“Out beyond the ideas of wrong doing and right doing, there is a field — I’ll meet you there.” - Rumi
There was no consoling Bentley, or myself for that matter. The inexplicable encounter in the field - the break between here and there, real and unreal, possible and impossible - had passed and left us both subdued and sad. We sat side-by-side and unmoving for several minutes as the world around us began to brighten. “Time to go, Bentley,” I finally said. ‘He’s not coming back.”
Our walk back to the tree house was silent and uneventful. The day was still deep in sleepy shadows when Nigel and Manuel suddenly appeared around a bend in the trail. “There you are!” Nigel exclaimed, hurrying forward to give me a hug. “I’m so glad we found you! We didn’t want to shout and call attention to ourselves.”
“Smart,” I said, releasing my hold on Bentley leash so he could go say hello to Manuel.
“I brought reinforcements,” Nigel added, gesturing towards Manuel who was busy fending off Bentley’s exuberant attempts to climb into his arms.
“Hello, Madison,” Manuel said. “I hear things have been a intense out here in the wild west.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I replied. He was, as always, impeccably dressed for the occasion, wearing spotless khaki shorts, a madras shirt, hiking boots, and thick socks up to his knees. He had a leather messenger bag with shiny brass buckles slung diagonally across his chest.
“That bad, huh?” he asked, taking in my disheveled hair, dirty clothes, and bare feet.
“You don’t know the half of it,” I said, feeling tears at the back of my throat.
“We know some,” Nigel said. “We talked to Anna last night.”
“Good. Did you reach Evan?” I asked, happy to change the subject.
“We tried,” Manuel said, “but he wasn’t at the number you left so we asked the guy who answered to take a message.”
“And Hamilton?”
“We got the lowdown there too, though not in time to pick up the surveillance equipment he recommended. But it sounds like he knows someone in town who can do the job.”
“We also brought food and clothes,” Nigel added. “We left it all up at the house.”
“How did it look?”
“The house? Fine. Buttoned up tight. The cats were a little cranky.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Manuel said, “but we need to talk about this morning.”
“This morning?” I asked.
“Can we talk as we walk?” Manuel suggested, gesturing back the way they’d come. “I don’t think we have a lot of time.”
“Sure, just let me grab my backpack and shoes out of the tree house,” I said. I climbed up the ladder, put on my shoes, and grabbed my pack. Then I climbed carefully back to the ground and fell into step between them. “Right, so where were we?”
“This morning’s events,” Manuel said. “We spent the night at a campground a few miles from the turn out. Then we got up before dawn so we’d be able to head your way as soon as there was enough light.”
“But when we got to the parking area this morning,” Nigel interjected, “there was a regular testosterone convention going on.”
“A what?” I asked.
“What Nigel is trying to say in his usual heterophobic way,” Manuel said, giving Nigel a stern look, “is that there were three groups of men in the parking area.”
“Including the police,” Nigel added.
“Stop! Wait! The police were there? Why?”
“As I said,” Manuel went on, “there were three groups of men - the police, six large, men carrying rifles, and a group of four bowhunters.”
“The big guys looked like clones,” Nigel said. “In addition to the rifles, they all wore belts loaded with nasty looking paraphernalia.”
“Yes, they were all dressed alike - pressed slacks, army boots, form fitting tees, and tactical belts,” Manuel agreed. “The logo on their shirts and the Suburban they were driving said, Secure Surveillance, Inc. When we got there the police were checking their IDs.”
“I’ve never heard of Secure Surveillance,” I said, “but that description fits the two guys I saw at the cabin.”
“There was a lot of hand shaking and back slapping while the police checked their IDs,” Nigel said. “Which wasn’t how they treated the third group.”
“Oh right you said there were bowhunters. Who were they?” I asked.
“There were four of them, all carrying recurve bows,” Manuel said. “They were dressed in camouflage gear that would make them almost invisible in the forest. They knew what they were doing.”
“They looked like Cherokee to me,” Nigel said.
“Agreed,” Manuel said. “I thought I recognized one of them from a trip I took to town with Evan once, but I was careful not to make eye contact.”
“So maybe Evan got our messages? Did the police check their IDs too?”
“Oh yeah. They had permits and talked about hunting on the easement. Once they were cleared, they just walked away, following the fence line.”
“So what about you two? What happened when you showed up?
“More ID checks and lots of questions,” Manuel said.
“He went into full professor mode and impressed the hell out of them,” Nigel said.
“Don’t exaggerate, Nigel,” Manuel chided gently. “I just identified myself as a former colleague from the university and the executor of D’s will.”
