PROLOG
Gunnison
County, CO – October 1933
Caleb added an entry to his
journal. He placed it carefully into the cracker tin with
the other evidence. He put the tin with its precious
evidence in the hole he was using to hide it and carefully
replaced the flooring. He walked out of the one room cabin,
looking back to see if the hiding spot was visible before he
headed to town for supplies.
Caleb never saw the
gunman or felt the rifle aiming at him as he rode home
later. He never heard the shot and felt no pain from the
bullet that crashed through his skull causing his body to
roll down the gully into the fast rushing shallow creek
below.
The killer pulled Caleb out of the creek and
took his wallet. He pushed the body over his saddle, walking
up the trail for about a mile before he found a large round
hole left by a falling tree at the edge of a wash.
He smiled like a kid on Christmas morning. This would save a
lot of work. He dumped Caleb’s body off the saddle into the
hole, filling it with rocks and boulders. No need to put in
dirt, critters wouldn’t get around those rocks.
Once
done, he rode back to collect Caleb’s horses. He shrugged
down deeper into his coat as snow began falling, signaling
the end of good weather in the Rockies and the beginning of
another winter.
CHAPTER ONE
Gunnison
County, CO – Present Day
Megan’s blue eyes grew large
as she watched in growing horror the rocky bank giving way
under Bethany’s horse. With the horse scrambling madly, the
pair slid backward out of sight. Jumping off Radar, she
threw his reins in a tree as the sounds below faded into
silence. On hands and knees, she cautiously approached the
unstable edge, when she heard Bethany scream. "Bethany, are
you okay? Are you hurt?" She cautiously lay on her belly,
extending her long frame, and pushing her head and shoulders
over the edge of the embankment.
Bethany had kicked
free of her stirrups to dive off her horse when she felt him
begin to slip backward off the edge of the wash. Coup fought
the backward slide, whipping his body around to swim with
the rolling dirt and boulders, slinging Bethany’s
five-foot-four inch frame from the saddle to land on her
backside in the rocks. Landing, she felt a sharp pain, her
hips digging into boulders lodged in the bank. She watched
Coup stumble down the landslide and saw him come to a stop,
on his feet, not thirty feet below where she landed.
Automatically, she rolled onto her knees, smacking her
helmet on the ground, coming eyeball to eye socket with a
human skull. Her breath catching in her throat, her mouth
went dry in the split second before her scream startled Coup
into moving further away.
"Oh my God! Megan, there’s
a body down here! Ewww!" Bethany’s voice, breathless, then
wavering up to a shrill shriek, rose up from the gully to
reach Megan.
"What body? To hell with the body. Are
you okay?" Megan inspected what she could see of her friend
from above, looking for blood or obvious injuries. Breathing
a sigh of relief, she saw Bethany looked to be only dirty
with leaf matter stuck between the bill of her helmet and
her forehead. She seemed more concerned with her discovery
than with herself.
"I’m okay, I think. I landed
where I have the most padding." Her eyes went to Coup, who
was walking over to a patch of late oats to graze. Relief
flooded her. He seemed to be moving okay, but she could see
some blood staining his back right stocking. Knowing he
wouldn’t wander farther than the closest food, she looked up
at Megan. "Are you going to lie there all day, or climb down
here to see this?"
"Well, I don’t want to start
another landslide. Does the ground look solid?"
"Yeah, I think Coup’s weight was the issue that caused the
ground to give way. The creek’s been undermining this bank
for years." She looked both directions, seeing several spots
where the upper ground extended over the gully by as much as
five feet. "If you work your way down from where you are, on
an angle toward the bottom of the gully, you should be
fine," she advised. This gully was going to be a tough one
to create a decent trail across because of the constant
erosion. She gingerly touched the small of her back and felt
the growing welt where she’d landed against a rock. She knew
it was going to hurt later. Looking again at the skull, she
frowned. What had this poor person ever done to wind up
buried out here with no marker? Sadness welled up in her at
the thought of his or her family who had never known the
reason for the disappearance of their loved one.
Megan stood up, took a deep breath, and began to work her
way toward Bethany. She hated heights and steep spots, no
matter if she was on foot or horseback. Bethany was standing
by the time she reached her. They both leaned over the wide
hole to get a better look at the skeleton.
"I wonder
how it got here. That hole looks like maybe a bullet hole.
What do you think?" Megan pointed to the smallish round hole
on the left side of the skull, and then swallowed back
nausea at the mummified tissue and cloth visible beyond the
skull.
