No Coincidence, a PJ Mystery

By C Meadows

When Abby Chase takes her dog, PJ, for a hike on a remote Wyoming cattle ranch, PJ finds a human bone. With her life already in shambles, Abby convinces herself the bone belongs to an elk, until she sees a poster about a hunter missing for the past year. Abby returns to the woods to take a picture of the bone, beginning a string of events that place her and PJ in increasing danger. A killer and a poacher are stalking the ranch, and when trouble finds her, Abby must face her fears or leave the ranch.

Abby wants to be a metalsmith like her aunt, but if she doesn’t find a place to live soon, she and PJ, will be living out of her car. The divorce her husband insisted on is almost final, and her part-time waitressing job isn’t working out. Then PJ finds the bone, and Abby becomes embroiled in the investigation.

A young woman with no one to turn to, she must form friendships with the cowboys and waitresses who work on the ranch, including one who is jealous of Abby's time spent with the handsome wrangler. While cooking with antique cast iron and working on her jewelry projects, Abby does her best to solve the crimes and keep PJ and herself safe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C Meadows
• Release date: Jan 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463923993

C Meadows

Christy Meadows has a lifelong love of nature and has spent almost every day of her life walking in the woods, fields, and mountains with her dogs. She has trekked in rain, sun, fog and snow, including the bitter cold of Alaska. While in Alaska she went skijoring and sledding with her huskies. Her dogs have alerted her to moose hiding in the brush and the possibility of bears sharing nearby blueberry bushes. In Wyoming, where she lives with her husband, her dogs have warned her away from snakes and mountain lions. Her love of jewelry making and dogs inspired this book. In her spare time she paints watercolor landscapes, animal portraits, plays with metal, often making earrings or necklaces with a nature theme and dreams up mysteries. While writing, her cow-dog Saratoga keeps Christy company and sleeps on her dog bed dreaming of running through the prairie grass chasing after her ball.

Book preview

Chapter Two

When I arrived at the restaurant, I grabbed my work clothes and limped in the back door. My boss, Peter walked by talking to Chrystal. He stopped and looked at me, You should have been here over an hour ago. Chrystal came in right away when I called. You're a mess. Get your things, and clean out your locker. You're fired.

What? It was my day off. I'm here now and ready to work. I can change into fresh clothes. My voice rose in pitch, and I barely kept control.

Peter turned his back to me and waved at me over his shoulder.

I glared at his retreating back and under my breath said, I hate you.

Holly walked by with a tray of dirty dishes. Hey, Abby. How are you? When do you work this week?

Peter just fired me. I was out hiking, and he called me in, but it took me too long to get here. Chrystal took my hours My voice broke. I looked at the dishes she was holding and wanted to smash them against the wall.

Hey, that's not fair. Gotta run. Sorry.

I stormed out the back door, unable to control my tears. I hit the alarm on my key fob while trying to unlock my car, and the alarm blared. The racket continued as I frantically hit the buttons. I slid into the driver’s seat and drove a short distance away before I parked on the side of a back street.

I was too upset to drive. I needed a full-time job and a place to rent. Now, with no job, it would be difficult to convince a landlord I could afford rent. To make matters worse, every apartment I'd looked at hadn't allowed dogs. My life was crashing down around me, and worst of all, PJ was lost.

My cell buzzed. Hello, Mom.

What are you upset about now? You sound like you’ve been crying again.

My boss fired me.

Abby, get rid of the dog. You can't afford a dog now. If you showed Derek as much love and consideration as you do the dog, he wouldn’t have left you.

Mom, how can you, I said.

She interrupted, Listen to me, Abby. You can get another dog. The shelters are full of them. Husbands are harder to find, and Derek is wonderful. When you lose a son, like I did, then you will know what true loss is.

I clenched my teeth. Mom, I can't talk now. I'll call you later. I wanted to scream and throw my phone out the window.

Sniffling and blowing my nose, I drove home to the apartment on the Air Force Base that my, soon-to-be, ex-husband and I still shared.

