about it any day, I'm sure."

"I'm not too sure I want you to find it, Star. What if the sheriff puts me on his list of suspects after he finds out I'm Bobby's granddaughter?"

### Chapter Sixteen

_Kat's Ranch – Late September 2010_

Carla and Ricki visited the ranch often, bringing food from the restaurant and news from Mineral City. Alice met a guy from Phoenix, who whisked her off to Las Vegas for a weekend wedding at a small casino he owned in the older part of Vegas. That little escapade set tongues wagging in Mineral City for weeks, but Alice's letters back home let them know she'd found a cushy gig at last. This guy had class, and in addition to his investments in Las Vegas, he owned a large home with a swimming pool in Phoenix where he ran a very successful downtown nightclub. There would be no more bussing tables and taking orders for Alice.

"Carla told me she got a note from Alice in the mail today. She sounds so happy in her new life, and she's getting out and making friends in Phoenix," Kat said one evening as she and Star curled up on the old print sofa in front of the television set, getting ready to watch a movie, munch popcorn and down a few beers.

"Yes, I think Alice has a good thing going up there," Star answered.

"You know, Star, you really need to get outside more. You've always said you wanted to take riding lessons even though you already sit a horse well. We could go out for a short ride tomorrow morning before it gets hot."

"I can't believe we're still saying that, and it's nearly the end of September. When is it going to cool off?" Star said with exasperation in her voice. "Do you realize I've been here almost two months?"

"Just be glad you're not up in Phoenix. It won't cool off there until November. Here, we'll get some relief by mid-October." Kat told her. "What about it? Want to go for a ride early tomorrow morning? I think you'd feel better if you go outside to get a taste of some different scenery."

"You know, I can't think of anything at all I really want to do. It's like my brain has just stopped making plans. It's in perpetual sleep mode, and I can't seem to pull myself out of it," Star moaned. "Plus, there's the added stress, knowing I'm not bringing in any income at Arrowstar. I'm just wandering around your place marking time."

"Look, you're grieving not only for Grant, but for Mac as well. You've got to let that process run itself out. You're a strong person, Star. You'll come out on the other side of this, and things will start to make sense again. The store will wait on you," Kat tried to assure her.

"Sure, it'll wait, but how do I pay the mortgage until then? I'm surprised Marty hasn't been up here asking when I'm going to pay off my speeding tickets."

"Star, haven't you learned yet that around here we take care of our own? I know you, and you'll take care of paying those tickets when you get back on your feet and so does the sheriff."

"But there's still the mortgage, and that's financed out of a bank in Phoenix. They aren't going to be sympathetic, I'm sure. I'm two months behind in payments already, and they're threatening to turn it over for collection. The kids don't have any money to loan me, and I wouldn't ask them anyway. I've got to find a way out of this, Kat."

"Listen, I'm coming into some cash now that the house on Cattletrack sold. Let me pay the mortgage until you figure something out."

"No, Kat, I can't let you do that. You have expenses of your own just keeping this place going. I know you need that money yourself."

"It's not like you won't pay me back! I didn't plan on having this inheritance, and I can certainly afford to help out a friend. We're two of a kind, Star. We're making it on our own and doing a damn good job of it. Besides, Jim's dad has promised to pay me a decent price for the silver saddle. The sheriff told me he's working with the local police down in Douglas to get in touch with the authorities in Mexico about hunting down Ray Long. When they find him I should get some compensation from the sale of Ray's apartment and attorney's offices in settlement for the Indian motorcycles the sheriff suspects he and Tanner sold. Besides that, Bobby had household insurance that might replace the bearer bonds that went missing when he was killed," Kat told her.

"Yeah, but you can't count on that money unless the insurance company stops dragging its feet or the sheriff catches up with Ray. Plus, working the mine up at Tyler Spring isn't going to be cheap! You've got to hire a crew and have the ore hauled and processed. You're going to need all your money to go ahead with that project."

"Sure, but that doesn't have to be done right away. It's all caved in up there from the explosion, so it's not like anyone can just go in there and steal gold from me. Besides, Marty drives up there once in awhile to check on things, you know, just to make sure someone doesn't try another mine operation like Ray Long and Tanner Papp pulled off. And just think, Star, when I do get the mine up and running, any gold that comes out of there is going to hit the market when the price of gold is skyrocketing. I'm not a bit worried about that project. It can wait. I've got enough to get by on very nicely without having to worry about things, thanks to Grandpa Flint. Since Grant had no family ties, the entire estate is mine including the money you paid Grant for the inventory to start your shop. In fact, we'll use that money first to get your mortgage back in the black. It will be sort of like using your own money."

"Kat, I know you mean well, but this is something I need to do for myself. If I lose the shop in the process, then it wasn't meant to be after all. I have no idea how I'm going to keep Arrowstar afloat, but somehow I've got to get rid of the cobwebs in my brain and let go of this overpowering sadness," Star told her.

"That's very brave of you, Star, but remember if you change your mind, my offer still stands. I'm not happy with your decision, but I do agree you need to overcome this debilitating sadness. Let's go out for a ride in the morning and blow out those cobwebs. I can't think of a better way to do it than on horseback."

"That's a terrific idea, Kat. Let's ride up to Tyler Spring. When I close my eyes all I can see is Grant laid out on that stretcher after they pulled him from the mine. I never should have seen that. I don't want to remember him that way. Maybe if I see the place again, I'll be able to put that vision behind me and get on with my life."

"Are you sure, Star?" Kat asked. "That's quite a stretch for someone who hasn't been out of the house for weeks and weeks."

"Yes, I'm sure this is the way to handle it. I need to face up to what happened and move on. Maybe going there will help me to do that. While we're up there I'll show you your grandparents initials carved in that old table in the cabin. I'm so glad the property will be yours when the estate is finally settled, Kat. It's part of the past you had nothing to do with, but without the secret love affair that began there, you wouldn't even be here. What a catastrophe that would be!"

The next morning Star's alarm went off at five, and by six the two women were in the saddle on the way up to Tyler Spring. The morning sky was overcast and dew had fallen in the desert overnight, leaving the strong aroma of mesquite in the air. The moisture in the air was welcome after the dry summer, and the cool mornings and evenings were a hint of the balmy fall weather soon to come.

The horses woke up frisky and snorted as they smelled the fresh air and damp earth. They made quick time up to Tyler Spring where the horses drank and Kat and Star filled their water bottles for the trip home. The deserted cabin stood in the clearing, looking as if nothing had happened around there for years. The vacant windows stared back at them, and the solid front door still leaned against the doorframe as it had when the Mexican mine workers were inside being held in Ricki's gun sites.

"Come on, let's go inside. I want you to see the table where your grandparents planned a future that was never to be," Star said.

Entering the cabin Kat caught the toe of her boot on the door sill and grabbed at the old door for support. Both Kat and the door went down on the rotten floorboards inside the door and landed in the crawl space under the cabin. Kat jumped up unhurt except for her pride and drug the heavy door out on the porch to lay it flat.

"Okay, there's my first attempt at fixing up the old place," Kat said as she dusted off her riding gloves and brushed the dirt from her pants and shirt. "Look out now when you come in the door. The floorboards are busted, and there's two feet of air before you get to the dirt under the crawl space."

Gingerly, Star navigated through the doorway and sidestepped the gaping hole in the floor. The two women sat down at the old table, and Kat ran her finger around the carved initials on the table's worn top.

"Can you believe Bobby and his friends really robbed that train way back when?" Kat asked Star.

"It's a miracle they got away with it and then successfully bailed out after the robbery without getting caught," Star said. "It sure would make a great story."

"You know what?" Kat began. "You should write it."

"Oh, you mean those tags I was writing to go with the items from Bobby's estate?"

"No, I mean something much bigger and with a lot more possibility," Kat said.

"You mean like a novel?" Star asked her.

"Yes, I mean like a novel. You love to write, and you can call it historical fiction. People love stories about the old West. I'll bet it would sell like hot cakes!"

"I don't know, Kat, I've never written anything longer than a school research paper. I'm all about restoring old antiques, not writing novel-length stories."

"At least consider giving it a try. You never know. Maybe you'd be good at it," Kat said as she headed toward the door. "Hey, look at this. There's something shoved way back under this broken flooring. It's an old wooden box with a purple ribbon holding it closed."

The two women managed to pull the box from its hiding place and brought it to the table near the window. The ribbon fell apart as Kat tried to untie it, and she gently lifted the lid on its flimsy hinges. Blowing dust from the stack of old letters inside, Kat opened the first one and began to read.

_My Love,_

_I'm safe and missing you so much. It's a lonely road I've laid out for myself, and I'm afraid I won't have the fortitude to continue traveling on it. I wish it could be otherwise, because I long to kiss you once again and hold you tight. The trip here wore me out along with two horses, but as I said, I'm safe. I hesitate to tell you exactly where I am just yet, but I've sent some money you can save for when the baby comes._

_I can't believe I've written those words, "when the baby comes." I won't even be there to help you pick a name when you know if it's a girl or boy. You've got so much on your shoulders, my girl. I love you so much. It's hard to know how to tell you just how much when I'm so far away from you, my love. Be brave, and count on letters from me often. Send mail to the address in Douglas I left with you. I'm no longer there, but a friend will make sure I get your letters. Write soon, my love, as I'm pining away for news of you._

_Forever yours,_

_Bobby_

Kat realized these were the letters her grandmother had written about in her journal, saying they were well hidden. She looked up at Star when she finished reading, and the look in their eyes made them know they both had the same idea at the same time.

