Page 7 of Stormy Ride

“Feel bad for him and I don’t know what I can do to help him out. I’m not that keen on messing around in the sheriff’s office now that I’m out of there for good.”

“He’ll feel better just having you around for backup,” said Jack. He filled a glass with Miller and set it on a coaster. “We’ve been getting too much rain and sleet, and with the runoff there’s been some flooding. Wetter spring than usual.”

“I never lived here in the spring of the year so I’m not sure how things are at my ranch,” said Travis. “Billy said he couldn’t afford to live there anymore, and he told me he was moving into town. That’s about all he said the last time we talked on the phone—before this all happened.”

“Yeah, he told me he couldn’t afford to buy the ranch. He loves it out there, but it was too much for him and he feels bad about it.”

“It’s okay. I left him hanging when everything fell apart for me. I need a sit-down session with my accountant to straighten out a lot more things than just the ranch.”

“I hope you’re planning on staying for a while,” said Jack.

“No idea about that yet.” I finished my beer and yawned. “I’ll get out of here and let you close up. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Jack grinned. “Great to have you back, Travis.”

Wild Stallion Ranch.

The house was in complete darkness when I parked out front, and I shivered thinking about how cold it would be inside without the woodstove on for that extra bit of warmth we always seemed to need in Montana.

Dog-tired, I grabbed my overnight bag and let the dogs out of the truck. They were excited to see their old place and immediately tore around the side of the house and headed for the barn and the fields beyond.

With the spare key, I unlocked the front door and stepped inside. The chill of the place was the first thing I noticed and there wasn’t much sense starting the woodstove and then letting it go out while I slept.

“Leave it until morning. I have to sleep.”

I went to the back door, whistled for the dogs, and then found myself some blankets in the linen closet.

“Time to sleep, doggies. Come and keep me warm.”

Chapter Three

Thursday, April 21st.

Wild Stallion Ranch.

All those hours of driving caught up to me and I slept like the dead once I hit the bed and pulled the blankets over me.

When my eyes finally opened of their own accord, my room was flooded with bright Montana sunlight. I sat on the side of the bed, and I could see my breath every time I exhaled.

“We have to turn the furnace up, doggies. Billy must have it set atfrigidto conserve oil. He’s been on a tight budget.”

After I let the dogs out for a run, I checked out the woodstove in the living room and there was a supply of newspaper and kindling, but no logs to keep the fire going.

To me, that meant one thing and it wasn’t a thing I was looking forward to. I’d have to retrace Billy’s footsteps and probably come face to face with the scene of his accident. Something I’d been dreading and wasn’t keen on doing.

Sucking it up, I tramped through the house and through the attached woodshed to the back door. The woodshed was empty—all the split wood that had been piled against the wall of the house had been burned over the winter. That’s why Billy was using from the cord stacked next to the south wall of the barn.

Anxious about what I was about to see, I walked across the yard and stood next to the chopping block Billy had been using. Not hard to envision what had happened. It was all spelled out for me.

The axe was lying on the ground—covered in blood—the log Billy had been attempting to chop had flown ten feet away and landed close to a spruce tree.

There was a carpet of crimson next to the chopping block where Billy had fallen and almost bled out.

How long had it taken for Billy’s father to find him? Jack didn’t say how long Billy was lying unconscious before Mister Johnson came looking for his son.

Questions I needed answers to.

I stepped away from the site of the massacre and heaved up everything in my stomach—thankful Tammy wasn’t there to watch me do it.

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