High Desert Detective, A Fiona Marlowe Mystery (Fiona Marlowe Mysteries) (19 page)

“I’ll drive you if you want to remain at home. That might be
better. I don’t mind. I know you’ll probably want to stay at home. You’ll feel
better.”

“Old Faithful is not always so faithful, I have to admit. I don’t
know if it will take a lot of driving.”

“I’ve been thinking about getting a car.
Maybe
a rental.”

“Truck would be better.”

“Truck?” said Fiona. “I hadn’t thought about a truck. I’ve never
owned a truck in my life.”

“You need four wheel drive and something with a bed to haul stuff
around in. You could get one of those extended cabs with a six foot bed. The
Ford dealership in town sometimes has good used trucks if you don’t want to
spend so much money. I know the dealer real well. He’d give you a good deal.”

“Truck,” Fiona said again. “I never thought of a truck. I guess
the later model ones would be easier to drive than Old Faithful.”

Opal looked like Fiona had stabbed her. “Old Faithful is easy to
drive. She’s just old.” She paused. “Like me.”

“You’re the youngest old person I know. Let me think about
getting a truck. I have to get used to the idea.”

“After we go to the lawyer’s office we’ll stop and see what they
have. You’ll like a nice big truck. They’re very versatile.”

As they pulled up to the doctor’s office and parked, Opal laid a
hand on Fiona’s arm. “Fiona, nobody knows about my condition yet. Let’s you and
me keep it that way for now, okay?”

“You secret is safe with me. But I wish it wasn’t that kind of
secret, Opal. I’m so sorry for you.”

“Don’t you be sorry for me, or I’ll be sorry I told you. I
appreciate your offer of help. Let’s see what the doctor has to say.”

Opal didn’t make it in the entrance door of the clinic before she
met someone she knew coming out and stopped to talk. It was one of the neighbor
ranchers, and they talked about hay and the dry weather until Opal checked her
watch and said, “I have to run. Got an appointment I don’t want to miss. Good
to see you folks.”

The nurse called Opal’s name soon after they registered. Fiona
waited in the visitor area and helped herself to a free cup of coffee and looked
for
Time
magazine. The closest she came
was
Modern Hunter
. She sighed. No
Time
magazine. Maybe they had it in the
nice little library in town. She could stop and pick up a couple of back issues
to read at home. She hadn’t had any news since she had arrived, which was hard
on a news junky. She thumbed through the hunting magazine and looked at the
photos. Life in the rural west was so different than back east city life.
So different.

She hadn’t been waiting long before the nurse came looking for
her. “Miss Marlowe, would you come back to meet with Opal’s doctor?”

“Sure. Okay,” Fiona said, wondering if something had gone wrong.
She picked up her purse and followed the nurse to the room where Opal sat with
her doctor. She shook the doctor’s hand when he introduced himself.

“Have a seat, please,” Dr. Martinez said.

Fiona looked at Opal for some clue as to why she was called into
their meeting. Opal smiled a small smile and said, “Thanks, Fiona. I wanted
someone else to hear this to make sure I remembered everything right.”

“Of course,” said Fiona and sat down.

The doctor, who was young, dark haired and nice looking, handed a
set of papers to Fiona. “These are the instructions for Mrs. Crawford while she
is having chemotherapy. She will come in every day for a week to start. We will
be able to do the first regimen of treatment here at the hospital. Depending on
how she responds to treatment, she may have to go to a larger hospital in
another city for different treatment.”

Fiona looked quickly through the papers.

Dr. Martinez said, “There are suggestions for eating, symptoms
she’ll have and how to respond, what she can do and can’t do. I’ve explained
everything to her. She can carry on normally, depending on how she feels. If
she gets tired, she needs to rest. These papers are a reminder.”

Opal said, “Please tell her what my prognosis is.”

The doctor cleared his throat. “Yes. This type of leukemia is
incurable. If she responds to the chemotherapy, it may slow its development.”

Opal said, “And if I don’t respond.”

“You may have eighteen to twenty four months at the most.”

The stillness in the room was punctuated by the tick of an
old-fashioned wall clock. Dr. Martinez studied his folded hands on the desk. “I’m
sorry to be the bearer of bad news. In this instance, Mrs. Crawford may want to
get a second opinion. I am not opposed to that.”