"With these letters and the ones found at Ray Long's office that Tanner Papp probably found in the little metal box from the storeroom of Ricki's shop, I can write a fairly accurate account in the novel of the relationship between Patsy and Bobby. The letters will lend a ton of credibility to the story!" Star enthused. "I can do this, Kat. I really think I can do this! After all, I did major in journalism in college."

The women headed out for the ride back to Kat's place. As they approached the ranch, they heard the clanging of the dinner bell from Kat's back porch long before they caught sight of Ricki and Carla waving a dishtowel at them. Once again they would eat Carla's amazing tamales and chow down on some of the best Mexican food this side of Tucson. Since Carla took over Carla's Bar and Grill, people were driving in from as far away as Flagstaff to get a taste of her famous pies and pastries, not to mention the rest of the Southwestern fare she offered at such reasonable prices.

"Come on you two! It's lunch!" Carla shouted as they rode into the barn lot.

"Jim's riding over from his dad's place and should be here any minute. Get those ponies watered and rubbed down, so you can put your feet under the table. Time's a wastin'," Ricki told them as they swung down from their saddles.

"Lookin' pretty good there, Star," Jim yelled as he rode up. "Been takin' a few lessons from the expert, have you?"

"Well, so far this is just the first one," Star told him as they led their horses over to the watering tough. "You know you owe all of us a story, Jim."

"Yeah, how's that?"

"The one about how old Toast here got his name. You've been promising to tell us that one for way too long and you aren't going to get away with saying that's a long story anymore. Today, we've got the time," Star said with a wink as she headed for the back door with Kat at her heels. The four women gave each other hugs all around, and Jim walked up and pecked Ricki lightly on the cheek.

As they tipped their chairs back after lunch, chatting like the close friends they'd become and enjoying Kat's espresso-like coffee, Jim began his story about Toast.

"It was long about dusk one evening shortly after ol' Toast came to the ranch. Dad and I had been sitting out on the front porch tossing some names around for him, but nothing seemed to quite fit him. We'd been having lots of rain and noticed that the horse paddock looked muddy and miserable. Dad suggested I turn the horses out into the lower pasture where the grass was getting pretty long, so they wouldn't be standing in all that muddy water, you know. Are you guys sure you want to hear this story, it's a long one," Jim interrupted himself.

"Oh no, you're not getting out of it this time," Star teased and punched him lightly in the arm.

"Go ahead, Jim. I know they're going to love hearing it as much as I did," Ricki urged him and put her hand on his arm. Jim's face flushed slightly, and he looked down at his boots, but then looked up with a crooked grin and continued.

"All the time I'd been gettin' those ponies squared away, thunderheads were building in the west. The wind picked up a pretty pace as the sun went down, and lightning streaked across the sky. We had us a big coon dog that wasn't much good for nuthin' cause he was scared senseless of gunshots and you guessed it, thunder. Well, there came the mother of all thunder claps after that lightning flash, and ol' Scooter, he lit out of there like his hair was on fire. Jumped right over the fence and disappeared over the ridge out behind the lower pasture with my new colt hot on his heels," Jim stopped to catch his breath and look at the faces around the table. "I told you all this was a long tale."

"Oh for heaven's sake, Jim," Kat said, nudging Star under the table and laughing. "We're prepared to sit here all afternoon if it takes that long. Get on with it."

"You've got our complete attention," Carla said with a grin as the four women leaned in to hear the rest of Jim's story.

"Well then, all right. I knew Scooter had been sleeping in the stall with my new colt, so I figured he'd follow that dog about anyplace. Now Scooter had one particular place where he felt real safe and that was over to the ranch just south of our place where Cap Calibur lives. You see ol' Cap used to own Scooter until that dog started foolin' with his chickens. He hated to give up that dog, but Scooter had got a taste for chicken dinner and there was no sense in keepin' him around an egg ranch.

"I knew right off Scooter'd head for that spot under the porch out front of Cap's place where he'd been born and hid as a puppy before he come up here to live with us. I used to chase ol' Scooter around the barn lot over at Cap's when I was a youngster, until he'd get plumb wore out and hide under the porch where I couldn't reach him. I knew as sure as anything that dog would head on over there. I also knew he'd be into the hen house once the storm was over, so I'd best be roundin' him and my new colt up quick.

"I swung my leg over our old workhorse, Spur. I'd been ridin' Spur bareback since I was a little whippet. Anyway, we took off out of there at a slow trot, but I dug in my heels and Spur seemed to get the idea we needed to hurry for a change. About that time it began to pour buckets of rain as if a thunder cloud was ridin' right up over our heads. The sky was full of lightning and you could see it hitting the ground all around the valley. I pulled my hat low and snuggled up to Spur's neck as she moved into a gallop urged on by the thunder and lightning all around us.

"Weren't you scared you would be struck by lightning?" Carla asked

"I wasn't really thinking about anything but finding that dog and colt in a hurry before Cap found his old dog back under the porch again or worse yet, in the hen house. I just hung on and let Spur do her stuff."

"So what does all this have to do with the name Toast?" Kat asked.

"I told you it was a long story. You still sure you want to hear it?"

"Oh, come on, Jim, we're really not going to let you out of this," Star laughed. "Did Ricki get the long or the short version when you told her?"

"I got the full-length saga," Ricki chuckled as she rubbed her hand across Jim's back.

Ricki and Jim had been taking Marmalade and Toast on long galloping runs across the hills out by Jim's family's ranch almost every weekend for months. The four women were expecting to see an engagement ring appear on Ricki's finger any day now. As Ricki and Jim spent more and more time together, Jim got fairly comfortable being among her friends and usually talked freely when they were all together. But telling this story seemed to be a real stretch for him even with everyone's encouragement.

"Anyhow, by the time Spur and I got there," Jim continued, "Scooter was ensconced under the porch and the colt stood under the eves of the house out of the rain. The lightning continued to spark and flirt through the clouds and gradually the rain began to let up. Then, just as I lay my hand on the colt's nose to steady him, a ball of lightning rolled along the eve and slid over the downspout, singing the colt's tail and sending him galloping out of the yard. At the same time, Cap stuck his head out the window, and let go with a blast of bird shot and a string of epithets that ended in 'You all git on outta here right now, whoever you are, or you'll all be full of buckshot when I get done with you. And git that gol darn coon dog out from under my porch!'

"Cap had obviously been into his whiskey that night, so I grabbed the shotgun, pulled it out through the window and yelled that I was just after my runaway colt, and I'd take the dog home with me when I caught up with him. Luckily Cap recognized me in spite of the whiskey, the dark, the rain and the thunder. 'You heard me, Jim, git that critter what almost set my house afire outta here.

"I lit on out of there at a gallop and caught up with that colt out behind the barn, threw a rope I found next to the barn door around his neck and tied him to the back porch rail. By the time I got Scooter out from under the porch the rain had stopped. I threw the dog over Spur's neck, and what a sorry sodden picture we must have made as we cut across Cap's front yard. Cap was still all riled up about the whole thing, and he came out on the front porch yelling again.

"You hear me now, boy, that horse is toast if I ever catch him on my property again."

"And, from that day on, we've called that colt Toast," Jim said as he finished his story with a grin.

"So Scooter didn't end up with a chicken dinner that night, huh?" asked Star.

"No, but if Cap had caught sight of him that night before he got under the porch, he might've come home with a hind end full of buckshot," Jim said.

"Cap sounds like a grouch," Carla said.

"No, not really," Kat answered her. "He only gets ornery when he's been drinking. Otherwise, he's known as a good neighbor out around here. I've ridden across his land more than once, and all I've gotten is a smile and a tip of the hat from Cap. He's a long-time rancher and helped me out many times when Erin and I first started ranching and didn't much know what we were up to."

"Maybe I should include him in my novel. Do you think he'd have heard any old stories about Bobby Flint and the gang?" Star asked.

"You're writing a novel?" Carla and Ricki said at the same time.

"Yep, guess I aim to," Star said with a wink at Kat. "Just decided this morning when we found Bobby's old love letters to Patsy up at Tyler Spring."

"Hey, tell us more," Carla urged.

Kat filled them in on their ride up to the old cabin and their discovery of the morning. Star thought to herself how great it was to have friends like these around her as she tried to put the grief of losing Mac and Grant behind her. How could she ever expect to repay such kindnesses? Then Kat handed her a small box tied up with a ribbon.

"Here, Star. This should help you get going on that novel."

"Oh, Kat, it's your mother's silver pen," Star gasped as she unwrapped the package. "I can't take this, Kat. It belonged to your mother, and you'll want it as a family keepsake."

"It needs to be used, Star, and I don't have any plans to write a novel. Keep it and enjoy it, my friend."

Keep it and enjoy it, Star did. The days of October tumbled one into the next as she began to research and organize her materials for the novel. Kat invited Chopper and the Doughboys over to celebrate Halloween. The four of them showed up with super-hero masks on and couldn't believe it when Kat told them that she and Star cooked instead of asking Carla to cater.

"Kat, you cooked!" Kevin teased her. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have come early and helped out."

"Here, take off the silly Superman mask, toss the salad and whip up some of that famous salad dressing you make," Kat said, shoving a long, green bunch of Romaine into his hands.

"Okay, now you've done it," Mike put in. "We're all going to get assignments because of your big mouth, Chef Kevin."

"Hey, don't get smart with me, Batman," Kevin shot back. "I'll zap you with my ray gun."

"Last time I looked, Superman didn't need to carry a weapon," Stan added. "He's the man of steel, remember?"

"Also, he can fly," Stan offered.

"Who are you supposed to be anyway," Lee asked Stan. "You look like a green blob."

"I resent that," Stan shot back. "I spent five bucks for this mask."