Derek was in the kitchen eating pizza. Have you found an apartment yet? You will have to hand in your base ID as soon as the divorce is final, he said.

I know, I know. No, I haven't found a place yet, and I got fired and PJ's lost.

He looked up at me and continued chewing. Abby, I'm not responsible for you anymore. Maybe it's for the best. Without PJ you can find an apartment easier.

I screamed, How can you say that? and stormed out of the room and into the bedroom. My hands trembled as I sent a text to Austin. He didn't reply. To keep busy, I packed a few boxes and took a shower. The hot water made my knee throb. Later, I sat down with the journal I used as a sketchbook and drew a picture of PJ. My cell buzzed. The caller was Austin.

Abby? This is Austin. I found PJ, and she's fine. Her leash was tangled on a broken branch, and she was dragging it. I fed her a hamburger from the lodge and brought her to my apartment for the night.

Oh, I'm so glad. Can I come get her? Relief washed over me, and I took deep breaths to steady my voice.

I need to turn in because I get up early to wrangle the horses. Can you wait and pick her up tomorrow at the lodge? His voice had a soft timbre.

Of course. I'll be there early tomorrow morning. You have no idea how happy you've made me. First thing in the morning I'd go get PJ. I couldn't wait to hug her and tell her how sorry I was about scolding her. I remembered the hurt look in her soft brown eyes and the way she drooped her ears when I'd yelled at her over the bone.

The next morning, I drove west on I-80 to the hidden valley of Jadeville and on toward the Rayford Ranch. After I picked up PJ, we could hike the quiet trails again and have a positive experience, this time. Fighting tears and feeling helpless against them, I tried to breathe slow and calm myself. Everything seemed to be going wrong.

What am I going to do? I said out loud. I glanced over to the passenger seat and realized my cell was still in my back pocket. I shifted my weight to one hip and fished it out with two fingers. I called my Aunt Grace for advice.

Hello, dear, it's so nice to hear from you. Your mother was distraught yesterday after talking to you, Aunt Grace said.

She thinks I should get of PJ. I'd never do that. PJ got lost yesterday, and I'm on my way to pick her up. Why is Mom always so mean about PJ? All she ever does is criticize me.

I'm afraid some of that is my fault. I felt guilty about moving away, so soon after Seth's death. Your Uncle needed to help his dad with the farm, so we had to leave. I've indulged Beth playing the victim and tried to shield her from life. I now realize Beth is self-centered and lashes out at you.

Did Mom tell you I got fired?

Oh dear, no. Did you find an apartment yet?

No. I have only one week left, or maybe a bit longer before the divorce is final.

How can that be? He only gave you the divorce papers a couple of weeks ago, Aunt Grace said.

The legal affairs office on base completed all of the paperwork for Derek before he told me what was on his mind. He handed me the divorce papers and told me to sign them. Turns out, in Wyoming, if you don't have kids, a divorce can be completed in a month.

Try not to cry, dear. I know it's hard. Did you talk to an attorney?

I looked into it, but the attorney told me it was fair and there was nothing I could do. His exact words were, 'A freight train is coming, and you cannot stop it.'

Have you looked at any apartments? she asked.

All the apartments I've looked at so far have one thing in common. They don't allow dogs. I choked back sobs. What am I going to do? I won't give PJ up. She's my best friend, and she deserves better than abandonment at the animal shelter. To top it off, I don't have a job anymore. Tears poured down my face. If PJ had been there, she would've tried to lick them off.

Aunt Grace waited while I tried to compose myself. Well, you could move to Pennsylvania. Our new condominium will be ready next week. You can have the couch until you find a place. I'm sorry, but PJ would have to stay in a kennel because only cats are allowed.

I hiccupped and drew a ragged breath. I don't have the gas money, and kennels are expensive. All my belongings won’t fit in my car, and I’m not sure I could safely tow a rental trailer. I’m short on cash because I didn't work many hours the last couple of weeks. Now I don't have enough money for first and last month's rent either. I was thinking I could stay at a state campground and sleep in my car until the weather gets cold.

