Trouble at the Red Pueblo Read online

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  Copyright © 2014 by Liz Adair

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Century Press, 496 West Kane Drive, Kanab, UT 84741

  ISBN: 978-0-9905027-0-8

  Cover design by Sarah Beard

  Cover design © 2014 by Liz Adair

  Formatting by KristiRae Alldredge of Computers & More Design Services

  This book is dedicated to my two Kanab/Fredonia high school chums, George Ann Brinkerhoff Brooksby and Nayna Judd Christensen. Georgie, your spunk as you take what life throws at you is truly inspiring; and Nayna, who would have thought that we’d end up as two little old (ex-cheerleader) ladies walking in the morning? It has been a joy to pick up the threads again. The friendship threads, not the cheerleading ones.

  Acknowledgements and Apologies

  I’ll take care of the apologies first:

  I somehow cannot get through a book without rearranging geography. For all of those who travel between Kanab, Utah and Fredonia, Arizona, you will know that the used-to-be vacant Travelers Inn (now updated to be Juniper Ridge) sits in Arizona. For the purpose of this narrative, I have moved it just across the state line into Utah. I apologize to all of the local citizenry who are bothered by this, but you’ll see why it was necessary as you read the book.

  For Spider Latham fans who have read the previous books, I’m warning you now. I’ve skipped fifteen or twenty years, updating to the present without Spider aging a whit. Don’t let it throw you.

  Now for the acknowledgements:

  Thanks to my writing community for encouragement and cheerleading. Part of that community is my critique group: Terry Deighton, Ann Acton, Tanya Parker Mills, Christine Thackeray and Bonnie Harris. Thanks, ladies. Your tough love makes me a better writer.

  Thanks to Steve and Darlene Judd for advice about horses and hooves, and to Kent Douglass. He not only was a beta reader, but he also gave me some tips about police procedure. If what I wrote takes literary license, it’s not because I got bad information from Kent.

  To Dixon and Launa Spendlove for support from the Red Pueblo Museum in Fredonia, and to Kendall and George Ann Brooksby, who introduced me to the museum—thank you.

  Thanks to my brother Ron and his wife, Mary. Ron designed the cover, and Mary read the manuscript.

  To all the people who read and gave me a list of mistakes found, I am so in your debt! In addition to my critique group and the already-named readers, these generous people include Nayna Christensen, Joyce Packard, Linda Chatterley, Joan Kirby, and Ross and Karalee Oblad.

  Thanks to my friend Hani Almadhoun for giving me the inspiration and name for the wonderful character, Karam Mansour. Thanks to Heather Justesen for her unflagging support as she acted as midwife to my first foray into indie publishing.

  And, as always, thanks to Derrill, my husband of fifty-two years. He is unfailing in his support of my writing.

  ALL SPIDER LATHAM wanted to do was get home. He wanted free of the choking black necktie, free of the memory of his mother in a cheap casket. If he was a drinking man, he’d head right to the whiskey. Instead, he thought he’d fix the fence that ran along the south property line. It’d been on his to-do list for a while, and the work would be hot, hard and demanding.

  Laurie, sitting beside him in the pickup, pointed at a small, square sedan parked in front of their house. “Isn’t that the car you drove home from Las Vegas last year?”

  “Yep. That’s the one.” Spider turned off the gravel road, rolled over the cattle guard and pulled up beside the orange Yugo with flames decorating its front end. “I don’t know that I’m ready for company.”

  Laurie patted his knee. “Maybe company is what you need. You like that fellow don’t you? What ‘s his name?”

  “Jade Tremain. Yeah, I like him. But today’s not…”

  “Life goes on.” The moment he turned off the key, Laurie opened the door and slid down to the ground. Smiling, she walked toward the young man emerging from the compact car. “Hello, Jade. Welcome.”

  Jade took the hand she held out to him. “Did I come at a bad time?” His eyes went from Laurie, dressed in a black dress and high heels, to Spider, climbing out of the pickup wearing a black suit on a hot August Tuesday.

  Spider ambled over, pulling down his Stetson to shade his eyes from the afternoon sun. He shook Jade’s hand and nodded toward the Yugo. “Your dad still keeping you humble?”

  Jade laughed and looked at his watch. “It was the only company car left in the garage.”

  Laurie patted the orange fender. “I never will forget having to rescue Spider when he drove it home that time he was doing some work for your dad.”

  Spider eyed the car. “I wonder why he hangs on to it. It must be more than twenty years old.”

  “Twenty-three, but it doesn’t have that many miles on it. No one wants to drive it.” Jade looked at his watch. “I’ve come to talk to you about doing some more work for Dad.”

  “Spider, take Jade out back,” Laurie said. “You can sit in the shade while he tells you what he’s come for. I’ll bring out some ice water.” She headed up the walk to the front door.

  Spider jerked his head in invitation and led his guest across the lawn. At the back yard fence he held the gate open.

  Jade passed through. “I tried to call, but it said the phone was disconnected.”

  “Things have been pretty tight lately. We figured that was something we could do without.” Spider fished a cell phone from his shirt pocket. “The county gave me this to use for work, but I don’t take any personal calls on it.”