"You got robbed," Lee told him.

"Wait a minute," Star said as she came into the kitchen from setting the table in the dining room. "I know that face. You're the Hulk."

"Right you are young lady, and who might you be?" Stan asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Kat said. "This is my friend Star Lance. She's hanging out with me for a while. Star, meet Mike, Kevin, Stan, and Lee, or as I call them Chopper and the Doughboys. Take off those silly masks and say hello, guys."

Lee pulled off his black, eye mask and introduced himself as the Lone Ranger, and the Doughboys followed suit introducing themselves as Superman, Batman, and the Hulk, while pumping Star's hand until her arm felt like cooked spaghetti.

"Okay, now let me get this straight, you're Lee," she said as she surveyed his tattoos and scraggly black beard. "And you three must be the Doughboys."

"No fair. You have to figure out who's who," Stan objected as he ran his hand through his blond hair to flatten it after taking off his mask.

"Help me out here, Kat," Star pleaded.

"Okay, okay, this blue-eyed, blond-haired dude is Stan, the one with the tremendous biceps and dimples in his cheeks is Mike, and this guy with the lettuce and the stupid grin on his face is Kevin," Kat told her, laughing.

"It's my pleasure to meet all of you," Star told them. "However, the first time I saw you guys, you were standing on my front porch and scared me silly."

"When was this?" Lee asked.

"I'll give you a hint," Star said. "I own Arrowstar Antiques down in Mineral City."

"Oh my gosh," Stan said, smacking his forehead and looking embarrassed along with the rest of the guys. "You were there that day?"

"Yes, I watched Lee come out of my house, and I reported you guys to the sheriff the next morning."

"I think apologies are in order," Kevin said. "Did Kat tell you why we were there?"

"Oh, yes, I've heard the whole story," Star said not sure what to say next.

Mike stepped forward and put his hand on Star's shoulder, looked earnestly into her eyes and said, "I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say we're all profoundly sorry for our blatant breach of etiquette that day. Sometimes we get a bit carried away with our motorcycle gang fantasies, right guys?"

"No hard feelings?" Lee asked as the three others reached out to shake Star's hand.

No hard feelings," Star assured them as she shook each hand in turn.

"Say, Kat, has your grandfather's estate settled yet?" Kevin asked.

"Nope. The Sheriff is still trying to round up Ray Long after the explosion up at Tyler Spring. He took off, and no one has seen him since," Kat told him.

"I don't know about any explosion, but I saw Ray Long in Tucson yesterday," Kevin told them.

"In Tucson!" Star repeated. "The sheriff figured he'd run off to Mexico."

"Why, what's the deal?" Lee asked.

Kat filled them in on the disaster up at Tyler Spring and left to phone Sheriff Wade.

"Sorry to hear about your friend, Star," Kevin said, putting his arm around Star's shoulders. "It's hard to know what to say when something like this happens so suddenly."

Kat returned to the kitchen, breaking up the uncomfortable silence and quickly turned the conversation to the dinner at hand.

"Hope you guys are hungry, because we've got some slabs of beef steak to throw on the grill out back. It's a full moon tonight, so we ought to be able to see what we're cooking. I've also got roastin' ears going and baked beans in the oven. It's not exactly gourmet, Kevin, but you don't mind slumming with us tonight do you?" Kat asked.

"It's just great to have someone else cooking for a change," Kevin told her.

"Oh, so you're the chef," Star said.

"Yep, and Stan's the dentist, Mike's the country singer, and Lee's the best motorcycle mechanic in Graham county."

Lee high-fived with Kevin, grabbed the salad and dressing and carried it all to the dining room table.

By the time the steaks were finished, the table was loaded with the rest of the dinner. The six of them downed a few beers while the steaks were grilling, so the dinner conversation flowed without restraint. Kat and Star let loose and laughed until the tears ran down their faces at the stories the guys told. Mike pulled out his guitar as the evening wore down, and they sang cowboy melodies until the dawn showed rosy behind the mountains.

"Why don't you guys crash in the bunkhouse," Kat suggested. "You're all just drunk enough to be unsafe on the road. Besides, if you hang around, we'll make coffee and pancakes for brunch."

"See you about noon," Star told them as they ambled out the door. "Kat told me Sheriff Wade will want to talk with you, Kevin, about seeing Ray Long. He asked if you could stop by his office tomorrow afternoon for a minute."

"Sure, no problem," Kevin said. "I don't know what more I can tell him since I didn't get a chance to talk with Ray. I didn't even know the sheriff was looking for him. I'm real sorry about that."

"Hey, no apology necessary. You had no idea," Star assured him as she wondered again why Ray Long would be hanging around within an hour's drive of Mineral City.

### Chapter Seventeen

_Home for the Holidays_

Kat and Star continued their daily horseback riding through the desert and neighboring ranch lands, occasionally venturing back up to Tyler Spring for picnics. Star began to spend time helping Kat in the barn, mucking out the horse stalls and rubbing down the horses. She learned the ins and outs of taking care of horses from Kat, and as Thanksgiving approached, she really began to feel at home in the saddle and among the ranchers who made a living in this harsh dry landscape.

"The sheriff told me Erin didn't especially like the idea of horse ranching, Kat. What made you decide to stay with it?" Star asked as they rested under a shade tree near the barn.

"I've been interested in horses since I was a kid, so it was really my idea to come out here and give it a try. Besides, I inherited this spread from my Grandma Patsy, and I'd always wanted to come out here to see where she grew up."

"So, you did know something about horses before you got here?" Star asked.

"Sure, I've ridden horses since the age of seven." Kat told her. "In fact, my dream of being an Olympic equestrian died hard after I met Erin."

"How so?"

"Well, Erin rode bikes, and didn't have any interest in horses whatsoever. It seemed like every time there was a chance hang out at the stables, Erin would argue for taking off on the bike. I began to make excuses instead of training like I should have. When my dad found out from my instructor, he sold the horse without even talking to me first. I knew keeping the horse meant a huge investment in feed and stabling, not to mention the cost of a trainer and lessons. Evidently, my dad saw an opportunity to get out from under this enormous expense, so he grabbed it. I understand now why he did it, but being a teenager at the time, I thought my dad didn't love me anymore," Kat said.

"What did you do?"

"I latched onto Erin and spent as much time as I could manage away from home. We made plans to marry as soon as we graduated high school. Then I got pregnant, but lost the baby at three months. I never did get pregnant again after that, and it became the second biggest disappointment of my life after losing my horse. Erin and I married when we were 19 and moved to New York where I worked as a stable hand while Erin went to business college for a couple of years."

"So horses have always been a part of your life it seems."

"Yes, even though I thought I'd come to terms with giving up my dream, I still gravitated toward that life. So, when my dad passed away, and Erin and I had stashed away enough money to take a chance, we did. The happiest day of my life turned out to be the day we began fixing up the ranch house and thinking about how we could make a living ranching. I knew all about training for the Olympics, so I began coaching talented young riders and boarding and breeding horses for dressage. I retired from all that when Erin got killed. I'd saved enough money to retire, and Erin had a shit-load of life insurance. I invested part of it and used the rest to buy and sell a few horses. So, even though I could have used a few extra bucks from time to time, I was pretty well set with our second mortgage on the ranch paid off. Now that I stand to inherit Bobby's estate, the future is looking very bright."

"Kat, you're the smartest, bravest woman I know," Star told her.

"Come on, Star, knock it off," Kat said laughing. "I can tell when you're buttering me up. What's on your mind?"

"Actually, I really meant that. There is something on my mind, but now I'm not going to tell you. If I did, you'd be sure I really had been buttering you up!" Star said, smiling.

Star knew the grief and fear that gripped her had finally begun to lift, and she longed to return to Mineral City and the little frame house on Main Street where Arrowstar remained shuttered and dark. She had made a tentative start on the novel and felt, in the quiet of her little antique shop, she might be able to get some serious work done. Patsy and Bobby's love letters opened up a world of insight into their lives and the trappings of that era. Kat had surprised her with the loan of Patsy's journal from the attic, so now she had more than enough material to guide her through at least a rough draft of the life and times of Bobby Flint.

* * *

Star had been writing at Kat's desk almost two hours and needed a break. She stood up and stretched when she saw the mail truck spewing up gravel and sending up a dusty cloud at the end of Kat's long ranch lane. As she walked down the lane to get the mail, Lady and Jag followed her, occasionally running off to chase cottontails and sniff out mysterious scents in the tall weeds that only their black, cold noses could detect. Star noticed Kat riding her horse across the back pasture toward the barn and waved.

"Hey, Kat, Mark and Julie will be here for Christmas!" Star announced as she found Kat in the barn unsaddling her horse. "I got a letter from Julie letting me in on their holiday plans. Mark's going to fly into Indy to catch up with a few friends and then drive down with Julie for a couple days at I.U. After that he and Julie will fly into Sky Harbor in Phoenix and rent a car, so he can see some scenery on the way down here. Mark's never been to Arizona."

"They should come the back way down through Florence if he wants to see scenery. That drive from Phoenix to Tucson won't be much of an introduction to the desert. Hey, that means there'll be four of us for Christmas dinner instead of you and me staring at each other across a table full of food."

"I've been thinking I should start planning to move back down to Mineral City soon, Kat. I could write while I keep the store open. I mean, some people might buy Christmas gifts at Arrowstar. What do you think?" Star asked.

"I don't know, Star. Are you sure you're ready? It's been less than six months since Grant died," Kat said. "Besides, I'm not sure I'm ready to let you go, especially during the holidays."

The two linked arms and walked slowly toward the kitchen door, both thinking about how it would feel to be at home alone again.

