Page 15

CASE

“Sutton Cooper. You better get your butt out here,” I call out from my spot on the porch, my eyes glued toward the tree farm.

I was thinking I’d have a slow, easy morning.

The plan was to enjoy my second cup of the day of Wyatt’s Cowboy Brew coffee in the hanging chair before going inside to my makeshift office–aka my bedroom–to answer emails and do some computer work before helping Wyatt and Will in the first guest cabin we’re in the process of renovating.

But instead of doing any of that, I watch in horror as Grumps strolls around my newly planted saplings. The ones that we cultivated, broke our backs putting in the ground, and which are now under threat by our stalker donkey.

Don’t get me wrong, the jackass has grown on me, and he has his moments when he looks as cute as a speckled puppy. Then there are times like now when he has escaped his stall–his favorite pastime–and is wandering among my baby trees.

“Where’s the fire?” Sutt asks, strolling onto the porch like he’s got all the time in the world.

I point to the field I chose, prepped, and painstakingly poured my blood, sweat, and tears into.

I know it’s early days, but it’s mine, And when you’re a twin—identical at that—it’s rare to get things that are yours and yours alone.

Right now I have my tree farm and Isla. Two things I’m willing to protect with everything I have.

“You need to fix that .”

“Aww look. Grumps went explorin’ again. Is that why you called me out?” Sutton asks. “He won’t let us near him, but that doesn’t stop him goin’ wherever he wants.”

“How about we don’t let him ‘ explore ’—” I use air quotes to get my irritation across, “my tree farm.”

“He won’t eat the baby trees. They’re so little, and he’s more into hay and grass not—” Just as he says that, we watch as Grumps brays loudly then dips his head down, and yep… rips the head off the nearest sapling. “Well, damn.”

“ Sutt ,” I growl. “I swear to all that’s holy, if you don’t get him out of there, we’ll be stockin’ up the freezer.”

My brother scrunches his nose up. “Not sure donkey meat would taste all that good.”

“Don't really care about that right now,’ I spit out as we both launch into action, rushing through the house to the mudroom to grab our boots and jackets before rounding the house and running to the field.

By the time we get there, we have an audience. Will and Birdie watch from the porch swing as Jude runs after us, having heard me grumbling about unclaiming a donkey.

“Where’s he gone?” Sutton asks, swinging his body over the top of the wooden gate. I do the same, whereas Jude stops, unhooks the latch, and uses the gate as it’s intended.

“Wait,” he calls out. “You’ll spook him. Then he’ll take off and cause more damage.”

I spot a splash of grey in the distance. “There!” I shout, launching into a sprint.

Grumps stops mid-step, his head snapping up and his ears swiveling like a windsock in a storm. His eyes are popping out of his head so much that I can see the whites of his eyes.

“Sh—,” I say, coming to a sudden stop. Moments later, I’m knocked over when Sutton runs straight into me.

The damn animal starts braying loudly, his tail swishing back and forth. If I knew donkey body language, I’d swear he’s laughing at us right now. “Classic,” Jude says, coming to a stop behind us and holding out an arm to help Sutton get off of me.

When I’m back on my feet, I scowl at my twin. “Did you somehow miss me standin’ in front of you?”

“No.” Sutton looks at me as if to say ‘duh’. “Didn’t expect you to stop suddenly.”

“I had Jude’s voice in my head tellin’ me not to spook the donkey.”

“To be fair, there are far worse things to have in your head than my voice,” Jude helpfully replies.

“Like what?” I ask nonsensically.

Grumps lets out an almighty loud raspberry to get our attention. All three of us snap our heads his way.

“What?” we all say at once.

The donkey snorts and lifts his head before turning around and walking away from us, not looking back.

“What is he doin ?” I ask.

“At least he’s not attackin’ your saplin’s anymore. That’s a bonus,” Jude replies.

“Maybe he wants us to follow him,” Sutton says.

As if understanding my twin’s question, Grumps looks over his shoulder, tilts his head, and drops his ears to the side.

“Wait, I read about this,” Jude says. “I think that’s a mannerism that means he’s happy.”

“Probably because he’s had a good feed of baby Spruce this mornin,” I mutter.

Jude snorts. “Nah, he trusts us. He’s showin’ us that he’s comfortable.”

“Can he be comfortable away from here? Preferably on the other side of the fence,” I grumble, plotting ways to give the jackass a long time out in the barn.

The animal jerks his head, gesturing for us to follow him. He walks toward a hole in the fence at the far back side of the field, right underneath a tall old tree with a thick trunk covered in rough, dark bark.