  “So you’re still deputy sheriff?”

  Spider pocketed the phone as he headed toward a grape arbor. “Yeah, but the county’s running out of money. Ever since this last recession hit, all employees have to take three unpaid furlough days each month. And then I had a funeral to pay for.”

  Jade stopped just short of the shade. “Oh, gee, Spider. Is that where you’ve just been?” He hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I bet you wish I hadn’t come.”

  Spider sat in one of the chairs and pointed at the other. “Take a load off.”

  Jade hesitated, his hands in his pockets.

  “Sit,” Spider said.

  Jade sat. “I’m sorry about coming today. Would you… could I… whose funeral was it?”

  Spider crossed his legs, resting the ankle of his black cowboy boot on his knee. He took off his Stetson, held it in his lap, and turned his face away. “My mother’s.” As he looked off to the south, his eyes welled up, and a tear slid down his cheek.

  Jade shifted in his chair. “I’d better go.”

  Still looking away, Spider made a negative motion with his hand. He drew a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his coat and wiped his eyes. “Don’t go.” He blew his nose and turned to face the younger man. “I don’t know w
here that came from. I haven’t cried a tear since Mama died.”

  Jade sat with his hands on his knees. He opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again and folded his arms tightly across his chest.

  Spider cleared his throat. “Actually, the old woman who lived with us this last year wasn’t my mama.” He smiled at the confused look on Jade’s face. “My mother had Alzheimer’s. We’ve been saying we’d rejoice when she was finally released from that prison, but here I am crying. In front of company, no less.”

  Jade pursed his lips and looked down at his feet.

  Spider uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “So, what’s on Brick Tremain’s mind? Why’d your daddy make you drive the three hours from Las Vegas to Lincoln County to see me, aside from the fact that he couldn’t talk to me on the phone?”

  “He needs you to do some investigating for him, but he says it’ll take longer than a weekend. He wants to know if the sheriff’s office can spare you for a week or so.”

  “Shoot, the sheriff would probably kiss your daddy on both cheeks if he employed me for a week or more. That would mean he wouldn’t have to take any furlough days himself. It’s really chafing him that he’s being treated the same as his deputy.” Spider put his handkerchief back in the inner pocket. “What exactly does the boss want me to do?”

  The screen door banged, and Jade waited to answer while Laurie approached with a tray holding three tumblers of ice water. He murmured thanks and set the glass on a table beside his chair. After she served her husband and sat with her own cool drink, he spoke. “Dad’s on the board of directors of a small museum in Arizona. Anasazi artifacts and stuff like that.”

  Spider took a sip. “The Anasazi were early Pueblo Indians, right? That’s about all I know about them.”

  Jade smiled. “Well, that’s more than I know.”

  “Where is this museum?” Laurie asked.

  “It’s in a little town called Fredonia, right on the Utah-Arizona border.”

  Laurie’s smile was huge. “You’re kidding! I have cousins in Fredonia.”

  “Dad says the museum director lives in Kanab, Utah. I guess it’s near Fredonia.”

  Laurie nodded. “Seven miles north. I have cousins in Kanab, too.”

  Spider leaned back and smiled at his wife. “Never mind about your relatives. Let’s hear what Jade has to say about the problem this museum has and what his daddy wants me to do.”

  “I don’t know the particulars.” Jade stretched out his legs and jingled the keys in his pocket. “I just know they’re in trouble. Someone is threatening to close down the museum and ruin the director financially. They need help right away, like by the end of next week. Dad wants you to go over and lend a hand.” Jade looked at his watch again.

  “That’s mighty slim—” Spider was about to go on when Laurie put her hand on his knee.

  “Do you need to leave?” she asked Jade.

  The young man ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to look impatient. The truth is, my wife is supposed to call me. She went to the doctor this morning.”

  “Is anything wrong?” Laurie’s concerned look deepened.

  Jade’s cheeks grew rosy and he shook his head. “We’re expecting a baby. It’s our first.”

  “Congratulations!” Spider stood and held out his hand. “If you don’t have any more information for me, I’ll let you get on your way back to Vegas. Just tell me who I talk to at the museum.”

  Jade stood, patting his shirt pocket before extracting a business card. “Here’s the director’s contact information. He can tell you the whole story.”

  Spider walked with Jade toward the gate, reading the name on the card as he went. “Martin Taylor. Should I call him or just show up?”

  “We’ll just show up,” Laurie said. “Since we don’t have a phone.”

  Spider stopped and looked down at his wife. “We’ll show up? Are you coming with?”

  “There’s no need for me to stay home now,” Laurie said. Her voice quavered at the end of the sentence, and her eyes filled with tears. She accepted the handkerchief Spider proffered and turned away for a moment to wipe her eyes. “Excuse me,” she said to Jade. “I didn’t expect to get weepy.”

  Jade stopped at the gate to let her go through first. “Please don’t apologize. I should have come on another day.”

  She shook her head. “No, I think it’s wonderful you came today. This will give us both something to think about instead of the empty chair in the living room.”

