After the short service and the burial in the Gunderson Cemetery, we headed to the ranch. The women congregated in the house; the men milled outside. I alternated between hovering over Hope and waiting for Estelle to show up.
I watched Kathy Lohstroh rip off a chunk of plastic wrap and cover a pan of pumpkin bars. She gave me a sympathetic half smile and set about tidying the kitchen.
After she joined the throng of women in the living room, I grabbed the flask I’d stashed in the junk drawer. I’d just poured a generous splash of self-medicating goodness into my coffee when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around guiltily.
Hope’s loser boyfriend, Theo, said, “There are some guys outside who want to talk to you.”
“I’ll be right there.” I assumed more offers of condolences. I drained the coffee and stepped into the late-afternoon heat.
Never assume. Two shiny matching Chevy pickups parked in the middle of the yard blocked in a half-dozen cars. Several men dressed in black pseudo-fatigues leaned up against the pickup’s side panels, talking in low voices and pointing to the area past the barns.
Not locals. Hunters? We had a great number of guys-local and out-of-staters-who stopped at the house for permission to hunt on our land. Dad usually said yes if they asked. But if we caught people hunting on Gunderson land without permission? I’d learned the “shoot first” philosophy straight from the horse’s mouth-good old Dad.
The men straightened up as I approached. “Is there something I can do for you guys?”
The bulky guy with a buzz cut-no doubt a former soldier-stepped forward. “Hi, Miz Gunderson. I’m Richard Amiotte.”
I frowned. His name sounded familiar.
“We’ve been playing phone tag. I’m with the Swamp Rats Investment Group in Florida? We’ve been trying to set up a time to check out this property. We were on our way through from a fishing trip in Canada, and were in the area looking at other properties and thought we’d stop by.”
“Sorry, Richard, we’ve been dealing with some family issues in the last few days-”
“Sorry to hear that. Unfortunately, we are pressed for time, so we understand if you’ll just want to do a quick overview.”
“Excuse me? An overview of what?”
His gaze narrowed on the cars and trucks, the men dressed in western suits. Finally back on me in my little black dress. “Is this an auction? You already sell this place?”
“That’s hard to do when it isn’t even listed.”
His face relaxed. “Then what’s the problem with letting us take a look around?”
A crowd had gathered behind me. Before I could answer, Theo said, “What would it hurt, Mercy? Whoever he is, he might make a better offer than Kit McIntyre’s group.”
How did the pompous asshole know about Kit’s offer? I whirled on him. “What would it hurt? We buried my nephew today, you moron.”
Theo turned beet red. Then he glared at me as he brushed past and headed back into the house.
“We don’t need a guided tour,” Richard said quickly. “We can get all the information we need just by a drive-through.”
“Not possible. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.”
Another man, around sixty, tanned, his hair bleached from the sun, and dressed for an afternoon on a sailboat, sidled up beside Richard. “What’s the problem? We contacted you weeks ago about purchasing this tract of land here in the Dakotas.”
Several ranchers behind me snickered. The Dakotas. Didn’t this southern-fried idiot realize North and South Dakota had been recognized as separate states since 1889? Probably pointless to mention that the Gunderson Ranch had been in my family since the 1890s.
I paused, giving him a moment to rethink his stupid, smarmy statement. He didn’t. He merely stared at me. Dared me. Creeped me out to the max.
Too bad these guys hadn’t listened to their damn voice mail. I’d left them a message renouncing my intention to sell, or to consider their offer. “There’s been some misunderstanding. The Gunderson Ranch is not for sale. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave immediately.”
“But-”
“I’m not asking again.”
Murmured conversation began behind me. The rumor mill would run rampant in Eagle River County in another hour. My neighbors figured the conversation was over. They dispersed, leaving me alone with these gate-crashers.
The other men with Richard climbed in their trucks. I watched until their pickups were a red blight on the landscape and then gone.
After the Swamp Rats scurried away, I snuck into the house. My black satin heels were scuffed from the rocks, caked with dust, and completely ruined. No wonder I never wore girly shoes.
In my bedroom I changed into worn boots and jeans, carefully placing the flannel-wrapped bundle inside my right boot. Downstairs I made nice with our neighbors for the next couple of hours. Hope seemed to appreciate me sticking around.
When I’d endured my limit of politely restrained conversation, I wandered outside. Leaning against the weathered fence, I wrapped my hands around the rail and propped my foot on the bottom rung.
Some of the cattle wandered in from the pasture and circled the stock tanks. The calves were getting big. A few brave babies even ventured away from their mothers. We weren’t running a full herd. It didn’t make sense to lay out that kind of money for stock upkeep when the ranch’s future was up in the air.
I closed my eyes. Even the blistering rays from the sun didn’t burn away the cold reality of saying good-bye to Levi. Tears dripped down my face as I listened to swishing tails, buzzing flies, the sucking sound of hooves caught in the muck, and the occasional disgruntled moo.
Lost in sorrow and misery, I jumped when “Mercy?” sounded behind me.
I whirled around and saw Estelle Yellow Boy.
“Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Estelle crossed her arms and set them on top of the fence. “Sophie said I’d find you out here.”
“A lot more peaceful than in the house.”
“I’ve always liked this time of day. Too hot for most folks.”
Two calves frolicked by the fence connected to the barn.
“Sorry about Levi. He was a good friend to Albert.”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t.
“I can’t stay long. Paul thinks I’m working late because I took time off to go to Levi’s funeral earlier.” She turned and looked at me. “It was a nice service. Considering.”
It saddened me that more of Levi’s friends hadn’t shown up.
“Here’s the list you asked for.” Estelle slid a piece of rose-colored stationery from the pocket of her skirt. “This should be enough to get ya started.”
“Good.” I rolled up my jeans and removed the package containing the necklace and handed it back to her. “Thank you, but I can’t take this.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t need a financial incentive to do what’s right, Estelle.”
Her eyes darkened with skepticism. She held her tongue for a minute. “And what are you gonna do if you figure out who done this to Levi and my boy?”
“I’m not sure.” What a lie. I’d do what I do best: kill. I doubted the predator instinct that defined my life resided in Estelle. I wouldn’t lose sleep over vengeance. She would. Whether or not she understood, carrying out revenge was my burden to bear, not hers.
“Will you keep in touch with me?” she asked.
“You really want Paul to know what I’m-we’re-doing?”
Estelle shook her head. Without another word she left.
I remained in the great outdoors as the sun expanded to a fat orange ball and the clouds puffed out to pastel waves on the never-ending blue horizon.
Jake meandered over from the barn, Shoonga on his boot heels. He didn’t make eye contact with me. Not surprisingly, he stayed a good distance from me, too.