AND TO YOU I BEQUEATH . . .

A

 K & D Mystery

Tyler Mallone

Prologue

The school bus slowed to a stop near the gate to the Fetterstone Ranch. Gretchen Fetterstone and her brother were the only students left on the bus. Dressed in sturdy boots, black leggings and a short skirt, Gretchen pulled her heavy jacket closed in anticipation of the cold blast, stood and waited impatiently for the door to open then bounced down the steps to greet her best friend, Sally.

    “Are you all over your measles? You missed the Christmas party and Miss Swanson made gingerbread cookies.”
    “And you didn’t save one for me?” Sally’s face flashed a quick smile then sobered. She had missed a week of school; now the two friends looked forward to Christmas vacation.
    Gretchen leaned against the fence to the estate that had been in her father’s family for several generations. It had been a dairy farm, until her mother turned it into a riding academy. “Did you and your mom cut a Christmas tree? Did you get to decorate it?”
    “Yeah. You can come over and see it. I’m not contagious now.”
    “I wish we could have a tree. Caleb won’t allow us. He’s a real Scrooge.” Gretchen often thought that Sally, who lived alone with her mom, was better off in not having a step dad, than to have one like Caleb.
    Behind them they could hear Heinrich, Gretchen’s younger brother, scuff the dirt in anger.
    Gretchen glanced back then said to Sally, “I’ve been thinking maybe we can ask Mom again if we can decorate for Christmas this year. It used to be so much fun when Dad was alive. We’d make a picnic lunch, ride the wagon into the forest and choose the perfect tree. While Dad cut it down, we would spread out the food.”
    “You’ll be wasting your time,” Heinrich growled. “Since Mom married Caleb we can’t do anything fun.”
    “Well, it’s worth a try.” Gretchen stuck her chin out, determined to overcome her brother’s gloomy outlook.     “Look, it’s starting to snow.” She held out her gloved hand to catch the flakes. “We’re going to have a white Christmas.”
    By now the town of Bear Creek should have been covered with two feet of snow, but this year it hadn’t even rained since June and the local ski resort owners were getting worried.
    As Gretchen opened the gate, Sally said, “So come over later and see our tree. And let me know what your mom says, I can show you where the best trees are.”
    Gretchen ran all the way to her house, burst through the front door out of breath and gasped, “Mom.”
    She was answered by the guttural voice of Margaretha, their part-time housekeeper. “Not home.”
    Gretchen, unaccustomed to seeing Margaretha here at this time, frowned. “Where is she?”
    “Don’t know. I supposed to be gone hours ago, visiting my sister. She not come back.”
    Silence deepened and surrounded her like darkness. “Back from where?”
    “Not know. She just gone. I no leave ‘til she returns.” Margaretha had her coat and hat piled next to her purse, obviously ready to leave for the holidays.
    Five years ago, Gretchen’s father had been killed in a riding accident and shortly thereafter her mother, Willa Fetterstone, had married Caleb Gunter. Since then Gretchen, Heinrich and their younger sister, Ingrid, had lived in fear of their step dad.
    Gretchen spotted her mom’s purse on the table. “Her car’s still here, she must be out riding.”
    “Nope, horse here too.” Margaretha’s German accent grated on Gretchen’s nerves.
    “How long has she been gone?”
    “I last see her this morning then I go shopping.” She shrugged. “She not here when I return.”
    Her mother was not in the habit of visiting neighboring ranches. A dark feeling chilled Gretchen as her worst fear crept into her thoughts. The idea of her mother not returning ever, and being forced to live with Caleb and his German housekeeper shook her. She looked up as Ingrid, her six-year old sister, ran into the kitchen. Ingrid was terrified of Caleb, and Heinrich hated him; what would happen to them?


Chapter 1

    The door of our real estate office banged open and Mavis Lang’s figure darkened my desk like a tall tree.     “Kelly, I heard through a really good source that you’re gettin’ a listing on a large ranch.” Mavis loomed over me, her head tilted down and her eyes bore into me as her left hand pushed her western hat farther back on her head. “When you get it, I want first crack at it.”
    Her body language told me she was not at all pleased that we, not she, were getting the listing. Mavis was known as the maven of horse property listings. In fact, she was not happy to have her listings shown by other Realtors, preferring to handle both sides of the sale.
    David and I, on the other hand, had only lived in the area for four years and specialized in single-family homes, cabins, and vacant lots. We hadn’t even met anyone who lived on a ranch. I was sure she was mistaken, besides her attitude irritated me.
    “I don’t know where you’re coming from. Where’d you hear that?”
    “I’ve been putting out feelers. I’ve a client who needs thirty acres to start a dairy farm.” She was looking at our white board that had all of our listings on it. “Might have been at a party the other night, someone suggested I contact you.”
    “Well, we don’t have anything listed with acreage. But if we get one, I’ll let you know.” I hoped my smile projected more cordiality than I felt. I’d never had an escrow with Mavis, but I was willing to bet it would not be a pleasant experience.
    She hesitated, obviously not satisfied with my answer. “Look, if you’re not comfortable handling ranch property, I’ll be glad to take it off your hands.” Her thumbs were hooked in her front pockets and she rocked back and forth on the heels of her western boots.
    I’m sure she was offering to pay a referral fee if we passed the listing on to her, but she didn’t mention that. I highly doubted that anyone would contact us to list their ranch, but I’d certainly evaluate the situation before I gave the listing to Mavis.
    Coincidently, in my hand was a list of properties available for sale, properties with enough acreage to accommodate a horse ranch. I pushed aside the nagging thought that my new clients would be better served by Mavis. I should pass them on to her for a referral fee. What did I know about horse ranches?
Hoping to get her cooperation, I said, “Actually, I’m looking for property with acreage for my clients, I’m planning to show them your listing on twelve acres.”
    She paused for a moment and glanced at the ceiling. “Okay, if you want to play it that way.” Her hook nose, thin face and pointed chin made her teeth look like they’d outgrown her mouth. “But you better call me first. They have big dogs that aren’t too friendly.”
    She added, “The owners are getting really anxious to sell, but they’d like plenty of warning before you show it.”
    “My clients will be up next weekend. I’ll call you when I see their schedule.”
    She shrugged. “See ya, Kelly.”
    I watched her long jaw roll around the words before she spun on her heel and clomped toward the door. Mavis Lang of Black Bear Realty looked and sounded like a transplanted Texan. My guess was that she’d never been out of California. She had rolled up the color brochure on one of the houses we had listed and now grasped it like a riding crop. Western shirts and tight fitting jeans were her fashion statement; her tall thin figure was made to wear Wranglers. She had “I’m a cowgirl” written all over her.
    Okay, so she raises horses and lives on a forty-acre ranch on the outskirts of town, I could tolerate the boots, but the hat was a bit too much. I hate hats. I look like a dork in a hat, or more like a five-foot-four mushroom.
    The sound her western boots made as they thudded across the hardwood floor faded when she stepped through the open door. Probably I was jealous of her long thin legs. Anyway, she couldn’t fly a plane.
As I watched her go I mused, it would be a lot less work to give my clients to Mavis, collect a fee, and let her do the work. On the other hand, I was actually looking forward to learning more about large properties.
What I didn’t realize, until much later, was that my intuition was working overtime trying to warn me not to take these clients and to stick to selling residential real estate. In Bear Creek, however, you cannot specialize in selling just cabins. The territory is vast and it was time I learned about horses and ranching. That lesson almost cost me my life.