I believe there's a solution. Have faith, Abby. Give the universe time. Go for a walk in the woods and reflect. Nature has a cure for everything. I always went for long walks when I needed to solve a problem. You know the beauty and harmony of nature can relieve stress. I know things seem impossible now, but there is a solution. Believe that. Perhaps I can send some money. I could look into a loan on the farm. I’m short of cash myself at the moment. I've spent a great deal of money to get this old place fixed up before I sell it.

My Aunt Grace Cullen, my mother's sister, was as different from my mom as I was. She was right about the woods though. Aunt Grace had a deep connection to nature and her Irish heritage. She'd made her living as a metal artist and gave me many of her tools. I hoped to make a living as a jewelry artist someday. I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans and said, I'm on my way to Jadeville to go for a hike and pick up PJ. She ran off yesterday chasing a deer on the ranch.

Abby, it's dangerous to talk on the phone while driving. Remember what I've taught you, believe in positive and negative energy. Create the energy and space you want, and let nature heal you. Goodbye, and call again when you have time. I'll see what ideas I can come up with to help you. I've got to get this old farm sold before I can send much money.

I sped west across the high plains and forced myself to calm down and notice the land change as I climbed the foothills of the Rockies. Golden, short grass prairie gave way to hills, dotted with widely dispersed pine trees and small groves of striking, pale-trunked aspens. Outcroppings of weathered granite boulders lurched out of the grassy slopes; some looked like animals or mythic creatures. Fences crossed most of the land, securing herds of grazing cattle. Family groups of antelope grazed near the cattle.

Since I was a little girl in Maine, walking in the woods had been my favorite pastime. I planned to hike with PJ and think about my problems. I'd always experienced nature as calming and healing. Yesterday had been terrible. While I walked with PJ, I'd enjoy the beginnings of autumn color on the aspen leaves. I needed a safe place to cry and get rid of all my negative energy. There were miles to explore, and a workout usually helped me feel better. The combination of nature and exercise would clear my mind. I needed to be calm before I made important decisions.

I turned off the highway onto a dusty two-lane, gravel road and drove twenty miles through the secluded valley of Jadeville, and down to the bottom of the valley where the ranch was. I'd been told bits and pieces of nephrite jade in shades of green and black could be found in Jade Creek. I had a fantasy of finding some small pieces of jade to use in the jewelry I loved to make.

When I arrived at the lodge, Maria was waiting on a customer. Hi, Maria. I came to pick up PJ. Where is she?

Maria looked up and smiled. Austin left her chained in the shade over near the stables. You can go and get her.

Thank you so much. Is Austin around? I'd like to thank him in person, and I was wondering if the trails are open. Could I go for a walk since I'm here? I handed her the five-dollar fee. A plaque hung on the wall honoring the ranch for healthy wildlife management practices. I liked helping to preserve one of the oldest ranches in Wyoming with my trail fees.

The trails were well maintained and all on the private ranch land. The nearby public trails in the state forests were often crowded, and there were parking fees. A few times I'd been thrilled to see wild animals while hiking on the ranch. Yesterday had been a disaster. I wanted to get back out into the woods and create a positive experience for PJ and myself and to wipe out the negativity of the day before. I planned to do some training with her.

Maria handed me a ticket. Check for Austin at the stable. He's out there, and yes, the hiking trails are open again. Place this in your windshield, and park over by the trailhead. Good luck today. Her hazel eyes flashed as she smiled at me.

I drove behind the lodge and saw PJ chained near the corral. At the sound of my engine, PJ jumped in the air and began to bark excitedly. I stopped my car, climbed out, and ran to PJ. She jumped into my arms, and I sank to the dirt and held her close. PJ licked my face and whimpered happily. No, I'd never give this dog up.

Morning, Abby. I see you two have been reunited. She's a nice dog. Austin leaned against the weathered rails of the corral and watched us. How's that knee?

