Betrayal at the Buffalo Ranch Read online

  me that a white feather means ‘peace.’ I think whoever left the arrow is

  sending a message that they mean no harm.”

  Lance raised his right eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Well, what do you think it means?”

  Lance walked with the arrow toward his truck. “I think it means

  we have a very unpredictable archer who has killed one person so

  far.” He stored the arrow in the back seat of his vehicle and locked

  the door. “And he killed that person pretty close by. Don’t be so naïve,

  Sadie.”

  “Okay, you win,” she said, as they entered through the kitchen door.

  “Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat.”

  Lance slipped off his gun belt and sat down at Sadie’s table in front

  of a plate heaped with meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and fresh green beans.

  “I’m starved,” he said, as he began to eat. “And it was nice of Becky

  to give us an evening alone for a change.”

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  “I know. She’s a nice girl, but I hope she figures out what she’s going to do soon.”

  “I swear, Sadie, you’d take in a lost frog if you thought it needed a

  new pond.” Lance took a bite of meatloaf. “This is really good, Sadie,”

  he said, taking a long drink of Pepsi. “By the way, where is your froggy

  roommate?”

  “She went to check on her dad.”

  “He’s a nice man.”

  “She said she was going to call you. She wants to file rape charges

  against Angus.”

  “Oh?” Lance looked surprised. “Why’d she change her mind?”

  “That’s not all she wants to file charges for.”

  Lance laid his fork on his plate and looked questioningly at Sadie.

  “I’m waiting.”

  “He stole her grandfather’s land.”

  A curious look crossed his face. “How’d he do that?”

  “Angus is a jerk, and he can’t get away with his criminal behavior

  forever. It’s about to catch up to his arrogant white ass regardless of how many politicians he has in whatever pocket.”

  Lance took another bite of meatloaf. “And you’re going to see to

  that, right?”

  “Yes.” Sadie reached for a pile of papers at the edge of the table.

  “I was going to wait until after dinner to talk to you about this, but we might as well start now. Angus has been acquiring land illegally, including the land adjacent to mine that belonged to Becky’s grandfather. Look

  at this list. Angus has taken all of this land either by quiet title or forged deeds.”

  “What’s quiet title?”

  “It’s a process used when someone wants to claim property, usually

  because it’s next to theirs, the original owners are deceased, it’s been

  unoccupied for a long time, and no one knows who or where the de-

  scendants are. An attorney draws up legal papers and runs an ad in the

  local paper, which will never be seen by the descendants if they live

  somewhere out of state, which is usually the case. If no one protests

  in a stated amount of time, about three weeks, the title is ‘quieted’ and ownership is transferred. The whole thing only takes about six weeks.”

  “And that’s legal?”

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  “It is if you have a good lawyer doing it— like Eugene Hawk.”

  Lance leaned back in his chair. “That sounds kind of like stealing

  land to me.”

  Sadie nodded. “Yeah, it kind of is.”

  “But Grover Chuculate is alive and well,” Lance said. “Wouldn’t

  he find out when the property taxes came due and he didn’t get a bill?”

  “There is no tax bill on Indian land, remember?”

  Lance nodded.

  Sadie continued. “But that property was taken with a forged deed.”

  “How does someone forge a dead man’s signature? George

  Washington Chuculate is dead and has been for a while.”

  “You backdate the deed to when he was still alive and then you

  wait to file it until a later date. It’s called a ‘dresser drawer’ deed. People around here do it all the time. They think it saves them the cost of pro-bating an estate. And, like I said, if you have a good lawyer . . . and

  Angus probably knows Grover is in bad health. We would have never

  known if we hadn’t started snooping around at the county clerk’s office.”

  “I really hate to ask what ‘snooping’ means.”

  Lance’s cell phone rang. He looked at the number and dropped his

  fork. “Sorry, hon, I’ve got to take this. They know I’m off duty; it must be an emergency.”

  “Smith here,” he said, and then listened for only a few moments

  before replying. “I’m on my way.” He hung up and dropped the phone

  into his shirt pocket.

  “I’m sorry, Sadie, I’ve got to run. There’s an emergency at the

  Clyborn ranch.”

  “Oh, good grief,” she said. “Angus Clyborn is always in crisis mode.

  Can’t you at least finish your meal?”

  Lance had already stood, buckled his gun belt in place, and attached

  his badge. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said, as he shoveled one last big bite of food into his mouth. He pushed his hat down on his head and

  hurried out the door.

  ★

  Lance sped the short distance from Sadie’s house to the Buffalo Ranch

  and arrived to an emergency vehicle’s flashing lights. Lance parked

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  between the house and the barn next to the ambulance, got out, and flipped on his flashlight. He disliked working a homicide in the dark,

  if that’s what it was, but with dusk falling rapidly he had no choice.

  Being the first one from the sheriff ’s office to arrive, he immediately took charge of the scene.

