Gray's Requiem

CHAPTER ONE-2

Rick and Mary watched with interest.

“Okay, gotta run, I’ve been on the road for what seems like forever. I need a hot shower.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Brat!” She laughed as she opened the door to leave. She pointed at Chaps. “Call me later.”

“I will.” Chaps stood grinning at the door after she left.

“Chaps, is that the girl that sent you all the post cards?”

Rick crossed his arms over his large barrel chest.

“Yeah that’s her. You and get to know her more tonight. I’m going to throw her a big welcome home party.”

Chaps headed for his desk, the evidence box forgotten, and picked up the phone. He quickly dialed the Nina’s Nook Bakery.

“Nina, its Chaps.”

As Maggie pulled up in front of her uncle’s house she felt for the first time the full impact of her uncle’s passing. She regretted that she hadn’t kept in touch more with him. She regretted not being there for him and missing his funeral. Charlie’s truck was parked to the right of the house, but there was no Charlie. She half expected to see his large frame step out onto the porch like the hundreds of times he had before when she was a child growing up. It took a few moments, but she came to the realization that she would never see Charlie again.

She had come to live with Charlie when she was five years old after her parents died in a house fire. The family had been at her uncles home earlier in the evening. She and her parents were upstairs sleeping when the fire broke out. She had awoken at the sound of her mother’s screams. The hem of her nightgown had caught fire before she could escape her room and she was frozen with panic. She remembered a large man breaking rushing into her room. He wrapped her in a blanket smothering the fire and then carried her to the window where her uncle was waiting below. She had believed the man was her father but, later while she was in the hospital her uncle had told her that both her parents had died in the fire. It had been so hard for a five-year old to understand.

She had been happy here as a child, but when she got the opportunity to leave when she after high school to attend college in the Federation she didn’t hesitate. She had left and never looked back. Now she questioned why she had wanted to go to school in the Federation territory, there were several excellent colleges and universities in Western America. Why had she been so eager to leave?

She got out of her truck and tried the keys in the front door, it swung open. She took a tentative step across the threshold; the house was too quiet. Not much had changed in the years she had been gone. As she looked around the open floor plan she remembered fondly so many nights curled up in front of the fireplace as a child; Charlie always made hot cocoa help chase away the nightmares of the fire that plagued her after her parent’s death.

She hadn’t dreamt or thought about the fire that claimed the life of her parents in a long time, but she remembered it now. Something new about the memory niggled at the edge of her mind. She couldn’t quite grasp it.

“Hello?”

Maggie jumped and dropped the keys. She reached into her waistband and drew her Beretta 9mm.

“Whoa!” A tall man dressed like something from a western novel stood with his hands up.

“Who the hell are you?” Maggie demanded pointing the gun at him.

“Steve Flores, Ranch Manager.”

“You work for Charlie Gray Eagle?”

“I did.”

Maggie lowered her gun.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I stayed on after Charlie passed to look after the place. Are you Maggie?”

“I am. But, how do you know my name?”

Maggie stalked towards the cowboy, still clutching the gun in her right hand.

“Chaps told me about you. Said you would be coming back to live here. You’re Charlie’s niece, right?”

Steve gave her a tentative smile and held out his hand.

She returned the gun to its home in her waistband.

Maggie considered him for a moment and then shook his hand.

“Sorry about that, but you scared the hell out of me. I didn’t expect anyone to be here.”

“I understand.”

“So, you stayed on you said.” Maggie waved him into the house, “Do you live on the property?”

“Thank you.” Steve took off his hat and stepped inside. “I have a house out back, over that way.” He pointed to the north west.

“Are there any cattle?”

“About two hundred head and Charlie’s prize bull, Del Torro.”

“You and I are going to need to sit down and talk about the ranch operations. It’s been a very long time since I lived here,” she gave him a small smile, “and even then, I didn’t pay much attention to the business side of things.”

Steve nodded. “I’d be happy to help. “Well, I’ll let you get back to getting settled. Let me know if I can do anything to help.” He started backing out of the front door.

“Thank you, that is very kind.”

Maggie followed him to the door. She stepped out onto the porch and watched him return to the barns.

Not bad, this ranch thing could have its advantages.

Maggie unloaded her belongings from the truck and stacked all the boxes in the downstairs bedroom.

Once she was done, she shut the front door and stood staring around the large open space again. She wondered how long it would take to get used to the silence. Even when she was alone in her apartment in Riverside there was always the muted sound of the street below. The gentle hum of cars and pedestrians; street music and snippets of conversations. Here there was nothing, no cars, no voices, just her own thoughts banging around in her head.