"This hollow looks like an old hole created
by an uprooted tree. I’ve seen root holes larger than this
after a strong wind." Bethany pointed to bits of what looked
to be tree roots along one side of the hole. "I don’t think
this person died here, unless they took shelter or hid in
here. No way could he or she fall so perfectly into a hole.
Maybe they froze here in a storm after seeking shelter."
Bethany frowned in distaste and shook her head in sorrow at
the thought of a wounded person trying to hide from a
killer, but knew in her heart, if it was a bullet hole, the
victim likely had never known what hit him or her.
"Yeah, I don’t think this boulder walked up from the creek
bed by itself." Megan hefted a five-pound rock located just
inside the hole. "Now what’re we gonna do?" She looked at
the bones with desiccated tissue surrounded by rocks nestled
in the shallow hole in the bank. "I think we shouldn’t move
anything until a forensics expert works the scene. There
might be evidence in the hole with the body."
"Let’s
put back the rocks we know rolled out of the hole, geocache
the location, tie a ton of ribbon on the trees above the
bank and across the way, and start looking for the most
direct route out of here to the closest road. The
authorities are going to need a trail from the road to the
body, preferably a short trail. We can call them when we get
back to camp," Bethany suggested. She gave her friend a kind
of lopsided grin. "The only good thing I can think of about
all of this is now I have a name for the trail and maybe the
ride I’m planning. This will be the ‘Skeleton Trail Loop’
and the ride can be something to do with murder and mayhem
or the skeleton. Help me think of a good name?" she asked
her friend. "Maybe hold it on Halloween or as a night ride
and call it the ‘Ghost 50’?"
"Your mind is never far
from endurance, is it?" Megan shook her head and began to
brush the dirt off Bethany’s back. She stopped when Bethany
winced, gasped, and jumped away from her hand.
"Ouch, careful. I’m going to have a nasty bruise. Why don’t
you go get Radar and I’ll finish brushing off my butt and
head down to Coup." She turned away from Megan with her
hands lightly covering the injured area. "He looks like he
has a cut on his back leg," she said over her shoulder while
she watched her friend climb back up to her horse. Bethany
stood a moment longer, gently feeling out the size and
location of the growing painful welt of bruised flesh before
she cautiously climbed down to inspect her horse.
Above, Radar stood happily trimming the tree where his reins
hung over a branch. He looked around as Megan approached.
Damn, the day had started out so well. She frowned at the
thought of the complications and the fact that Bethany
seemed to be in more pain than she wanted her to know. Roger
would not be happy that she failed to keep his wife from
injury. Not that she could have foreseen the situation, but
he had specifically told her to take care of Bethany; even
though Bethany seemed completely capable of taking care of
herself. Crap. She untangled the reins from the tree,
unclipped them from the bit, and clipped one end on the
halter part of the halter bridle.
"I’m going to
ribbon the tree up here before I follow you. No sense in
making two trips up and down," she called to Bethany. Taking
the roll of orange surveyors’ tape off her saddle, she
unwound several yards. She broke it up into strips and tied
them all over the tree Radar was munching, making it look
more like an orange Christmas tree than an aspen. Next, she
led Radar to the spot where she would begin her decent and
tied several strips of tape around smaller boulders before
stacking them. She led her horse past the hole with the
skeleton, marking a turning spot for the zigzag path down to
the bottom of the gully. Looking back up the side of the
wash, the orange tape screamed out of the browns of the fall
and the earth tones of the rock. Yep, no one with eyes would
miss this spot along the trail she surveyed with a grim
smile.
Bethany waited with Coup at the edge of the
dry creek. During the wet season, it would be deep, but at
the end of summer, there was only one small puddle left to
be seen. "I think we can make the trail go up over there. It
looks like solid footing and for some reason, the wall isn’t
quite so steep. I expect the Trailmaster might choose a
different spot, but let’s start there because it’s close to
the overall trail." She pointed across the gully to where
the ground slanted up at a less severe angle.
"Sounds good to me. Let’s go, boss lady. You lead." Megan
agreed and urged Bethany onward. Megan stepped her long legs
and lanky frame onto the tall Appaloosa’s before Bethany
mounted her more petite Arab gelding. She saw Bethany wince
as she settled into her endurance saddle. "Hey, do you need
a pain killer? I’ve got everything from Advil to Tylenol-3
in my trail kit," She offered.
