Death of a Rancher's Daughter Read online

  Erma's face blanched. “No, that's not it. Not at all.”

  Sandra took her coffee cup and headed for the door. “No way. Your little scheme isn't going to work. You tell her to get someone else and keep me out of it.”

  “Didn't you hear me? They're looking for someone they can trust.” Erma's voice rose two octaves. “That's why she called me.”

  “No.” Sandra flung open the door, sending Patricia scrambling. “I'm not going way up there so you can feel like you've done something to make me feel better.” She stalked across the hall to her office.

  “Okay, so I haven't been completely honest with you,” Erma hollered. She hurried after Sandra. “I'm not trying to make you feel better. BJ is one of my oldest and dearest friends. She called me to defend Rufina, okay? Me.” She gripped her jacket's lapels, her chin jutting out. “And when I said I don't try those kinds of cases anymore, she said she'd settle for you—if you were any good.”

  The room turned a shade of red as Sandra threw herself into her executive chair. Anger burned in her chest. “Settle? She said she'd settle for me? Well, you just call her back—”

  “I quoted her a fifty K retainer plus expenses.” Erma barricaded herself behind one of Sandra's client chairs.

  “I don't care what you quoted her,” Sandra said, not looking up from her desk. “You call her back and tell her no. Not now, not ever. Never. And get out of my office.”

  “But Sandra—”

  “End of discussion. I'm never taking another murder case, and you can't make me.”

  “Okay then, just listen a minute. I told BJ you might not take the case, but here's the thing. The arraignment is on Monday. Rufina at least needs an attorney for the arraignment.”

  Sandra crossed her arms and shook her head. “I'm not doing it. I'm sure BJ can find a decent enough attorney in the Hill Country. I'll bet there are over a dozen lawyers in San Antonio alone who are certified to try cap murder cases. One of them can run up there for the arraignment. It's only an hour away.”

  “Did I say cap murder? We don't know if the DA is charging her with capital murder yet, Sandra.” The sudden edge in Erma's voice was as sharp as a filet knife. “We won't know that until Monday.”

  “What is this we? I know you're not talking about me. Anyway, Rufina has to know what she's charged with. They have to serve her with the indictment two days before the arraignment, so she should have gotten it yesterday.” Erma couldn't have forgotten a thing like that. She wasn't that old.

  “I know that.” Erma cleared her throat.

  “I'm sure if BJ hires someone up there, they won't let Rufina plead to anything without formal service of the indictment.”

  Erma stood still and stared at Sandra for a moment. “Well, okay then.” She turned back toward her own office.

  Sandra had never known her mother to give up that easily. “What does that mean?”

  Erma tossed words over her shoulder. “I'll just have to do it myself.”

  “Are you crazy? You're too old and your heart is too weak for you to drive five or six hours to the Hill Country, much less take on the Fredericksburg County—”

  “Gillespie County. Fredericksburg is the town.”

  “Whatever—DA's office,” Sandra finished.

  “Actually, I don't think Gillespie County has its own district attorney. I think the district has several counties in it. And anyway, I'm only sixty-eight. I expect to be driving until I'm at least ninety.”

  “I don't give a shit how old you are, Erma Townley, you're not going up there.”

  “But I promised—”

  “The arraignment is not a crucial event in the grand scheme of things. Rufina can answer not guilty for herself, and the judge will ask her if she can afford to hire a lawyer, and she'll say no, and the judge will probably appoint one right then and there.” Sandra's face grew hotter. She needed to calm down, or she'd end up with a heart condition like Erma. “You hear what I'm saying? She doesn't need you.”

  Erma stormed back to Sandra. “How are you going to stop me?” Her jaw looked like it was set in stone. “I promised my friend, so I'm going, and that's final. I don't care what you say.”

  “No, you're not.” Sandra towered over her mother. Teeth clenched, she stared down into Erma's red face. “And if you have a heart attack right here and now, you'll just prove my point.”

  Erma tossed her head. “I can get angry without having a heart attack. That's all I am, angry. Stop treating me like an invalid.” She stormed toward her office again.