  The anxious ambulance driver, a young Cherokee everyone called

  Big John, approached Lance. “Glad you’re here,” he said. “I think this

  guy’s been dead for a while.” Big John then led Lance to the body, still

  propped against the side of the barn. “Once we determined he was dead,

  I didn’t think we should move the body until you checked it out.”

  Lance joined the other paramedic, who was standing several feet

  away from the body as if he didn’t want to get too close. Shining his flashlight on the corpse, Lance barked into his handheld radio. “Dispatch.

  Call the medical examiner and get him to the Angus Clyborn ranch as

  soon as possible.”

  Big John backed away, looking relieved that Lance had taken over.

  Lance surveyed the area carefully. Angus’s cigar had fallen next to his

  body and thankfully burnt out. It could have easily caused a fire in the dry grass, taking Angus and the entire structure with it. Lance returned his

  attention to the body. The single bullet wound, at first glance, appeared to have entered Angus’s chest from the front, and when Lance leaned the

  body forward, he could see no exit wound, indicating the bullet must still be inside the body. If they were lucky, they’d be able to retrieve it, which would give them more information about the murder weapon. Lance used

  his flashlight to search the siding of the barn but could see no evidence of any additional bullets. He would be able to tell more in the daylight.

  Lance motioned for Big John, who was leaning against the front of

  the ambulance. “Did you see anyone else around?”

  Big John nodded toward the house. “The wife called it in. She’s

  inside.”

  “Let me know when the ME gets here.”

 
; Lance turned and headed for the back door as Big John waved

  an acknowledgment. The door behind the screen stood ajar, so Lance

  knocked on the doorjamb.

  A woman’s voice came from inside. “It’s open,” she said.

  Lance entered and waited by the door, allowing his eyes to adjust

  to the darkness. “Ma’am,” he said. “Do you mind if I turn on a light?”

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  “Suit yourself.”

  Lance found the light switch beside the door and flipped it on. A

  light above the kitchen work area radiated from the ceiling. Camilla sat

  at a table in the adjoining dining room, smoking a cigarette and sipping

  on what he imagined to be a strong drink.

  “Are you alone, ma’am?”

  “It’s just me.” Her voice sounded indifferent.

  “May I come in?” he asked.

  “Sure. Make yourself at home.” She sat with her elbows on the ta-

  ble, holding her head with her left hand.

  Lance joined her at the table. “Mrs. Clyborn?”

  “The one and only,” she said, taking a long drag from her cigarette

  and a gulp of her drink. Her smudged red lipstick had bled into the lines radiating from her lips, and her blonde hair fell like straw around her

  face.

  “Do you know what happened to Angus?” he asked.

  “It looks to me like someone got fed up with his bullshit and killed

  him.” She stared straight ahead. “Serves him right,” she added.

  Lance tried to hide his surprise. “Do you know who might have

  wanted to kill him?”

  Camilla grunted and turned her bloodshot eyes toward him. “Are

  you kidding me? I can’t think of anyone who won’t be delighted to hear

  the bastard’s dead. He’s been stealing land right and left, so any one of those landowners could have done it.”

  “Stealing land?” Sadie was always right, he thought.

  “Yeah, he’d find a piece of land he wanted and then intimidate the

  people into selling it to him for next to nothing. If it was vacant, he’d have some papers drawn up and change the title, or if that didn’t work,

  he’d just forge the deeds. A lot of land around here is just sitting there ripe for picking, and then no one seems to notice what’s happened to it

  until it’s over and he’s taken title. I’ve been waiting for someone to strangle him barehanded.”

  Lance pulled a notebook out of his shirt pocket and began to make

  notes.

  “Then there’re the hunts.” She returned her attention to her ciga-

  rette and took another drink. “One of those COWA people from Tulsa

  threatened to kill him to his face. I don’t know what her name is. And

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  then there’s that damned white buffalo calf. I heard Eugene Hawk warn him about that, but Angus ignored him. Now the damned thing is missing. I think someone stole it. Maybe they came back and killed Angus.

  Anybody could’ve done it.”

  Lance made no comment, waiting for her to continue.

  Camilla leaned back in her chair. “Quite frankly, I’ve thought about

  killing him myself. He’s been trying to force me to sign over my interest in this place so he can put it into a trust. He wanted to make sure when

  he died that neither Lucy nor I would end up with ownership in any of

  it. He’s already screwed Lucy out of her place. She thinks it’s hers free and clear, but he never filed the deed. He’s so stupid. He doesn’t think I know any of this.”

  “But you wouldn’t really consider killing your husband, would

  you?”

  “After being married to that son of a bitch as long as I have? Yes, sir.

  Considered it many times.”

  Lance thought the liquor was talking, but he had to ask. “Did you?”

  he said, apologetically. “Did you murder Angus?”

  “No, someone beat me to it,” she said, looking down at her hands.

  “Is there anyone else you can think of who might have wanted him

  dead?”

  “His business- partner- in- crime, Hawk. I wouldn’t trust that Indian

  as far as I could throw him.”

  “You mean the tribal councilor, Eugene Hawk?” Lance clarified.

