Page 9 of A Mile of Ocean (Pelican Pointe #19)

M onday morning, Savannah woke up with a renewed purpose. She had always been passionate about teaching, but this last week of school felt different. It was more personal. Her thoughts were still tangled with emotions about Trent, but she tried to push them aside. After all, she had a job to do and children depending on her. She dressed quickly, eager to start the last week of school with the prospect of a summer job at the ranch.

As she packed her lunch, her mind wandered back to the previous day spent with Trent. His guarded demeanor and the way his eyes softened when he spoke about the ranch had left an impression on her. Despite his stoic mask, there was something undeniably compelling about him—something that made her want to know more. Was it his vulnerability? Or perhaps his quiet demeanor and how he carried the bulk of the ranch on his shoulders intrigued her the most. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she suspected it was his dedication to his family and staff, a fierce work ethic, and a deep connection to the land. She admired that about him, even if he didn’t always see it himself.

It wasn’t until she reached school that she heard everyone talking about the fire at the ranch. The last time she’d spoken to Trent, everything had been fine. Well, not okay, but quiet. Now, she learned there had been another death. The security team she’d seen the night before was down a man. Her earlier enthusiasm dropped to a new low, even when her students began filing into the classroom.

As she half-heartedly started class, her concern grew as she thought about Trent and the rest of the people at the ranch. The news of another death was a harsh reminder of the dangers he faced, the dangers they all faced. Savannah decided to give him a call during her lunch break just to check in. But then she had another idea. She’d need permission from Superintendent Julianne Dickinson to make it happen. But she would need to run it past the kids first.

At the same time Savannah started class, Trent grappled with the latest threat while caring for the horses in the barn. The incident had shaken him to the core. He felt a heavy burden to protect the people and the land.

The funeral arrangements weighed on his mind, along with the need to maintain a semblance of normalcy. But given the current circumstances, that was almost impossible.

His long talk with Hawk came before breakfast and gave him another opportunity to try and explain the difficulty of providing security on such a large piece of land. “I’m sorry about Slade.”

“So am I.”

“How is his wife handling the news?”

“Not good. We have two women who are now widows—your grandmother and Slade’s wife—it didn’t need to be this way. Do you think we’re dealing with one man or two?”

“I don’t know. None of this makes any sense. But from now on we’re conducting the basics of animal care during the day and putting all our energy into the night patrols.”

“Your men can’t work twenty-four-seven,” Hawk pointed out.

“I don’t expect them to do that. We’ll start caring and feeding the stock at dawn when we come in from patrol, put in four hours, and then try to grab five or six hours of shuteye in the afternoon.” I wanted to talk to you about the funeral tomorrow. The men have decided to forego the church service and wait to pay their respects at the graveside. That’s fine with the family and everyone else. So tomorrow morning, when we leave for the church, you’ll have a full crew on site—nine men to watch over two thousand acres. If you have any better suggestions, I’m all ears.”

“As long as we’re all vigilant, I don’t want a repeat of last night.”

“Any thoughts on how to improve the patrols?”

“No changes. Lincoln worked well with your man, Cecil. Drum and I have always worked well together. I don’t see any reason to switch up the teams at this stage. I thought you might be mad about your golf cart.”

For the first time all day, Trent let out a laugh. “The golf cart is the least of my worries. It’s the same with the shed. It will take some time to replace all the treated wood in there, but Tucker Ferguson already said he’d give us a break on the prices.”

“What’s the big deal with losing firewood? I counted enough trees around here to fill it up again in no time.”

“Ah. Firewood yes. But we stored our treated lumber in there, too. It lasts longer, but costs have skyrocketed. That shed held lumber valued at approximately thirty-five thousand dollars. We use it for fence posts, building open-air shelters, durable fencing, landscape projects, patching, and general maintenance. Because of the chemicals, we’ve been trying to phase out using that type anyway. Losing that in the fire means we’ll change sooner than planned. For now, let’s just focus on keeping everyone safe.”

“So the person who targeted you has intimate knowledge of what was in there.”

“It seems they do, yeah.”

“I’d like to take Lincoln and Drum out on patrol in daylight to get a better feel for the property and the terrain so we can navigate better at night.”

“Sure. Unless you guys want to walk, have you thought about learning to ride?”

“Tate and your grandmother offered to give us a quick lesson or two when they get back from town. Lincoln’s going with them.”

“Great. Go for it. Let me know how you do.”