"I’ll take a couple
of Advil. The stronger stuff just makes me dizzy and
nauseous. The last thing I need on horseback is dizziness."
Bethany managed to smile back at Megan, but her face was
paler than normal. Digging out the packet of pills,
Megan handed them over. During the past month of living at
the R-M ranch, renting the house once occupied by Roger’s
uncle Phil, she had come to like both her new bosses and
grown protective of them. Bethany worked hard creating the
new pack station and guest ranch/campground, while Roger
managed the cattle and horse ranch his family had owned for
generations.
The R-B, which stood for Roger-Bethany,
would offer wilderness trips for eco-tourists and trails for
all levels of equestrians. With electric camping spots for
guests hauling rigs with living quarters or regular RV’s,
cabins for guests arriving without horses or RV’s, and
horses for those without animals, it would bring new
business to Riverview. They planned guided trips up the
mountains and overnight or day options, along with a
beautiful lodge for dinner, dancing, and gatherings. They
were sinking a big chunk of money into this venture. The
purchase of an additional two thousand acres at a land
auction this past spring had begun the project. Then
receiving permits from the Forestry to put trails for
equestrians into the woods with the assistance of a
certified Trailmaster had sealed the deal for the new
project.
Bethany and Megan started the day at the
campground, using Megan’s GPS to store the trail they marked
with ribbon through the woods and over hills. Bethany wanted
this to be about a fifteen-mile loop that would have
overlooks and stopping points, but work its way back to the
main camp. For the eco-tourists, it would be a daylong ride
with lunch at a meadow. For the more experienced riders and
the endurance competitors, it would be a two- to five-hour
trail ride. They hoped to have it marked out by sundown, but
now with the need to locate the closest road, who knew how
long it would be before they would be able to finish the
loop. Her spirits drooped at the thought that the loop might
not get finished before snowfall. Double crap.
At
the top of the gully, Bethany pulled out a folded quadrant
map from the USGS. The trail they had been following went
off to the left. They were about seven miles from where they
had started. "Did you geocache this spot? We’ll need to be
able to give the coordinates to the authorities."
"Yep. Got it safely stored. What does the map show?"
"Well, if we follow the trail to the left long enough,
maybe three or four more miles, we should come to BLM 26.
It’s not much of a road, but it would allow vehicles to park
within walking distance." Bethany pointed to the left,
indicating the direction they should go. "Road access might
also work in our favor, allowing crews or an event
photographer access to this trail in a competition." Bethany
thought aloud, imagining competitors needing water for
themselves and their hot, hardworking horses.
Following Bethany’s lead to the left, Megan stopped to put
up ribbons of orange tape, while Bethany went ahead to mark
further up the trail. Finding the closest road would give
summer riders access to help if they needed it. Riders often
overestimated the condition of their horses and then needed
help getting back to base camp. Forest roads, even nasty
ones, have saved many horses and riders.
"Boss, look
up there. Is that a trail to the left? Maybe it goes to the
road or a cabin on BLM 26?" She pointed at a faint Y in the
trail marked by three stacked rocks followed by several
rocks laid in a row.
"Hmmm, that’s possible. Let’s
check it out for about a mile. We come up with nothing in
that time, we’ll come back here and continue on this track.
I think this might be the old trappers’ trail used between
the towns along the Gunnison back before the highway was
built lower in the valley." Bethany put ribbon marking the
junction low in a pine tree. Three ribbons marking the turn
and another past the turn, almost out of sight to show the
side trail. "Why don’t you put the regular trail-marking
ribbon on the right, where it will draw the eyes away from
this junction? I don’t want to divert riders, but I want to
be able to find this trail again."
Megan marked the
right side of the trail they had been riding, and then rode
ahead on the side trail, while Bethany was tying ribbons at
the junction. She put one in the evergreen tree at the top
of the rise. Bethany passed her as they had been marking
trail all day, going another distance up the trail before
tying ribbon on the right side of the faint trail. Megan
caught her and they topped a rise together to see a cabin
nestled in the broad valley below. "Look at that!
There’s a cabin down there." Bethany paused to admire the
serenity of the scene.
"Wow! Bet we can beat you
there! Maybe the owners have a decent satellite phone for us
to reach the sheriff." Megan dug her heels into Radar and
the gelding surged forward, carefully finding the trail down
the hill into the low, lush valley before breaking into a
soft gallop toward the cabin on the far side.