  “Yes. I’ve never met a more crooked man. I don’t know how those

  Cherokees could be so stupid to elect such a corrupt man to run the

  tribe’s business. He’s not even a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He’s a snake.”

  “What did he do to make you come to that conclusion, ma’am?”

  “He’s the one who helped Angus find all this vacant Indian land

  and then drew up the paperwork and had it forged. It was all his idea.”

  “Why would he do that, ma’am?”

  Camilla snorted and pushed her drink aside. “Why do you think?

  Greed. Money. Eugene Hawk is the greediest bastard I’ve ever met.”

  She took another long drag from her cigarette. “Next to Angus, that is.”

  Lance exhaled slowly. “I’m going to need you to sign a statement.

  We’ll send a car out for you tomorrow. Is there someone I can call for

  you? How about Lucy? Is she at home? You shouldn’t be alone.”

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  “No, leave her alone. I haven’t seen her in days. She’s probably gone home crying to her momma.”

  “What about another relative?”

  “There’s no one to call.” She let out a puff of smoke and extin-

  guished her cigarette in the ashtray. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’ve been living alone ever since I married that man.”

  Lance left Camilla sitting alone and returned outside. The medical

  examiner arrived and Lance watched while he examined the body. In no

  time at all, he motioned for the paramedics to zip Angus up in a body

  bag. “I’ll meet you at my office,” the ME said. Then he turned his atten-

  tion to Lance. “Getting a little carried away with murders on this road

  aren’t you, Smith?” he said. “We’ve got an entry wound with no exit, so

  if we’re lucky, we should be able to come up with a cartridge for you.”

  Lance nodded. “Call me when you have something.”

  “Will do.”

  As the ME followed the ambulance out of the Buffalo Ranch, Lance

  went to his truck and pulled out a roll of yellow crime- scene tape. Then he picked up the radio. “Sheriff, I’m going to need someone to secure

  this crime scene until daylight. I’ll wait till they get here.” Lance dropped the radio on the seat of his vehicle and began to mark off a large area

  around where they’d found Angus, including the barn. He would string

  some across the entry when he left, to keep people out. He returned to

  his truck and waited for whoever the sheriff was going to send to relieve him. While he waited, he made some more notes in his notebook.

  A connection to the man killed earlier at the edge of Sadie’s prop-

  erty seemed evident. If he had to guess, Angus had murdered him. But

  proving that was going to be hard, especially now that Angus was dead,

  too. Where did Eugene Hawk fit in? How was he making money off of

  Angus? Maybe Angus and Hawk got in an argument and Hawk killed

  him. That didn’t make much sense if Angus was greasing Hawk’s hand

  with money.

  The sound of a garage door opening caught his attention. He got

  out of his truck and saw Camilla back a Cadillac out of the garage on

  the other side of the house and tear off into the night.

  “Stop!” he shouted. “You’re too drunk to be behind the wheel!” He

&n
bsp; stood next to his truck, hands on hips, watching the car speed away. “So

  much for the grieving wife,” he said, reaching for his radio.

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  “Dispatch,” Lance barked into the transmitter. “Notify Oklahoma Highway Patrol we’ve got a possible suspect fleeing the murder scene

  at the Buffalo Ranch, female, possibly intoxicated, in a dark Cadillac

  sedan, driving northeast on Eucha Road, most likely headed toward

  Highway 20.”

  “Ten- four,” the dispatcher responded. “Is the suspect armed?”

  “Unknown,” Lance responded.

  The sheriff ’s booming voice cut in. “Jennings left twenty minutes

  ago to relieve you at the crime scene.”

  “Ten- four.” Lance said, as he dropped the mic on the seat and cursed

  into the still night air.

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  Chapter 28

  When Lance left Camilla alone in the house, her mind had begun to

  race. She felt like a character in the Twilight Zone. Who killed Angus?

  If it was Eugene Hawk he could easily return after everyone left and do

  her in, too. Maybe he wanted the ranch. Maybe he’d fixed it up so he’d

  get some money if Angus died, being his business partner and all. No,

  that was crazy.

  She ran her fingers through her hair, took another drag from a

  freshly lit cigarette, and gulped straight whiskey from her glass. Why did she tell that deputy she wanted to kill Angus? It was the truth, but not

  necessarily something she should have shared with law enforcement at

  a murder scene.

  She could never kill anyone. Her vision blurred, then she gagged

  and placed her hand over her mouth to keep from throwing up.

  Standing, she nearly tripped over her chair. The alcohol had im-

  paired her muscle control, but not enough to quiet her mind. The room

  shrank around her and claustrophobia overtook her. She looked out

  the back door and could see the deputy nosing around the barn where

  Angus had died. With a little luck, she could get halfway to Tulsa before he even knew she was gone. Clutching her purse, she dug for her keys

  and ran into the attached garage. The garage door opener rumbled to

  life when she hit the control, and as soon as the car cleared the door, she slammed the accelerator to the floorboard as hard as she could.

  She didn’t even hit the brakes as she approached the entryway into