Epilogue

Before Shelton couldmake the arrest, Wendy Barlow was gone.

It was not a happy time at the Cottonwood County Sheriff's Department.

Think the deepest, darkest cloud blotting out the spring sun. In the case of Shelton, whose cloud was deeper and darker than all the rest, a cloud quite close to the ground, too.

Think multiple bears, each with a huge thorn in its paw, taking it out on humanity. Especially the portion of humanity known as the local media. Despite several representatives of said media being the reason the sheriff's department even knew there was an arrest they wanted to make.

I wondered how Diana was faring with Russ. When I raised one eyebrow in a sympathetic How's it going? query, she shook her head in a clear, Don't ask.

The Cottonwood County Sheriff's Department received the official report from the HelixKin test.

It was nice to have the official confirmation.

Keefe was Wendy's uncle's son.

More than official confirmation, though, it was about gloating that we'd gotten there before them and without needing no stinkin' confirmation from no stinkin' corporation.

But gloating very, very subtly.

One of the best things about dealing with Sergeant Wayne Shelton was he picked up on the subtleties.

Then word came that Wendy Barlow, a member of the wealthy Barlow family of Connecticut, had been reported dead outside Jackson.

"When they bother to say somebody's wealthy around there, you know they're loaded," muttered Leona.

The local Jackson media said she'd been visiting her oldest brother, who owned a "cabin" there — those Jackson-area cabins are equivalent to the Newport, Rhode Island, "cottages" of the Gilded Age.

Interesting that after the things Wendy said about her brothers, she ran to one of them.

Maybe she had nowhere else to go. Maybe she didn't know what she intended to do, she just ran. But I also remembered her reaction after being questioned at the sheriff's department and her vehemence that she would never be in a situation like that again.

So maybe she did know what she intended to do, but didn't want to do it at Elk Rock Ranch.

The account that came to us was she went for a hike and when she didn't return at the expected time, the family and staff mounted a search. The next day, her body was found off the trail, as if she might have fallen.

Only then did they call authorities.

The Shelton cloud turned into a volcanic eruption.

I happened to meander over to the sheriff's department after that report came in — covering the distance from KWMT at Diana-like speeds.

So I was there to hear eruptions of steaming lava from behind closed doors that barely tamped the volume.

In this mode, Shelton was not above questioning the ethics and intelligence of his fellow law enforcement professionals.

That's how I learned Wendy had a bullet hole in the head. A contact wound. But law enforcement for that small, billionaire-dense enclave was not pursuing an investigation. They were satisfied with the fell-while-hiking explanation, which let the family avoid the pesky matter of her being accused of murder in Cottonwood County.

Russ Conrad, as sheriff, and Jarvis Abbott, as county attorney, took it up with their counterparts. No one expected any change in the case's status.

It wasn't justice. The perpetrator deciding on her punishment is not justice.

It was an ending.

But not one we liked for a special on the investigation.

****

We were stilldiscussing special or no special when I took another trip to the McCrackens'.

He had been riding with his kids and wife. They were all smiling. The kids volunteered to take care of his horse, so he could talk to me. They were in the stage of horse fandom where even cleaning out stalls seemed exotic, much less unsaddling and rubbing down their mounts.

"Was Keefe descended from the Virtanens?" he asked first.

I considered it a good sign that he didn't ask about the treasure first.

I explained that unless someone did or paid for a whole lot of family tree research, that would remain unknown, but that it didn't seem any more likely that Keefe was than he was.

The few things Ulla said that Keefe had interpreted as possibly connecting him to the Virtanens had been about Chester and the Barlows.

I shared the material from the dissertation saying no one knew Pearl's whereabouts — without any of my speculation about its author's origins. That left for last the news about the original newspaper interview with the Oscar Virtanen posse member and what it said.

I left Sam to voice the conclusions.

"If Oscar and Pearl had a prearranged drop spot, she got the money and left with their baby. I'd thought Elk Rock Ranch made sense as a burial site because it was their land, but that also makes it more likely she knew where he'd put it. If they didn't have a prearranged drop spot, it's back to being anywhere between where the robbery took place and where they captured him."

