The Ranch Solution

“Fine, ma’am. And you?”

“Couldn’t be better. Tell Mariah we’re looking forward to the dance on Saturday.”

“I’ll do that, ma’am. And let Mr. Shelton know the shoeing job he did on Buttons was just fine.” He turned to Laura. “See you at school.”

“Bye. Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem.” He tipped his hat to them both and drove home.

When he got there, he could hear Mariah in the office talking. On the way to find out if she wanted him for anything, he stopped by the fridge and found a bowl of fried chicken. It was crisp and spicy, just the way he liked it. He headed to the rear of the house, munching happily on a piece.

“Yes, I know it’s confidential,” Mariah was assuring someone on the phone. “I simply—”

She stopped, apparently interrupted by the person on the other end of the line.

“I don’t need the child’s name, I already know her name. Uh...can you wait a moment?” Mariah covered the speaker and looked at Reid. “Hi. I see you’re eating lunch. Be sure to have potato chips or a hot-fudge sundae to go with it—you know, something healthy.”

He swallowed a bite and grinned. “You sound like Grams. If she doesn’t want me to eat fried chicken, she shouldn’t make it.”

“Once a week she indulges us so she can pretend to be an old-fashioned granny. Now go away. Take Buttons for a ride or put your feet up in the hammock and sleep.”

“I have time for chores. We have a short day again tomorrow and our finals don’t start until next week. Anything special you need me to do?”

Mariah sighed. “You’ve stayed up late studying for a week. Let the chores go and relax this afternoon. Shoo.”

That was nice of Mariah. But he wasn’t going to listen to her, not when she was working her ass off. He collected another piece of chicken and went to change out of his school clothes. No doubt there was a stable with straw and horse manure in need of shoveling.

* * *

MARIAH PUT THE RECEIVER to her ear. “I’m sorry for the interruption, Officer Giles. As I was going to explain, I simply want to speak with the police officer who investigated the fire at the Garrison Academy. I’m aware that a minor’s record is confidential—I want to discuss the fire itself. That part of the report should be public record, correct?”

“Very well, it was Officer Rizolli who handled that case,” the public-affairs liaison told her reluctantly. “I’ll transfer you to his desk.”

Mariah waited, her patience stretched to the limit. She’d spent an hour trying to reach someone who could talk to her about the incident at Caitlin O’Donnell’s school. Honestly, how many times could she be transferred with nothing productive coming of it? And how many times could she explain she wasn’t asking for confidential information? Heck, she knew who’d started the fire.

“This is Officer Don Rizolli,” said a deep voice. “How can I help you?”

“Officer Rizolli...” Mariah rocked forward and wrote down the name. “Hello. Did you investigate a fire that occurred at the Garrison Academy in the past two weeks? It’s a private, rather exclusive high school in North Seattle, near Ballard, I think.”

“I’m familiar with the facility. I was called in by the school authorities after the blaze.”

She practically fell off her chair. Could she actually have reached the right person? “I’m relieved to get through to you finally. The young lady who was responsible for the incident is visiting our ranch and I need to know the...the circumstances. Rest assured I’m not asking for information about Caitlin. Her father tells me it was an accident, but I want to get that from an unbiased source. We’ve had a dry year in Montana, though fire is always a concern for us.”

“I see. What is the name of your ranch?”

“The U-2. If you want to check us out on the internet, our website is U2RanchVacations.com. I can hold while you’re looking.”

She waited, hearing the click of a keyboard in the background. She’d done her share of web surfing before making her calls to Seattle. Caitlin had mentioned to Ray Cassidy that she attended school at Garrison Academy, which turned out to be an outrageously expensive educational institution. Mariah had contacted the academy first, but the principal had not been forthcoming; she hadn’t expected him to be—advertising a fire wouldn’t encourage student enrollment, no matter what the cause.

“And to whom am I speaking?” queried Officer Rizolli after a few minutes.

“I should have introduced myself. I’m Mariah Weston, the U-2’s business manager.”

“The owner, too, I presume. According to your online description, the Weston family has owned the ranch for several generations.”

“Yes, the U-2 is family owned.” Mariah tapped her pencil on a pad of paper. Phone numbers and other notes were scribbled over it, along with the doodles she’d done during her numerous waits on hold.

“Tell me what you need to know, Ms. Weston.”

“Mostly what I said...whether or not it was deliberate. Caitlin appears to be a good kid, but I can’t allow a budding arsonist to stay at the ranch. Parents can be reluctant to admit problems with their children, and I don’t believe her father had planned on telling me about the fire. It just slipped out in a conversation.”

“I can give you a general account of the incident,” Officer Rizolli said slowly. “The student was sneaking a cigarette in the girls’ locker room. She hid it in a trash can when a teacher entered the gymnasium unexpectedly. The paper caught fire, then a wood bench and a cabinet where the towels were stored. Fortunately, there were limited combustibles in the area since the floors are stone-and-glass tile and the lockers are metal.”

“You don’t have any reservations about the situation?”

“I’m confident it was an accident, Ms. Weston, and so is the fire chief. I also spoke with the school counselor. The student tried to put the flames out with an extinguisher and pulled the fire alarm when she was unsuccessful. Nobody was injured, including the young lady at fault.”

The knot in Mariah’s stomach began to loosen. She’d never forgotten a frightening drought-stricken summer when she was a child. Dry lightning had set dozens of fires on the ranch and her parents had canceled all the guest reservations to protect both their visitors and the U-2. For two months they’d lived with a silent, uneasy anticipation of something that might happen.

“That’s a relief to hear.”

“I understand, Ms. Weston. I’ve dealt with juvenile arson and it isn’t pretty. You’re wise to be cautious, but I wouldn’t worry on this particular count. I...” He hesitated. “I couldn’t let the parent or student know how I felt, but I was rather sorry for her. She was truly terrified, though by the time her father arrived, she’d masked it well with belligerence.”

Mariah laughed. “Having met Caitlin, I can imagine. She has attitude to spare. I appreciate your speaking with me, Officer.”

“We’re here to help, Ms. Weston. I’m sorry you had trouble getting through.”

Mariah disconnected. In a way it would be easier to have an excuse to evict the O’Donnells, yet it was good to know she hadn’t read Caitlin wrong.

As for Jacob...the jury was still out. He wasn’t just a closed book she couldn’t fathom; he was an entire library of closed books.

CHAPTER FIVE

ON FRIDAY MORNING Jacob dragged himself from bed and took a walk around the perimeter of the ranch complex to loosen his muscles. It helped, though there was a distinct ache when he sat down with a cup of coffee in the mess tent.