  “When was the last time you drove on the Gulf Freeway?” Sandra followed Erma into her office and stood at her back, fists clenched every bit as tight as her teeth. “Traffic has gotten worse than terrible.” How did one reason with a determined old broad like her mother? “In fact, when’s the last time you had your Lincoln serviced? What are you going to do if your car breaks down on the freeway? You have no emergency assistance set up for your car. Who are you going to call for help?”

  “It's not up for discussion.” Erma turned and smirked at Sandra again. “Now, as you succinctly told me a few minutes ago, get out.”

  At a loss for what else to do, Sandra went into her own office and called Erma's doctor. When he came on the line, she said, “Doc, this is Sandra Salinsky. I'm at my wits' end. Erma is determined to drive herself to Fredericksburg and take on a murder case. I can't get her to listen to reason.”

  A laugh came from the other end of the phone. “She's really going to do it?”

  “You knew? You already knew about this?” She couldn't believe her ears. “How did you find out? Did she call you? What's the deal? Why didn't you call me?”

  “You know how stubborn Erma can be. She called and asked what I thought as her physician, not as her friend. She said if she couldn't get you to take the case, she'd do it herself.”

  “You've been her doctor and her friend for over thirty years, and you didn't tell her she couldn't do it?”

  “No one can tell Erma anything. I said she could have a heart attack at any time, driving on the highway, walking across the street, or arguing in a courtroom.”

  “Why is she going? You told her it could kill her, and she's still going.”

  “Oh, I didn't tell her it could kill her. I simply said any of us could die at any time, that her odds were worse than those of other people. She said she'd rather die doing something she liked than sitting around with her thumb up her—”

  “I understand.” Sandra wanted to scream. “Couldn't you have told her she couldn't do it? Couldn't you have advised against it?”

  “If you're concerned with your mother's health, why not go up there with her? At least drive her, even if you aren't going to take the case.”

  Sandra sighed. “She's really got me where she wants me, doesn't she?”

  No response came from the other end of the phone.

  “If I put her on the phone, Doc, will you try to talk her out of it?”

  “About five-minutes after she became my patient, I gave up trying to talk her into, or out of, anything.”

  “Shit.” Tears of anger pushed at the back of Sandra's eyes.

  “What's the harm in you taking this case?”

  “She thinks she can manipulate me with this behavior.”

  “When it comes down to it, which is more important? Doing what you can to stop her from killing herself? Or winning a battle with your mother?”

  “Oh, shut up, Doc,” Sandra said.

  His laugh wasn't harsh.

  “Thanks anyway. Goodbye.” Still shaking her head, Sandra stomped back into Erma’s office. “All right, you.”

  “Why are you back?” Erma's lips quivered.

  “Here's the deal. We'll both drive up on Sunday evening for the arraignment on Monday. We'll take my Volvo. Any questions?”

  “Who's lead counsel?”

  “I didn't say I'm representing Rufina in a trial, but I'll announce for her at the arraignment and see what I can do about bai
l. Afterward, we'll find someone up there BJ can settle for.”

  Sandra headed back to her office for what she hoped would be the last time that day. When she glanced over her shoulder, Erma had a shit-eating grin on her face. Sandra might have lost the first round, but she still had no intention of taking a murder case in what was tantamount to foreign territory.

  Chapter Two

  The sun had long set by the time they arrived at the Dairy Queen in Fredericksburg, where they'd agreed to meet BJ. She sat outside, behind the steering wheel of a monster red pickup. A man sat shotgun.

  BJ opened the door to the truck and eased herself down. A willowy woman in her sixties, she had wavy, gray hair barely covering her ears. She wore a black Adirondack barn coat over a black turtleneck sweater and wool pants and thick, brown leather ranch gloves. In the outside fluorescent lighting, her puffy blue eyes sparkled with tears. Her shoulders drooped as she ambled, heavy-footed, toward Sandra's car.

  Erma swung out of the Volvo as fast as her little legs could carry her. She wrapped her arms around BJ. They hugged for a good long while, BJ's tall torso swamping Erma's short, chunky one.

  The man, who was tall and husky and about BJ's age, judging by his gray sideburns and balding head, walked around the cab and stood by, arms dangling. He wore boots, jeans, a thigh-length tan Sherpa coat buttoned up to his neck, and black gloves. He shrugged when he and Sandra exchanged glances.

