Reservation Revenge Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  copyright

  Special Thanks

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  About the Author

  Reservation Revenge

  A Shandra Higheagle Mystery

  Paty Jager

  Windtree Press

  Hillsboro. OR

  This is a work of fiction, Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  RESERVATION REVENGE

  Copyright © 2016 Patricia Jager

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Windtree Press except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Windtree Press

  Hillsboro, Oregon

  http://windtreepress.com

  Cover Art by Christina Keerins

  Published in the United States of America

  ISBN 9781944973230

  Special Thanks to:

  Carmen Peone for helping me keep the reservation life factual.

  Crimescene Yahoo group for being there to answer my medical and murder questions.

  My son-in-law in law enforcement who keeps my cops real.

  And my niece, Maggie Holcomb who keeps my sentences straight and timing in order.

  I couldn’t write one of these mysteries without any of these resources.

  Thank you all!

  Chapter One

  “Ella, what do you want?” Shandra Higheagle pleaded as she stood looking up into the clouds that formed her deceased grandmother’s face. The droplets of rain falling on Shandra’s face were warm and salty. Tears.

  She bolted upright in bed. A dream. But Ella, Grandmother, had been crying sad tears. The worry lines on her grandmother’s wrinkled face had been deeper, more defined. Shandra reached over to wake Ryan but found cold sheets.

  She clicked on the light and remembered work had required him to stay at his house in Warner the last week. His job as a Weippe County Sheriff’s Detective kept him there as much as he stayed with her. She rubbed her hand back and forth on the empty side of the bed. It had taken her more than a year to overcome her fear of letting anyone close, and now all she could think of was talking to Ryan. He understood her dreams better than she did.

  She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Three. Her hand hovered over her cell phone. Something was wrong, that was the only thing to explain her grandmother crying. But what? And was it worth waking Ryan when she didn’t have any rational reason?

  Sheba crawled up onto the bed. Shandra wrapped her arms around her huge, furry, multi-colored dog and hugged her. “I’ll wait until morning to call Ryan.”

  The dog nudged her big muzzle into Shandra’s chest, pushing her back against the pillows. “Okay, I can take a hint. Turn off the lights and let’s get some sleep.” She chuckled, turned out the light, and patted the dog taking up Ryan’s half of the bed.

  ~*~

  Shandra woke to strains of Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong’s “Dream a Little Dream of Me” from her phone.

  She glanced at the clock. Six.

  Then the phone. Aunt Jo.

  Her heart raced in her chest. Was a problem on the reservation the reason Ella was crying in her dream? Shandra sat up straight and stroked her finger across the small screen. “What’s wrong?”

  “Shandra, we need your help.” Aunt Jo sounded close to tears.

  “What’s happened?” She shoved the hair off her face and stood, walking out of her room. She’d grown close to her aunt the last year and a half. When she hurt so did Shandra.

  “The police were here along with an FBI agent. They think Coop killed Arthur Randal.”

  The distress in her aunt’s voice made Shandra’s stomach churn. “What does Coop say about this?”

  “We don’t know. We haven’t seen him since Saturday night.” A deep inhale and she added, “I know my boy. He wouldn’t kill anyone.”

  Shandra didn’t think Coop was a killer either. “Gather all the information you can. I’ll be there in five hours.”

  “Thank you,” Aunt Jo said and hung up.

  Shandra continued to the kitchen. She started a pot of coffee and dialed Ryan.

  “Morning beautiful,” Ryan said, his voice still rough from sleep.

  Any other time his familiar greeting would have made her smile. Right now there was too much on her mind. “Grandmother came to me in a dream last night. She was crying.” Shandra didn’t wait for Ryan to comment. “Aunt Jo called this morning. The tribal police and FBI are looking for Coop. They think he killed someone.”

  “I can check my sources and see what I can find out.” His voice was all business.

  She smiled. That was one of the things she loved about the man, he could switch from lover to policeman in a second. “That would be helpful. I told Aunt Jo I’d be there in five hours.” Two steps took her to the fridge. She pulled out the milk and grabbed a bowl and cereal from the cupboard.

  “I know you’ve managed to solve several murders, but I don’t think you should get in the middle of a federal investigation.” Concern and protectiveness echoed in his voice.

  “My family needs me. I won’t sit here when I can give my aunt support.” She poured the cereal and milk into the bowl. Sheba nudged her. The dog’s soulful brown eyes studied Shandra while her big fluffy tail swung back and forth with enough force to make Shandra’s bare legs cold.

  “I understand wanting to help your family. Just don’t get in the way of the investigation. I can’t help you if you get in trouble.” Again, his concern touched her, but once she’d discovered her Nez Perce family wanted her in their lives, she’d made a vow to herself to be there for them, whatever they needed.