Well, it's sore, but I'll manage. Having PJ back is the best thing that's happened in a while. To top it all off, my boss fired me last night. I was massaging PJ's neck and breathing in her warm scent. She licked my hand and wagged her bushy tail.

That sucks. He propped his boot on the lower rail and unwrapped a piece of stick jerky. He held the open package out to me.

No, thanks. I'll figure something out. Right now I'm taking PJ for a short hike. Thank you for finding her. As long as I have her everything is okay.

Anytime. She was a good camper last night, but I could tell she missed you. Stop by when you get back. Austin went back to work, and PJ and I set off for a hike.

I sighed. Nothing was okay. I was thrilled to have PJ back, but having her complicated my life right now. Maybe I should find her a new home. She licked my hand again and looked at me with her sad brown eyes.

Chapter Three

While we walked, PJ held her tail high and swished it from side to side. She liked to sniff the rocks and trees along the way. For the first mile I let her continue to satisfy her curiosity, then we were loosened up enough to break into a slow jog. Puffs of dust rose with each footfall. My mind wandered to my problems. I tried to puzzle out if I should focus on a job first, and then find a place to live, or sellout and drive back east, or rent a storage unit. Most of my things were already boxed up. I could spend some of the cash I had left for a storage unit. Then, if absolutely necessary, I'd stay in a campground until I found an apartment. The state campgrounds were cheaper but lacked showers. The private ones were expensive but featured laundry rooms and showers.

I couldn't think of anyone I could stay with locally, even for a short time. By the end of the week, my divorce would be final, and I'd lose my base access and my home. None of the apartments I'd looked at allowed dogs, although, some said a small dog was acceptable. The landlords all said PJ was too big. She was only fifty pounds and as far as I was concerned a medium sized dog.

The last couple of weeks I'd only worked part-time, and my paycheck would be small. Because of all the stress from the divorce I'd been messing up on orders and even dropped a large plate of spaghetti in the dining room. My smaller tips reflected my dark mood and work quality.

Derek filed for divorce in the middle of August. We'd talked about starting a family but had decided to wait a few years and enjoy our freedom. Four military duty relocations and three deployments for Derek kept our lives in constant upheaval. Whenever Derek was gone for months on deployment, it took us a couple of months after he returned to reconnect. During Derek's last deployment of eight months, I'd adopted PJ. She'd been the company I needed to keep the loneliness away. She was eight months old now, and I wouldn't give her away.

It was the middle of September now. When Derek handed me the divorce papers, he gave me eight-hundred dollars in cash. He said, We have one-thousand in savings. Here is more than your share. Use it for your first month's rent. I've taken you off of the joint account. You're on your own now.

The attorney I'd consulted billed me several hundred dollars, and a portion of the rest I spent on gas. I'd set up my own bank account, but because I planned to change my name, I hadn’t applied for a credit card yet. My debit card had a few hundred available from my pay and tips. I needed to apply for a credit card in my maiden name as soon as the divorce papers came through.

PJ yanked on the leash. I tightened my grip, and told her, No. Leave it. Ahead on the trail, a mule deer stood motionless, it's large brown eyes and long ears pointed at PJ assessing if she were dangerous. PJ reared-up on her hind legs and whined, eager to chase the deer and its companions. In a flash of raised, bushy white tails, three deer bounded off into a grove of aspen trees and disappeared out of sight. They made no sound as they moved through the woods. Some crows called in the distance, and a light breeze twirled the aspen leaves. The dry leaves rattled softly.

PJ that's why you're on a leash, I said as I made her sit. We didn't continue on until she calmed down. I wanted to teach her that she shouldn't chase deer and to come back when I called her. Her bloodlines were herding ones, and it was in her nature to give chase. I was determined to train her to behave.

The marked trails wound through mixed pines, aspen groves, and open range for cattle grazing. Large granite outcroppings, which sometimes abruptly ended in cliffs, were part of the landscape. I was afraid PJ would run off a cliff chasing deer, or get tangled in barbed wire, or just get lost. Chasing cattle was an offense she could be legally shot for by the owners of the ranch. Chasing wildlife was hard on the wildlife and illegal.