"It has been great having you around here, you know, Star, even if you do think you have to butter me up to get what you want," Kat teased.

"I was thinking you'd be glad to get rid of me I've been here so long, and I was not buttering you up the other day."

"Sure you were, but you know what? I've been banging around in this big old house by myself for way too long. You've made it seem like home again instead of an empty nest. The more I think about you leaving, the more I'm sure I just don't want you to go!"

"Here's a thought," Star said as the two of them plopped down on the sofa in the parlor. "Why don't I start commuting down to Mineral City, say three days a week? I can decorate the store for Christmas and keep it open for business part-time. I can write when there aren't any customers and just ease back into living down there gradually."

"Well, maybe that would work, but it's a long drive down and back. Would you want to do that even three days a week?" Kat asked.

"Okay, so maybe I'm open three days in a row and stay down there for those days and then come back up here for the rest of the week. I could open Friday, Saturday, and Sunday afternoons."

So began a new routine for Star and Kat, leading up to Christmas. Star would leave on Thursday evening and return to the ranch on Monday mornings. At first it was a hassle when something Star wanted turned out to be still up at the ranch, but soon it became a routine they both could live with. The days they were together, they took long rides in the desert, and Star began to feel like the cowgirl she'd always wanted to be. Kat loved having company up at the ranch part of the time, and Star began making good progress on the novel when she was at Arrowstar.

Chopper and the Doughboys continued to work on their bikes out in the shop at the ranch on the weekends when Star was gone, so Kat didn't really have time to feel lonely anymore. Jag probably suffered the most when Lady went home with Star. He'd mope around all day Friday and finally eat some food on Saturday afternoon. Monday mornings, he'd wait by the back door until he saw Star's Jeep pull in. Those two dogs would greet each other like they hadn't seen each other for years. They were truly love sick puppies.

Star strung Christmas lights along the porch railing and around the front window of Arrowstar. At dusk she stood out front on the sidewalk to see how the lights around the window and the big Christmas tree looked, when someone came up behind her and put hands over her eyes.

"Guess who?" It was a voice Star recognized, but had a hard time putting a face with.

"Ah, let's see," Star said, stumbling around in her brain trying to come up with a name.

"I live in Indy," the voice said.

"Oh, my God, Susie?" Star squealed, pulling the hands away and turning around to grab her friend's shoulders, while looking her up and down and noting the contact lenses that had replaced the thick dark-framed glasses she used to wear. But she was still as petite as ever, and her chestnut hair remained long, straight and shiny. "I can't believe you're here. I'm totally flustered."

"Good, that was our plan," Susie said, grinning.

"Hi Mom, we're here, too. Merry Christmas!" called Mark and Julie as they slammed the doors of the rental car. "Did we surprise you?"

"Oh my gosh, you certainly did!" Star said, hugging them both. "Come inside. I'll put the coffee on."

"Hot chocolate for me, Mom," Julie said.

"That sounds good," Mark agreed.

Star grabbed each of her kids in turn and noticed that Mark looked more like a grown man than ever. He was a head taller than his mother now, and he'd buzzed the curly mop of straw-colored hair that all the high-school girls used to go crazy about. His eyes were still mischievous, but there was a seriousness about him that made her think of Mac. Obviously, no longer a school kid, he held a job and looked the part.

"Let's make it hot chocolate all around," Susie suggested. "It will make it seem more like Christmas. It's so warm here, I feel like it's springtime. I need something to get me in the holiday spirit."

"In that case, hot chocolate with a shot of peppermint schnapps it is," Star said ushering them inside Arrowstar's large front room all decorated for Christmas. "Well, what do you think?"

"It looks great, Mom!" Julie exclaimed.

"Hey, I'm impressed. It looks like a real antique store," Mark commented looking around at the glass cases filled with items for sale and taking in the large Christmas tree and trimmings.

"What? Did you think I was just slumming out here?" Star laughed at her son's comment.

"Oh, Star," Susie said. "It's just perfect, and so like you to have everything polished and tagged. What are these tiny booklets attached to things?"

"They're background pieces with a bit of local history thrown in, so customers will know where things originated," Star told her, leading the way through the parlor into the kitchen. "I think you'd better pinch me, because I still can't believe you're here, Susie. These two ragamuffins I was expecting, but I'm still not sure if you're just a figment of my imagination."

"Sure, happy to oblige," Susie said pinching Star on the arm, and then searching in the cabinet for the can of cocoa.

"Hey, don't take me so literally!" Star squealed as Mark winked at Julie as if to say their decision to ask Susie to come to Arizona with them had been right on. They both could hear the happiness in their mother's voice and see it in her movements as she bustled around the kitchen.

The four of them talked late into the night and finally managed to drag in the luggage and presents around 1:00 a.m. Carla's was still lit up and humming next door even though it was only an hour until last call for the drinking customers. Star fell asleep easily in spite of the distant background beat of Kevin's country band playing _Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer_.

In the morning, Star awakened to the murmur of familiar voices floating up the stairway from the kitchen. If she wasn't mistaken, Jim and Ricki were in attendance as well as Mark and Julie. As she quickly pulled on her jeans and a fresh denim shirt, she listened for Susie's voice mixed in with the snatches of conversation she could make out.

"Hey, guys, good morning," Star said playfully as she stepped into the kitchen. "What have you rascals done with Susie?"

"Still sleeping," Julie whispered holding her finger in front of her lips and shushing her Mom. "I think we wore her out last night."

"Late night, huh?" Jim guessed.

"Mark told me how they drove like crazy people to get here last evening before you turned in. What a great surprise! I can hardly wait to meet your friend. Is this her first time in the Wild West?" Ricki asked.

"Yep, and she's all set to go sight-seeing today," Star told them. "You two have any interest in being tour guides? I'm going to have to keep the store open today, so I thought I'd send these guys out on the town."

"I can keep the store open for you," Julie offered. "You should go with them, Mom. Mark has never been west before either, and you guys will have a great time showing them around."

"You're supposed to be on vacation, Julie," Star objected.

"Oh, sure, but I brought studies I have to finish before finals, so I certainly won't be bored. Besides, I might meet some interesting folks shopping for Christmas antiques," Julie said.

"Well, I don't know, Julie," Star said.

"I've got an idea," Ricki said. "Let's all meet in about an hour over at Carla's for breakfast. You don't open for another couple hours anyway. We can decide what we want to do while we eat."

"Did somebody say breakfast?" Susie asked as she shuffled her way toward the coffee pot in her nighty and slippers, not in the least embarrassed by the newcomers in Star's kitchen.

"Here, let me get that for you," Ricki said as she pulled a cup for Susie from the cupboard. "I'm Ricki and this is my soon-to-be-husband, Jim."

"Oh, so you're the ones getting married while I'm here. I brought dress-up clothes, so I hope I can crash your wedding," Susie said, taking a swig of coffee and plopping down in one of the kitchen chairs.

"Not a problem," Ricki said chuckling. "In fact, the whole town will probably turn out. We're getting married in that little frame church at the end of the street. If you get a chance, you should take a look inside and also hike up to the little graveyard in the woods behind the church. Star saved the church from burning down right after she moved here. She's favored around here for that and also for the money she insists on adding to the city coffers almost every time she takes that fiery red Jeep of hers out for a spin."

"Oh, come on now, Ricki, I'm not that bad," Star laughed. "In fact, I've paid off all my tickets, and Walt framed my receipt and hung it up at Dan's filling station. You can see it when you stop for gas. It's right above the cash register. Now I'm a part of local lore for sure since Dan never redecorates. That receipt will probably hang there for the next 100 years."

"Sounds like you've got some real characters living around here. I'm anxious to meet some of them," Susie told them. "By the way, do you have someone doing your flowers for the wedding?"

"Well, we don't have a flower shop in Mineral City, but there's a place up in Ellenville I was going to ask," Ricki told her.

"Tell you what, let me take care of it for you," Susie offered. "We'll sit down and talk about what you have in mind, and I'll go up and speak with the folks in Ellenville. I'd love to have a small part in making the wedding special for you two since I'm crashing the party."

"Okay, guys," Mark interrupted. "Enough of this prattle, let's eat!"

"Wait, I need to get dressed," Susie objected.

"See you over at Carla's in an hour, and we'll talk some more about the flowers. Thanks for the offer. That's very kind of you," Jim said as he and Ricki left through the kitchen door, stopping to pet Lady who was sleeping out there in the sun.

Carla sat down at the table with the whole crew for breakfast and then refused to let anyone pay. They worked out the sight-seeing plans for the day, and Julie got her way, staying behind at the shop to study for finals.

"Susie, Ricki told me you offered to do her flowers for the wedding, and I wondered if you knew anything about herbs. I'd like to have some fresh ones planted around here to use in my recipes for the restaurant," Carla told her.

"Oh, hey," Star piped up. "I've got that old wagon wheel propped up out front by the steps at Arrowstar. My plan, when I got that from Dan, called for planting a different herb between each of the spokes."

"Sure, I've seen that done," Susie told her. "It makes a great conversation piece without taking up too much garden space. I'll make a list of herbs you can buy that should do well around here. They're very easy to grow, and you'll have plenty for the restaurant."

Star sat back and listened to her friends and family kibitz around the table, while an old feeling that had been absent in her life for quite some time swirled around her. This place, the company of these people felt like a soft, comfortable quilt wrapped around her soul. She knew somehow she would always have these friendships whether or not she could afford to continue to run the business. Still, the thought of Ray Long out there somewhere free and clear kept her on edge, and not knowing who killed Bobby Flint worried her. After all, she still had the bulk of Bobby's possessions in her shop even if Tanner Papp had taken a leap off Thompson's bluff.