  “I promise to stay clear of the FBI.”

  Sheba started talking and pacing.

  “I have to go. Sheba needs fed and let out and I have to fill Lil in on what to do while I’m gone.”

  She pulled the phone from her ear and started to hit the off button when she heard Ryan.

  “Shandra, be careful. I’ll see if I can get some days off and join you.”

  Her heart thumped in her chest. She held the phone back to her ear. “That would be nice, but don’t worry if you can’t.”

  “You can’t brush me off that easy,” he joked.

  “I know, you sheepherders are like ticks.”

  He laughed and hung up.

  Her heart hummed with happiness. Who would have thought a girl raised on a cattle ranch would have
fallen for the son of a sheep rancher? And one that understood her need to explore the heritage that was kept from her for so long.

  “Come on, girl.” She fed Sheba. After the dog cleaned up her bowl, Shandra let her outside. She stood at the back door and inhaled the summer scents of pine and wild rose. Her backyard butted up against the majestic pines of Huckleberry Mountain. This ranch was her sanctuary.

  Returning to the kitchen, she ate her cereal and moved to the bedroom to dress and pack. Luckily, she was between projects right now. She and Lil had just sent out her latest vase to a gallery in the mid-west.

  Dressed and her overnight bag stowed in her Jeep, she headed for the barn. Lil, her hired help, lived in the old tack room in the barn. The woman had come with the place like a stray cat. Having grown up on the ranch, she didn’t know any other place. After her grandparents passed, she’d squatted on the land until the owners discovered her and kicked her off. Hearing the woman’s story, Shandra had offered her a job and had never regretted it. Though she wished the eccentric woman would live in the apartment over the studio rather than the tack room in the barn.

  She spotted the older woman in the far side of the corral. Her standard purple clothing made her stick out in the corral among the browns and whites of the horses. Today the eccentric woman sported a short-sleeved, button-front blouse covered in purple flowers. Her jeans were purple as well as the rhinestone studded cap on her spiky white hair.

  “Lil!” Shandra called, standing at the corral gate.

  Lil pat the horse closest to her on the neck and strode across the corral.

  Lewis, the orange cat that was usually draped around Lil’s neck, rubbed against Shandra’s legs. “Good morning, Lewis.”

  The cat meowed and continued his figure eight around her legs.

  Sheba bounded up to the corral, her tongue lapping at the drool dangling from her lips.

  “What are all of you doing up so early?” Lil asked, stepping through the gate.

  “I received a call from my aunt. She needs me.” Shandra knew her employee didn’t mind hanging out on the mountain by herself, but it bothered her.

  “Good thing you finished that vase last week.” Her eyes narrowed. “You get more work done when that cop ain’t hanging around here.”

  Shandra smiled. Lil was still combative about Ryan. Even after he’d saved both of them from harm more than once.

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I’ll check in every day.”

  Lil nodded. “You always do.”

  “Have I told you lately how thankful I am that you are here?” She was. Without the feisty woman, she wouldn’t be able to keep her horses and would have to find a place for Sheba when she did lectures and workshops. And the woman was a huge help in the art studio.

  “Don’t get all mushy. I don’t want to live anywhere else, so you’re stuck with me.” Lil picked up Lewis, draping the large cat around her neck like a fur stole. “Want me to glaze those coasters?”

  “Please.” The coasters made from the clay found on her property and etched with the mountain’s likeness helped pick up the slack between her art sales. The local businesses sold them as souvenirs in the shops of Huckleberry Resort.

  The woman walked away, leaving Shandra to say good-bye to Sheba and head for the Colville Reservation four hours away.

  Chapter Two

  Shandra drove by the gas station and trading post at the Agency. The government community on the reservation. The parking lot had more vehicles and people than she’d witnessed on her previous visits.

  She continued through Nespelem and up the Nespelem river valley to her aunt and uncle’s horse ranch. Her stomach clenched at the sight of a Tribal Police vehicle at the side of the road leading to the ranch.

  At the ranch buildings, she recognized Velma’s car. The woman was her aunt’s cousin and of the Seven Drums religion like her grandmother had been. Shandra parked and stepped out of the Jeep.

  Andy, Coop’s younger brother, strode toward her from the barn. His lips were pressed closed in a grim line, but his eyes questioned her. He knew something.

  Before she could ask questions, Aunt Jo opened the back door to the house and motioned for her to hurry.

  Stopping long enough to make full eye contact with Andy, she said, “You know where he is.”

  He nodded.

  She searched the hills and terrain that encompassed the ranch. “Up there?” Her chin came up slightly as she tipped her head toward the hills.

  Again, he nodded.

  “Do your parents know?”

  He shook his head.

  “Saddle up two horses. After I visit with your mom, we’re going to go talk to him.”

