A Basket of Trouble (4 page)

“Me, too.” Claire glanced at Dave, with his distinguished pre-

maturely white hair. She gave him a wave then leaned in close to

Ellen. “So, you two looked pretty chummy there just then. Think-

ing of getting remarried?”

“Could be, could be.” Ellen arched a brow. “We’re just taking it

one day at a time right now. Trying to ease back into each other’s lives, have some fun together. And speaking of fun, what a great

idea you had to go on a trail ride together. I haven’t ridden a horse in years!”

Claire pointed at Ellen’s shiny new red tooled-leather cowboy

boots. “I can tell!”

Throwing back her head, Ellen laughed.

“I can’t wait to introduce you to my brother and his wife.”

Claire linked her arm in Ellen’s and pulled her up the path to the stable. “If you like the ride, I hope you’ll tell everyone you know about their stable.”

20

She shouted over her shoulder, “Follow us, guys, for a good

time!” She wiggled her generous butt for emphasis, and Ellen

joined suit.

Dave grinned and rubbed his hands together, elbowing Roger

to do the same.

As they walked under the wooden sign into the yard in front of

the trailer, a wiry young man with walnut-colored skin and long

black hair tied back in a ponytail came high-tailing it out of the barn. He shouted, “
Señor
Charley,
señor
Charley!”

Holding a coffee cup, Charley stepped out of the trailer onto its porch. “What is it, Pedro?”

Pedro skidded to a halt, eyes wide in alarm. In between huffs,

he said, “
Es
Kyle. He
muerto
!”

Claire gasped.

Charley dropped his cup. It shattered and splashed coffee on

his boots. “What?”

“Gunpowder stomp him!
Andale
!” Pedro waved Charley to-

ward the stable.

The two of them took off running, the hard soles of their

leather boots crunching in the gravel.

Claire started after them, but Dave put a hand on her arm. “We

should tell Jessica, get her to call 911.”

She looked back at Ellen and Dave, apprehension tightening

their lips and shoulders. “Yes, do that, but I know first aid. If Kyle’s just hurt and not really dead, I should see if there’s something I can do.”

“I’ll get the first aid kit out of the car for you,” Roger said.

“Good idea. Wait here,” Claire said to Ellen and Dave then ran

as fast as she could toward the barn.

21

When she entered, huffing to catch her breath, it took a mo-

ment for her eyes to adjust to the diminished light. A group of five men huddled outside Gunpowder’s stall, speaking in hushed, urgent tones. The other horses snorted and shuffled in their stalls, obviously spooked.

One man made a grab for Gunpowder’s halter, and the horse

let out a chilling scream. He bucked and kicked the back of his

stall with a resounding thump, making Claire and the others start.

“How long have you been trying to get Gunpowder out?”

Charley asked.

“Not long,” Jorge said. “As soon as we got here this morning,

we brought the mares in from the pasture. I wondered why they

were acting so
loco
, then I saw Gunpowder smashed against the side of his stall. I looked in and saw Kyle—and
sangre
, the blood. I yelled for Pedro to get you.”

“We’ve got to get in there and check on Kyle.” Charley directed

the men to open the gate to an empty stall. He sent one to grab a blanket. “And someone call 911!”

“Our friend Dave’s telling Jessica to call,” Claire said.

“Good, good.” Charley barely looked at her before turning to

Jorge. “Can you calm him?”

“I will try.” Jorge stood outside the bar gate across the front of Gunpowder’s stall. He made calming “shush, shush, shush” sounds

to the horse and held out a mini-carrot on his palm.

Gunpowder was having none of it. He high-stepped back and

forth along one side of his stall, chafing his flank against the plank-ing. Eyes rolled back in terror, he tossed his head up and down,

whipping his mane against his neck.

22

Claire realized the horse was avoiding the other side of his stall, staying as far away as possible. She shuddered to think of what lay there.

“Okay, everyone,” Charley said, “calm down and back away,

unless I’ve given you a task. Gunpowder can sense our fear.”

Overlying the sweet, dry straw smell and faint odor of horse

urine were the distinct scents of ripe human and horse sweat—

nervous, fearful sweat.