They
were almost there when Coup caught up, put a nose in front
of Radar, pinned his ears at the gelding, and flipped his
tail. Radar, having a beta-type personality, immediately
pulled up and let the alpha gelding take the lead.
"Coup has the best ‘sneer’ in this region." Bethany laughed
at Megan’s surprised expression. "He can make just about any
horse he gets next to pull up and let him go by, just by
pinning his ears and lifting his head at them," she
explained, bringing him to a slow trot and then a walk when
they approached the cabin. "I once won a race to the finish
by that bit of horse interaction. Oh no! We won’t find any
phones here, sat or otherwise. Look at the door." She
pointed to the cabin door. It leaned into the frame and hung
by one old leather hinge.
"You’re right. This place
has been vacant a while, if the debris on the porch is any
indicator." Megan agreed, noticing the leaves and dirt blown
against the cabin wall. She dismounted from Radar and handed
his reins to Bethany before she turned to walk carefully up
the rough-hewn log steps to the remains of the porch.
"Be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt. If it looks
like it won’t open, leave it, and we’ll bring the boys back
to investigate," Bethany warned, gingerly dismounting from
Coup. "Damn, now my pants are starting to rub where they
cross that bruise."
Megan laughed over her shoulder
at her friend. "Guess it’s going to be some time before you
ride out again. We really should head home so you can get
some ice on that swelling." Nevertheless, she still lifted
the door to open it and peered into the dimly-lit cabin.
"Wow, it looks like someone just left it yesterday, except
for the dust. Looks all ready for the owner’s return."
Megan’s voice reflected the awe she felt looking into this
snapshot back in time. She could see the cot with the
rumpled bedroll along one wall, the large pot hanging over
the dead fire in the fireplace, the two-plank table, and
split-log bench pushed against the closest wall to her, all
waiting for the homeowner’s return. She sneezed three times
in a row, wiped her eyes and nose on the back of her glove,
and said, "Yep, lots of dust, but wow, there’s even still a
book lying open on the table. Wonder what was being read the
last time this place was occupied?"
"I don’t think
you should go in there. It could be dangerous. What if the
floor gives way?" Bethany warned while she stood at the
bottom of the steps holding the horses.
"The floor
looks strong. Those planks must be at least two inches
thick. I wonder if there’s a name inside the book." Picking
her way softly across the plank floor, she made it to the
table in three careful steps. "Wow, it’s a Bible. Kind of
gives me goose bumps. There’s a stub of a candle and a stub
of a pencil here with it. Wonder what he’d been writing?"
Megan touched the candle and pencil before her hand rested
on the open Bible. It was open to the book of Luke in the
New Testament. No telling which verse had been the last one
read. Again, she got goose bumps thinking that here was
something cherished by a person who had never come back to
collect his things.
"Check it to see if there’s a
family name or inscription. Bibles have always been used to
record family events." Bethany took one step up and decided
to remain where she was when the tightening of the skin
across her backside made her gasp.
Lifting the dusty
book without removing her riding gloves, Megan mentally
noted the page number before closing the volume and opening
the front page. "This Bible is the property of Caleb
Preston," she read aloud to Bethany. "The first part is
printed inside and the name was handwritten on a vacant
line." She fanned the pages to find the original spot in
Luke to set the book back down where she found it. A single
folded sheet of paper slipped from the center of the Old
Testament to land on the floor at her feet.
"Wow,
Bethany, there was a sheet of paper folded up in the Bible."
She set the book down on the table, open to the correct page
before bending over to lift the sheet and shake out the
folds very gently to avoid tearing the thin paper. "It looks
like a letter. The handwriting is much too fine to be
written by the same hand that signed the Bible." She moved a
step closer to the door for better light, and then read:
October 2, 1933 Montrose, Colorado
Dear
Caleb,
Thank you ever so much for the work you have
been doing to find the killer of my husband. The new sheriff
has been around asking questions about the "person" I’ve
hired to investigate my husband’s death. From the way he was
acting, I think that not only was he unhappy with your
investigation, but that he also feels threatened in some
way. He told me that I needed to let go of this search and
accept that the villains who shot Tuck have long since left
Riverview.
Caleb, I’m worried for your safety. If
Sheriff Miller is involved in Tuck’s death, he can be very
dangerous. Maybe you should quit searching until next
spring. By then, Miller might no longer care about your
investigation. I can’t stand the thought of you risking your
life to bring Tuck’s murderer to justice.
