Charlie's Promise Part 3, When the Past and Present Collide: West's Ghost Ranch, #6

By Aidan Red

The Detroit police thought they had located Howard Collingsworth, but when they attempted to capture him, he gave them the slip, killing ten Flint Michigan police officers in the process. He headed west to a place where he was certain no one would find him, not even the South Africans. But a misdelivered email found its way to the ranch. The South Africans, unable to find Howard, have a problem and have changed the intent of their searching; they added Emli's sister and her lookalike to their hit list, wanting all three eliminated.

Then, on a routine mail run, two of Howard's hired henchmen ambushed Dani and Charlie at the Trinidad airport.  Dani was injured and Charlie was missing—

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red's Ink and Quill
• Release date: Jul 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781946039477

Book preview

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When the Past and Present Collide WT

Charlie’s Promise Part 3

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Book 6 of West’s Ghost Ranch Series

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A Novel by Aidan Red

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Copyright

When the Past and Present Collide, Charlie’s Promise: Part 2

Book 6 of West’s Ghost Ranch Series

Copyright © 2020 by Aidan Red

All Rights Reserved

Revision Date 7/10/2020

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This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without permission from the publisher.

This novel is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, dialogue, locations, events and plots are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, alive or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Published by Red’s Ink and Quill, Wichita, KS

For other works by Aidan Red, Science Fiction and Fiction, published or forthcoming, visit RedsInkandQuill.com

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eBook ISBNs

978-1-946039-47-7

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Softcover ISBNs

978-1-946039-50-7

When the Past and Present Collide

The Detroit police thought they had located Howard Collingsworth, but when they attempted to capture him, he gave them the slip, killing ten Flint Michigan police officers in the process. He headed west to a place where he was certain no one would find him, not even the South Africans. But a misdelivered email found its way to the ranch. The South Africans, unable to find Howard, have a problem and have changed the intent of their searching; they added Emli’s sister and her lookalike to their hit list, wanting all three eliminated.

Then, on a routine mail run, two of Howard’s hired henchmen ambushed Dani and Charlie at the Trinidad airport.  Dani was injured and Charlie was missing—

Chapters

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Prologue

Sixty-Five

Sixty-Six

Sixty-Seven

Sixty-Eight

Sixty-Nine

Seventy

Seventy-One

Seventy-Two

Seventy-Three

Seventy-Four

Seventy-Five

Seventy-Six

Seventy-Seven

Seventy-Eight

Seventy-Nine

Eighty

Eighty-One

Eighty-Two

Eighty-Three

Epilogue

Phonetic Alphabet

Glossary

Preview of An Unexpected Complication

Books by Aidan Red:

About the Author

To a great IP, whose passion gave me the love of aviation and whose knowledge and patience taught me the skills necessary to fly and survive in an airplane. Thanks, Dad.

r

My many thanks to my editors.

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Content Editing by Trenda London,

http://ItsYourStoryContentEditing.com

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Copy Editing by Amy Jackson,

Copy Editing and Proof Reading, http://AmyJacksonEditing.com

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Cover by

Aidan Red

Prologue

Saturday, October 21

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Jess hurried, running from the barn to the main house and turning down the long hallway to the security offices; the words GROUND ACCESS ALERT reverberated up the hall from the office speakers. She swung around the doorjamb and quickly dropped into her desk chair, keying for the status screen with one hand as she absently jotted 1330 on the notepad beside the keyboard: the time when the alert had summoned her on her mobile phone.

Felix was right behind her, coming as quickly as she could from her room on the second floor, thankful her pregnancy was not far enough along to impact her ability to hurry. She palmed the alert mute as she crossed the room to look over Jess’s shoulder.

What have we got? Felix asked as Jess identified where the alert had come from and keyed for a visual.

South entrance. Two miles out. They both studied the array of monitors on the office wall. A car, coming slowly.

We aren’t expecting anyone. You and Lenny got back from Amarillo before lunch and you were the only ones scheduled.

Jess tapped the phone console as Charlie, Dani, and Eddie squeezed through the office door. Others filled the hallway.

Ratchet? she asked as the connection made.

Yes. I see the alert.

A single car is coming slowly up the south road. Can you and one of the other men meet me on the road to the south gate? I’m taking a jeep from here.

We’re on our way.

Jess opened the bottom desk drawer and retrieved a western-style gun belt and wrapped it around her slender hips. She glanced up at Felix’s surprised intake of breath as she buckled it. Gotta look the part. Watch the store and answer them if they ask any questions. You know the drill. She grabbed a weather-worn western hat from the drawer and then kicked the drawer closed. Everyone made way for her as she turned to the door and hurried through.

The desk phone rang and Felix quickly answered it.

She just left, Woody. Ratchet and either Lenny or Bump will meet her on the road to the south gate. Is Mel okay?

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THOSE WERE VERY GOOD turns about a point, Woody commented to Mel from the back seat of the L-19. Take us up a thousand and show me your slow flying. Two three-sixties, one left and one right, with the horn blowing.