Fiona was in shock. “Isn’t there even a slim chance of recovery?”

Dr. Martinez said, “Recovery is not an option in this type of
leukemia. The most we can hope is to arrest development. In some instances, we
could try a bone marrow transplant but Mrs. Crawford’s age works against her. Quality
of life is a factor here.”

Fiona looked over at Opal and said, “We’re going to beat this.
You’ll live to be one hundred.”

“Oh, dear, I hope not. That sounds so old. But we’ll give it our
best.”

The doctor rose. “The oncologist will be in on Wednesday this
week. You’ll meet with her first and then start chemotherapy.”

Back in the Red Bomb Fiona didn’t start the car but turned to
Opal. “We better look for my new truck if we’re coming into town every day.”

Opal nodded. “It’s all so sudden, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I’m still in shock. So much is happening to you at one
time.”

Opal squinted into the glare of the sun. “I don’t know how I’ll
tell everyone. I’d like to start the treatments and then cross that bridge,
although it’s impossible to keep anything secret in this town for long.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to help you, Opal.”

“Then we better look for your rig.”

An hour later, Fiona was signing papers for a white Ford 150 late
model truck that would be ready for pick up on Wednesday. She stood looking at
her new purchase and felt slightly dazed. It had an extended cab, a six foot
bed and four wheel drive like Opal recommended. It was automatic, and Rusty,
the dealer, had given her an extensive tour of how everything worked.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Rusty, gazing at the Ford with her, “you got
yourself a fine vehicle.
Just came in yesterday from a
rancher out your way who needed a bigger rig.
He took good care of it,
too. We have excellent mechanics on site so you can keep the warranty maintenance
up. Yes, sir, this is a fine vehicle.” He walked around the truck, smiling like
he was the proud father.

“It’s cute,” said Fiona. “I rather like it.”

Rusty stopped and looked at her. “Cute? That’s the first time
I’ve heard that adjective applied to a 150, but cute she is, I guess. She’ll be
even cuter Wednesday when we have her all cleaned up and checked over good.
We’ll see you then.”

At the lawyer’s office, Wade Stewart handed Fiona the deed.

“There you are, Miss Marlowe. We registered the deed this
morning. You now own your own little piece of heaven.”

Within the course of a few hours she had a new place, a new truck
and a new role as caregiver.

Fiona took Opal’s arm as they walked to the car. “Thank you,
Opal, for going to the trouble of giving me the deed. But you’re getting tired.
How about I buy you dinner in town? We can call back to the ranch and tell the
boys they are on their own this evening.”

Opal’s face brightened. “It would be nice not to have to cook. I don’t
feel up to it.”

“You do too much. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

She laughed.
“All the time.
I can’t
stop. I enjoy ranch life so much. I hope they have a ranch heaven where I can
spend eternity.”

“I’m sure they will. I know they will. But you aren’t going there
yet. Let’s have a little fun while we’re waiting.”

Lauren Brooks met them at the Old Towne Brew Pub so Fiona could
get the names of the people she had mentioned as contractors.

“You got a truck?” said Lauren.
“No way.
I can see you now hauling a trailer with horses and following Jake around from
rodeo to rodeo.”

Fiona laughed. “I don’t think I’m there yet. I can’t believe I
bought a truck.”

“Rig,” said Opal. “They’re rigs.”

“Okay, a rig.”

The waitress came to take their drink order.
 
She was young, wearing a top that looked like
it had shrunk in the wash and jeans slung on her hips. Fiona wondered if she ever
got cold with all that mid-body flesh exposed.

“Now that I have a rig,” Fiona said, “I guess I’ll have to start
drinking beer. What do you have on tap?”

The young girl recited a litany of their brews. “Dancing Ants is
a good IPA, if you like a lot of hops.”

“Hops?
Maybe I’ll become a hops
aficionado. I’ll try the IPA. What have I got to lose?”

Lauren joined her in a microbrew, and Opal ordered whiskey and
water.

“I heard something interesting about that Pattie Smith gal. You
know, Brewster’s girlfriend,” said Lauren.