Please be
careful and let me know if there is anything I can do to
help you. Tuck didn’t leave much, but I know you must be
getting short of funds. I can wire you money if you need
help to get through the winter. Or, maybe you can get your
old job back with the Cole spread.
I’m doing fine
and I feel the baby move often, so I know he’ll be born to
carry on his father’s name. I just know it’s a boy; he’s so
feisty, kicking all the time. I’ll be praying for your
safety and I hope to see you soon. Maybe you can get here
for either Thanksgiving or Christmas. My mother and I would
love to have you as a guest to show our appreciation for all
of your hard work since Tuck’s death.
Respectfully,
Angelica Tucker
Walking outside
while she read, Megan used the bright sunlight to see the
beautiful script. "Wow, I wonder if our skeleton is Caleb
Preston. Maybe he got too close to finding the killer of his
friend Tuck. Since the writer’s name is Angelica Tucker, we
should be able to assume that her husband was called ‘Tuck’
because it was short for Tucker." She handed the letter to
Bethany. "Wonder what Tuck’s first name was. I bet we can
find a history in the papers of the day, since we know the
man was killed within eight months or so of October in
1933.""Yeah, even in those days, babies took nine months, so
if she was feeling it kick a lot, it’s likely she was in her
third trimester." Bethany looked over the paper in the
sunlight trying to find any further information she could
about the writer or the person who received it. "No
envelope? Wish we could know where he received this letter.
What town, post office, or maybe even at the Cole Ranch."
She turned the paper over again and searched for clues.
"I could go in and search the cabin for more," Megan
offered, turning back to the cabin door.
"No!"
Bethany ordered. "I mean, no. That’s not a good idea. If
anything happened, I wouldn’t be able to help you. Sorry, I
didn’t mean to shout. It’s just scary with you in there and
me out here." She apologized for her outburst. "Let’s keep
the letter to turn over to the authorities and head out to
the road."
"Yeah, you’re right. We could spend hours
looking around this place for clues. Let me get this door
closed." Megan suited action to words, lifting the door on
its single hinge back into place, leaning against the frame.
She stepped lightly down to Bethany and took Radar’s reins.
"Do you need a leg up?"
"I think I can still mount,
but, I won’t get off again until I’m home." Bethany
muttered, turning to lift her left leg into Coup’s stirrup.
She grabbed his mane to pull herself into the saddle,
settling into the seat, but keeping most of her weight on
her feet to avoid resting her bruised lower back against the
cantle, stifling a groan, even with all the care she took.
"You sure you can ride okay?" Megan asked.
"I can make it. I once finished a twenty-five mile race with
a similar injury in the first five miles. I can ride, but I
won’t be able to move tomorrow," she confided, trying to
keep the irritation from her voice. She knew the pain was
making her snappish and didn’t want to hurt Megan’s
feelings.
"Okay, let’s get back to the main trail."
Megan took the lead. At the junction of the trails, she
dismounted and surveyed the placement of the ribbons to make
certain riders would go straight and likely never see the
side trail. "The turn is almost invisible. I doubt anyone
will be up this trail before we bring back the authorities,"
she commented, mounting up.
After marking trail for
another couple of miles, they finally heard a vehicle
crunching on a dirt or gravel road almost dead ahead.
"Yippee! I knew the road had to be close. I am sooo
ready to reach civilization." Bethany sighed in relief.
"Why don’t I ride on ahead while you mark the spot where
the trail comes out to the road? I can use my phone and call
the sheriff," Megan offered. She actually planned to call
Roger. They needed the trailer.
"Huh? Okay, let’s
get down to the road first, and then you can ride up to the
ridge crest to get the best reception." Bethany agreed,
while Coup cautiously picked his way down the twenty-foot
embankment to the gravel road. He automatically turned and
angled down the slope, while she placed one hand on the
cantle and the other on his neck to balance herself against
the angle of decent.
Megan sat on Radar at the top
of the embankment, watching until Bethany reached the
bottom, and then let Radar pick his way down the same slope.
Radar had watched Coup and followed the same path without
hesitation. Once at the bottom, Megan turned to Bethany, who
was tearing off strips of orange surveyors tape.
"Hold on to Coup and I’ll let Radar canter up the hill," she
warned, and then clucked to Radar, letting the gelding set
off at his sweet rocking chair gait up the gravel road.
At the top of the hill, she was happy to see her phone
showed reception at three bars. Relief flooded her while she
speed dialed the R-M Ranch house phone.
