Page 15 of High Density

It’s not so simple for my sister, whose traditional values would be very much wrapped up in family and home, something she balked against from the time she was an adolescent. At almost thirty, she’s built her own life, set her own standards, and created her own values, but sadly those don’t line up with traditional expectations and that creates constant tension.

Regrettably, until there is transparency, there can’t be understanding, and until there is understanding, there can’t be peace. Oddly enough, I think if there ever was to be an honest discussion, Ma would be the more receptive one, whereas our father would struggle with the truth.

Unfortunately, I will be the one left on the hot seat, having had knowledge but not sharing it would be considered a lie, at best, but—given my mother’s penchant for the dramatic—more likely seen as a betrayal.

“So, if you’re not planning to enter, why the fuck do you need time off during the amateur rodeo?” Pa circles back to the original subject. “Why not hold out a few weeks until the pros come to town?”

I chuckle at his inability to leave it alone. I’m about to tell him I prefer the smaller crowds, when Jackson pipes up behind us.

“Because the pros bring their own veterinarian.”

I twist around in my saddle to find Jackson looking smug he called me out. I have no idea how he came by the knowledge, it’s not like there’s been a public announcement or anything since I saw her.

“I took the pups in for their shots yesterday morning,” he’s already explaining. “I overheard Doc talking to her assistant about it.”

“About what?” Pa asks.

“Doc Richards is working the Libby Roundup this year,” Jackson readily volunteers.

I shake my head and turn to face forward again, but I can feel my father’s eyes on me.

“I see,” he mumbles, but I don’t have to see him to hear the grin in his voice.

Fuck.

“You’re gonna tell Ma, aren’t you?”

“Damn right I am. It’ll be a good distraction for her this weekend when your sister is here.”

Great. I’m not even sure which is worse, being hounded about Janey, or getting sucked into Ma’s ongoing conflict with Una.

Either way, it looks like it’ll be a shitty weekend.

Maybe I should take on an extra shift at the ranch.

“Isthat what I think it is?”

Dan points at a couple of rocks up ahead, a scrap of pink, lacy material just visible tucked in between. Immediately the hair on my neck stands up.

“It’s gotta be hers,” I confirm, closing in on them.

Since there is no real assigned hiking trail to follow, we split up in two pairs, and have taken the most likely routes Maggie Aldridge might’ve chosen. Dan and I have been following this game trail for the past almost two hours. There were some signs she might’ve come this way, we found some fresh tracks andeven a partial boot print, but that looked to be too big for a woman and the tracks could’ve been left by a large animal, and I was just starting to wonder if we should maybe turn around.

I dismount and loop Santiago’s reins around the saddle horn. He won’t go anywhere while I explore on foot. I’m careful to stick to dry or at least needle-covered ground, so I don’t inadvertently trample all over a potential crime scene.

Abandoned panties may not be that unusual in favored teenage hangouts, along with condoms and empty beer cans, but we’re way off the beaten track here. Finding those panties screams foul play to me.

“Stay put,” I tell Dan, as I make my way to those rocks, dreading what I might find.

Scanning the undergrowth on this side of the boulders, I search for anything that looks out of place. I spot the cuff of a hiking boot when I’m about ten feet away.

“Boot,” I call out to Dan. “Two feet to the right of that rock,” I point out.

“I see it.”

A few moments later, I’m able to look behind the rocks, and my chest squeezes when I catch sight of an outstretched hand, the fingers far too relaxed. I force myself to keep moving forward, I need to know if this is now a recovery instead of a rescue.

She’s dead, I’d stake my life on it.

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