### Chapter Eighteen

_Following a Lead – Late December 2010_

"Thanks for stopping by, Kevin," Sheriff Wade said as he motioned Kevin into the chair across from his desk."

"When I saw Ray Long, Sheriff, I had no idea you were even looking for him. He came into the restaurant where I work, with a couple of other guys I've seen a few times. All of 'em were wearing suits, so I just figured Ray had some clients with him or some associates from a Tucson law firm," Kevin told him as he shifted uncomfortably in the chair.

"Can you describe these fellows Ray had with him?"

"Well, I didn't really get a good look at any of them, because I was a bit late for my shift in the kitchen and just glanced into the dining room to see what kind of crowd we had. Ray didn't even see me, because I went in through the employee entrance without cutting through the dining area. As I said, the only thing I noticed were the dark gray suits, white shirts and ties like they just came to dinner from work. They were ordinary white guys with neat haircuts and shaves, nothing to really make anyone take a second look."

"These guys look like they were well heeled? You know, like they might have had some money to spend?" the Sheriff asked.

"Sure, I guess you could say that. They certainly looked like they could afford to eat in a resort restaurant like the place where I work," Kevin told him.

"Okay, Kevin. Thanks for stopping by. Let me know right away if you run into Ray over that way again," the Sheriff told him as he handed him a card with the office phone number on it.

"Sure, Sheriff, no problem," Kevin said.

After Kevin left, Vince Wade picked up the phone and called the Big Spur mine up in Ellenville.

"Know where I can hook into a high stakes game up your way," Vince said to the office manager when he answered.

"I might be able to help you out if I knew who's calling."

"I'm just in town with the wife for a couple days sight-seeing, and she's visiting her sister. Then we're headed over to Tucson," the Sheriff lied.

"Sure, man, I can help you out. There's a heavy-duty game every Thursday night right here in the conference room behind the office."

"That right," Vince said even though he'd known about that game for years. "We won't still be here on Thursday. Any action over Tucson way you'd know about?"

"You could catch a hand over there tomorrow night around 9:00 o'clock in the back room at the Gold Dust Bar and Grill over on First Street and Grant downtown. Just tell 'em Jim at the Big Spur sent you."

"I'm beholdin' to you," Vince told him.

"Don't you worry about that. Just be sure and tell 'em Jim at the Big Spur. All right?"

"No problem, I'll let them know," Vince assured him, knowing ol' Jim most likely expected a kickback for sending him over there.

Vince reared back in his chair and considered how likely it would be to find Ray Long with his feet under a poker table tomorrow night. He grinned and put the odds at around 99 percent.

Sheriff Wade wasn't too far off betting Ray's feet would be under a poker table, trying to get some cash he could use to get out of Arizona. Unfortunately, by the time Kevin gave Vince the heads up about seeing Ray in Tucson, Ray's debt limit had already hit the ceiling, and he was up to his armpits in the red on the last three games he'd sat in on.

Vince showed up at the Gold Dust looking like an average cowboy out for a night on the town and hung around until he figured out where the door to the big game was located at the back of the bar. He bellied up to the bar and watched as the after-dinner crowd of businessmen checked in with a guy on a stool next to the door and were admitted to the game. At about 10:00 p.m. when Ray hadn't shown, he placed a $50 dollar bill under a beer on the tray the waiter carried in and out of the back room. When the waiter came back, he told Vince there was no one fitting Ray's description at the table, but for another $50 he would tell him where Ray was staying night before last.

"Couple of nights ago he called a cab to take him to the Bell Motel over on Granite just shy of the U of A campus. I remember because I was surprised he'd be staying at such a dive."

Vince high-tailed it over to Ray's motel and banged on the door to his room. Ray either wasn't at home or didn't care to answer the door. After showing his Sheriff's ID, the office manager joined Vince and turned the pass key in the lock. The lights were off and the room smelled of whiskey and stale tobacco smoke.

Vince groped for the light switch while the manger stayed out on the sidewalk. The glare of the overhead light flooded the room, showing the unmade bed, frayed and nicked furniture, and an ancient television set mounted on the wall in front of the bed. Vince noticed an envelope on the desk with Walt Bass's name printed on the front in dark block letters.

"When was the last time you saw the guy who's stayin' here?" Vince asked the manager.

"He came in just as I was coming on my shift at three o'clock. I get off at eleven in about half an hour. I didn't see him leave again."

Vince hesitated as he took hold of the doorknob into the bathroom. He had a pretty good idea what he might find.

* * *

Back in Mineral City, Sheriff Wade pulled his patrol car in front of Arrowstar and sat a couple of minutes before walking up on the porch and in through the door.

"Hello, Star. Is Walt here?" he asked.

"He's in the kitchen getting a cup of coffee. Help yourself, Sheriff," Star told him.

"Hey Vince, where you been. I've been down at the office a couple of times, but Marty wouldn't tell me a thing. Been moonlighting somewhere or just need a couple days of vacation?" Walt teased.

"Walt, I'm afraid I've got bad news," Vince said as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Star caught the serious tone of Vince's voice as she came into the kitchen and sat down at the table.

"What's happened, Sheriff?" she asked.

"Ray Long is dead," Vince told them, "and he left a letter for you, Walt. I'm afraid it's evidence, Walt, but after the investigation is closed, you can have it if you want it."

"What did it say?" Walt asked as he sat down at the table.

"Well, the short version is that he confessed to killing Bobby Flint because he needed the money to pay off his gambling debts and he ran Tanner Papp off the road, because Tanner wanted more of a share in the Sugar Loaf Mine operation. Evidently, the Sugar Loaf has more gold left in her than anyone ever suspected. He blew the mine to get rid of the Mexicans he and Tanner brought up from Mexico to work the mine. He said he owed them money and knew they would turn on him once they discovered he'd killed Tanner."

"Sounds like he should have addressed that letter to you, Vince," Walt said.

"That's what I was thinking," Star said. "It's hard to believe Ray Long did all that damage to my shop."

"No, that was Tanner Papp. He was looking for the deed to the property at Tyler Spring and the titles to those old Indian motorcycles he'd been selling down in Mexico. He found the titles and burned them in the fireplace up at the cabin, but he never found the deed."

"That's because we found it along with the will in the back of Bobby Flint's ledger over at the house the night before we went up to Kat's," Star said. "But you already knew that."

"Ray didn't address the letter to me, Walt, and you'll understand why when you read it. It was like an apology to you, Walt. He felt he owed you that for running Tanner off the road. I guess you three were pretty tight over in Texas way back. Then, of course, you spent a lot of time out to his place when Mildred was still alive. He got himself in deep over there in Tucson, Walt, and he finally realized the kind of man he'd become. Enough so that he wrote you that letter and then shot himself in the shower of that seedy motel room. I'm sorry to be the one to have to tell you this, Walt," Vince said as he placed his hand on Walt's shoulder.

Walt didn't say a word. He just sat there staring into his coffee cup as if he could read something written there. Then, he looked up at Star and said, "I guess I'm not a good judge of people. How did I ever get mixed up with the likes of Tanner Papp and Ray Long?"

"Ray changed after he started drinking and gambling. You know that, Walt," Vince said.

"Yes, and you met Tanner when you were very young and influenced by Tanner's flamboyant lifestyle. But the important thing is, Walt, you came back to Mineral City, and you didn't get mixed up in all the trouble Tanner would have brought your way. You remained his friend, but you didn't let him corrupt you. It's not your fault that he took advantage of your loyalty, Walt. You're a good man. I haven't lived here that long, but I've been here long enough to know that and to call you my friend," Star told him.

"Well, that counts for something," Walt said.

"Like I said, Walt, I'll give you that letter as soon as I can," Vince told him as he turned to go.

"Hey, thanks, Vince, for letting me know," Walt called after him.

"Sure thing, my friend, sure thing."

### Chapter Nineteen

_Beginnings – January 2011_

It was more than the beginning of a brand new year, it was the beginning of a brand new life. Star peeked out the front window of Arrowstar to see the church up the hill glowing with candlelight and the big Christmas tree out front covered with hundreds of white twinkling lights. Jim and Ricki were precious in their wedding duds as they trotted their horses up the street toward the open church doors. Jim had spent weeks training Toast and Marmalade to pull the carriage that would carry them to their wedding.

Star walked out on the front porch to wave and throw kisses as the shy cowboy and his bride drove past. The church was already full of people, and Star needed to hurry if she wanted to watch Ricki walk down the aisle. Still Star lingered on the porch drinking in the softness of the night and letting the chill of a winter breeze caress her bare arms. There was a glow within Star keeping her warm this night. It was fueled by the certainty she had chosen this place well and that just maybe this place had also chosen her. More people walked past on their way to the church and raised their hands to her in greeting.

Once again inside, Star reached for her coat, locked Arrowstar's front door and picked up a bag full of tin cans tied to long ropes. The carriage was parked next to the church and the horses tied to the rail. Star pulled off her leather gloves and began tying the ropes to the rear of the carriage. She knew she was going to miss the first part of the ceremony, but her fingers felt chilled and stiff so the going was slow. She was about to despair of seeing any of the wedding at all when Walt strode up beside her and began pulling ropes out of the bag and tying them on.

When they finished, Walt offered Star his arm and they strode into the church in time to nab a seat next to Kat, Carla, Susie and the kids, who had selected a pew close to the back of the church. The music began and Star caught sight of a flush-faced Jim with a big smile spread across his face as he waited for his bride to join him at the altar where the eternal flame seemed to burn brighter than Star had ever seen it. Ricki and Sheriff Wade looked stunning walking up the aisle together with Sheriff Wade placing his hand atop his daughter's in a gesture that made us wonder if he could bear to let go when they reached the front of the church. Then they were there and Sheriff Wade placed Ricki's hand in the hand of her groom and with a sigh returned to his seat.

