Chapter Fourteen

We took thelong way back to our vehicles by going around the barn.

On the far side, double doors in the lean-to attachment to the barn were open, revealing racks of saddles, harness, bridles, and other horse equipment.

Okay, not the technical name. My riding, which was nonexistent when I arrived in Cottonwood County, had improved under the combined tutelage of Tom and Tamantha sufficiently that I'd graduated from a sweetly sluggish creature named Babe to my Christmas present of Slinger. Also sweet, but not sluggish.

My knowledge of horse paraphernalia still lagged.

Wendy came into view from the left.

She frowned at us. "Oh, it's you."

Impossible to deny that.

"Suppose Brenda's been bending your ear. It's what she's best at. All about how she's lived here so long. Doesn't make her the owner. I am. And she has no right to complain. Her family had a ranch. They sold it."

Remembering Brenda said her parents died in a crash, that seemed harsh. I'd heard a lot of harsh from a lot of people over the years and I was confident I didn't betray any reaction. Diana's face was obscured by the camera and she kept her reactions professionally under wraps. So, perhaps Wendy's conscience prompted the next words.

"Well, people sold it for her after her parents died. And I guess you could say that was understandable because she wasn't that old, not nearly old enough to run a place — if she ever could have been. But that doesn't mean she gets to come to this ranch and think it belongs to her.

"Besides, I earned this place. I worked, I learned, then I ran the place well before it was mine. And in the end, I cared for Uncle Chester. Me. Not some high-priced facility like my brothers put our father, then our mother in. I washed him and changed him and fed him, and put up with—. He was a disgusting old man. And being my uncle, too."

"You mean—"

"No. There was never sex. No." She pulled back from a near-shout. "He groped me. Hands on my bust. Tried it all the time. Trying to feed him or whatever and there those hands would be. All over. Had to slap them away. Wasn't until the last couple days he was too weak to do much about it that it got easier. So, yes, I earned it. This ranch is mine."

"What about your brothers? Do they have any part in ownership—"

"No. I said. It's mine."

"Do they visit or—?"

"No. They don't ask and I don't invite them. It's too real, too rough for them. They have what they want around Jackson. Pretend they're in the real west by looking out their windows at the mountains while they're lifting their little fingers to drink tea or shove a little ball around an indoor putting green. Never get their hands dirty, never put their backs into it."

With that she turned her back to us, prepared to get her hands dirty. Dirtier.

****

As we drovetoward Sherman in our separate vehicles, Diana and I agreed we'd stop for lunch on the west side of town.

There we set out a plan for the rest of the afternoon, with messages to Mike and Jennifer for a conversation later. It would have to wrap up in time for me to pick up Tamantha — not after classes ended, but later, because she always had something extra going on.

That left a chunk of time now.

Jennifer sent back a message saying the Kenyons were staying at the BB. Perfect timing.

A few phone calls set up our fortunate first stop. The second one would be made with no warning.

I won the next battle, so we left the NewsMobile at KWMT's parking lot and Diana got into my SUV.

****

Our first stopwas fortunate because our first phone call identified who we needed to talk to and the second informed us where he was right now.

Our quarry was one of the county's few full-time fire district employees. If it weren't for volunteer firefighters, this county would be an ash pit. And he was at the fire department offices, the next door down from the sheriff's department.

We wanted him not because he served the fire department, but because he volunteered for the all-volunteer search and rescue group. He'd led the group that went to Elk Rock Ranch to bring in Robin Kenyon last year.

We were doubly fortunate because he wasn't at the sheriff's department, which oversees the search and rescue group, and thus potentially under Shelton's ever-watchful eyes.

As it was, Diana and I looked around for any sign of Shelton before parking in their shared lot and walking with dispatch past the sheriff's department.

Miller Fernard had an impressive mustache and salt-and-pepper hair. He made me think of my grandfather's expression that someone was as brown and tough as a nut.

We told him we were doing the piece on Keefer Dobey and wanted to include Robin's accident and his response — both true. He immediately agreed, saying Keefe deserved it and the search and rescue group could use the mention and possible donations.

We got plenty of good footage on those topics.

Not until the end, with Diana occupying far more time than usual in putting away her equipment, did I bring the conversation to Robin Kenyon's reaction.

"We were warned going up that she could be a handful. But she was quiet as could be. Although by that time, she had to be in a lot of pain," he said.

"Adrenaline worn off by then," I suggested.

"Yup. Along with a bunch of other chemicals your body pumps out trying to protect you — sending more blood here, less blood there, heightening some nerve-endings, speeding up the brain. Gets a lot of people through that first stretch. Then those chemicals start ebbing away and that's when the fun really starts." His voice went dry. "That's often about the time we show up. Was the case for her, for sure. Even when we resplinted her, she held on. And the trip down was no pool slide, unless your slide's made out of rocks. But she held it together. Pretty impressive, really."

"Did she talk at all?"

"Not much. She did say thank you. And she wanted us to thank Keefe." His brows quirked slightly. "And Suzie Q, Keefe's dog."

****

A red door,white trim, and dark gray roof set off the Wild Horses Bed and Breakfast's light gray siding.