After Trent finished up in the barn, he headed to his office to check on Taco and Trilby. The pack needed feeding and exercise, so he walked them around the yard and then opened cans of dog food, distributing the meal between the two adult dogs. Looking over the four male and four female puppies, he realized they were all thriving. Not one looked sickly or unhealthy. “You did a great job, Trilby. Dolly will be feeding you next. You’re on the schedule for this afternoon at five. Come on, Taco, you’ll need to pull your weight now that you have so many mouths to feed. Start picking out names.”

He picked up one, cuddled it, then another, until he’d given all the babies some attention and placed them back on the bed with their mother. “You guys will be eating solid food before you know it. Savannah would love to hold all the little wriggly furballs. She’ll be back to see you tomorrow. Be on your best behavior.”

His stomach rumbled with hunger. “You’ve eaten, now it’s my turn.”

He walked across the compound to the main house and entered through the back door to the kitchen. He smelled the strong aroma of coffee and eggs before spotting Dolly, her apron wrapped around her round belly, busy at the stove, flipping pan-fried patty sausages. “Where else would you be the morning after you cracked a knot on your head but cooking for everybody else? Are you sure you shouldn’t be in bed?”

“I’m fine. I feel stupid enough as it is for running into a wall.”

“I thought it was the doorframe?”

“Same thing. I took a fall and went down like a rock. Not my finest hour. Poor Slade. I didn’t even know him, but he seemed nice,” Dolly declared as she shoved a plate of biscuits with egg, cheese, and sausage toward him. “Help yourself. I just took these out of the oven.”

Trent took his first bite. “Delicious as always. Now that we seem to be at war with an unknown assailant, it’s best to keep hot coffee at the ready and any kind of food that can be eaten on the run.”

“This ain’t my first rodeo,” Dolly reminded him, pointing her slotted spatula directly at him. “I know the drill. I’m determined to get rid of all that food people dropped off. I’m slicing pieces of pie and cakes and wrapping them individually in cellophane for easy pickup. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner will be placed on the rack by the back door, just like always.”

“You’re an angel, Dolly Hinton. Why hasn’t some man scooped you up and taken you away from all this?”

“Because I got better sense than to fall for a sweet talker with his eyes on my retirement money.”

Trent hooted with laughter. “Something else bothering you?”

“Other than two men dying, you mean? Truth be told, I’m dreading the funeral tomorrow. I’m running out of words of comfort for Duchess.”

“I know the feeling,” Trent said as he scooped up another biscuit. “Sorry to eat and run, but I gotta go check on the crew.”

“You got your hands full, I know. Just don’t drop in the saddle.”

“As long as you don’t drop at the stove, I won’t drop in the saddle. Don’t forget to feed Taco and Trilby.”

“Have I ever forgotten to feed anybody?” Dolly fired back, holding her spatula like a weapon. “Get out of here and get some sleep before you fall down.”

As he left Dolly, their challenges became clearer, but so did the support system around him. Despite the recent hardships, a sense of solidarity bolstered his resolve.

After shoring up the patrols again for Monday night with Woody and Cecil, Trent grabbed a quick nap at his house. He fell asleep on the couch, but his slumber was short-lived. He woke, startled by another person in the room. Instinctively, he reached for his .45 before his hand stilled.

“That gun won’t do you any good,” Scott said from his spot by the fireplace. “I’ve been dead for quite some time.”

“Scott Phillips,” Trent managed to eke out, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re not real.”

“I’m real. I’m standing here big as life, aren’t I? You see me, right?”

“But you’re dead.”

“We’ve established that fact. You can’t sleep because you’re trying to figure out who wants to put an end to Rio Verde and the whole Callum family. Ask yourself why no one ever talks about Travis and Linley. Why doesn’t anyone ever use their names?”

It was eerie how close Scott came to reading his mind. “Okay.”

“Ask yourself why the person who was inside the house last night didn’t attack your grandmother.”

“I did wonder about that.”

“Anyone would. They didn’t even attack Dolly. Why is that? Why didn’t they complete their mission on Friday night? Why kill one when they could’ve made it two dead at Turtle Ridge?”

“Why did he spare her life, not once, but twice?” Trent asked, getting caught up in the game.

“Exactly. These are the questions that keep nagging at you. Maybe you haven’t voiced them to anyone, but you’ve thought about them.” Scott tapped the journal on the side table. “Finish reading Barrett’s diary. The answer is in there if you know where to look.”

“I’ve read almost all of it. It’s just Granddad’s ramblings about losing his son.”