There were tears in her eyes as Star watched this exchange and remembered the day her own daddy had walked her down the aisle and placed her hand in Mac's. It seemed another lifetime ago, and Star thought once again how this night seemed to mark for her the new beginning she had imagined when she turned her car west to what she had prayed would be her "promised land."

Now if she could just hold onto Arrowstar long enough to make a profit, publish her book, and pay Kat back for her generosity, well, that would be the most perfect day. She looked across at Mark and Julie dressed to the nines. How adult they looked and how little they really needed her now to make their lives go forward. She winked at Kat, and Carla gave her a little wave as Susie grinned at her with raised eyebrows, gesturing toward Walt. Walt squeezed her hand before he stood to open the church doors, so the couple could make their grand exit.

Ricki tossed the delicate bouquet of silk baby's breath, nasturtiums and pansies Susie had expertly designed, and unexpectedly it landed in Mark's outstretched hands.

He looked up with an embarrassed grin and shouted, "This is for Marla," and everyone clapped.

Star stepped up beside Mark and whispered in his ear, "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

"I've got a girl up in Seattle, Mom," Mark said simply. "You're going to love her."

Star blinked and in that brief interlude as the couple climbed into their carriage and clattered down the street with tin cans dancing behind them, Star imagined herself a grandmother with gray hair pulled back in a long braid with several little ones tagging along behind her. She shook her head to chase away her musings and looked closely at the young man she'd nurtured all these years. How long would it be until she witnessed another father placing a delicate daughter's hand in her son's? It was too much to contemplate, and she forced her thoughts into the present as her friends and family gathered around her for the walk down the street to Arrowstar where they continued to celebrate late into the night with cake and champagne.

Ricki and Jim made a quick getaway from Arrowstar en route to the Tucson airport in a rented town car. Their destination, a lovely ocean-side villa near Carlsbad, California, reservation courtesy of Sheriff Wade and Zack Kane. When they picked up their key to the villa in Carlsbad, Ricki pressed the tag that read Mr. and Mrs. Kane to her breast, grabbed Jim's hand and held on tight.

Back in Mineral City, Star waited anxiously for word from an agent in Phoenix recommended by Blanch Horn, who had published some organ music she had written with this agent's help. Kat had picked up her mortgage payment again for January, and Star was crestfallen that she had to do that once more. The shop still wasn't paying its own way, and the book had been finished for two months with no good words showing up from any of the publishers she'd queried. Then she had bumped into Blanch at Ricki's shop where they were both browsing through the vintage clothing. Star had no idea Blanch could write music let alone have anything published, so her offer to speak to her agent came as a big surprise.

"I thought it was better to go directly to the publishers and cut out the middle man," Star told her.

"It used to be that way, but now publishers don't read anything that hasn't been sent through a reputable agent. It saves them considerable time and money to leave the editing and culling of books to agents. It's a pretty good symbiotic relationship for them, I guess, and an author just needs to convince an agent the work is saleable. I've found it well worth it to have a professional working for me," Blanch told her.

"Well, I'm taken totally by surprise," Star said. "You continue to amaze me, Blanch, with your music _and_ your pies!"

"Oh, it's nothing, really," Blanch said over her shoulder as she closed the dressing room door, closeting herself inside with a pile of vintage dresses from a recent estate sale Ricki had raided. "The pies are just something I do to relax. Writing music, now that's my real love. The extra income isn't bad either."

Ricki winked at Star and said, "And you thought small town life was going to be dull."

"Now, I never said that, Ricki. I'm just always surprised to find out how much I don't know about the people who live here. Every day brings some delicious new revelation. For instance, did you know that Walt likes to country swing dance?"

"Oh, I see you've been taking advantage of the live band over at Carla's on Fridays. That seems to be one of Walt's favorite hangouts lately."

"They say music heals a troubled soul," Star said, grinning as she walked out the door.

"You can run, but you can't hide," Ricki had teased her. "I'm going to want to know more."

Star thought about her kids already back to their own lives, and Susie along with them. She missed them, but she felt at home and vaguely happy for the first time in a very long time. As she walked down Main Street, she mused about how she had managed to finish the novel and actually send it off to the agent Blanch had recommended that day over at Ricki's.

Soon after that Star also found out from Walt that Blanch's parents, members of a very small Church of Christ in Toliver, objected to Blanch's love of piano and organ music. She left home as a teenager in protest when her parents insisted she stop taking piano lessons at school and playing in the school orchestra. Marty Greer's parents took her in, raising her as their own, and Marty gained an older sister.

It was Marty who helped Blanch get the job at the sheriff's office to supplement her income from playing the church organ. When she turned 25, Blanch bought a little white frame house of her own. She insisted on denying herself the convenience of a home telephone and the purchase of anything brand new as a sort of penance for leaving her family all those years ago. She had been an only child, and her departure caused her parents a large amount of grief. According to Walt, Blanch continues trying in various ways to make up for what she considers her greatest sin. When Star heard this story, she shook her head in disbelief at the terribly unjust things people allow to happen in the name of religion.

Star stopped by the post office, picked up her mail and sifted through it as she walked up the three steps to Arrowstar's porch. And there it was, wedged between Antiques magazine and a clothing catalog, a letter from Blanch's agent in Phoenix. Enclosed were a contract and an encouraging letter about the book she had written about the life and times of Bobby Flint.

The letter read in part, I _find this bit of historical fiction quite impressive and engaging. I'm sending the manuscript of_ A Train Robber's Tale _under separate cover with suggestions for editing included. Please complete the changes as soon as possible and return the manuscript and signed contract to me as I already have a publisher in mind for your work._

Star let out a whoop so loud that a customer at Carla's poked his head out the door to see what was up, and Walt, who had just turned the doorknob to enter the bank strode over to Arrowstar with a concerned look on his face.

"So, mind sharing with a friend why you're riling up the whole dang town? What's up, lead foot?" Walt asked.

"I've got an agent, and it's possible I might actually get to be a published author!"

Walt grabbed Star and swung her around and around as he carried her to the middle of the street and tossed his cowboy hat into the air. That caught the attention of several people sitting on the boardwalk outside the Sheriff's office, and the next thing Star knew the street was full of people pounding her on the back and wishing her well. Marty Greer told her he wanted a signed copy he could give his wife on her birthday, and Blanch Horn said she'd bake another coconut cream pie to celebrate the day the book hit the bookstores.

"Oh, Blanch, without you, this whole thing would never have been possible. I'm so indebted to you," Star told her.

"And me to you for saving our church and the organ along with it. I will never forget that, Star," Blanch said as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye with a frilly, lace-edged hanky she pulled from her flowered frock circa 1960.

Star thought about how tenderly the people of this town had embraced her and how much she owed all of them for her peace of mind and feeling of belonging. Only her indebtedness to Kat nagged at her, and she resolved to remedy that situation with any money she might realize if and when her book saw publication.

* * *

_One year later_

"Remember, those tin cans rattling down the street tied to the back of your carriage and how that old, town cat standing in the middle of Main Street leaped straight up in the air and came down on my dog's back. I'd never seen old Scout run that fast after a critter," Walt laughed.

"Did he ever catch that cat?" Carla asked.

"I heard he got stuck under the porch over on Walnut Street, and you had to take the porch floor apart to get him out," Jim told him.

"Not true, but I did think at one point I might have to leave the poor mutt under there all night. Guess he decided it was too cold to stay out, because he came scratching at Star's back door about an hour later, and we let him into the kitchen at Arrowstar where we were all still celebrating Ricki and Jim's wedding," Walt said.

"You guys had left by that time," Star said looking over at the two of them sitting together around the big table in the corner at Carla's.

"It's great that all of you wanted to help us celebrate our first anniversary," Ricki said.

"Yeah, we both thought we might get stuck out at the ranch tonight, watching after a mare that's about to foal, but Dad said he'd stay and look after her for us. We drove down in the carriage for old times' sake, and the sky is chock full of stars like nobody's business," Jim said smiling at Ricki.

"I know," Star said. "I just called Walt and told him to get his own self over here pronto to help us celebrate your one whole year of marital bliss. He told me he was out on the deck looking though the telescope at the Milky Way. You know, before I came out here, I thought someone made up the myth of the Milky Way, but it's really up there, isn't it?

"Sure is, and I've got pictures to prove it," Walt said as he sauntered into the warmth of the cafe. Over the past year, his recent star-gazing hobby had brought him a few photo sales to a couple of amateur astronomer magazines that made him fairly proud.

"You guys should see his new camera and telescope mount out on the deck. It's quite impressive, and I can't wait to see what kind of equipment shows up next," Star said.

"I wouldn't mind taking a look at that setup, as well," said a male voice Star immediately recognized.

"Jake! Oh my God. What are you doing out here?" Star blurted.

"Well, I saw your note on the front door at Arrowstar, so I just moseyed on over here to find you, loaded down with this big box," Jake said.

"No, I mean. You're supposed to be back in Indy!" Star exclaimed. "What made you decide to make the trip? And, what's in that box?"

Jake placed the heavy box in the middle of the table and began talking fast.

"It seems that a certain agent, who I'm pretty sure you know, looked me up from information he found on the resume you sent him when you went agent hunting. The publisher where he sent your book has a production facility in Indy, and he thought it would be terrific if I delivered this first box of books right off the press directly to its author!"