Charley waved a hand. “Pedro and Gil, go calm the other horses.”

The men moved to do his bidding.

Jorge continued to calmly shush and cajole Gunpowder until

the horse stood still, snorting and tossing his head. As Claire held her breath, Gunpowder finally stepped toward Jorge and blew on

the hand holding the carrot. Jorge ran his other hand along Gun-

powder’s neck, stroking it slowly, until the horse took the carrot.

Then he stroked Gunpowder’s neck with both hands. He put his

face in front of the horse’s and breathed in rhythm with him.

Roger came up beside Claire and gave her the first aid kit. She

put a finger to her lips.

After a moment, Charley asked, “Should we blanket him?”

Jorge shook his head, while continuing to breathe with the

horse, then took hold of his bridle and took a step back. Gunpow-

der followed. While everyone in the barn watched silently, Jorge

slowly backed Gunpowder out of his stall and into the empty one

across the aisle. He gave the horse another carrot, then closed the gate.

With a collective sigh of relief, everyone moved toward Gun-

powder’s empty stall. Charley went in and knelt in the straw. Claire followed and leaned over his shoulder.

23

A bloodied body lay against the side of the stall, one leg bent at an unnatural angle. Flies buzzed around the blood-soaked hay un-derneath. A strong copper scent permeated the air. The body was

clothed in the same blue jeans and olive-colored work shirt that

Kyle had worn the day before. The face was bruised and the nose

smashed, but Claire could tell that it was Kyle.

Charley felt Kyle’s wrist. His shoulders drooped, and he turned

to Claire. “He’s cold.” Utter dejection lined his features.

Claire checked for herself and glanced at the first aid kit.
No
need for that now.
She put a hand on Charley’s shoulder. “There’s nothing we can do for him. He’s been dead for hours.”

“
Santa Madre de Dios
.” Pedro crossed himself.

“God damn,” Roger murmured.

“I’m sorry, Charley.” Claire sighed. “All we can do is wait for the police and EMTs to arrive. We shouldn’t touch or move anything.”

Jessica ran into the barn. “The ambulance is on its way. Where’s

Kyle?” She stopped at the entrance to the stall and gasped. She put one hand to her mouth and flung another out, her body wavering.

Roger caught her around the shoulders and held her. “He’s

gone,” he whispered.

Charley rose and moved out of the stall like an automaton. He

stood with his back to the group, pinching the bridge of his nose.

When he faced them again, his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“I can’t believe Gunpowder did this.”

Jessica turned her head into Roger’s shoulder and started sob-

bing.

Jorge shook his head and lined the toe of his boot through the

dirt. One of the other men took off his hat and held it against his 24

chest, then the others followed suit. Even the horses were silent, now that Gunpowder had calmed down.

By unspoken agreement, everyone in the barn bowed their

heads in a moment of silence. When Claire raised hers, dust motes gleamed in the beam of sunlight streaming through the open doorway. She felt as if she were in a chapel, in the presence of mourners.

Charley looked at Jessica, pain etched in the lines of his face.

“Oh, God, Kyle’s family. What’ll I say to them?”

———

A few minutes later, as Claire and Roger filled in Ellen and Dave on what had happened, a Colorado Springs Police Department

cruiser drove into the parking lot. Two uniformed officers got out of the cruiser and approached them, then stopped and turned

when a fire rescue truck and an ambulance drove up with lights

flashing. They bypassed the parking lot and drove as far into the stable yard as possible. With a cacophony of slamming doors, the

firemen and EMTs exited their vehicles. The two EMTs started un-

loading a stretcher from the back of the ambulance.

Claire walked over to them. “The person’s been dead for awhile.

The body’s already cold.”

They kept on unloading the stretcher. “We’ll decide that,” one

said brusquely.

Claire nodded and waved a hand toward the barn. “He’s in the

barn.”

The EMTs hustled toward the barn with the firemen following.

One of the patrolmen took out a pad of paper and pen. “What’s

the name of the victim?”

25

“Kyle Mendoza,” Claire answered. “He worked as a wrangler

here.”