“Naturally they wanted proof,” Nigel said.
“Yes they did,” Manuel said with a small smile. “They seemed quite skeptical of my claims until I produced my various IDs and the documents Hamilton had me bring.”
“Go on,” I urged.
“Once they were satisfied that I was who I said I was, I started asking my own questions,” Manuel continued. “I asked who the men from Secure Surveillance were. The police said they’d been hired by the estate to secure the property.”
“What?!” I exclaimed.
“One of the officers…” Manuel started to say.
“The guy with the buzz cut attitude,” Nigel interrupted.
“I believe the phrase you are looking for is ‘Senior Officer,’ Nigel,” Manuel said. "His name was Officer Cole. He introduced me to the head of the Secure Surveillance team.”
“Oh I bet that was a treat,” I said.
“You could say that,” Manuel said with a grimace. “He introduced himself as Brett Sanders and made a point of standing a few inches too close to emphasize our height difference. Then he shook my hand just hard enough to hurt and told me not to worry - that the main residence had been secured. ‘My men will be patrolling the perimeter to ensure there are no ‘breaches,’ he said.”
“Breaches?” I frowned. “What breaches? The Light House isn’t a war zone.”
“My thoughts exactly, Madison,” Manuel said. “That’s when I stopped talking to Brett and told Officer Cole that as the legal representative of the estate, I had not requested or given permission for a security company to be hired. Officer Cole then asked Brett to show him the paperwork authorizing Secure Surveillance to work on the property.”
“Get this,” Nigel said. “The only paperwork they could produce was a contract with Faith.”
“At that point I was obliged to explain the legal situation in more detail for Officer Cole,” Manuel said. “I told him about the two legal disputes currently being adjudicated by the courts involving the deceased’s estate - the will, which is currently in probate, and the Trust, which was established more than 12 years ago.”
“I hope you also explained that the Trust has a Trustee.”
“I did, though I didn’t mention your name,” Manuel said. “I made it very clear that the Trustee was not the sister of the deceased.”
“Then he politely asked the clones to get off your property,” Nigel said.
“How did they react to that?” I said.
“Not well,” Manuel smiled. “There was lots of posturing and threats to contact their employer and lawyers, to which I replied, ‘Please do what you need to do. We’re in no hurry and we want to get this resolved as well.’”
“So the police went back to their cars and started having the people back at their station do some checking,” Nigel said.
“What did they find? Were the Secure Surveillance guys allowed to stay?” I asked.
“No, they were eventually asked to leave and told not to return without documentation proving they’d been hired by the legal owner of the property.”
“Boy if looks could kill,” Nigel added.
“I bet,” I said. “That’s a relief anyway.”
“Somewhat,” Manuel said, looking concerned. “There was no mention of the two men you said you saw at the cabin.”
“And there’s more,” Nigel said. “The police were asking about Evan.”
“Evan? Why? What for?” I asked.
“They wanted to know if we’d heard of him,” Manuel explained. “Naturally I said yes - that he’d been a caretaker at the property for almost as long as I could remember. Then they asked if we knew how to contact him. I said no - that I hadn’t been at the property for several months.”
“They said he was a ‘person of interest’ in an active investigation,” Nigel added.
“And investigation into what?!”
“I don’t know,” Manuel said, “but they took down our names and contact information and gave us their cards. Asked us to call if we saw him.”
“I bet Faith is behind that too,” Nigel said.
“Well, shit,” I said. “Evan is going to head back to the Light House almost anytime now. We have to warn him. Let’s get back to the house and call the phone at the bar.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Manuel said. “Remember the guy from Secure Surveillance said the house had already been secured?”
“Oh no. They’ve already been there,” I said.
“Yes, which is why it was smart of you to leave last night.”
“Which also means they’ve probably bugged the place,” Nigel added.
“So what do we do?” I asked. My mind was whirling.
“Here’s what I’d suggest,” Manuel said. “We’re almost to the house. You should eat, change, and get what you need to open a bank account.”
“A bank account?”
“We talked to Hamilton,” Nigel explained “He told us you need an account specifically to administer the Trust.”
“Right, he mentioned that,” I said. “But don’t I need legal documents to prove that I’m the trustee?”
“Got ‘em right here,” Manuel said, patting the leather messenger bag slung across his chest. “As long as you have one form of picture ID with you, you’re good to go. Hamilton knows the bank manager in town. He said they’d be expecting you.”
“Okay, I have my driver’s license in my backpack,” I said. “But what about money? Don’t I need money to open an account?”