With a large amount of flourish, Jake pulled a copy of A Train Robber's Tale out of the big box and handed it to Star along with a beautiful malachite Waterman pen with the initials S.A.L. engraved on it. Star made introductions all around and then inscribed the first copy of her book, _To Jake, who delivers!_ Kat got the next one, and soon everyone around the table had their own personalized copy of Star's book.

Then, Walt raised his glass for a toast, "To Jim and Ricki, long may they rehearse the success of their first year of marriage, and to Star who penned a book that just might put Mineral City on the map!"

"To marriage and publishing," Kat said as she raised her glass.

"Hear, hear!" They all said in unison.

Walt pulled off his gloves and shook hands with Jake and asked, "Who did you say you are?"

Jake laughed and winked at Star, "I'm just an old friend from back East, 'bringing home the bacon,' so to speak."

"Yes he certainly is, and my first order of business will be writing a big fat check to Kat Abbi for keeping Arrowstar going for almost two whole years! To Kat!" Star shouted as everyone lifted their glasses toward Kat as she pulled her hat down on her forehead and ducked her head.

"To friendship," Carla sang out.

"To cattle, copper, citrus, cotton, and climate!" Jim offered.

"Okay, hold on. Now, you're just thinking up reasons to drink more!" Jake said.

"Hey, this friend of yours might just fit in around here," Walt joked as he raised his glass.

At that moment, Star realized that Ricki didn't have a glass in her hand when she raised it.

"Ricki, you're not drinking! Is there something you want to tell us?"

"We're pregnant," Jim blurted as his face turned scarlet.

Star sat in the rocker on Arrowstar's front porch for a long time that night, watching the stars and listening for the train's whistle. There was a book with her name on the front of it sitting in a bookstore somewhere right this very minute. She placed her hand on its slick cover and felt the reality through her fingertips. It's true, I've done it, she thought. Arrowstar turned a small profit for the first time this past December, and maybe there's another gem of western history buried around here somewhere just begging to be dug up and written.

"What do you think about that, Lady?" Star said, stroking the sleeping dog at her feet.

"Mind if I _set_ a spell?"

"Oh, my gosh, I didn't know anyone was around, Walt." Star laughed. "I figured everyone else was sound asleep by now. What are you doing up and about?"

"I thought you might be lonesome sitting out here all by yourself."

"Not really, I've got Lady for company, and I was just dreaming about what to write in the next novel. There are so many directions I could go. The Wild West seems to be filled with stories just aching to be told."

"Hey, that reminds me. I think a long time ago I promised you a walk in the graveyard up behind the church. There's a story to go with every tombstone up there, and you've already covered one of them. Bobby's buried there alongside some other very interesting characters," Walt told her as he extended his hand and pulled her out of the rocking chair.

"Don't you think it's a bit late to be running around town?" Star teased him.

"As I recall, girl, you don't much care what time a'night it is when you decide to take a stroll. Besides, what better time to visit a graveyard that the middle of the night?

"Can't say as you're wrong about that," Star laughed as she walked with Walt down the middle of Main Street.

The train whistled twice as it came to the crossing up on Tyler Spring Pike. Star and Walt stopped to watch the old engine and rail cars barreling down the track. The silence after it passed seemed deeper, and the darkness swallowed them completely as they entered the gate of the cemetery. Star took a deep breath of the fresh night air as Walt shined his flashlight on the inscriptions and began to introduce her to the ghosts of Mineral City.

_The author would enjoy reading your personal opinion of Arrowstar. Please consider writing a quick review. Thanks!_

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**Other books by C.K. Thomas**

Charade – Second in the Arrowstar Series

The Storm Women – A companion book to Charade

Honor Bound

**Upcoming Title**

A Train Robber's Tale – A companion book to Arrowstar

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If you've enjoyed Arrowstar, you'll love book two in the Arrowstar series

Available now in print and e-book

Charade

Enjoy reading the first chapter on the following pages.

### Chapter One

Mineral City Cemetery – February

"Valentine's Day probably isn't the best time to be sneaking around in a graveyard with cold and damp seeping in through my shoes," Star told herself as she took one wary step after the next, keeping low among the bushes and trees lining Mineral City's only cemetery.

"Didn't I read something in history about a massacre that happened on Valentine's Day?" Star shivered at the thought. Not that she expected a massacre, rather someone possibly jumping out from behind a tree brandishing a knife. "Oh well, at least if someone stabs me, I can be buried right here."

Questioning her motive for being up there in the first place, she thought back to an evening relaxing on Arrowstar's wide front porch a few months ago when she noticed an eerie glow moving slowly alongside the Methodist Church. The church sat perched on a hill at the end of the street running in front of the antique store that doubled as her home. She remembered the chains supporting the Arrowstar sign over the front steps groaning with the breeze as she followed the light with her gaze until it disappeared behind the church.

It wouldn't have become such a fascination had she not realized after several months of observation that the light appeared regularly on the 14th of each month. Finally, she could no longer contain her curiosity.

"If Blanch looks out her window at the sheriff's office and sees me up here at midnight, she's going to have a fit. I can just imagine Marty Greer roaring up with sirens blaring and lights flashing, waking up the entire town only to discover it's me again stirring things up in the middle of the night."

Sighing heavily with that thought, Star continued to move toward the back of the cemetery where the high iron fence wouldn't block her view. The fence bracketed the cemetery in a horseshoe shape, stopping on either side where the land reached the edge of the forest at the back of the lot. Several ancient graves stood there under the sheltering arms of towering cottonwood and eucalyptus trees. Evidently, when grave markers weren't available, burying someone by a tree helped establish where a loved one rested.

The remainder of the cemetery spiked with markers, both small flat ones planted in the ground and elaborate carved memorials, kept a quiet vigil with the citizens of Mineral City's past. Iron fences defined each family's burial space with only a few graves scattered outside any defined area.

The arch attached to the fence over the entrance gate simply read, Mineral City Cemetery in white iron letters, indicating it wasn't limited to members of the church just because it resided behind it. A pump topped a well that had been there since Mineral City was a mere bump in a dusty road, but it still worked just fine for filling watering cans to keep flowers on the graves from wilting.

If you held your hand tight under the faucet, you could get a drink from the spout that forced the water upward through a little hole in the top, making a small stream. Tonight the squeaky pump handle stood silent while the moonlight played a shadow game with the tree branches as a soft, but chilly night breeze played across the hill.

Star didn't have long to wait before the glow of a dim flashlight, held by a dark form she couldn't entirely make out from so far away, showed around the corner of the church. Patiently she crouched further down and peered between the low-hanging branches of a green feathery pine tucked in among the cottonwoods. The pine tar smelled sweet and calmed her, but her hands were sticky from touching the bark to steady herself in place.

Moving noiselessly between the tombstones, the figure passed very close to the place where Star was hidden. The small gate to a family plot creaked as it opened. The figure hunched over to place an object on a grave marker and then looked around on the ground, obviously searching for something. Star drew in her breath at the sound of quiet weeping and cursed herself for intruding on this very private moment of someone's profound sadness. Instinctively she lowered her eyes in a gesture of respect, but when she looked again she found herself alone among the trees.

In a moment of panic she doubted what she'd seen, but as she scanned the shadowy landscape, she spotted the retreating figure moving slowly and silently under the arch and through the gate. Star waited there for a moment surveying the stars and listening to the tiny night creatures moving among the leaves, singing their nightly insect songs. A lone mockingbird insisted on imposing his mixed-up soundtrack into the silence of the night and roused Star from her thoughts about the wisdom of her intrusion on a visitor of the dead. Still she wanted to know who that visitor might have been and why this person came on the 14th of each month, so late at night, to cry beside an ancient grave.

Reluctantly she left her secluded place and shined her light on the gate to the family plot where the visitor had lingered. Black iron letters welded into the gate spelled out the name Storm. A small bouquet of artificial violets tied with a purple ribbon lay next to a flat marble marker. A small rock, evidently marking this person's visits had also been placed among several others atop the marble stone. In the dim light of a winter moon Star could barely make out the name Opal G. Storm and the dates May 28, 1935 - January 11, 1965.

* * *

In her office off the kitchen, Star sat hunched over the first tentative pages of the new novel she was writing with such fierce concentration that time became a blur somewhere in another dimension. Outside the wind whistled loudly around Arrowstar's corners, and Lady stirred at Star's feet with an anxious whine.

The back screen door slapped against the house with a loud crack, causing Star to jump up from the desk and run to hook it closed. Rain didn't seem likely in spite of the bluster outside, so Star returned to the office where she polished off the last paragraph of the first chapter of her second historical novel. Leaning back in her chair, she stared up at the tin ceiling, musing over the possibilities for stories about the pioneer souls buried up in the cemetery behind the church.

Some of the graves had been there since Cochise roamed this land, and Star wondered if his band of renegades might have put some of them there. The saddest ones have inscriptions on the headstones that break your heart, _Our Little Angel_ or _He lingered with us, but for the blink of an eye - Guard this precious little soul._ Very specific ages accompanied many of the inscriptions - four years, two months, and twenty-seven days, usually followed by a plea, _Lord, receive our little lamb_.

Star's heart ached for the parents who sadly placed their beloved little ones beneath these marble markers carved with lambs, guardian angels, doves and puppies she'd seen gracing these small memorials. Several crumbling monuments in the Storm family plot especially fascinated her. On a narrow pillar an inscription read _"Stormy" Almanza Storm, April 10, 1861 - December 25, 1890_ , and tucked very closely beside it, a second smaller marker adorned with a lamb said, _Clare R. Storm - Dear Little Cherub, born December 25, 1890, Received by Our Lord, January 30, 1891_ \- _One month and five days_ \- _Fly little cherub on angel's wings._

On the opposite side of the pillar-shaped tombstone from the baby's grave, a larger, more recent monument showed the name _"Dusky" Ladoska R. Storm, January 21, 1888 - May 8, 1974_. The statue of a horse stood watch over this grave, one knee bent, head down, and the remains of leather reins coiled on the ground. There were also three much simpler flat markers inside the iron fence, marking the graves of women buried there. Conspicuously absent were the men who should have been buried among them.