  Having left her coat in the car, Sandra shivered with cold. They needed to go, get to the jail, and see if the jailer would let her in. Though tired from the long drive, she wanted to at least touch base with Rufina.

  After a few moments, Sandra put her hand on Erma's shoulder. “Okay, break it up, ladies.” When Erma stepped aside, Sandra gave BJ a brief hug. In spite of BJ's jacket, Sandra could feel how thin BJ was and wondered whether she was eating regularly.

  BJ released her and held her at arm's length. “You've grown up to be a beautiful woman, Sandra.” She wiped her eyes and nose with a wad of tissues.

  “Thanks.” Sandra subjected BJ's face to scrutiny. She wouldn't remind her she'd seen her at least a couple of times in the last few decades. “How're you holding up? You've had a traumatic couple of weeks.” BJ looked a lot older and grayer than Erma, and they were about the same age. Katy Jo's death had clearly taken its toll. Sandra knew if she lost Mel, she might not ever recover. BJ must feel the same. She had to simply be presenting the best front she knew how.

  BJ shook her head and blew her nose. “It's been tough. You don't know how much I appreciate y'all being here.”

  A flush crept up Sandra's neck. She was glad the dim light concealed the pink overtaking her face. No way she'd look at Erma, in case Erma wore an I-told-you-so sneer. “Glad to do it. But we'd better get going to the jail. I want to see Rufina.”

  “I'm sorry. I called, and they said it's too late. I even phoned the sheriff—tried to call in a favor—but no dice.” Her chin trembled. “You—you can meet with her early in the morning, before they serve breakfast, if you want. The sheriff said he'd tell the jailer.”

  Sandra glanced at Erma. Small towns.

  The man who'd been in the truck with BJ stepped forward and cleared his throat.

  “Oh, hell.” BJ sighed. “I forgot to introduce you to Elgin Burgess.” Her shoulders slumped more, as if to say she couldn't do anything right. “He's an old friend and owns the ranch next over. Elgin, this is Erma Townley and Sandra Salinsky, the lawyers I've been boring you about all day.”

  Elgin pulled off his glove and shook both their hands. “Delighted to meet you, ladies. BJ didn't bore me a bit. Glad you could come up and help her and Rufina out.”

  BJ said, “Elgin and Roy were best friends since high school. He's been quite a help to me since Roy passed.”

  “I'm glad my sweet BJ has had your support, Elgin.” Erma's grin spread all the way to her eyes.

  “Nice to meet you,” Sandra said. She'd been wondering who he was.

  “Well, we might as well head out to the ranch,” Erma said. “You're going to feed us, right? All I've eaten is a kolache when we stopped for gas in La Grange.”

  “Oh, sure. The girls have dinner waiting in the kitchen.” BJ walked back to her truck. “By the way, watch out for deer in the road.”

  Elgin opened the driver's side door and gave BJ a hand up. “Follow us. You'll never find it in the dark.”

  Sandra yawned as she and Erma climbed back inside the Volvo. Six hours was a long time in a car with not much of a break. She really wanted some rest.

  “Damn. She looks like shit.” Erma pulled a tissue from the glove box and blew her nose. “I don't think she's taking care of herself.”

  “The stress of a murdered child and a best friend being the accused would make anyone look like shit. I'm surprised she can climb out of bed.”

  Erma buckled her seat belt. “She's got a ranch to run. Let's go. I'm hoping for a juicy steak.”

  “You aren't supposed to be eating a lot of beef.” Sandra didn't need to see Erma's face to know she wore that smirk again. “You're just messing with me, I know.” Sandra buckled up and backed out of the lot and onto the pavement behind BJ.

  In a hoarse voice, Erma said, “I am hungry, though.”

  “Me, too. And I'm tired. And a little anxious about going into a strange courtroom tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, Sandra. Been a long day.”