“I have a sizable check made out to you from the Trust. You’ll need to endorse and deposit it to open the account. I also brought enough cash to pay Evan his salary and reimburse him for expenses.”
“Wow you’re a lifesaver, Manuel,”I said. “Let’s get going.”
It took us another 10 minutes to get back to the house. Along the way I filled them in on the events of the previous day and night, omitting my encounter with D. “So how far is this cabin from the main house?” Nigel asked. “Are we likely to run into them on the way to meet Evan?”
“It’s a couple of miles at least as the crow flies,” Manuel answered. Probably more if you take the trial D had built through the trees. I doubt we’ll see them, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be watching.”
“And listening,” I added.
We were just nearing the back porch when we heard the phone in the loft start to ring. We paused and listened waiting to see if it was the prearranged signal from Hamilton. When it was clear it wasn’t, Manuel asked if I was expecting a call.
“No,” I said. “Should I answer it?”
“I think you’d better,” Manuel said.
I unlocked the back door, dropped my backpack at the base of the stairs, and hurried up to the loft. Manuel and Nigel were right behind me.
“Hello?” I said, pulling so hard on the chord in my eagerness to get the receiver to my ear that the base crashed to the floor. Behind me, Manuel bent, picked it up, and replaced it on the table. Then he went to D’s desk, grabbed a pad of paper and a pen and scribbled, “Don’t mention anything about our conversation.” I nodded that I understood.
“Aunt Maddy?” Casey said. His voice sounded anxious and upset.
“Is that you, Casey?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
“I’m so sorry, Aunt Maddy,” he said, starting to cry. “You have to warn Evan.”
“Warn Evan? About what?” I asked.
“I heard Mom talking to the police on the phone. She told them he killed Uncle D.”
“What?! That’s crazy! Where did she get that idea?” I grabbed the pad of paper from Manuel and wrote, ‘Faith says Evan killed D.’”
Beside Nigel and Manuel eyes opened wide with alarm. “What?!” they both mouthed silently.
“It’s all my fault, “ Casey repeated, sobbing loud and hard.
“Oh Casey,” I said, trying to calm him down. “I’m sure it’s not your fault. Tell me what happened.”
“I was mad at Mom,” he hiccoughed as he tried to talk. “She never tells me anything. Every time I asked her how Uncle D died she said, ‘He was sick honey. He had AIDS.’” Casey’s imitation of his mother’s high-pitched, nasal voice was so spot on that I almost laughed. “Go on,” I encouraged him.
“So when I got home from the Light House and she asked me how it was I told her we talked about AIDS.”
“Wait, what? When?” On the pad of paper I wrote, Convo about AIDS?
“On the boat ride home,” Casey said. “Nigel asked Evan how he was doing. He said he knows it’s hard watching someone die of AIDS. Evan said it wasn’t pretty.”
“Right,” I said.
“Then Nigel said there are groups that help people dying of AIDS. I think he called it assisted suicide.” On the paper I wrote, “assisted suicide group?”
“Oh shit,” Nigel whispered. His eyes were wide and his face was pale.
“Try to remember exactly what Evan said next, Casey.”
“He said, ‘Not an option out here. But D was no fool. He knew what was coming and made arrangements.”
“Is that it?”
“Yeah. Then Nigel looked at me kind of funny and changed the subject.”
“Did you tell your Mom all this?”
“Most of it. She got really upset and said she knew that the Indian couldn’t be trusted. Then she started calling people she knows about getting Evan arrested.”
“Casey, listen to me,” I said. “This is not your fault. There’s no way you could’ve known your Mom would do this. I want you to promise not to talk to anyone else about this until Hamilton calls you.”
“Hamilton, D’s lawyer?”
“Yes,” I said. “We’ll have him call you as soon as we get off.”
“But what should I say if anyone asks?”
“Just say no comment.”
“Okay,” Casey sniffled. “Can you tell Evan I’m sorry?”
“I promise to tell him, Casey. Don’t worry.”
The moment I got off the phone I motioned for Manuel and Nigel to follow me back outside where we could talk without being heard. There I recapped the conversation with Casey. “Well that’s not good,” Nigel said.
“No, and we have to get Casey some help. Otherwise his mother will pressure him into saying something he shouldn’t,” I said.
“I’ll call Hamilton when we get back inside,” Manuel said. “I won’t tell him anything specific. Just ask him to give Casey a call. But this means we need to find Evan before the police do.”
“Okay, so what’s the plan?” Nigel asked.
“Meet him on the trail to town. The good news is the trail is too narrow and rough for cars, so the police will have to either rent horses - in which case they’ll be hours behind Evan - or wait for him to go back into town.”