"Unless someone found it in the past century."

He winced, but I thought that was from habit. "Guess I'll have to wait until the museum lets people look at the original article."

"It could be a while."

He looked toward his office, jam-packed with all that treasure research, all those clues, then over toward the barn, where the voices of his family could be heard as they tended to the horses.

"That's okay."

****

We had allthat material on Pearl and Oscar, on Butch Cassidy and friends.

In coverage of Keefer Dobey's murder, we ended up mentioning it only in connection with what sparked the gift of a DNA test.

Much of the rest would never make it on-air. The vast majority of our listeners already knew a lot of it — it was news to me, not them.

But Nala and I did put together an in-house piece on the history of Wild West outlaws as it connected to Cottonwood County, which really narrowed the scope. It was for the newcomers who'd be coming to KWMT-TV from all over, starting with Octavia Zabel of Pittsburgh.

Hard to tell who was more excited about that impending arrival — Mike or Leona.

Nala was also doing a three-part piece for on-air about Oscar and Pearl Virtanen to run on the anniversaries of their major robberies, with their connections to this area highlighted in between.

As for Keefe's murder, we did not do a special on the investigation. Instead, we went back to our purported project and ran a shorter piece on Keefer Dobey, a character formed by and representative of Cottonwood County.

Nala got some great memories of him from former seasonal workers and long-time dude ranch guests. Longer versions aired on the station's website.

Robin taped one of those and held off her tears until the very end, which made it even stronger.

****

Clara found theoriginal of the article from Keefe's nutmeg tin in one of the boxes still at Teague's property. A box not yet scheduled to be assessed by her or Mrs. Parens.

Clearly, Keefe had searched well beyond the boxes he moved.

I told her to give Shelton a copy, as an "i" for him to dot. Better it came from her than me or my cohorts. More eruptions couldn't be good for him.

I also took another run at Mrs. Parens.

With the two of us in Clara's museum office before they had a work session, I asked bluntly, "Do you think Esther Ramalarga was Etta Place—"

Her lips parted and I quickly amended my question.

"Do you think she was the woman the Pinkerton wanted posters called Etta Place?"

She paused. Long enough for me to accept she wasn't going to answer and consider what to ask next.

"I do not know."

My surprise must have shown, because she said more strongly, "I do not know," though my surprise was for her answering at all.

"Even had I asked her, how could I or anyone know for a certainty the full truth? As it was, I did not ask her. I knew her as an excellent teacher who was wise and kind to me at the time I most needed wisdom and kindness. When she died, a letter instructed me and her legal representative—"

"One of the Longbaughs?"

She declined her head in a slow nod. "—to send her remains to a family in Pennsylvania. She wrote that they knew her wishes."

We looked at each other a long moment before I said, slowly, "The Sundance Kid's family — Harry Longabaugh's family — came from Pennsylvania."

Another slow nod.

"But I suppose a lot of people did." Including James Longbaugh's ancestors.

"Indeed."

****

"...so Mrs. P doesn't know," I told Tom that evening. "Not if Etta Place survived, not if her friend and mentor was really Etta Place. How's that for a twist? There's something Mrs. P doesn't know."

"But you think she did survive, even if she didn't end up in Cottonwood County."

He took my silence as an answer. Smart man.

"Any evidence?" he asked.

"Great. Mr. Believe-in-Everybody wants evidence? For starters, there's no confirmation they're buried in Bolivia. Friends and family of Butch said he visited in the 1920s or 30s. And I find it interesting that Etta disappeared from the record."

"Could've died."

"Or not," I shot back. "There's also the fact that Esther Ramalarga wrote her dissertation on Oscar and Pearl Virtanen, with information and detail that can't be confirmed by records still in existence now."

"Things do get lost over time."

"And that she said so clearly that there was no evidence of what happened to Pearl. Along with no mention of a baby. Feels like complete misdirection."