  All Sandra wanted to do was eat and sleep. Soft lighting illuminated the closed shops on Main Street. Another time, she might want to investigate them, find out what they carried that was different from the tourist shops in Galveston. She followed the truck out of town. The streetlights grew dim in the rear-view mirror. Soon cedar brush and a few oaks lined each side of the street. The only lights were the twinkling of a star or two and the lights on the back of BJ's truck. Sandra focused her attention on the winding, hilly, two-lane road.

  Her last visit to the ranch had been when she was in high school. The twins, Katy Jo and Kathy Lynn, had been toddlers. The little wispy-haired blondes, who babbled constantly, had to be watched every minute. She especially remembered, because she'd been stuck with them several times when she wanted to go out to the stables.

  BJ's son, Rex, had been a babe in arms, no more than a few months old.

  Roy, BJ's husband, had seemed like a giant. With muddy boots and worn jeans, he looked like a cowboy right off a television show.

  What else did she remember? The horses. A mare Roy let her ride. The house. Enough rooms to get lost in. Some people speaking Spanish. A kitchen with a tall bar where she ate lunch every day, usually by herself.

  She had vague memories of an older Latina woman, possibly Rufina's mother.

  Now, when they arrived at the ranch, the parts she could make out in the dark looked the same. Two white vehicles sat in the circular drive, one an Expedition and behind it, a truck, an F-150. Sandra parked behind BJ's truck and took out her rolling duffle and their clothing bags. Elgin grabbed Erma's bag. “I'll take this in and head for home, BJ. He dragged Erma's roller bag into the house, while Erma took BJ's arm and walked her inside.

  BJ trudged down a long hallway, past a couple of closed doors, and left them at their respective rooms. “You can wash up and meet me in the kitchen. I'll find what the girls fixed.”

  No sophisticated decorations in the guest room BJ had assigned Sandra. A red and green holiday quilt still covered the bed though the holidays were behind them. Another quilt lay folded at the foot of the bed. Four fluffy pillows rested against the wooden headboard, which had the Texas star in the center. A slipper chair covered with a western print stood in one corner next to a wooden table with a small lamp on it. An aged room-sized Oriental rug covered the dark wood floor. The pictures on the walls all bore a western or country motif.

  When Sandra went to put her makeup pouch in the bathroom, she found Erma doing the same. Apparently, they'd be sharing.

  “What's up with you?” Erma asked. “You're not sa
ying much.”

  Sandra shook her head. “Just want to get this over with.” She grimaced at the determined set to her mother's mouth, knowing Erma hoped she'd change her mind and take the case. “You want to clear out so I can use the facilities? And I'm too tired to hear any quips about how you used to change my diaper.”

  A few minutes later, Sandra found her way to the kitchen. Elgin was nowhere to be seen, but a thirty-something, blond guy perched at the oversized, pink-granite island. The kitchen was exactly as she remembered, large enough to prepare meals for a slew of ranch hands.

  BJ came in right behind her. “Rex, stand up when a lady enters the room. Come over here and meet attorney Sandra Salinsky.”

  Rex slid off the bar stool. Taller than he appeared when slumped on the stool, he towered over her and his mother. He held out his hand.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Sandy.” Deep dimples speared his cheeks when he flashed a smile about a mile wide. His topaz blue eyes were the same shade as BJ's.

  “Sandra.” Sandra shook his hand, his grip strong but not bone-crushing. “You, too.” He smelled of a woodsy fragrance, but his breath, like bourbon.

  Rex's blond hair had begun to recede. His heart-shaped face bore only a few creases. Sandra tried to remember how old he was. Maybe thirty-five. He was definitely someone women would be drawn to, though his hair might be a bit too yellow to be natural.

  Erma pushed Sandra aside. “Come here to your Aunt Erma and give her a big hug.” She reached for his hand and pulled him down to her.

  Sandra was in no mood for any kind of family reunion. She wanted nothing more than to eat and go to bed. She hoped any mention of the case would be reserved until the next day. She was too tired, and it was too sad. Erma chattered away about how she'd known Rex since he was knee-high to a grasshopper.

  “Where's Kathy Lynn?” BJ asked.

  Rex wrestled away from Erma and climbed back onto his stool. “Right after you left, she left.” He glanced at Erma and Sandra and shrugged. “Sorry, Miss Erma. Guess you'll have to wait until another day.”