  Andy’s eyes brightened and he smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Bouncing around the fact she knew where Coop was and his parents didn’t, she walked to the house. She should tell them what Andy told her, but at the same time, she wondered at Coop’s hiding. If he hadn’t killed someone, which she believed, he didn’t have a reason to hide.

  “What were you and Andy talking about?” Aunt Jo asked.

  “He’s worried about Coop.” She didn’t like lying to her aunt, but she needed more information, and Coop’s side of things before she decided the best plan of action. It was obvious the police were looking for him from the officer sitting at the end of the driveway.

  Velma handed her a cup of tea after she’d sat down at the kitchen table. They locked gazes and she saw grandmother had been in her cousin’s dreams as well.

  Shandra turned her attention to her aunt. “Tell me who Coop supposedly killed and why.”

  Aunt Jo sat down beside her. The woman’s long slender fingers grasped Shandra’s wrist as if she needed the contact to anchor her. “The police arrived here late last night. I’d just started getting worried about Coop. I knew he’d went to a party at Buffalo Lake on Saturday night and figured he’d spent the night at a friend’s house afterwards. But when he didn’t arrive for dinner last night…” She swiped at a tear slipping out of her eye. “He never misses Sunday dinner if he’s not away at school.”

  She placed a hand over her aunt’s. “When the police arrived?”

  “I thought they were going to tell me that he was in an accident. Not—not that he was wanted for killing someone.” Aunt Jo’s bottom lip trembled and her head quivered as if refusing everything.

  Her uncle strode into the room. “Shandra.” He nodded to her and knelt beside his wife. “Jo, everything will be all right.”

  The distraught woman stared at her husband.

  He reached out, touching her cheek. “We have good boys. They are wrong to think Coop would hurt anyone.”

  “Who did he supposedly kill?” Shandra asked, thinking she might learn more from Andy as they rode out to see Coop.

  “Arthur Randal.” Uncle Martin stood and walked to the stove.

  She glanced at Velma. The woman nodded toward the living room.

  “I’ll be right back,” Shandra said to her aunt and pried the woman’s fingers from her wrist. “I promise. It was a long drive. I need…”

  Jo’s face reddened. “I’m so sorry. I—”

  “You were worried. I’ll be right back.” She walked out of the kitchen and felt Velma on her heels. She stopped at the bathroom door. “Are you following me in?” she asked, grinning at the astounded look on the other woman’s face.

  “No. But it would be easier to talk without being overheard. Ays.” The twinkle in the larger woman’s eyes made Shandra laugh.

  “I’ll be quick.”

  Exiting the bathroom, she found Velma hovering in the hallway.

  “Did Aunt Minnie come to you?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Yes. Last night. She was crying, that’s all.” A chill chased across Shandra’s skin remembering the dream.

  “This is bad. Arthur Randal’s family has had it out for the Higheagles for years. Your great-grandfather had a magnificent horse. His offspring won
many races, on the reservation and off. But your great-grandfather refused to allow anyone to use him as a stallion. He was only to breed Higheagle horses. Arthur’s great-grandfather released several of his mares into a Higheagle pasture. Before your great-grandfather discovered them, the stallion had covered every one. Since then the Randals and Higheagles have not talked to one another. The children are not allowed to play together.”

  Shandra couldn’t believe there was still such a feud going on. “Then how did Arthur and Coop end up at the same place?”

  “There was a big party at Buffalo Lake. Feuds and fights are forgotten when alcohol is available.” Velma’s face scrunched in disgust.

  “Did the two young men know about the feud?”

  “Everyone on the reservation knows of the feud. It has been spoken of for many years and kept alive.” Velma heaved her wide chest out like she was proud of carrying on the feud.

  “But would the boys fight over a decades’ old feud after drinking too much?” She’d witnessed drunk young men at college and seldom did they have enough brains functioning to think about anything other than what was happening at that moment.

  “It was Sandy.”

  Shandra locked gazes with Velma. “Sandy, the girl Coop is head over heels about?”

  “The same.”

  That could make this a crime of passion. She remembered her trip to Omak with Coop and how he’d talked about Sandy non-stop. “What happened?”

  “Arthur attacked Sandy, and Coop knocked him around.” Velma started back down the hall. “But according to Andy, Arthur was alive and back drinking when Coop went looking for Sandy.”

  Back in the kitchen, Jo was busy at the stove and Martin was sitting at the table, a cup of coffee clutched between his hands.

  “Velma filled me in,” she said, walking up to Jo. “It sounds like Andy knows the most about this. He and I can go for a ride where he feels more comfortable talking about it.”

  Jo nodded, but she saw Martin perk up. He stood. “I’ll walk you out to the barn.”