We stand there stock still as he slips through the seen-better-days fence and stops on the other side, jerking his head up with a wiffle before launching into a run and disappearing from sight.

“And now he leaves us,” I sigh, looking around to assess the damage.

Sutton keeps walking toward the tree before looking over to where Jude and I stand. “You guys remember seein’ this tree, right?”

I frown. “Ah, yeah. It was here the other week when we were diggin’, plantin’, and makin’ ourselves feel like we were eighty. Why’s that?”

“I know that .” He rolls his eyes. “I mean, do you remember it bein’ here when we were kids?”

Jude cocks his head. “Didn’t we used to loop a rope over that big branch and use it as a swing?”

“Yep,” I say. “It was nowhere near this big though.”

Sutton frowns, turning back to the trunk and tracing his fingers over the rough surface. “But it was here, right?”

Curiosity piqued, I jerk my head to Jude and we make our way over. “What have you found, Sutt?”

“It might be nothin’,” he says quizzically.

Jude snorts. “Ridley ‘Riddles’ Cooper was here before us and we’ve already discovered our grandfather liked leavin’ hints and clues for us to find. So nothin’ usually means somethin’ on this mountain. What is it?”

“There are initials on the trunk.”

“But how?” I say as Jude and I stop on either side of Sutton. I lean in to get a better look and sure enough, there’s what looks like letters carved into the bark.

HC 4 MW

“Wait. Who’s HC?” Jude asks. “Dad and Gramps don’t have names startin’ with H. None of the rest of the family either.”

“What about further back? Maybe a few generations? Were there any H’s?” Sutton says, thinking out loud.

“Never met any of them,” I joke. Then I remember the first ‘treasure’ Will found from Gramps under the floorboards. “But I know how we can find out.”

After checking on my saplings and discovering that Grumps the donkey didn’t cause any damage bar slobbering on that one tree, we make our way back to the house where Will and Birdie are waiting for us.

“So? Do we still have a donkey?”

“For now,” I grumble, earning a few laughs.

“Do you know where that Cooper family tree chart is? We found somethin’ on a trunk in the farm field and we need to see what our great grandfather’s name was,” Jude explains.

“Or great great grandfather. We don’t know how far back to go yet,” I remind him.

Birdie’s eyes spark with interest. “Yes. It’s in Will’s top drawer.

Let me go get it.” Then she’s off running out of the living room.

She returns moments later with the leather-bound book we found a few months ago when we first moved here.

“This is so excitin’. Iz and I were only talkin’ about this whole mystery a little while ago. ”

Just hearing Isla’s name has my ears perking up. Just like Grumps the Donkey . “You did?”

“Yep,” she replies. “I’ve been curious about this whole Cooper/Wilson rivalry since the old man confronted us at the diner, and just like me, Iz loves a good mystery. Anyway, who are we lookin’ for?”

“We found initials carved onto the trunk of the big ol’ Black Cottonwood tree. HC 4 MW,” Sutton explains, taking the book when Birdie offers it to him and laying it down on the dining table, opening it up.

We all crowd around him as he brings up the big fold-out page with the family tree on it. That's when I notice something strange.

“See there,” I say, pointing near the top of the tree. “Henley Cooper. Died aged twenty-four. Married to–”

Birdie gasps. “No… there’s no way…”

“Marion,” I finish.

“Is there a family name?” Will asks gruffly, sounding as surprised as the rest of us.

“Nope. It just says Marion Abigail.”

“Same name as our sister. Coincidence?” Jude says, arching a brow.

“I think we all know by now that nothin’ happens by chance on this mountain,” Will replies, pulling Birdie into his side and brushing a kiss against her temple.

The room goes silent and it’s as if we’re all thinking the same thing but no one wants to say it.

“W could be for Wilson,” I say with a resigned sigh. “That means there could be a connection between their family and ours.”

“Which means , we might have another clue about why the Wilsons and the Coopers don’t like each other,” Sutton replies before looking up at us. “This is good, right? We’re another step closer toward gettin’ some answers.”

“That we may be,” Will says. “But I’m learnin’ that gettin’ answers when you don’t know the question isn’t always that helpful.”

Birdie gives him a squeeze. “It’s a start though.”

Jude frowns. “What I want to know is how those initials got carved into the wood.”

“And how long it’s been there. Because we’d have remembered findin’ somethin’ like that as kids,” I add.

“We would’ve asked Gramps about it too. We were always pepperin’ him with questions back then,” Will replies with a small smile.

“Yeah,” Sutton laughs. “Probably why he could only handle us for the summer. He needed solitude the rest of the year just to recover.”