we’ll have a long talk about that later, but I didn’t call to talk about me right now.” He paused. “Ma picked me up at the train station, and we stopped by your Pa’s place to check on him.” Another pause.
Bertie leaned forward. She hated the solemn sound of Red’s voice. “What is it? Is Dad all right? Is he sick?”
“Bertie, I’m sorry. I…” He cleared his throat. “I found him…he’s gone.”
Chapter Eight
For a moment, Bertie didn’t grasp what Red meant. She was dreaming—or this wasn’t really Red. It was some kind of practical joke.
“I don’t understand,” she said, hearing the tremor in her own voice. “H-how can you find him if he’s gone?”
“I found his body.”
She shook her head, unable to let the words sink in. It couldn’t be…She’d been worried about him last night when he didn’t answer her call, but this?
“Bertie? You there? You okay?”
She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Red, I didn’t—”
“Your father’s—he’s dead,” Red said. “I found him myself, out in the cattle lot behind the barn.”
She gasped, and her vision went dark for a moment. She became aware of someone standing beside her with a hand on her shoulder, placing a glass of water on the desk in front of her. She looked up to see her friend and roommate, Edith Frost, looking down at her, dark hair mussed, dark eyes narrowed in concern.
“What’s the water for? And what’re you doing here?” Edith should be home asleep. Her shift wouldn’t begin for a few more hours.
“Charlotte called me,” Edith whispered. “She wanted me to be here for you.”
“Bertie?” Red said, his voice growing gruffer. “You okay?”
“Yes, I’m…I’ll…”
“What’s happening out there?” he asked.
“Would you just…give me a minute?” She closed her eyes. “Oh, Dad,” she whispered.
It was true. It must be. But reality clashed hard against denial. “No, this can’t be,” she whispered. “Not Dad. He wasn’t fighting in the war.”
“He’s been fighting a war, all right,” Red said.
“How?” she asked. “What happened to him?”
“I wish I knew for sure.”
“What do you mean? Was he sick? What happened?”
“There looks to be a…an injury to the side of his head.”
She frowned. “And he was in the cattle lot? Could be the bull got him, but ol’ Fester’s never been a mean—”
“Not Fester. Not an animal…not a four-legged one, anyway. It looks like…like something small hit him in the side of the head, Bertie.”
Bertie nearly dropped the phone. “Something like what?”
“I’m not sure yet. The sheriff’s out there now, along with the mayor.”
She heard something in his voice, some thread of doubt, as if he was hiding something from her, unwilling to say what was on his mind.
“You’re saying somebody killed my father?” she heard her own voice, loud with shock, saw the surprised faces of the people standing around her, and felt as if the floor was buckling beneath her.
“I’m not saying anything yet.”
“Oh, yes you are. That’s what you’re thinking, I can tell.”
“Now, don’t go putting words in my mouth. I’m gonna find out what happened,” Red promised. “You hang on out there, you hear?”
Bertie took a few deep breaths and managed to keep her hands from trembling. “What are you thinking, Red? Talk to me!”
Edith slid a handkerchief into Bertie’s hands and placed an arm around her shoulders, but Bertie wouldn’t let tears fall.
“Don’t you worry, Bertie,” Red said. “We’ll see to it your father has a good, Christian funeral.”
She took a few more breaths. “Red Meyer, what aren’t you telling me?”
“I don’t know, yet, okay? I don’t know what happened. Give us time to figure things out on this end, and I’ll call you. You stay put, though. You don’t need to be traipsing back here. We’ll take good care of your pa’s body.”
“Don’t make any plans until you know how soon Lloyd and I will be able to get there. I’ll have to call him right away.” Her brother would be working on his in-laws’ family farm in Kansas this time of day, but someone should be able to get to him.
There was a short silence, then Red cleared his throat. “Bertie?”
Again, the tone of his voice alerted her. “What?”
“I don’t think you oughta come to Hideaway right now. Lloyd neither.”
“Of course I’m coming. You can’t call and tell me my father is dead, then think I’m not coming home as soon as I can get there.”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t grieve, Bertie, I just think you need to do it out there in California. It’s safer there.”
Her grip tightened on the telephone receiver. “What do you mean, safer?”
“I already told you, I can’t say for sure what happened to your father, but it might not be safe here right now for you or Lloyd, not until we know for sure what happened.”
She waited for him to continue.
“Could just be my own reaction to the war,” he said, “expectin’ trouble when there isn’t any, but I can’t help thinking the war’s brought out some enemies we didn’t know anything about, even here in Hideaway.”
She felt a chill down her spine. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to explain more, wasn’t sure she could take much more information today. Oh, Lord, someone might’ve killed my father?
“You hear what I’m saying?” Red asked. “You stay put and stay out of trouble right where you are.”
“I can stay out of trouble, but I’ll be in Hideaway while I’m doing it,” she said. “That’s where I’m going to be as soon as I can get there, and don’t you try telling me different. I’m not some helpless little thing who can’t take care of herself.”
There was a quick grunt of irritation over the line, then, “Bertie Moennig, you might cause more trouble than I can