An unmarked gray Dodge Charger drove into the lot and a tall,

large-boned man wearing a gray suit got out. As he walked toward

them, head down, one of the uniformed cops called out, “Detec-

tive, this lady says the body’s cold.”

The man lifted his head, and with a shock, Claire realized

she knew him. He was Frank Wilson, a senior detective with the

CSPD. They had butted heads on a previous murder case in Feb-

ruary. The male victim had fallen on Claire, shot through the chest while giving her a massage, and Detective Wilson had erroneously

arrested Roger for the crime.

Wilson ran a slim-fingered hand through his gray-flecked

black hair. “What do the EMTs say?”

Before the cop could answer, the two firemen walked out of the

barn shaking their heads. When they reached the group, they said,

“She’s right. The body’s cold. The EMTs are filling out the paperwork now.”

“Hopefully they aren’t disturbing the scene,” Wilson replied

then turned to the patrolman who had shouted. “Call the coro-

ner’s office.”

While the patrolman talked into his shoulder radio and the

firemen returned to their truck, Roger touched Claire’s arm. When she glanced at him, he mouthed one word, “trouble.”

She gulped, nodded, and focused on Detective Wilson, whose

familiar, knowing gray eyes were now boring in on them. “What

are you doing here?”

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “My

brother, Charley Gardner, owns this stable.”

26

Detective Wilson’s stone-faced gaze fell next on Ellen and

Dave. “Stay right here. All of you. I’ll need to talk to you later.” He turned to the two patrolmen. “One of you stay with them and start collecting IDs. The other come with me.”

After he left, the remaining patrolman got basic information

from the four of them, names, addresses, and so on. “Was one of

you the lady who called 911?”

“No, that was Jessica, Charley’s wife,” Claire said. “She’s still in the barn.”

The patrolman radioed his cohort. Soon, Jessica came out of

the barn. Her face was red and blotchy, and she carried a box of

tissues with her. She ran for Claire, who opened her arms wide for her. After clutching Claire for awhile, Jessica pulled back.

“Oh, Claire, I can’t believe it! Kyle dead. It’s just too awful to think about.”

Claire rubbed Jessica’s back, wondering if this death of a young

person was dredging up painful memories of Jessica’s and Char-

ley’s daughter’s death. “I know. I know. He was so young.”

At that moment a large van with the logo of the El Paso County

Coroner’s Office on the side drove into the parking lot. A woman

got out, carrying a large black case. The driver, a man, pulled a gurney out of the back of the van and followed her.

The woman came up to them and said to the patrolman, “I’m

a forensic investigator from the coroner’s office. Can you tell me where the victim is?”

“Victim!” Jessica wailed and grabbed a tissue from her box to

dab at fresh tears.

“In the barn,” Roger answered tersely and pointed.

27

The woman nodded then looked at Jessica with sympathy. “I’m

sorry for your loss.” She turned and walked toward the barn.

Another car arrived in the parking lot, taking the last open

spot. A family of four—mother, father and two teenage boys—got

out. They gawked at the police cars, fire truck, ambulance and coroner’s van.

“Who are they?” the patrolman asked.

“Oh, dear,” Jessica said between sniffs. “They’re the rest of the morning trail ride group.”

“You’ll have to cancel that ride,” the patrolman said. “We don’t

want anyone going in that barn until we’re done.”

“What’ll I tell them?” Jessica asked.

“Just that there’s been an emergency,” Claire said, “and you’ll

have to reschedule their ride. C’mon, Roger and I will go with

you.”

She looked at the patrolman for assurance and he nodded. By

the time the three of them had gotten rid of the curious family,

with Jessica’s promise to call them later to reschedule their ride, the fire truck had left and Detective Wilson had returned.

“I’d like to talk to you first, Mrs. Hanover. Your brother tells

me that you were with him when he confirmed Mr. Mendoza was

dead.”

He led her over to a picnic table away from the others, and the

two of them sat. Claire filled him in on everything she saw after she entered the barn. After Detective Wilson had finished questioning her, she asked, “So did Gunpowder kill Kyle Mendoza?”