“Then you’re skimming through the pages and not seeing the details,” Scott accused. “Finish reading the journal. Then go talk to your grandmother.”

Trent was about to ask another question when Scott disappeared into the wall. Unnerved, he picked up the journal and began to read, starting where he’d left off. He read more of the same until he got to a specific section outlining his grandfather’s mindset.

This part of Barrett’s diary made it clear that there had come a time after losing their son and daughter-in-law when things had been difficult between his grandparents. They had not gotten along for almost six months. As a result, his grandmother had gone home to live in Green River, Wyoming. Their separation lasted another six months before Barrett pleaded with her to return to California.

Their reconciliation had been slow and painful, but it had ultimately strengthened their bond. Trent couldn’t help but wonder if their past struggles held any clues to the current predicament. He was lost in these thoughts when he realized how much his family had already endured and overcome.

Trent knew he had to stay focused. He got up, stretched his legs, and decided to take a walk around the ranch. He needed to clear his mind and gather his thoughts. The fresh air and familiar surroundings might help him see things more clearly.

As he wandered, he couldn’t shake the feeling that a crucial piece of the puzzle was slipping through his fingers. He needed to talk to his grandmother. Maybe she had insights he hadn’t considered.

Despite the weariness tugging at him, Trent found his way to Tate’s place. As he approached, he saw his grandmother sitting on the porch with her shotgun. She’d braided her hair down her back and wore a leather choker around her neck. The sight of her brought him a sense of calm he hadn’t felt all day.

He took a deep breath and walked over to her, hoping to find some words of wisdom. “Duchess, I see you’re ready for battle,” he said softly. She looked up, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and strength.

“It’s better than a kick in the teeth,” she replied, clutching the shotgun before patting the seat beside her. He sat down, feeling the strain of the past days lift slightly.

“I know about the bad times between you and Granddad.”

“Got to that part, did you? Well, this is a tough time for all of us,” she began, her voice steady. “Sometimes we need to admit our failures and move on. It’s time you knew the truth. Barrett and I didn’t walk on water. We weren’t perfect. We had our issues. You spend sixty years married to the same person, and you’re bound to go through a lot of ups and downs. I’m not proud of leaving you and Tate the way I did. Thank God for Dolly. God knows Barrett was in no kind of shape to take care of small children back then. But Dolly stepped up. By the time I got back here, you two had bonded with Dolly better than you ever had with me.”

“She used to pack a lunch and take us out to the cemetery so we could lay flowers on their graves and talk to them. She encouraged us to have a conversation. And we did. It was like therapy for Tate and me.”

“Aren’t you planning on asking me about what happened the night they died?”

“Dolly told us it was raining. A bad storm had come through. They went into town to get supplies and ran off the road.”

“That’s not what happened.”

Trent stared at her, unable to comprehend why she was only now sharing the real story. “Okay, enlighten me. What did happen?”

“They went into town for supplies. That much is true. But on their way back to the ranch, someone shot the front tire out on the pickup. Travis lost control, swerved off the road, hit a concrete embankment, and flipped the truck. Travis and Linley were killed instantly.”

Trent opened his mouth to speak, but he found that he couldn’t form words.

His grandmother, on the other hand, kept talking. “It drove your Granddad crazy trying to figure out who could have done such a thing. We started arguing almost every day. I wanted to move on from it, but Barrett refused. He wouldn’t shut up about who he thought was behind it.”

“The cops never found out who did it?”

“No. Useless, they were. The case fell to the county sheriff, the same sheriff who ended up losing his job some years back because of corruption. Nothing ever came of it. Barrett and I just didn’t seem to do anything but argue. So, one day, I’d had enough. I packed up a suitcase, hitched a ride into town, and took a bus back home. That’s where Barrett found me six months later, begging me to return, promising me he’d stop obsessing with it and try to move forward. So, that’s what we did. That’s why I saw red when Kinsey told us we had to bury him at Turtle Ridge. That man is gonna be laid to rest next to Travis and Linley, or I was gonna raise holy hell.”

“So you guys just decided to stop talking about Mom and Dad’s death as if it never happened?”

“Something like that.”

“Does Tate know the truth?”

“No.”

“I’ll need to tell her. We don’t keep secrets from each other. We never have.”

“Whatever you feel you need to do,” Duchess replied.

“Do you think what happened to Mom and Dad has anything to do with what’s happening now?”

“I don’t know. How could I know that?” she snapped.

