Betrayal in the Badlands. Dana Mentink
so.” She fiddled with the edge of the blanket he’d draped over her shoulders. “I—I want to thank you. You don’t even know me, but you came over here in the middle of the night and hauled me out of that hole. I still can’t believe it happened.”
He looked directly into her ink-dark eyes. “I can.”
She blinked. “You believe me? That I was pushed? Why?”
He chose his words carefully. “Because there was a set of footprints in the mud at the edge of the ravine, someone wearing cowboy boots.”
“Could they be your prints?”
He shook his head and pointed to his feet. “I’m in mountain climbers. Whoever made those prints stood right at the edge, and watched you fall.”
Isabel stroked the dog as she drank the instant coffee Logan prepared for them both, trying to calm herself. It was almost 7:00 a.m. by now. She wasn’t sure what to say to the man who had gone to such trouble and physical torture on her account. She could tell by the far-off look in his eyes that he was trying to make sense of the past few hours, too. She felt a familiar trembling and tried to get up.
Logan laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Stay put. Whatever you need, I’ll get it.”
“I—I need something with sugar.”
He eyed her closely. “Diabetes?”
“Hypoglycemia. I haven’t eaten regularly since I came.”
He went to the kitchen and returned with a handful of Oreos for her and one for himself. “So what made you come to the ranch?”
“Cassie loved her horses. I wanted to make sure things were taken care of, until the property can be sold.”
His eyes bored into hers. “You don’t want to live here?”
She shrugged. “It isn’t my property. I figure Cassie probably left it to my uncle, and I don’t really have fond memories of South Dakota anyway.”
“Been here before?”
“Yes,” she said grimly.
Logan didn’t question further. “Okay. Change of subject. Let’s talk about who would want to shove you over the edge of a ravine. Did you upset anyone recently?”
Upset anyone? One person sprang to her mind immediately, a certain ex-husband who was still languishing in jail, thanks to her. She looked at her hands.
Logan folded his arms, his voice low and serious. “You don’t have to talk to me about it, but the cops are going to ask you the same thing, so you might want to have an answer ready for them.”
She started. “The cops?”
He leaned forward. “If someone just tried to kill you. You need to file a police report.”
The thought of facing the barrage of personal questions that was sure to follow made her stomach turn. “Maybe it was some crazy person and he’s moved on.”
“You and I both know that’s improbable.” He hesitated before he finished. “Whatever happened might be related to your sister’s accident.”
Isabel’s mouth fell open. “You think there’s something strange about my sister’s death, too?”
He held up his hands. “I didn’t say that. It just occurred to me that Blue Boy could have been spooked by a stranger on the property the night he threw Cassie.”
“My sister grew up around horses. She wouldn’t have been thrown easily.”
“I agree with you, and I’ve thought about that quite a bit. She managed Blue Boy, and he’s a handful. It never made sense to me why your sister took off riding at night.”
Though she was relieved to have someone else voice her suspicions, the idea of bringing it all up to law enforcement fanned the anxiety in her gut. There was no other choice. If she wanted the police to look more closely at Cassie’s death, she needed to tell them what had happened. “I guess I’ll talk to the cops.”
He put down his coffee mug. “I’ll drive you to town right now.”
“You don’t need to drive me. I can…”
He pointed to her ankle. “I’ll drive.”
Before she could fire off a retort, Tank got to his feet and barked, pressing his wide face to the window. Logan pulled back the curtain. “Well, there’s one bit of good news, anyway.”
Isabel hopped over as Logan opened the front door.
A stocky man in jeans and a flannel shirt was dismounting Blue Boy. Two other people on horseback hopped down from their saddles, too.
Isabel couldn’t suppress a cry of joy at the sight of the horse. “Blue Boy. I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
The stocky man shrugged. Isabel guessed him to be somewhere in his midthirties.
“Found him running loose on our property. I know he’s Miss Cassie’s horse.” He extended a hand. “I’m John Trigg.”
“Isabel Ling. My sister mentioned that you worked for her.”
He tipped his cowboy hat. “Yes, ma’am.” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve been taking care of things. I figured if Cassie had any family they would more than likely sell the property.”
Isabel didn’t miss the hint of petulance in his words. Instead of answering, she smiled at the other two people. A heavy-set man with a florid face stroked his mustache and stepped up onto the porch. “Hello, Ms. Ling. I’m Carl Trigg, John’s father.”
“And the mayor.” Isabel shook his hand. She smelled a trace of whiskey on his breath. “My sister told me you helped her a number of times. You own the adjoining property.”
He chuckled. “Sure do. It’s been our oasis from the political storm for years. Nothing like being out in nowhere to make you remember what’s important. This is my wife, Sheila.”
A blonde lady with shoulder-length hair extended a hand and clasped Isabel’s palm in hers. “Pleased to meet you. We were so fond of your sister.” Her eyes shifted to Isabel’s foot. “What happened? Have you had an accident?” She turned to Logan. “And this handsome soldier came to your rescue, I suppose?”
Soldier? That might explain Logan’s arsenal of rescue skills. Isabel invited them in, and the mayor and his wife settled next to her on the couch. Logan leaned against the door. John excused himself to return Blue Boy to the barn.
Mayor Trigg cleared his throat. “So tell us what happened, young lady.”
Isabel gave them a quick overview.
Mr. and Mrs. Trigg’s eyes grew increasingly wider until the mayor leaned forward.
“Somebody pushed you? Who would do that?”
Sheila frowned. “And why?”
Logan raised an eyebrow. “That’s the question of the day. I’m going to drive to town so Isabel can talk it all out with the police.”
The mayor nodded thoughtfully. “Absolutely. Mountain Cloud is a pretty quiet town and we like to keep it that way. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
Sheila caught Isabel by the arm. “I’m going to have John bring over some supper later. You shouldn’t be standing in the kitchen with a bum foot.”
“Oh, please don’t go to any trouble. I’ll be fine.”
Sheila laughed. “It’s not trouble, it’s being neighborly. That’s what people do here.” She pulled a card from her purse. “And here’s Carl’s business card. He never remembers to hand them out himself, even now that he’s running for the Senate.” She took a pen from her small waist pack and scribbled on the back. “Our