us that you basically were promising money you don’t have or that the plan had been put together with a spit and a prayer.”
Finally, AJ spoke, his voice low but no less angry. “So you’ve used my ranch and now there’s a lien and I won’t be able to sell.”
“It seems that you’ve gone awfully quick from ‘I can’t believe this is mine’ to ordering us all around because you inherited some land,” Pepper said, facing him and forcing her voice to be steady. “There isn’t a lien on the property. I’ve only just put in the paperwork. I’m sure I can explain things and rescind the application...if I have to, which I’m not convinced I’ll have to.”
“It’s the Spring Equinox right now,” Faye said out of nowhere, as she sometimes did. “This was always Gene’s favorite time of year. He said spring was when anything was possible.”
Butch, the Australian shepherd, sat happily in the front seat of Pepper’s small SUV. The one her mother had insisted Daddy Gene buy and then paint an eye-searing purple. On the plus side, Pepper was easily recognizable. It meant when she went to homes up in the mountains, her patients immediately recognized her. Faye may have known what she was doing. Maybe. Pepper pushed away the panic and flexed her hands on the steering wheel. “Butch, we’re in a lot of trouble, and I don’t mean because you sat in Dr. Cortez’s chair. I used a ranch I didn’t own to try and get money from the government. It’s not like they gave me any money or that I lied. I really, really thought the ranch was ours. It was just two weeks after Daddy Gene died. I might not have been at my best, but there was a deadline.” The black, brown and white dog with mismatched eyes turned and gave her one of his smiles. Butch had been picked out of a litter of wriggling puppies to herd Faye’s Beauties—her alpacas and llamas. She’d talked Daddy Gene into getting the animals about a year ago, about the same time as the ranch that had rented most of Santa Faye Ranch had closed its gates and broken its lease. Faye insisted the fleece from the animals, which she planned to spin and weave, would make up for the lost revenue. Not long after the animals arrived, Daddy Gene had gotten very sick again. Faye had been more worried about him than about making her spinning and weaving venture profitable, even though she loved her Beauties. Butch, who acted like a poodle in a hairy shepherd body, had worked hard with her to earn his good citizen certificate and therapy training. He visited the office on the days it was just her and Claudette. Dr. Cortez, who came to the clinic twice a week, didn’t like Butch or believe any animal could help calm patients. Butch actually did a good job with people facing needles—kids and adults alike.
Only two minutes from the ranch, Pepper needed to come up with her talking points fast. She’d avoided AJ and Faye this morning. She had, however, called an attorney—not Bobby Ames—for advice that wasn’t free. He’d said she might have a case for overturning the will, and he didn’t think she’d end up in jail, probably, for using the ranch to try to get the grant. He’d advised withdrawing the application immediately, but not explaining why unless she was forced to. The goal was to not look like a liar and a cheat to the agency. Pepper understood what he wasn’t saying. If she ever wanted Angel Crossing or herself to get another grant from the state or anyone else, she had to clear up this problem quickly and quietly. She’d already started and so far so good.
Pepper parked next to AJ’s king-cab pickup, dusty and dented. “Come on, Butch,” she said unnecessarily. The dog was already at the front door waiting for her. She gripped her tote tighter and went in.
Butch raced from her side, yipping with excitement. He disappeared into the kitchen. Pepper took papers to review later that night out of her tote, then hung the bag on its hook. She toed off her clogs and slipped her feet into sandals. A place for everything and everything in its place. One of those sayings from kindergarten that had more than a little ring of truth.
Butch ran back to her, his doggy smile stretching across his face. No more stalling, Pepper. Butch sprinted ahead of her again. She strained to hear voices.
“Faye, I’m home.” That was stupid. Of course she was home. Silence.
Butch trotted into the kitchen and then looked over his shoulder at her. That was his open-the-back-door look. That must be where they were. Pepper sniffed the air. Someone had been cooking. She almost felt sorry for AJ because she knew that smell. Faye had made scrambled tofu, which was okay, but she’d added kimchi, fish sauce and...dear Lord. She smelled the cheese Faye insisted on making—the kind that tasted like dirty socks. Maybe Faye’s cooking would convince AJ to move along, except no one would walk away from a ranch.
Butch sat on her foot and leaned against her leg. He really was a remarkable therapy dog. He always knew when anyone was in distress. She patted his warm furry head before making herself a little taller than her five feet seven so she could more easily face the people on the patio. Specifically, the tall, lean AJ.
Faye in Earth Mother mode held EllaJayne as she danced her around the patio. Pepper didn’t see AJ, though.
“Faye, where’s that child’s father? Did you kill him with the kimchi?” Faye’s Korean-style sauerkraut had peppers hot enough to singe nose hairs. Pepper didn’t eat the kimchi or anything else with peppers—hot or sweet. One of life’s little ironies.
“EllaJayne and I are enjoying the rebirth of the world since it’s spring. Aren’t we? You’re an old soul, aren’t you, little one?”
“Faye,” Pepper said with patience.
“You’re thirsty. I can hear it in your voice. Go get a drink.” Her mother danced another three steps. “This will all work out for the best.”
“Good to know.”
“No need for sarcasm, that’s the work of a small soul.”
“Sorry. It’s just that today has been—”
“I know, dear,” Faye said, taking the little girl’s arm and waving. “There’s your daddy.”
AJ was a cowboy, from his hip-rolling walk to his well-used boots and frayed-at-the-seams jeans. Pepper couldn’t read what he might be thinking. She could guess, though. Don’t borrow from the bank of trouble, she heard Daddy Gene’s voice in her ear. She wanted to snap back at him that she wouldn’t need to borrow if he’d just left the ranch to Faye. But he wasn’t here. She needed to leave that go.
“You and I need to talk,” AJ said in a soft drawling voice that didn’t have a hint of friendly.
“Absolutely,” Pepper said. Acting confident—even when she wasn’t—convinced people that she knew what she was doing. “We can talk in my office.”
“No, darling,” Faye said. “You should take advantage of the energy of spring and the outdoors.” Her mother took the child and walked inside.
“I made some calls,” AJ said.
“Okay.” She would let him talk so she could figure out what he knew and wanted. She watched him pace around the patio. He definitely was handsome—she had to be honest.
“I spoke with Danny Leigh.”
Did he think being the mayor’s friend was a big deal? Like she should be impressed? Everybody knew the mayor. This was a small town.
“Telling a state agency you owned land you didn’t could end up getting you and the town—including Danny and
