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107 17 As Sadie drove north toward Eucha, she scrunched her shoulders in an attempt to relieve the ache in her neck and back. She thought about Emma and the unexpected arrival of her daughter Rosalee. They obviously had unresolved issues, and Sadie didn’t particularly want to know about them. Their tense reunion only dragged up memories of her unhappy relationship with her own mother. She turned off the highway and drove the lane up to her house, parking the car in its usual place next to her old truck, between the back porch and the gate that led to the barn. Sonny bounced over to greet her with the exuberance only a dog can have for its master. He barked wildly, scolding her for being gone too long, and then playfully circled her as she carried several bulging plastic Wal-Mart sacks toward the house. After putting away her groceries she returned to the porch and sat down on the top step to talk to him. She scratched his ears and told him all of her problems while he licked her face and nuzzled her arms. When she stopped, he seemed content that all was well. He followed her to the barn and watched while she dumped out a can of oats for Joe, then retreated to his favorite shady spot under a large walnut tree. When Sadie returned to the yard, she took a minute to admire the dark red blooms of the Indian Blanket wildflowers that graced the northeast corner of the yard. Her Cherokee grandmother had transplanted some many years ago from a patch that grew in the upper pasture and they had returned every year since. The flowers triggered a tender memory of her grandmother’s sweet spirit and love of nature, and how she had made Sadie promise she would never sell what she called her Indian Land—her folks’ original allotment from Indian Territory before statehood. Sadie stopped, picked five of the daisy-like flowers that were almost as large as the palm of her hand, and carried them into the house. 108 After centering her bouquet on the table in an old water pitcher that doubled as a vase, she dropped onto the couch, kicked off her shoes, and punched on the television with the remote. After watching a short version of CNN Headline News, she dug in her purse and pulled out the old newspaper article she had found at the library. She read it again and then closed her eyes in thought. Maybe Pearl’s rape had caused her to have a mental breakdown, especially if it had resulted in a pregnancy. Pearl had said Goldie had taken her little girl, but that didn’t make sense. Pearl had had a son, not a daughter. Could a thirty-something-year-old rape have anything to do with Goldie’s murder? A nagging voice inside Sadie’s head kept telling her it did. If she could just think about it long enough, she could figure it out. Before long she began to float between sleepy layers of consciousness. The phone rang and she almost rolled off the couch onto the living room floor. Her heart raced as she grabbed the phone. To her surprise, it was Lance Smith. “Lance, is something wrong again?” “Not really. I was just wondering if you still have that paint horse.” “Joe? Of course. Why?” “I need to borrow a horse to ride into the hills over by Kenwood and I thought I might talk you into loaning me one. In fact, I’d really like for you to ride with me.” “Kenwood. Why?” “It’s for a friend of mine. He thinks some kids are trespassing on the back of his property, but he can’t catch them. I want to ride in and see what they might be up to. Nothing official.” Sadie frowned. “What do you think they’re doing?” “Oh, I don’t know. I’m going to guess there’s a little marijuana cultivation going on, but it’s easier to sneak up on someone if you don’t look like the law.” Sadie laughed. “But, Lance, you are the law.” “Yes, but it’s not official. Certainly not in my jurisdiction anymore since I left the Cherokee marshals. Besides, you look harmless. Maybe if we go together we won’t make them too nervous.” “Thanks a lot, Lance.” He lowered his voice and chuckled. “We’ll go incognito.” [3...
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