I never wanted to feel that hopeless feeling that I felt yesterday. I kept PJ in a sit-stay and admired the view of distant peaks glimpsed through the trees. Clouds sailed overhead, and the breeze picked up a couple of notches.

PJ calmed down and sat patiently. Let's head back now. Maybe they have pie left. I kept PJ on her leash and made her heel. In my rush to pick up PJ, I hadn't eaten breakfast.

While I was in the lodge, PJ could rest in the shade of a leaning cottonwood. I tied her leash to the bumper of my car and set her water dish nearby. When I entered the lodge, the bell over the heavy wood door jangled. I looked around the room and made my way to the old, scarred bar top in the cafe. The room was almost empty as I sat on a padded, leather bar stool. Verna came in holding a coffee pot. Her silver hair was pinned up in a bun. She wore a blue calico apron, over her ample figure, with a large bow tied in the back. Her denim shirt and cotton skirt looked comfortable and homey.

Honey, would you like a piece of peach pie, fresh from the oven? she asked as she poured my coffee.

I tried to smile and said, Yes, please. She was back with a piece of pie on an old blue and white china plate. She carried a bowl and spoon. Steam rose from the pie, and the smell of peaches and cinnamon made my mouth water.

I make whipped cream each day from fresh cream. Would you like a spoonful?

Um, yes, please, I said. No one makes real whip cream anymore. This is a rare treat.

I began to eat my pie slowly, tasting the cream first, then savoring the pie itself. The crust was real, not the store-bought, soggy, cardboard kind. Perfect, like my gran made, flaky, and buttery. Best of all it was deep dish, filled with sweet, warm peaches.

My gran taught me how to make pie, and occasionally I did, enjoying the compliments I received when I shared it with my guests. My crusts were good, but this one was flakier than mine. I enjoyed another bite. Two other guests were eating quietly at a table nearby, digging into plates heaped with biscuits and gravy.

Verna returned and offered me more coffee. I always said real cream is the only way to go, and only a spoonful or it overpowers the pie. She laid a hand on my arm and remarked, If you don't mind my saying so, you look sad. Austin found your dog, correct?

He did, and she's fine. I'm sorry for any trouble I caused. I sipped my coffee.

I'm glad he could help. Austin's the horse wrangler here. I'm Verna, but you know that. I make the pies and all the other food. My family has lived here for generations. Rayford Ranch is a working cattle ranch. We own a large tract of land in the valley and hold grazing rights for many thousands of open-range acres in the mountains. This log lodge was the original ranch home, and is a small part of the overall business we run here.

Verna served coffee to another customer and returned. More coffee?

Yes, this is good coffee, and your pies are the best, as good as my gran's. Your crusts are flakier than mine. I wish I knew your secret.

Verna reminded me of my Aunt Grace or at least a younger version of her. My Aunt Grace's gray hair was longer, and she wore hers in a fat braid. Both women had a kindly smile and soft blue eyes. Each seemed to have quiet wisdom, inner strength, and a gentle spirit.

So, what's troubling you on such a beautiful fall day? You've come here several times to hike, and usually, you're smiling and happy, Verna said. I looked at her in surprise, and she smiled back. I don't miss much.

I felt my heart ache because of her concern. Walking in the woods always helps me relax and find answers to my problems. I noticed my knee bobbing up and down, nervously. I took a deep breath and forced it to stop. It was a nice walk today, and I feel better, but I still don't know what I'm going to do.

Do about what? Verna leaned a hip against the counter.

My husband filed for divorce, and it'll be final in a week. Once that happens I won't have anywhere to live, and on top of that, my boss fired me last night, I said, spilling all my troubles. Appalled, at myself, I sipped my coffee.

Why did you get fired?

The manager called me in yesterday on my day off. He said I took too long to get there. He hadn't scheduled me much last week, and with short shifts this week I'm running out of money.

Verna nodded. Did you do anything to lose your job?