Local girl dies in auto wreck. Driver charged.
Ridgewood, Missouri, June 6, 1998
Mia Carpenter, 15, daughter of prominent Ridgewood businessman Chase Carpenter, died in a one-car rollover around midnight on June 4. The driver of the car, a 1995 Porsche 928, was Ben Talbot, 20, an employee of Carpenter Motors.
Miss Carpenter, a passenger in the back seat, suffered fatal head injuries when the vehicle rolled off a steep embankment. She was not wearing a seat belt.
Jeff Carpenter, the car’s owner and brother of the deceased, was a passenger in the front seat. He and Talbot have been released from the hospital. According to the police, both men had high levels of blood alcohol. Talbot is expected to plead guilty to charges of DUI and negligent homicide.
DREAD CRAWLED ALONGBROCK’S NERVES AS HE REREAD THE CLIPPING. It had to be genuine—no question of that. But who would have known enough to send it?
For years, he’d felt certain that the damning secret was buried. Of those who knew the truth, Chase Carpenter was long dead of cancer. His wife, Johanna—not that she’d ever known—had suffered a stroke and was confined to a nursing home. By now, if she was even alive, she’d be elderly and maybe senile. Jeff Carpenter had disappeared off a sport fishing boat nine years ago, leaving nothing behind but an empty bottle of Jack Daniels and a .38 Smith & Wesson with one bullet missing. As for Ben Talbot, he’d vanished through the gloomy doors of the Missouri State Prison in Jefferson, never to be heard from again.
Who else would know? A spouse? A child? It might be a good idea to have an investigator track down the rest of the Carpenter family. He would think about that tomorrow. The question now was, what did the mysterious sender want from him?
Money, most likely. That anonymous clipping had blackmail written all over it. Sooner or later the call would come. He would have to be ready for it. Meanwhile, the smartest thing he could do would be to protect his assets. The blackmailer might not be able to touch him legally. But the damage to his reputation could be catastrophic—and expensive.
Putting the ranch in trust for his heirs would make sense. But his call to Shane had ended in frustration. Didn’t the young fool understand what he was being offered—and that the offer might not be there forever?
Picking up the envelope, he stared at it. No return address, but it was postmarked Tucson—close. His name and address were hand printed in blue ballpoint pen. There was nothing else except the stamp—an American flag, available anywhere.
Battling the urge to pick up a chair and hurl it at something, he slipped the clipping back into the envelope, sealed it with tape, and locked it away in the wall safe that was hidden behind a Charles Russell painting of a cowboy roping a longhorn steer. He needed to get out of here. If he didn’t, he would explode.
Maybe he could take his new Cessna TTx and fly up to his Montana fishing cabin for a few days. But no, he needed to be here, in control, especially if the unknown blackmailer showed his hand.
He could always call one of the women he knew—attractive ladies who’d be happy to share a pleasurable evening with no strings attached.
But he wasn’t in the mood for that kind of entertainment. He needed to come up with some kind of plan. But how could he make a plan when he didn’t know what he was facing? For now, all he could do was stay alert and go on as if nothing had happened.
Tess would be calling him about the bull. He’d told her to take her time, but he’d seen the hunger in her eyes—a hunger he recognized and understood because he’d experienced it himself. She wanted that bull, and she would have it. Consequences be damned.
Tess would deny it, but Brock sensed that the two of them were alike in many ways—in their ambition, their passion, and their determination to get what they wanted.
But she was no match for him—not when what he wanted was the Alamo Canyon Ranch, Shane, and Tess herself, all wrapped up in one neat package.
Meanwhile he had to deal with an invisible threat that could topple his world. And trying to fight it was like flailing away in the dark.
* * *
After supper, the sisters gathered on the front porch to unwind from the day and watch the stars come out. The time-honored practice had started with Callie, their beloved stepmother. Now that she was gone, the three Champion women kept the custom whenever they could. Some evenings, it was almost as if they could feel her presence beside them and hear her warm Southern laughter.
Tess inhaled the night air, filling her senses with the rank aromas of the ranch—road dust, diesel fuel, horses, and cattle. Roasting chiles from Maria’s kitchen blended with the fragrance of blooming paloverde. A burrowing owl called from the hillside. A band of javelinas rooted in the darkness beyond the paddock.
After the warm spring day, the light breeze was refreshing. Tess leaned back in the chair and let it cool her face. When the dog pressed a damp muzzle into her hand, she scratched his ears. Lexie and Val were chatting, but Tess was too tired to pay them much attention. She’d be smart to break away and make it an early night.
This weekend she would be driving Whirlwind to the PBR event at Cave Creek, just north of Phoenix. Brock would be there. He wouldn’t be surprised when she told him she’d decided to take the black bull.
Once they’d worked out the details, Quicksand should be delivered in the next few days. Then the real work of readying him for the arena would begin—and it would have to happen fast. The ranch couldn’t afford to keep the bull if he wasn’t earning his way. Even as a breeder, with no pedigree or registration, his value would be in doubt.
“So, what have you heard from Casey?” Lexie asked Val.
“Nothing since yesterday. He was supposed to call me after that event in Gallup last night, but I haven’t heard a word. For all I know he could be lying in a hospital bed, or on a slab in some morgue. Every time he steps into the arena, I have nightmares about him getting tossed or trampled. But Casey doesn’t seem to care. For him, jumping in front of a mad bull to save some fool cowboy is just another day at the office. I can’t get it through his thick head how much I worry about him. Sometimes I wonder if sticking around is worth the pain.”
Lexie shifted in the lounge chair to ease the discomfort of her swollen belly. “You signed on for this, Val, just like I did. After Jack died in the arena, I swore that I’d never fall for a bull rider. But then I met Shane. And when he got hurt, I knew I had to be there for him. You’d do the same for Casey. The two of you belong together.”
“You’re not helping, Lexie,” Val said. “I’m not strong like you are. If anything were to happen to Casey, I’d go to pieces. I’d probably drink myself back into the gutter. If you ask me, loving somebody is a one-way ticket to hell.”
The conversation faded as Tess drifted into a light doze. Only when Val nudged her and pointed toward the road did she come to full attention. A pair of bright truck headlights had come over the ridge and started down the first switchback.