Cowboy Cavalry. Alice Sharpe
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his sons their choice of land on which to construct houses when and if they wanted. Frankie’s oldest brother, Gerard, had chosen a river view parcel not far upstream from the main house. He and Kinsey lived in it and would soon be joined by their baby who was due momentarily.
Next in age came Chance. He’d built himself an A-frame. His fiancée’s name was Lily and she and her small son lived on the ranch, too. Pike came next. He’d renovated a barn into a really cool house. His girlfriend, Sierra, split her time between the ranch and New York City.
Frankie knew he didn’t quite fit into his family of overachievers. It was difficult being the youngest of four brothers, all with different mothers, all very capable ranchers and businessmen. His designated title as a kid had been the screwup. And now, between one thing and another, he just liked to keep part of his life to himself, hence his secret hideaway. Half the time when his family thought he was in town carousing or causing mischief, he was actually working on his place.
So, in short, he knew a thing or two about privacy and keeping secrets, but there was only one that made him break into a cold sweat every time he thought about it. With Kate, that seemed to happen constantly. She acted like she was under a lot of stress from a lot of directions and despite how prickly she could be, he felt for her.
But right now she was hanging on to her seat and staring straight ahead as a small house finally appeared in a clearing at the end of the private road. He pulled to a stop and heard her expel a long breath.
“You okay?”
“Just glad to have that road behind me.”
“Don’t forget we still have to get back to the highway.”
“Let me enjoy walking around for a minute.” They got out of the car and she took several breaths. Some of the color started to return to her cheeks as she gazed around them.
“It’s quiet here,” she said. “And warm.” She unzipped her windbreaker and started to pull it over her head. As she raised her arms, her blouse rode up with the jacket and three inches of creamy, smooth, velvety skin appeared at the delicious curve of her waist. By the time she got the windbreaker off and tugged her clothes into place, he had looked away, alarmed at how enticing he found that tiny peek of her flesh.
The house had a small concrete slab for a front porch and a steeply pitched roof, probably because it snowed here in the winter. A trio of moldy, faded garden gnomes sat by the bushes in front of the window. Frankie knocked against the wooden door and they stood there waiting as insects droned in the tall grass.
“Are you sure he’s expecting you?” Kate asked.
“I should have texted him to confirm things. Let’s check and see if his car is here.
The detached garage shared the same shabby, spare construction as the house. A door that slid across a wide opening was slightly cracked. Frankie rolled it open enough that he could see a sleek white car so new it still had the dealer’s advertisement where the license plate would eventually go.
“Wow,” Kate said as she looked under his raised arm.
“Funny what people spend their money on, isn’t it?” Frankie said. “The house looks like it’s about to fall down while there’s a seventy-five-thousand-dollar car sitting in the garage.”
“Seventy-five thousand dollars,” Kate said, whistling. “I repeat, wow.”
“Well, he’s probably here. Let’s go knock again.”
No one came to the door this time, either. Kate walked out onto the grass opposite the front window, approached the glass cautiously and peered inside.
“See anything?” Frankie called.
“Yeah. It looks like a...” She stopped talking as her hands flew to cover her mouth and she quickly backed away from the window almost stumbling over her own feet.
“Kate! What’s wrong?” Frankie asked as he started to walk toward her.
“No, open the door. Hurry,” she cried, casting him a wild-eyed look. “Open the door.”
He turned back around and tried to twist the knob, then he rammed his shoulder against the door.
“Hurry!” Kate said.
Raising his leg, he kicked at the thing and this time the old wood creaked but it still didn’t budge. He ran to Kate’s side. “What is it?”
Her skin had drained of color. “A man,” she said. He glanced at the windows but from that distance, all he saw were their reflections. “I think he’s...he’s dead,” she mumbled.
Frankie grabbed one of the plaster garden gnomes and smashed it against the window. As glass shattered to the ground the foul odor of rotting flesh all but slammed him in the face. Kate turned her back to him, braced her hands on her knees and retched as he peered into the heavily shadowed room.
A small-framed man with sandy white hair hung from a rope attached to a rafter while an overturned stool occupied the floor under his dangling feet. From the smell and the appearance of his face, it was obvious he’d been there for quite a while.
Frankie moved to grasp Kate’s shoulders as she heaved. He tried patting her back but he didn’t say anything. What was there to say? When she had finished, she looked even more pallid than before. She accepted the clean handkerchief he offered her. “Thanks,” she whispered. “I saw a faucet by the garage. I’m going to go wash out my mouth.”
He took out his cell phone and dialed 911. What had Dave Dalton wanted to show him? It now seemed unlikely he’d ever know.
* * *
THEY SAT IN the car and waited for the sheriff’s department and an ambulance to arrive. Kate breathed through her mouth. Even with the windows rolled up, she was almost positive she could still smell the rotting corpse of that poor man. Her empty stomach clenched.
The ambulance and the sheriff’s cars came with sirens. Frankie and Kate answered a dozen questions that added almost no information that mattered one way or another. The deputy who entered the house came out looking almost as washed-out as Kate felt. He was about her age and she got the feeling this might be his first dead body.
“I can’t believe old Dave killed himself like that. Sara is going to be real broken up by this.”
“Sara?”
“His daughter.”
“Then it is Dave Dalton in there,” Frankie said.
“Yeah, though his own mother wouldn’t recognize him now. No note or nothing, either. Shame you folks had to find him.”
“Did he live alone?” Kate asked.
“Yeah. Has since Polly died ’bout five years back.”
“I’d never really met the man,” Frankie said. “In fact, I only talked to him one time and exchanged a couple of emails.” He explained about the documentary and added, “He seemed interested in showing me something. It just seems odd that he’d kill himself before he could do it.”
“What did he want to show you?”
“I have no idea.”
“You never can tell what’s going on in someone’s head,” the deputy said.
Two EMTs came out of the house rolling a body bag between them and loaded it into the ambulance. The deputy, Frankie and Kate watched with somber expressions.
“That’s a nice car in the garage,” Frankie said as the ambulance left the yard. He’d already retraced the actions they’d taken since arriving at the Dalton house.
“He’s got himself a hell of an entertainment system and a kitchen that looks like one of them that’s on a cooking show,” the deputy said. “I had no idea he had that kind of loot.” The deputy took off his hat, scratched his head and pulled it back on. “Dave’s dad