"You do know, even if you're right about Etta living out her days in Cottonwood County, even if Pearl and her baby rode off into the sunset, even if those friends and family were right about Butch visiting them back then or Sundance became a rancher, they all were long dead before we were born."

"That's not the point. They would have had long, full lives — that's the point. You know how you feel when you walk through an old cemetery, see the stone for someone who died in their seventies or eighties compared to how you feel if you see one for a child?"

"Can't remember last time I walked through a cemetery, old or otherwise. But I'm looking forward to you walking down the aisle to me."

I grimaced at him.

He kissed me.

Unexpectedly, he said, "I know you're not enthusiastic about the wedding. You going along has me looking forward even more to marrying you, Elizabeth Margaret Danniher."

"Considering your first wife was ready to have you convicted of murder, that's not a high bar for me."

He chuckled. "Beyond that..." His eyes went a bit unfocused a moment, then he came back to me. "First time I'm marrying for love."

This time, I kissed him.

"When's dinner?" Tamantha called from her room.

****

With Tom's armaround me, I leaned into him as we sat on the sofa, watching the dogs sleeping side by side in front of the fireplace again, even though there was no fire in it this time.

It was cold enough.

There just hadn't been time with getting dinner, listening to Tamantha's rehearsal for the talk she was giving in class the next day, then getting her to bed.

We'd be following before long, but this was a nice breather.

Except it recalled an unresolved situation.

"Maybe she could adjust." I used the pronoun to not disturb the canine sleepers, certain Tom's thoughts were on the same track.

It only worked halfway. Shadow's ears twitched around to us.

Tom said, "She's a ranch dog — a dude ranch dog, granted, but she wouldn't be happy in town."

"You have a ranch."

Yeah, we'd agreed it wouldn't work, but with the dogs lying together by the hearth...

I felt Tom's grin, then sat up to see it. "We have a ranch. But I spend more time in town than would work for her. Wouldn't feel right leaving her on her own at the ranch when I'm here."

I dropped my head on his shoulder, acknowledging the validity of his position.

Then I popped back up.

"What?" he asked.

"I just remembered something Penny said."

"Penny at the supermarket?"

"Is there any other?"

He appeared struck by the point. "Can't think of one. Certainly not one comparable. What did she say?"

"Something about people I talked to when Deputy Redus went missing."

****

I pulled intothe open area of the Johnsons' property — called a ranchette around here because the modest acreage was less than the size of a county back east.

I'd opted not to let Tom or any of the other volunteers come with me, to avoid putting undo pressure on the Johnsons.

I had not, however, come alone.

After following the protocol of beeping my horn to let humans and animals know of an arrival, I got out. No animal greeted me, but I was aware of movement inside the small, tidy house.

Suzie Q gave me a miffed look when I hooked the leash on her, but I ignored that. No way was I risking her running off and ruining this meeting.

"E.M. Danniher," Roger Johnson Senior greeted me — far more friendly than the first time I'd come here. This time the bib overalls on his portly frame were topped with a jacket. It was, after all, spring in Wyoming.

"Please, call me Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth," he conceded with a slight smile. The smile was mostly for Suzie Q at my side. "What can we do for you?"

His wife, Myrna, appeared at the door behind him. "We can start by inviting her in, Roger."

That was a decided turnaround from my first visit, too, when she'd run me off. Politely, but unmistakably.

"Thank you. And is it okay for Suzie Q—?"

"Of course," she said warmly, though I caught the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes as they led me to a comfortable room at the back. They gestured me to a loveseat, while they each occupied one of the chairs paired in front of the fireplace and with the best view of the TV.

I didn't beat around the bush. "I know you lost your family dog recently. I'm very sorry to hear that." A memory of that black and beige dog waiting for the son who never returned lumped my throat.

It might have shown. Myrna muttered a thanks. Roger Senior cleared his throat — not in preparation to speak.

"This is Suzie Q," I said.

She lifted her head at her name and looked from me to each of them.

"I thought your dog was named Shadow," Myrna said.