  Spider put his arm around his wife as they walked Jade to his car.

  The young man stopped with his hand on the door handle and looked at the roof of the Latham vehicle. It still showed the dents Spider hadn’t been able to completely hammer out after the rollover accident he’d had on one of his first cases. “I see you’re still driving the same pickup.”

  “It runs good,” Spider said. “And it’s easy to spot in a crowded parking lot.”

  “My dad would approve,” Jade said with a smile, opening the door of his own car. He paused and leaned against the top. “If things are so tight here, why don’t you come to Vegas and work for Tremain Enterprises? Dad’d hire you in an instant.”

  “I know that,” Spider said. “He told me the same thing last time I worked for him, but Lathams have been living in Meadow Valley for four generations. Five if you count my boys. We’ve got good pasture and plenty of water. It’s worth hanging onto, even when times are lean.”

  Jade slid into the driver’s seat and closed the door, speaking through the open window. “Dad says there’s a room for you at the Best Western in Kanab. It’s there on the main drag. He wants you to call him once you’re settled in and understand the lay of the land.”

  “Will do.” Spider drew Laurie back a pace as Jade started the engine. They watched as the car turned around in the drive, and they waved as it rattled over the cattle guard.

  “I’ll run over to Bud’s and ask him to check on the cattle for me every few days,” Laurie said. “Then I’ll stick all those funeral casseroles in the freezer and pack something for us to eat for supper on the way.”

  “We’re leaving this afternoon?”

  “You heard what Jade said. They’re in trouble, and there’s a deadline.”

  Spider took the phone from his pocket. “All right. I’ll call and make sure it’s okay for me to take the time off.”

  Laurie headed toward the barn. “I’m getting my saddle right now and putting it in the pickup, so I don’t forget it.”

  Spider paused with his thumb on the key pad. “Hold on a minute. You’re taking your saddle?”

  Laurie stopped and turned around. “Yeah. I thought I’d spend some time with Jack.”

  “Jack?”

  “Jack Houghton, my cousin. We used to ride all around that red rock country when I was sixteen. It would be fun to do it again.”

  “Isn’t he a dentist? How do you know he has horses?”

  “He’s an orthodontist. His cousin Sally was at the funeral today. She told me he’s bought the old family ranch and built a new house and stables on it.”

  “Huh,” Spider grunted. As Laurie turned again toward the barn, he went back to scrolling through the menu on his phone to find the sheriff’s number.

  SPIDER SHUT THE hotel room door behind him with his foot as he balanced Laurie’s saddle on his shoulder with one hand and carried her guitar case in the other. He dumped them both on one of the two queen size beds. “I didn’t know you packed your guitar.”

  She put down the phone receiver. “Jack and I used to sing together. I brought it just in case.”

  Spider pulled down the corners of his mouth.

  Laurie smiled. “Don’t give me that look. What have you got against Jack?”

  “What look? Why would I have anything against Jack?”

  “I don’t know. You tell me.” She walked over and put her arms around his neck. “You look like you’ve bitten into a persimmon eve
ry time I mention his name.”

  “Not a persimmon.” Spider dropped a kiss on her lips. “Maybe a horse biscuit.”

  Laurie laughed and turned away. “You’re terrible. What has poor Jack done to make you dislike him?”

  “I don’t like the way he looks at you, and he never misses a chance to put his arm around you.”

  “He’s my cousin. We spent a lot of time together when I was a teenager.”

  “He’s a third cousin.” Spider pulled a card from his shirt pocket. “And I particularly don’t like the way he’s always quoting poetry.”

  Laurie hefted a suitcase up onto the bed. “He’s a fourth cousin, and it’s cowboy poetry. He writes it. He’s pretty good, too.”

  “I wouldn’t mind it so much if he didn’t do those gestures.” Spider struck a pose with one foot forward, one hand in the air, fingers spread apart. Then he shook his head and picked up the phone.

  Laurie grinned. “Well, we’re having dinner with him tonight.”

  Spider rested the receiver on his shoulder and looked at her, eyes narrowed. “Not really.”

  She nodded. “I couldn’t tell him no. Besides, you said you were hungry.”

  He looked at his watch. “When?”

  “In about ten minutes.” She began transferring clothing from a suitcase to a drawer.

  Looking at the card and punching buttons on the phone, Spider muttered, “I think I just lost my appetite.”

  Laurie glanced up. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.” Spider turned away as his party answered. “Mr. Taylor? This is Spider Latham. Yes. Brick Tremain asked me to come over, see if I could help.” He listened a moment and then asked, “Can I come by and talk to you this evening? That would be fine. Seven-thirty it is.”

  Laurie poked Spider in the back with a clothes hanger. “Seven-thirty? That doesn’t give us much time for dinner with Jack.”

  Spider hung up the phone. “What can I say? Today’s my lucky day.”

  Spider and Laurie walked the two blocks to Parry Lodge where a fresh-faced young woman with spiky black hair and dangly earrings met them in the foyer of the restaurant. Carrying a sheaf of menus on her arm, she welcomed them with a smile. “Would you prefer the dining room or the coffee shop?”