began in earnest.
Monday morning, they arose early to partake of the breakfast buffet and to explore the grounds. Marla admired the various relics decorating the landscape. The dusty ore car, wheel contraption, and broken-down wooden cart added to the ambiance as much as the cacti.
Horses whinnied in the near distance while an earthy scent entered her nose. She paused beside a set of bleachers overlooking the arena for rodeos and other demos. “When do you want to go to Craggy Peak?” She glanced at her watch. “It’s too early yet. Your uncle might not be there. We should wait until after lunch.”
Dalton gazed at a densely-branched cholla plant amid a bed of reddish dirt. “In that case, do you feel up to a round of tennis, or would you rather go on the nature walk?”
“Let’s take the hike if it goes into the forest. Maybe we’ll find the spot where the ranger fell off the ledge. You can head to the lobby to sign us up. I’ll meet you after I change into sneakers.”
With a bounce in her step, Marla turned toward their hacienda located at the summit of the hill. That gave them a grand view, but it was a trek to access the public areas.
Along the way, she glanced at a sign marked Laundry and the path beyond. That alleyway might provide a shortcut. She followed the narrow path edged between two concrete walls. An employee parking lot ahead and to the right served as a storage depot, judging from the stacks of plastic crates and folding chairs piled there.
The path veered left toward an upper level. As she passed the laundry room, a crash sounded from the interior, followed by a curse in Spanish. Did someone need help? Marla wondered if these facilities were for staff or for guests.
As she stepped inside, she glimpsed a woman in a uniform bent over a collection of broken pottery shards on the floor. The employee straightened at Marla’s entry and swiped her eyes. Had she been crying? She wore her raven hair in a long braid down her back.
“Are you okay? I heard a crash outside.”
“Thank you, I am fine,
señora.
I am clumsy and knocked over a bowl,” the woman said in a heavy Hispanic accent.
“I can help you. Is there a broom around?” A quick sweep of the premises revealed a row of washers and dryers and ironing facilities. “I’m Marla Vail, by the way.”
“I am Juanita, a housekeeper.” The young woman was attractive despite her sad dark eyes. At a long counter against one wall, she retrieved a basket. Together, she and Marla recovered the pottery pieces and set them in the woven container. Packets of detergent, evidently the bowl’s contents, lay scattered on the ground. They picked those up, too.
“Thank you,” Juanita said when they had finished the cleanup. She gave a heavy sigh and rolled her shoulders as though her burden was too heavy to bear.
“You seem upset,” Marla said. Maybe she should mention her relation to the ranch manager. If it was an employment problem, she could offer to intervene on the woman’s behalf, depending on the situation.
Juanita chewed on her lower lip. “I worry about my boyfriend. He has heard some bad news about a man he knew.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. That can be troubling.” Maybe she should leave, but the housekeeper looked as though she wanted to talk. So Marla waited with a sympathetic look on her face.
Juanita hesitated. “The person is dead.”
Marla gave her a startled glance. That wasn’t what she’d expected to hear. A memory surfaced of the wrangler she and Dalton had met recently. He’d been disturbed by news of the forest ranger’s death.
“Is your friend’s name Jesse, by any chance?”
“
Si,
it is him. Please, do not tell anyone what I say.” Juanita aimed a furtive glance toward the door. “We have been seeing each other for a little over a year. I want to tell others, but Jesse says no. He is not ready.”
“Some men take longer.” Marla wanted to question her about Jesse’s acquaintance with the dead guy but
Learning to Kill: Stories