It still surprised me what people around here knew about me — and everyone else. I suppose knowing my dog's name, though, wasn't unexpected. Especially not since he'd appeared in a couple of the specials we'd done for KWMT-TV.

"He is. Suzie Q belonged to Keefer Dobey. She's been left alone in the world. She could maybe stay at the dude ranch, if the new owner agreed." I made that sound doubtful. "But even if she did, she wouldn't have anyone to look after her."

Or for her to look after.

I saw they understood that part, too, when they exchanged a look.

And she'd keep looking for someone who never came.

I didn't intend to bring that parallel to their attention.

"I hoped you might find it in your hearts to open your home to her."

I let her leash drop.

With exquisite timing, Suzie Q walked across the space to the spot where the front corners of their two chairs nearly met. She looked at each of them.

Myrna's hand trembled as she reached out to pet Suzie Q's head.

The dog licked her hand, turned partly around, sat on Myrna's feet, then rested her head on Roger Senior's knee.

Deal sealed.

****

Wendy had goneto one of her brothers, but the ranch didn't.

She had a will from several years ago, which left equal shares of the ranch to Brenda Mankin and Keefer Dobey. Since he predeceased Wendy, everything went to Brenda.

Considering the financial issues Wendy had faced, what with needing to sell her second place in Arizona and otherwise tightening her belt — by Barlow standards — that might not sound like the best deal for Brenda.

Speculation rose quickly that she would sell to Randall Kenyon.

Consternation rose even faster.

The tenor of the mildest comments was it was nice he wanted this for his daughter and maybe she really liked it here in Cottonwood County but, surely, he'd be a better fit in Jackson. The more astringent comments... Well, I hoped those didn't reach Randall.

Not out of concern for his tender feelings, but because he seemed the type to stick it out whether he wanted to or not, whether Robin wanted him to or not, just because he'd faced opposition.

But then Penny told me something surprising — okay, told might be misleading. She didn't come right out and say it, and her references to her and she could have connected as readily to the Queen of Sheba as to Brenda. But I'm pretty sure she meant Brenda Mankin.

Driving toward the ranch to check that out, I had a call from Scott Hoole in Cooke City.

He wanted to know more about how and why his friend died.

At the end, he sighed deeply.

"If Wendy had been better at reading people, she wouldn't have killed him, because she would have recognized Keefe never would have done anything to change Elk Rock Ranch. He could have inherited the entire thing and he would have left her not only in charge, but as owner."

"I've heard a rumor that the changes at Elk Rock might not be as extreme as some worried. I'm headed that way now."

He chuckled. "Don't let me hold you up."

****

"It's all mine,"was how Brenda greeted me, her grin even bigger than the wrinkles.

Randall and Robin stood nearby. Her words to me had interrupted something he was saying, fast and vehement.

I nodded to them, smiled back at her. "I heard the will left it to you, but will her family—?"

"Got in touch with that brother of hers who's running Wendy's estate and doesn't sound like there'll be any problems over the ranch." Her grin turned sly. "Don't know if he just wants to be rid of it, if he can't believe land outside of Jackson's worth anything, or if he's afraid I'll go after more of Wendy's estate, but he's not disputin' a thing. It's all mine."

"It's expensive to run a ranch," Randall said, "especially a dude ranch, and to upgrade—"

She blew out her lips at the idea of upgrading.

It didn't stop him. "You have no idea—"

"Only lived here most of my life."

"Wendy handled the finances," he shot back.

"There are a lot of expenses," I said to Brenda. "Have you talked to other ranchers? Maybe Tom—"

"Finally, someone talking sense," Randall butted in. "I'll get this place for you yet, Robin, it's—"

"You won't," Brenda stuck in.

But Randall's attention was on his daughter. Well, much of it. The rest was for himself.

"—not over. I'm not done."

A gracious response might have reassured him he hadn't failed her — because that's what he was really saying.

But maybe Robin knew gracious wouldn't work. "I don't want it. Not to own. I just want to come here. I don't have to own it to come." She looked to Brenda. "Can I come sometimes?"