Exasperated at his grandmother’s coldness, Trent got to his feet. “Brent grilled me Friday night about knowing anyone who might have a grudge against us. Theo and Colt keep asking me. They still want to make a connection to something that happened in the past. Yet, you never said a word. It sounds like a grudge existed twenty-two years ago, and you guys just decided not to address the problem then but rather ignore it, and it would go away.”

“Don’t go getting snippy with me.”

“Sorry, Duchess. Holding a secret like this deserves somebody to react, get ticked off, or exhibit some real emotion about what happened to Mom and Dad.”

Tate walked up, dirty from mucking out stalls. “What happened to Mom and Dad?” When neither of them answered, her gaze turned to Duchess. “What are you yelling at her about? What did she do?”

Trent glared at his grandmother. “Are you gonna tell her?”

“You said you would,” Duchess barked.

“This is ridiculous,” Trent muttered, putting his hands on his head. He looked over at his sister and blurted out, “What killed Mom and Dad wasn’t just a car accident. Someone shot their front tire out, and Dad lost control of the pickup. Both of them died at the scene. It’s an unsolved case to this day. And before you say anything, I just found out they’ve been unwilling to tell us the truth because the truth apparently makes them very uncomfortable talking about it.”

Tate sent daggers toward her grandmother. Tired already, her steely blue eyes shimmered with resentment at the realization the truth had been withheld for twenty-two years. “Is what he said true?”

She waited for an answer but got stony silence. Then it dawned on her. “How dare you keep this from us? I can understand not telling seven-year-olds how their parents died, but you’ve had two decades to mention this before now so that we could deal with the truth. Obviously, what’s happening now is connected to what happened to Mom and Dad. And you didn’t even think about bringing it up Friday night, the next day, or Sunday when we were sipping punch on the freaking veranda? Why would you do that? Why wouldn’t you eventually tell us how our parents were killed?”

Duchess straightened her spine and got to her feet. “I’ll be heading home now to my own bed.” She cradled the shotgun in her arms as she descended the steps before turning back toward her grandchildren. “Everyone else was assigned patrol duty. What am I supposed to do tonight when everyone else is guarding the ranch?”

Tate and Trent traded looks, but Tate was the one who sneered, “Why don’t you and Dolly huddle together in your big ol’ house and binge-watch Yellowstone together? If he comes back, use your shotgun on him. Maybe some emotion will find its way into your heart and soul by that time through empathy or meditation. Although I seriously doubt it will ever happen.”

The siblings watched their grandmother raise her chin in the air and march down the pathway to the main house.

“Why are you always such a stone-cold bitch?” Tate shouted at her back as she stormed up the steps to the porch and into the house, with Trent following.

“I don’t believe this,” she bellowed, marching around the small living room. “Why did she finally open up to you?”

“She didn’t. It was Granddad’s journal, the one she wanted me to read before the funeral. They couldn’t get along after Mom and Dad died and ended up separating. It took Granddad six months before he went to Wyoming and asked her to come back. But there was a condition, a big one. She wanted him to stop talking about what happened.”

“Stop talking about it? My whole life, I knew she was emotionally distant. We’ve talked about it three dozen times. But I never in a million years figured she was that cold, not wanting to mention how her son died. All those times we sat there at mealtime and tried to bring it up, only to hit an icy brick wall with both of them. Remember those days? That explains a lot.”

“Dolly was the only one who took us to visit their graves. Now we know why.”

“It’s as if Travis and Linley Callum never existed,” Tate lamented. “Am I wrong to be this angry?”

“If you’re wrong, then so am I.”

“We deserved to know what actually happened that night, Trent. Never discussing it wasn’t the answer.”

“I know.”

“Look, I have to get cleaned up and try to catch a few hours of sleep before we go on patrol tonight,” Tate said. “Maybe a cold shower will calm me down. No, on second thought, I’m so mad I could scream. You are thinking that what happened to Mom and Dad is connected to now, right? I’m not the only one, right?”

“You better believe it. Nothing else makes any sense.”

“Good. Because I’m only sure of one thing, somebody was pissed enough to cause that accident—to shoot out their tire—”

“And they came back to finish the job twenty-two years later.”

“As crazy as that sounds, we’re dealing with someone who has now murdered four people.”

“And now he has nothing left to lose.”

“You need to mention this to Colt or Theo.”

“Don’t worry. I intend to tell them everything I know, which isn’t much.”

“And whose fault is that?” Tate snarled. “Let me take a shower, and we’ll make that call together. Then we’ll grab something to eat at your place. I’m not setting foot in our grandmother’s house until I’ve cooled off.”