“Did you say horses?” Nigel asked.
“They’re not far from here,” Manuel said. “They spend the summer in the easement pasture, and they’re used to being ridden to and from town. Evan does it all the time.”
“I’ve never been near a horse in my life,” Nigel said, looking alarmed.
“I have,” I said, giving Nigel a reassuring pat on the arm. “I can go by myself.”
“No you can’t,” Manuel said, frowning. “It’s not safe.” He thought for a moment. “Okay change of plans. Nigel you’re going to have to stay and make some calls. I’ll tell you who to call and what to say.”
“Okay,” Nigel nodded.
“Don’t say anything about where we are or what we’re doing while you’re in the house. Talk to the cats. Play with Bentley. Talk about Maddy and I going to see the mine.”
“There’s a mine?”
“Yes, it’s an old gemstone mine. D was studying the bats that live in it. Best of all it’s in the opposite direction from where Maddy and I are headed. Oh, and don’t answer the phone unless you hear two rings, a hang up, and two more.”
“Gotcha. What do I do if anyone shows up?”
“Stay out of sight if you can. Don’t answer the door. If they want in they’re going to have to break the locks. If they do break in, pretend you were in the bathroom. Play dumb.”
“Gotcha,” Nigel said.
“Now I’m going to give you Hamilton’s private number and tell you what to say. He’s expecting a call and will know what to do. Knowing Hamilton he may already have done it. I was really pleased to see those bowhunters earlier.”
“Okay,” Nigel said.
“We’ve got to go, Maddy,” Manuel said. “Do you have your ID?”
“Yes, it’s in my backpack. Should I bring everything else I put in it last night - the message machine, journals, medication, tapes? It’s kinda heavy.”
“Hmmm…” Manuel said. “I know D had a safe here but I’m not sure where and I don’t have the combination. And if you leave it all with Nigel it could be taken.”
“So the answer is yes?”
“Sorry,” Manuel said.
Five minutes later, after making Nigel memorize Hamilton’s number and what he should say when he got hold of him, Manuel and I headed for the horse pasture. I still hadn’t had a chance to eat much so was munching on trail mix as we walked. We were both worried about the time. “Okay so tell me how much riding experience you’ve had,” Manuel said as we approached what he called the “easement pasture.” I explained about how, when, and where I’d learned to ride. “You should be fine then,” Manuel said.
The pasture was large - a couple of acres at least - and covered with lush summer grasses that rippled and swayed in the light breeze blowing up the valley. A band of about 10 horses could be seen grazing directly across from us at the edge of the treeline. They were close enough to take advantage of the shade but far enough from the underbrush and shadows to avoid predators.
As soon as we stepped into the field, all the horses raised their heads, pricked their ears, and looked in our direction. We were standing upwind so they could undoubtedly smell us, but after only a moment or two all but one went back to grazing. That one was a leggy white mare with splashes of dappled gray in her coat. Based on what I could see from a distance, I would guess she was an Appendix - an American quarter horse/Thoroughbred mix - but her breeding didn’t interest me as much as her carriage. This was a horse who was comfortable in her skin - who knew and owned her place in the world.
“That’s Appalachia, Richard’s horse,” Manuel said. “She’s something isn’t she?”
“Yes, she’s gorgeous,” I agreed. “Is she friendly?”
“Depends. She’s been completely unapproachable since Richard passed, which really upset D. He and Richard rescued her from a kill pen in Oklahoma, and he always considered her their horse. I wouldn’t count on riding her. I was planning to take Ranger and Switchback - the two buckskins. They’re both older and easy to catch.”
“Whatever you think is best,” I said, never taking my eyes off Appalachia.
“I’m going to go grab some tack and treats from the tack room over there,” he said, pointing to what looked like a tool shed a few hundred yards away.
“Okay. Want some help?” I asked.
“Naw,” he said. “Just wait here. Maybe they’ll get curious enough to come and check you out.”
“Okay” I said, shrugging out of my backpack and taking a seat on a half-buried piece of granite. I ate the last of my trail mix, washed it down with water, and watched the white mare watching me. She hadn’t moved and was standing perfectly still - head high, nostrils flaring, mane and tail fluttering in the light morning breeze. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours, Appalachia?” I whispered.
Copyright 2024 by Jena Ball. All Rights Reserved.
Links to the 18 previous chapters
I love this wonderful white mare Jena !!!
Looking forward to seeing how it's all gonna come together: Visions, Faith, D's death...in my mind, I see the SL build that makes the location come alive.