A crash and the sound of breaking glass sent Star bounding upstairs where the curtains at the bedroom window were blowing furiously into the room. The delicate vase Ricki had given her soon after Grant was killed lay shattered on the floor in front of the dresser.

Star quickly shut the window against the wind and thought, "I wish I hadn't fixed this window so it would open all the way." She stood looking through the rippled window pane as tumbleweeds blew across the yard, and the wind continued to whip around the house in lusty gusts.

"Couldn't be a more perfect day to write of ghosts from the past," Star mused as she swept up the remains of the vase.

The tinkle of the bell on the front door alerted Star that a customer had entered the shop. "Hi, Blanch, I'm surprised you ventured out on such a blustery day, but it's good to see you," Star greeted this tall, thin woman, who reminded her of a cartoon character with angular body parts and sharp facial features. Her long thin, silvery-blond hair draped so straight down her back, it looked as if it had been ironed. She spoke in a low husky voice from years of smoking, but she'd given up the habit several years ago when she'd accidentally burned a big hole in a stack of autopsy reports while working at the sheriff's office.

Blanch preferred clothing from the past, and today she wore an outfit right out of the 1960's. Her flared jeans over short boots, topped by a draw-sting embroidered blouse with billowing sleeves finished at her wrists with elastic brought to mind the way folk artists of that era had dressed. From outward appearances, a stranger wouldn't have a clue Blanch had a very creative side, and she never failed to surprise Star with some bit of information about herself she never would have guessed. Once she had casually mentioned she wrote music for the organ in addition to working night shift at the sheriff's office as a dispatcher. Surprisingly, some of her music had been published. The day Blanch mentioned this, Star had stood sputtering with an inability to form words to respond to this unexpected revelation.

"I know, it's crazy of me to be out in this weather, isn't it?" Blanch said. "But I wanted to give you a message from our agent. He's changed his phone number and email address because some of his on-line accounts were hacked. Since he's buried trying to sort things out, he asked me to pass on his new information to you. He tells me you're working on a new book."

"Yes, yes I am. In fact I'm just now putting the first chapter to bed."

"What's it about?" Blanch said handing Star a file card with the agent's information jotted on it.

"At this stage, it could go in several directions. I've been fascinated by a fenced cemetery plot up behind the church. Does the family name Storm mean anything to you?" Star asked.

"Not really, but then I've never been much of a history buff. The person you really need to ask is my mother," Blanch suggested.

"Forgive me, Blanch, but I thought you weren't in touch with your Mom these days," Star said tentatively.

"No, that's okay. Of course, that used to be the case, but since my step-dad died, we've made peace with each other. I've been spending quite a bit of time with her lately. You know she's fairly frail at 96, and her heart isn't in great shape. I worry a bit about her living alone."

"Are you serious about her being willing to talk about the old days? I wouldn't want to intrude, especially if she isn't well," Star said while hoping Blanch's offer would stand. At 96 she would probably be familiar with the background of many of the people up on the hill.

"I appreciate that, Star. Why don't you let me talk with her and see if she's willing to spend some time with you? I'm almost sure she'll be eager to see you. She's quite lonely since my step-dad passed away."

"That would be so sweet of you, Blanch. I'm really intrigued by the graves in that particular plot since all of the headstones indicate women are buried there. Not one man lies buried among them. All the markers show the family name Storm, the same as the name on the iron gate," Star told her.

"That is strange. I can't think why that would be. It sounds like a mystery worth investigating. Since I've been over at Mom's house so much lately, I've been trying to clean out an accumulation of stuff up in the attic. I'm afraid it might catch fire since it gets so hot up there in the summer. Anyway, there are some posters in the attic you might be interested in seeing. I asked Mom about them, but she says she doesn't want to go through any of that stuff."

"Honestly, I'm not sure where to begin researching for the book, but if you find anything in the attic about the Storm family, I'd love to see it. This first chapter details a bit of Mineral City's rowdy past and the rugged landscape surrounding it. I've also included a bit about Bobby Flint and company as a bridge of sorts from the first novel. I'm just ready to start writing something about the Storm family. Your suggestion to interview your mother couldn't have come at a better time."

"You'll want to check with the pastor up at the church as well. I think they keep a register with information about each grave in the graveyard," Blanch told her. "Walt might even have something to add to your research. His family goes back years in this area."

"Sure, that makes sense. When I wrote A Train Robber's Tale, I had Patsy's diary to guide me, so I haven't had to dig much for background information before this. Now, I'm getting kind of excited about rolling up my sleeves and digging into the history of this place," Star told her.

"Speaking of sleeves," Blanch said. "Do you have any of those pretty peasant blouses with the cap sleeves that were so popular back in the sixties? I'm not sure why, but I'm so drawn to all those old hippie styles."

Star and Blanch spent the next hour chatting about their adventures in publishing while unpacking some clothes just in from an estate sale Star recently attended over in Tucson. Blanch spoke about her latest successes writing music, and Star mentioned how much the advance on her next book would help her acquire more antiques for Arrowstar.

Blanch frequented Arrowstar quite often to check out any new retro-clothing Star might have run across. Definitely an odd bird, Blanch preferred her eccentric clothing for personal reasons. She used the way she dressed as an atonement of sorts for moving out of her mother's and step-father's home at an early age. The rift developed over Blanch using her musical abilities to play the organ at the church. Her parents practiced some sort of religious prohibition of music that Blanch just couldn't embrace. She felt she had shamed her parents by disobeying them, so she made a vow never to wear anything new.

When they didn't come up with any peasant blouses Star said, "Why don't you check with Ricki over at Second Thyme Around? She often takes second-hand clothing into her store."

"Oh, I didn't know she had opened the store again since the baby."

"Just opened again this week," Star told her. "The baby's three months old now."

"No kidding! I can't believe it. Jim and Ricki are so lucky to have such a sweet baby girl. It doesn't seem like three months since I saw her in the hospital right after she was born," Blanch said.

"She brings the baby to the store every day, so you'll probably get to see her while you're there. I run over there a few minutes just about every day to hold her. She's quite the little lady, and Ricki and Jim are just thrilled with her."

"I'll let you know when Mother feels like talking with you," Blanch said as she took the back way out through Star's kitchen door.

"Thanks, Blanch," Star said. "I really hope that works out. Please let her know how much I'm looking forward to talking with her. Oh, and bring those posters by the shop when you get a chance. I'd be glad to take a look at them."

Star stood at the screen door and watched as Blanch cut across Carla's restaurant parking lot to Ricki's store. She remembered how Ricki helped her move into Arrowstar Antiques when she first arrived in Mineral City following the death of her husband back East. Since then Ricki had become one of Star's best friends along with Kat Abbi and Carla Rojas.

Kat owned and managed a horse ranch with the help of a foreman and a few hands on the outskirts of Mineral City, and Carla owned and operated the Bar and Grill next door to Arrowstar. The women came together to support Star following a mine cave-in that swallowed up and devoured Star's boyfriend, Grant Cobb. The foursome continued to support each other through life's rough spots and celebrated each other's successes as well. The publication of Star's first historical fiction novel, A Train Robber's Tale proved to be just such an occasion for celebration.

It wasn't long after that, on New Year's Eve, when Ricki Wade, Sheriff Vince Wade's daughter, became Mrs. Jim Kane, prompting yet another celebration. As Star saw the door at Ricki's bang shut behind Blanch, she wondered if Ricki had heard any more about her Dad's final retirement date and the arrival of the new sheriff.

The small town gossip about what the new guy might do to shake up the status quo had been non-stop since Vince announced his retirement. It quickly became apparent no candidates had filed in time to run in the upcoming election, so someone would be appointed. The very real possibility of an outsider becoming sheriff evidently unsettled a good majority of the 1600 people who populated Mineral City.

Star's acceptance into this tight-knit community proved a bit difficult when she first arrived, and she wondered how long it might be before the new guy would be thought of as one of the tribe. All in all, she was glad to have performed the good deed of averting a fire at the church that seemed to help the town embrace her. Now if she could just get this new book written and published maybe, just maybe, she could continue to keep Arrowstar Antiques afloat even though the odds were so against her in this out-of-the way corner of Arizona.

As a way of proving to herself that she really would stay in Mineral City, she'd planted an herb garden out back using a wagon wheel she'd picked up at Dan's filling station up on Tyler Spring Pike. Dan had traded her for old license plates she picked up at estate sales and passed on to him. She was fairly sure, if someone took down all the plates Dan had tacked to his walls over the years, the whole place would fall apart. There was hardly a bare spot left for the last batch of plates she'd delivered up there.

Carla from the bar and grill next door came over frequently to pick fresh herbs from between the spokes of the old wagon wheel to use in cooking at her restaurant. It had seemed to Star like she was putting down roots when those herbs started to come up and thrive. It made her feel connected to the earth under her feet, and she considered it a symbol of her determination to make a go of things.

She wanted to feel like she belonged here, and part of that longing had prompted her to learn to ride horseback. And, although she'd not shared her secret desire with anyone, she wanted someday to own a horse. How she would work out the logistics of such a thing eluded her, but she enjoyed keeping that dream alive in the back of her mind.

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