To hear better Fiona leaned forward across the table where the
waitress had placed beer coasters and ice water. They were sitting close to the
door, and the noise level went up every time another party came through the
door.

“What would that be?” asked Fiona. She was beginning to understand
that Lauren was exceptional when it came to gossip.

Lauren leaned in, too. “I heard that she did have relations here.
I was talking to a customer the other day and missing persons came up. I asked
if she had ever heard of a Pattie Smith. This customer is connected to the underground
gossip line, and she said she had. That a Pattie Smith was related to the
Browns who used to live up on the Ranch Estates above town, but they got
foreclosed on and moved away.”

“So there really was a Pattie Smith.”

“Seems so according to this lady. Of course, there may be more
than one Pattie Smith.”

“Did she say whether Pattie Smith had gone missing?”

Lauren shook her head. “She didn’t know. She only knew that they
had mentioned that Pattie came through from time to time to visit and that she
was an artist or something. Maybe they were cousins or some distant relation.”

“Too bad the relations had to move.”

“Yes, but I’m sure the Sheriff could find out who the relations
were that she came to visit.”

“Maybe he could,” said Fiona.

It was dark when Fiona and Opal pulled in front of the ranch
house. Jake was sitting on the porch and came out to meet them. “I was
beginning to get worried.”

“We had a big day in town,” said Opal. “Fiona picks up her new
rig Wednesday morning, and she now has a legal deed to her place.”

Jake smiled into Fiona’s eyes. “Good news. You must be staying if
you got a deed and a rig.”

“I’ll need a reliable truck to get around in now that I’m going
to rebuild.” She skirted the issue of the primary reason she had bought the truck.
 

Opal went inside saying she was tired and was going to turn in.

Fiona sat down beside Jake.
“Any news from
Hoover?”

“He hasn’t found any rustlers or antique gun thieves. I’ve been
thinking what to do and decided to post watch on the cows and that knoll of
yours.”

“Who will keep watch?”

“We’ll rotate.
Me and the buckaroos and the
dogs.
It puts an added burden on the operation but I don’t like that
someone is sneaking around here. I’ll bring in the two Great Pyrenees dogs we
have with the goats. They’re good watch dogs. We’ll bring the goats in, too.
It’s about time to change their pasture. Problem is what pasture to put them
on.”

“It’s weird that people are sneaking around here and stealing your
cattle. It gives me a creepy feeling.”

“Me, too.
What could they want up on
your knoll?”

“I think it is something valuable that we haven’t thought of yet.
Buried treasure seems far-fetched, but I guess that would be possible. Has
anyone else found anything on the ranch like gold?”

Jake shook his head. “Not that I know. This region has a lot of
hot springs but none close to us. No oil, no gold, no natural gas. That missed
us. Mostly we have sage brush, rabbit brush, greasewood, rim rock, a lot of
space, and not very much water.”

“I’m stumped. I don’t know the area like you do. I volunteer to
help keep watch. I’m a bit of a night owl.”

Jake laughed. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think we’ll need
you. This is a man’s job.” He winked. “But you could keep me company for a
while on the midnight shift.”

Fiona looked at him and smiled. “Maybe we can work something
out.”

* * * * *

Jake was working in the shop the next morning, trying to get a
motor working, when Tillie and Howie pulled up in their old truck. He wiped his
oily hands on a rag and walked out of the shop to the front of the house to
greet them. Tillie hadn’t ever been friendly to him. She never had approved of
his interfering in the ranch, as she called it. He always treated her with a
degree of cordiality he didn’t feel.
 
Her
husband, Howie, was a mean drunk. Jake suspected he beat up on Tillie, but he
never left any marks, and Tillie never complained or let on that he was
abusive. At least, she never said anything to Jake and if she let on to Opal,
she wasn’t saying. They lived a good ways off, so he wondered what brought them
all this way today.

“Good morning,” Jake said. “I’d shake hands but mine are filled
with grease.”

Tillie waved him off. Howie studied the far horizon like Jake
didn’t exist.

“Is Opal around?” Tillie asked. She held one of her endless
cigarettes in hand and took a long drag.

“She’s in the kitchen.”

“I heard you’re having cattle problems over here.” She looked up the
knoll. “And someone didn’t like that ugly old bunk house and burned it down.”