We skipped the red front door for the back door, where we knocked lightly. If a guest was in a public area, coming in this way made it easier to catch them unaware... if anyone was back here and willing to let us in.

Krista Seger, the owner along with her somewhat-but-how-much-estranged husband, was there in the kitchen and did let us in. Though her feeling of indebtedness to us for previous consideration might be wearing thin, considering her slight eye-roll.

Still, she let us in and murmured, "Front room."

She didn't look up from placing some sort of dough in pans, presumably for the next day's breakfast. Judging by other prepared pans it had lots of cinnamon. I might find a reason to return tomorrow to see if there were leftovers.

Randall Kenyon also didn't look up immediately when we entered the sunroom. His lowered chin tucked under the upper fold of the neckerchief he still wore, reestablishing the masked-outlaw vibe.

Eventually recognizing that ignoring didn't make the new arrivals go away, he looked up.

I smiled warmly. He did not. "I'm not talking to you."

It was presumptuous of Randall Kenyon to assume we'd come to see him. True, but presumptuous.

"We come in peace."

"No camera," Diana added, showing both her hands.

Both of our phones were recording, however. Mine with a tiny mic outside of the coat pocket that held the phone.

"We've heard about your daughter's experience at Elk Rock Ranch last year. We'd like your view on it."

Robin seemed to view it as... beneficial. But a parent could easily get hung up on the damage and pain she went through. And pain and suffering could trip off the tongue of anyone passably familiar with the civil court system, which I would suspect Randall was.

"Did you have any issue with Keefer or—?"

"Keefer Dobey was the hero. He took care of Robin."

Okay, but he could still hold Keefe accountable for the accident in the first place. Especially if the staccato delivery of those sentiments about Keefe as a hero translated to resentment, anger, or something else negative.

"Did you consider suing?"

"Suing? Hell, no. Gave the guy that DNA test, didn't I? Or Robin did."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why? Because he wanted to take one. As for me, I wanted to buy the place. Still want to buy it, even with Keefe gone. Though I really wish — No use wishing. No Keefer Dobey. That means the loss of a major asset—"

Not the most sentimental way to view a man, especially a murdered man.

"—but I still want Elk Rock Ranch."

"Why?" He did not strike me as someone with youthful cowboy dreams.

"Isn't it obvious? Well maybe it isn't to you." We'd been dissed and dismissed. "For starters, I'd get every friend, neighbor, colleague, and acquaintance back home to send their kids here. And that's without taking it to the next level with investors and professional management. We could make a fortune. And help those kids," he added belatedly.

He had not told that to Wendy or Brenda. He'd have been met with pitchforks if not shotguns.

"What makes you think that could work?"

"Robin. She came back from that place a completely changed person. It was like I sent off a spoiled six-year-old with a platinum credit card and no judgment and got back an adult who could look beyond herself. It was miraculous. Of course I want to buy the place."

"Not such a miracle for Keefe," I said slowly.

"What does that mean?"

I didn't back down from his belligerence, but didn't escalate, either.

"You showed up at the ranch, wanting to buy the place and he was dead that night. Unless that wasn't your first day in Cottonwood County."

An impatient shoulder hitch indicated it was, but it didn't matter — to him.

Half my mind had already taken another tack.

Considering the emotions from Brenda and Wendy — and Keefer, maybe? — it might have made more sense the other way around, that Randall showed up wanting to buy Elk Rock Ranch and he was dead a short time later.

Shot by Keefe? That might be a stretch from what we'd heard of him, though he clearly was protective of the place. And by that, I don't mean just the acreage of the ranch, but the wildness around it, its unique nature.

Maybe you feel that way about wherever you grow up if you really connected with the surroundings. I know I felt something chest-expanding when I saw the open fields and rich soil of Illinois. I'd heard others say it of swamps, of coasts, of mountains. Some visceral connection between human and non-human. Maybe that's why they said a baby had to eat a peck of dirt — not only to up the immune system, but to seal that bond with the earth they came from.

So, I could stretch my impression of Keefer Dobey to switch the outcome and include his shooting someone three times in the head to protect what he loved. Barely.

As for Brenda and Wendy?

No stretch required.

But that was all theoretical with Randall Kenyon sitting in front of me, very much alive.

"Coincidences happen," he said.

"Homicide detectives often say there's no such thing as coincidence."

"Bull."

Did he really think that overrode the truism of experienced homicide investigators?

Yeah, he did.

He was wrong, but that's what he thought.

I wondered how much his failure to see reality contributed to his success in business. It could make someone just keep plowing ahead.

On the other side, what did that approach do for — or to — relationships?

"You said you gave Keefe a DNA test because he wanted to take one. Do you know why?"

He looked at me like I was an idiot.

"Didn't matter why. He told Robin all about it while they were up there communing. She got the idea, and we did it. Thought it was the best company, considered investing in it, but HelixKin's taking way longer than they should have. So much for them getting my investment dollars." Abruptly, he shouted, "Hey! Karen, Kathy, Kirsten, whatever your name is."

Krista appeared at the doorway behind us.

"I have a business call. I'm going upstairs. See that I'm not disturbed," he added with a stern look at Krista and a glare for Diana and me.