"Sure, if you pay your way and behave yourself, not like last time." Brenda wasn't done. "And you need lessons on a couple horses in the corral before you're allowed to take any on the trail. First time you break the rules, you're out of the saddle. Can't risk any of the horses getting a neck broke because of you."

"That... That..." Randall sputtered.

Robin meekly said, "Okay." Leaving her father off-balance as she turned to him. "See, Dad. We can enjoy things without buying them. Without owning them."

Her father's reaction split down the middle between stunned pleasure that she'd called him Dad and stunned disbelief at her disavowing the perfection of owning.

The fact that the latter was only half of his reaction left me with a spurt of optimism that father and daughter might find each other, at least on some level.

"Last year, after I got hurt, and we were up there waiting, Keefe said we none of us owned any of this." She turned back to us. "I wouldn't go that far."

Relief that his daughter hadn't gone completely mad suffused Randall Kenyon's face.

"See, it's all working out great," Brenda said to me. She tipped her head. "Considering paying cash for supplies. Never did like how Wendy ran up debt each year"

"Cash?"

"I told you, Keefe knew he could come to me if he needed money."

She had told me that. I just hadn't thought she'd meant ranch-running money. More like going to McDonald's money.

"How...?" That much was out before considerations of privacy and nosiness reared up.

"Told you that, too. When my parents died, sold our place. There was an insurance policy, too. The Longbaughs — first his father and now James — took care of that. They put the money in a trust and had some financial people invest it. Nothing too risky. They showed me how if you let it be for long enough, it can grow and grow. Never needed any of it, with living and working here. So—" She lifted a shoulder. "—it grew and grew.

"James says he's got it set up to support me fine even if the ranch goes belly-up and I'm in one of those homes. I figure if the ranch is gone, it wouldn't matter to me where I am. Besides, that wouldn't be such a bad life. Sort of like being a guest here. Other people setting your schedule for activities and meals and such, but no worries, either."

"But with that much money, why did you stay here? Taking orders from Wendy when you could have gone anywhere?"

"She had Elk Rock Ranch. I couldn't leave here."

I'd thought at one point, that there'd been no love among the three solitary people living here year-round. But there had been.

Great loves.

Keefe's and Brenda's for the land, for the ranch. Wendy's, too. Though hers had twisted her.

"Have you to thank for one thing," Brenda said to me.

I expected it to be bringing the murderer of her friend to account.

"You talking about Scott Hoole made me give him a call. He's going to move from Cooke City to here on the ranch and get us special chefs to come. Maybe some classes with these real good cooks. That kind of thing. Plus, he's got experience hiring people, so he and James are going to find somebody to run the business side — do all that work, so I can do the fun stuff with keeping up with the animals and such."

Yeah, no work involved with that at all.

****

The wedding prepis almost completed cued up after Connie told Diana I didn't have a wedding dress yet.

Diana recruited Tom's sister, Jean-Marie, and Tamantha. If you think I had a choice about the shopping trip the next week, you've never met any of these females. We picked up Jean-Marie in Red Lodge, then drove on to Billings.

Jean-Marie strategized our trip, and she and Diana approached each store by dividing to conquer.

The dress was in the fourth store.

Until that point, I'd felt nearly extraneous. A mannequin to try on dress after dress.

I put that one on and we were done.

It's long-sleeved Mikado silk — the wedding's in June, but this is Wyoming — with a U back. One of those dresses people call deceptively simple.

I do love it.

I also loved that seeing me in it made Diana tear up, Jean-Marie grin and clasp a palm to her chest, and Tamantha's eyes widen and her mouth pop open as she said, "Wow."

I hoped the reaction would run in the family.

We'll find out in late June.

****

There's a memorialservice for Keefe planned for early June, after Elk Rock Ranch opens its season, with dedication of a bench and plaque to him on the property. It's going to be out on one of the more distant trails, where someone could sit alone and quiet, stare up to the sky and learn a few things.

****