Rollover by Susan Slater Read Free Book Online Page A

questions than I had going in.”
    â€œSuch as?”
    He took a breath. Didn’t he believe that honesty was the best policy in relationships? Well, usually anyway. But he found he wanted to share. Maybe she needed to be careful, too. And that made him angry. If anything happened to Elaine—
    â€œDan, what’s wrong?” She’d turned to face him squarely.
    And then he started at the beginning—didn’t leave anything out about Chet and the truck and the rollover, ending finally with what Sheriff Howard had said.
    Elaine was silent.
    â€œThoughts?”
    â€œI’m canceling the descansos .”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNot important. I’d just thought of honoring the spot where this Chet died. You know, one of those roadside crosses and some plastic flowers. But that was before I knew he attempted murder. What are you going to do?”
    Dan flinched. Strong word “murder” but true, he guessed. “Be careful but not let anything that’s happened get in the way of the investigation. Go in with an open mind.”
    â€œI thought you’d say that. And the first step, Sherlock?”
    â€œI take it Watson is going to stick it out?”
    â€œAs long as you need a driver.” She leaned across the console and kissed him. “And maybe even longer.”
    â€œOkay. I’ll buy that,” He grinned. “I guess we need to go into Wagon Mound this afternoon. See if you can find us something to rent for two or three weeks and I’ll look up Ms. Gertrude Kennedy and get this show on the road.”
    It didn’t take long to check out of the motel, gather up clothes, Simon’s food and bowls, and repack the SUV. This was turning into quite the adventure and he could do with less of that. Still anything was better than the hospital.

Chapter Five
    Wagon Mound was laid out like a rogue Monopoly board—Wood Avenue, Railroad Avenue, mixed with Stonewood, Bond, and Rich streets connecting to Park Avenue with a smattering of Aguilar and Romero streets thrown in. All this beneath the mammoth natural stone edifice of a Conestoga wagon pulled by a six-up team of oxen. Well, this last demanded a little imagination but the image was probably apt for one of the last great landmarks on the Santa Fe Trail.
    Dan read out loud from a guide he’d picked up at LJM’s Travel center—one of two gas station/convenience stores at the edge of town. “‘At this very point, travelers a hundred years ago and then some could cross from the Cimarron cutoff to Fort Union. This arm of the Trail was called the Mountain Branch. In 1850 ten men riding guard on the express mail wagon were killed by a band of Jicarilla Apaches.’” Dan looked up. “Sounds like it wasn’t far from here—where I-25 passes along the edge of town. Impressive. This is a real slice of the old wild west.”
    Elaine didn’t comment but eased the SUV across the highway and turned right at the first street, Railroad Avenue. Dan continued, “Looks like the town started out as a railroad center—Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe—been serving the ranchers in this area since 1881.” Dan turned a page, “Listen to this. ‘At the turn of the last century, this area produced the bulk of the pinto beans grown in the state. One Hijinio Gonzales started the festival by cooking up beans in wash boilers behind the schoolhouse to feed the community. There’s been a Bean Day celebration ever since.’”
    Dan put the brochure on the dash and looked at the town as Elaine drove. It was obvious that it’d seen better times. He was struck by how many empty and boarded up homes and businesses there were. Old adobes stood crumbling in the sun next to neat little white houses with bright metal siding and roofs. One old building on a hill could have been a school or even a hospital but was now just a three-walled, cavernous shell with warnings