"Hello, this
is Shorty." Shorty’s voice was music to Megan.
"It’s
Megan. Is Roger there?"
"Nope, he’s out in the barn
working with that new youngster."
"Okay. Here’s what
I need you to do. Go tell Roger we need him to bring the
two-horse trailer. Take BLM 26 to the left just before the
county line. Follow it south-southeast. We’re coming out
that way and will meet him. Bethany is in pain. She’s
toughing it out, but I think she needs a lift. Oh, and tell
Roger we found a body. From the GPS markers, I think it’s in
the National Forest lands."
"WHAT?!" Shorty shouted
into the phone, causing Megan to hold it out from her face.
"A body? Bethany’s hurt? You better give me something better
than that or Roger will come unglued," he warned.
"Coup stumbled and slid down a hill. Bethany dove off and
landed on her butt. She has a serious bruise, but insists on
riding. She landed almost eye-to-eye with an old skeleton in
a hole in the embankment," Megan patiently told the man.
"Think that’s enough information to calm him down?" she
asked.
"Well, it sounds a dang site better than
‘Come out and get us because Bethany’s hurt and needs you
and by the way we found us a body.’ Sounds," Shorty snarled.
"I’m on my way out to the barn. Don’t be surprised if he
calls you."
"Well, I’m headed back down the hill to
help her mark the trailhead, so he might not reach me. Just
get him moving with the trailer, okay?" Megan’s patience
slipped and her voice sounded sharp with the question.
"Sorry, Shorty. I’m tired and this day has been kind of
crappy. Not your fault. Just tell Roger everything is fine,
but we need him…with the trailer," she told the man as she
closed the call. She turned Radar back toward Coup and let
him long trot back down the grade. She saw Bethany had
marked the boulders with spray paint and walked up the
incline to tie ribbons around the trees at the top of the
embankment.
"Hey, you shouldn’t have dismounted. I
could have done that painting," Megan called to her.
"It’s okay. I want to walk for a while anyway. It might
keep me from getting so stiff." Walking back down the trail
in the embankment, she was pleased that the ribbon was
barely visible from the road. That would keep any nosy
people from following the trail back to the body. She wanted
the spot to be visible "if you looked hard on the left
side."
Observing Bethany’s handiwork, Megan said,
"Looks good. If you know where to look, you can find it."
"That’s exactly what I want. Geocache this spot for
me and we can be on our way." Turning, she led Coup up the
road toward the ridge. "I take it you managed to reach the
ranch. How upset was Roger?"
"Well, I haven’t talked
to him. Shorty took the message to him out in the barn. I
expect one of our phones will ring the moment we get
reception." Megan no sooner finished the phrase than her
phone gave a half-hearted ring and went silent. "I expect
that’s him. He’ll try again in a minute or two. Maybe by
then I’ll have better reception."
Bethany laughed,
but it ended in a groan. "Damn, now it even hurts to laugh.
That bruise must be swelling more. It sure is rubbing on my
pants." She finished just as her phone gave a demanding
shrill ring. "I’ve got to change that ring tone. By the time
I can answer the phone I’m already in a foul mood from the
noise," she muttered, digging out the offending item and
flipping it open. "Hi, Honey. No, I’m okay, just bruised and
sore. Megan said what? Well, she’s exaggerating. I can too
ride if I wanted to." Bethany glared at Megan while she
listened to her husband. "Okay, I know the junction you’re
talking about and we’re about a mile from there. If you’re
just hitching up, we should be there within about five
minutes of you. Just take something to read and wait for
us." She closed the phone. "I’ve got a bone to pick with
you. You told Shorty that I couldn’t ride? What were you
thinking?" her voice rising with the second question.
"Well, what I told Shorty and what he told Roger are two
different things, unless Roger has a tendency to blow things
he hears out of proportion." Megan looked squarely at her
friend. She wasn’t going to justify herself any further and
if Bethany wanted to be angry, maybe it would ease the
discomfort she was feeling from hiking up the road. Megan
got off and took Coups’ reins so Bethany could move more
easily.
"Okay, I forgive you. Shorty does have a
problem with retelling what he hears. You might want to keep
that in mind and have him write down messages. Force him to
read back what he wrote," Bethany advised.
Megan
snorted. "Yeah, like he would agree to that. Some people
just have no good relationship with truth and unvarnished
information." She shook her head and walked on ahead of
Bethany, giving the woman space enough to groan, if needed,
without embarrassment. |
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