Betrayal in the Badlands

Isabel followed Sheila to the door. The woman wrapped her in a hug. “I meant what I said. If you need anything, you just shout.”

Isabel thanked her again. As Sheila drove away, Isabel scanned the trees for Logan and Officer Bentley. There was still no sign of them. She closed the door and locked it for good measure.

The house was cool, the spruce branches overhead sheltering it from the sun. Isabel wandered through the kitchen and the small bedroom, soaking in the details of her sister’s life. A bookshelf crammed with books, mostly about the care of horses. Pictures of Cassie with Blue Boy and one that made her breath catch. It was a family photo, old and starting to fade. Cassie stood next to her father, dwarfed by his tall form, and Isabel smiled from the circle of her mother’s arms. She’d forgotten that there was a time when they were a normal family, before her father’s business failed, before the alcoholism took over, before her mother’s lupus began to siphon her life away. Her eyes blurred. She replaced the photo.

When her body began to tremble she took a few of Logan’s cookies and sat on the worn rocking chair to watch out the window for the two men’s return. A scrap of white crammed between the cushion and the chair arm caught her eye. She pulled out a folded piece of paper.

Dear Isabel,

I was really thrilled to get your last letter. My mind began to imagine all kinds of things, how you would come to visit me here and we’d be sisters again. We have a lot to talk about, don’t you think? I was furious at you for a very long time. That’s why I didn’t answer your letters for a while. I thought you had taken the easy way out, running away and leaving me to deal with Dad. From the bits and pieces in your letters, I understand that your choice cost you more than I could ever imagine. I know Dad hurt you badly and, if it matters, I think he was sorry for that. At the end, he asked about you sometimes. Remember what Mom used to read from Matthew? Pray for those who hurt you. I was amazed that she could do that in the face of how he treated her, but she did forgive him, Is. That’s what I tried to remember when he was at his lowest. Mom forgave him and prayed for him right up to the day she died.

What’s that saying? It’s water under the bridge now. I have an amazing life here with my horses. I had a developer approach me about selling. They want to build a resort here for backcountry types. I’ve even had an offer much closer to home, but I’ve got other plans. I’m going to have the ravine cleared out and hopefully it will revert to a natural running creek again. Logan is doing it for me. He reminds me of Blue Boy, so proud and trying to learn a whole new life, after his wife and everything. You’ve met him before, you know. I’ll explain later. With his help, I’m going to make this a preserve where people can come and learn about horses and take trail rides into the Badlands. I’m looking into having trailer hookups so folks can “camp and ride.” What do you think? A pie-in-the-sky dream? Wouldn’t be the first time. Remember when we decided to open our own circus? A three-ring circus run by two little kids. Ha! Maybe I’ve finally gotten old enough to run after the dreams before they run away from me.

It’s getting dark now. I’ve never been afraid of the dark before, but lately…well, John just laughs and says there’s nothing in the dark that can hurt you any worse than the daytime. Still, I find myself keeping the light on at night, as if there’s something out there waiting to get me. Funny, because you were always the one that had to have a light on in the dark! I guess I’ve talked long enough. I want you to make plans to come see me. We’ve wasted too much time already. I’ve got to go find a stamp or this will never get to you.

Love,

Cassie

Isabel pressed her cheek to the paper, her breath burning in her lungs. The precious words. They could have been sisters again. Real sisters. The notion eased her agony for a moment. Cassie had moved beyond the anger and the blame. It was a sweet breeze of comfort against the storm of grief and regret that billowed through her. Why hadn’t she made those plans? If she’d come earlier, maybe Cassie would never have gone off on that ride.

If she could have followed her mother’s advice and forgiven her father…

Her tears dropped onto the paper clutched in her hands.

It seemed as though the flimsy scrap held the weight of her sister’s dreams and her own sorrow and shame. The burden was too much. She shot to her feet.

She had to get away, settle things in South Dakota and leave, before she lost herself to the same grief she’d felt at her mother’s death. That grief had started it all, the plunge into anger and recklessness that had dropped her at Rawley’s feet, kept her in self-imposed exile for all those years. She shivered, tucking the paper securely in her backpack, mind whirling.

John would take the horses, she was sure. From all accounts he loved them. Perhaps the Triggs would even be interested in buying the property. At the very least, she knew Sheila would help her find a real estate agent and do what she could. Logan, too.

The thought of him stopped her.

Proud and trying to learn a new life.

What had happened to his old one?

And when had she met him before?

Logan stood in the shade of a twisted spruce where Tank sprawled on his side. The dog was tired from chasing every unfortunate bird that chose to land among the shrubs. Bentley continued his methodical search of the soil at the edge of the ravine, but Logan knew that was a waste of time. There weren’t any prints. He knew it, Bentley knew it. The search was more to assuage Isabel and Sheila. The rain might have blurred the footprints into nothingness, but something in his gut told him it wasn’t so.

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