Maggie began investigating the house. The kitchen had the basics and she made a mental note to go to the store. The downstairs bedroom had been Charlie’s and it was the only one with a private bath, so she decided she would move into it. As she looked around the room trying to decide where she should start with her unpacking. Images of Brent, her ex-lover whom she had left dead in a hotel room tied to a bed, filled her mind. She and Brent had both been assigned to the same billet within the Intelligence Service, they both worked as assassins. Normally, assassin identities were kept secret from everyone in the agencies except their handler. Alias’ were often used if any identification had to be made. But, had been a particularly nasty assignment that required Maggie and Brent to be assigned to work as a team. After the assignment was complete they met up whenever their individual schedules had allowed. Maggie was starting to believe that Brent might be the ‘one’ until Clancy, her handler had shown up at her hotel room on Siria during a long-awaited vacation with evidence that identified Brent as a traitor. Clancy had revieled he knew of her affair with Brent and to prove she wasn’t involved in his traitorous activities she had been assigned to kill him. Images of Brent flashed in her mind now as she stared down at the bed. Brent bleeding and begging for her to listen to him as he tried to explain the incriminating photos of him with an unknown party making an exchange of documents and money. At first, she had been believed he was a traitor; there were pictures of him selling documents to anti-Federation interests on several different occasions. She had been hurt by the personal betrayal more so than Brent’s betrayal to the Federation.

Why did Brent's death bother her so much more than the other people she had killed for the Federation? She had never doubted the guilt or evil intentions of the people she assassinated. Why did she doubt the evidence against Brent? There were always documents, photos, witnesses and she was called as a last resort. What was it about Brent that was bothering her? She had tortured him before killing him to in order to retrieve the files he had stolen and sold to the anti-Federation parties. Once she had access to the files, she wisely made a copy for herself before turning them over to Clancy. She always liked to keep a little insurance policy in case she ever found herself in a position not unlike Brent’s. The files were stored on a small device she carried with her at all times. She reached down to check to see if it still hung from the chain around her neck.

Confident the storage drive was in its proper place. She sighed and walked around the first level and contemplated the stairs to the second floor. She didn’t want to deal with Brent’s death right now, so no more bedrooms.

Instead she stepped inside Charlie’s study. The room smelled of bourbon, cigars and the aftershave Charlie had liked to wear. The room obviously hadn’t been touched since Charlie’s death. There were papers scattered over the dark stained wooden desk. A ledger laid open. It seemed as if Charlie had just stepped away and would be back momentarily.

Maggie glanced at the ledger, it had to do with the business side of the ranch, dates and figures. She would have to come back to that when she had more time. She walked over to the bookshelf. Her uncle had loved printed books the same way Hugo had loved them, maybe that is why she and Hugo had gotten along so well, he reminded her of her uncle. She supposed she had inherited some of that appreciation for books. She ran her finger along the spine of several.

Ahhhh, she smiled to herself. She loved the smell of old books. Something about the paper and the ink just made her feel relaxed and safe.

Her comm buzzed making her jump. "Hello?"

“Maggie? It’s Chaps.”

“Hey buddy.”

“Why do you sound surprised to hear from me?”

“Well I wasn’t sure if my comm would still work here, I thought you might call Charlie's landline number.”

“Oh, why wouldn’t your comm work?”

“Well, because it is Federation technology and I thought the USWA might jam it. And, second because mine is more of a multi-functional device I wasn’t sure it would work with the cellular system here.”

“Oh, okay. Listen about tonight I was thinking, why don’t I pick you up and have dinner for you at my place. I want you to see it.”

She could hear the smile in his voice.

“Okay, sounds like a plan.”

“Great, pick you up soon.”

Maggie dashed into the bedroom and rummaged through her cases in search of toiletries, a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She showered and dressed in record time.

Chaps poked his head in as he knocked on the front door.

“Are you ready?”

“Ready! Is this okay? I mean, should I wear something more formal?”

“That is perfect.”

Chaps admired her slight curves and the way she filled out her jeans. He suppressed a grin when he saw she was wearing military styled boots instead of cowboy boots. Nearly everyone in Morgan Creek wore cowboy boots.

“What?” Maggie stared down at herself.

“Nothing,” Chaps stood to one side holding the door for her, “let’s go, your chariot awaits.”

Chaps’ truck was newer than hers but also a manual drive. The USWA included in their rejection of the over use of technology, autonomous vehicles. “Too much control given over to the machines,” her uncle used to say.

As they drove Chaps looked over at Maggie.

“What?”

“You mentioned earlier your comm was different, it can’t spy on us or anything can it?”

“Chaps, why would I spy on you and if my comm is spying on you wouldn’t it then being spying on me at the same time?”

“I guess you have a good point.”

They pulled into the driveway of a lovely A-frame house. The front of the house faced south and was a solid wall of glass. The slope of the roof was steep and nearly reached the ground. The roof was perfect for shedding the snow.

“Oh Chaps, it’s beautiful,”

“Thanks.”

“Did you build it?”

“No, I’d still be working if I tried to do it myself.”

Chaps opened the front door and stood to the side to let her go in first.

“Surprise!” A cacophony of cheers filled the air, as people began descending upon her to welcome her home.

Maggie turned to Chaps.

“What the hell?” She whispered in his ear not wanting to offend the crowd staring at her.