Mel had done this twice before and knew he was talking about the stall warning horn. To comply with his instructions, she had to fly the two circles while keeping the plane’s speed within a three- to five-mile-per-hour speed band above the plane’s stall speed. If she flew too slow, the plane would no longer support itself, and if she flew too fast, the horn would stop blowing.

She continued her slow flight, heading northwest when the second circle was completed and Woody had not said anything. She leveled the wings and flew straight and level with the horn still blaring in their headsets.

All right, Mel. Woody chuckled. Take us home. We’ll do some landings.

Okay. Heading home. She smiled and held her speed and altitude, turning northward toward the mesas.

You can speed up and dowse the horn. Drop down to about four hundred feet, AGL.

Roger. She gently lowered the nose and added power; the horn quit blaring. Three-fifty degrees should take us pretty close, maybe between the house and the airstrip.

Woody chuckled again and settled back to enjoy the ride. When they entered the wide Dry Cimarron River canyon, he began to look around at landmarks, but the car slowly driving up Long Canyon Road caught his attention.

Hey, Mel, there’s a car coming up the ranch road.

Mel jerked her head to see what Woody was talking about.

Drop down over the river and let’s check it out while I call the ranch. Lenny brought Jess and her things back this morning, so there shouldn’t be anyone else coming up that road today, and certainly no one in a car. Watch your terrain and fly slow circles around it. No horn.

Got it.

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ARTHUR SAW WHAT LOOKED like a gate in the long white rail fence from about a mile out on Long Canyon Road, but lost sight of it as the road dropped down into another wide depression caused by years of water runoff. They crossed another low-water bridge, nothing more than a paved section of the road where the water sometimes ran, and started another gentle climb.

That’s one big gate, he remarked, and glanced at Pat. She was happily taking in the natural beauty and solitude of the wide river valley. She lowered her window to better feel the landscape, and the soft engine sounds of an airplane caught their attention. Arthur looked up through the windshield and his side window, but did not see the plane.

A few minutes later, he stopped in front of the twenty-foot wide, five-rail gate: steel pipes welded together and painted white. It was a swing-up design, anchored on both sides by heavy concrete buttresses. A similar, white three-rail pipe fence extended west a couple of miles until it and the adjacent mesa intersected, and east about the same distance to the place where it disappeared over a crest at the foot of another mesa.

I’m going to get out and look around. He opened his door and Pat followed his example.

He walked up to the gate and began reading the engraved sign on the right hand buttress to himself as Pat joined him.

Maria Felipa Montoya Jefferson Ranch

Private Property – No Trespassing

Admittance by prior arrangement only

Well, this certainly isn’t the Ghost Ranch or West’s Restorations, Pat said softly. Then she pointed to a 3x3-inch perforated brass square with a push button beside it. That looks like a speaker.

Arthur squared his shoulders and pressed the button. A female voice responded.

This is the Maria Jefferson Ranch. May I help you?

Yes, please. I am Arthur Stanik and I am looking for Glen West’s Restorations.

I’m sorry, but you have arrived at the Maria Jefferson Ranch.

Can you tell me where I can find Glen West’s Restorations?

I’m sorry, but I cannot. If you do not have a previously arranged visitation, I cannot help you. Good day.

No, but I need to find Glen West’s Restorations.

The speaker did not respond, and he was about to press the button again when Pat tapped his shoulder and pointed up the gravel road beyond the gate. There, where the road disappeared over the crest of the next hill a half mile away on the sloping base of the western mesa, three vehicles had parked side by side. He looked closer and studied the vehicles.

Looks like trucks...no...jeeps, he muttered softly, and slowly looked closer at the fence and the terrain on the other side. There were numerous poles with obvious camera pods atop them, set fifteen to twenty feet back and widely spaced, periodically across the space between the flanking mesas. And there was the plane slowly circling above them. It looks like we are being watched, probably recorded.

He turned quickly, went to the car, and retrieved a pair of binoculars from the floorboard behind the driver’s seat. When he returned and stopped beside Pat, he was looking at the vehicles.

Yup, they’re jeeps all right. The two on each side have a driver and a man standing up with...carbines. His voice pitched in surprise. The one in the middle...is standing on the hood of the jeep and...is...a woman, in weathered jeans, a wool-lined denim vest, and...wearing a well-used cowboy hat, a gun belt, and also has a carbine cradled in her arm. She...looks like she’s the one that’s in charge.

He handed her the binoculars.

Sure looks like they’re waiting to see if we’re going to try to go in. I think they want us to leave, Pat added. And maybe we should. I don’t want to cause anyone any trouble.

He took the binoculars for a last look, then smiled at her, wondering why a ranch in Colorado would need armed security people or an airplane to fly surveillance. I agree. Let’s take the rest of the day and see what you can show me while we wander back to Denver.

He slipped his arm around her shoulders, turned, and led her back to the car.

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FELIX SAT BACK AND stared at the array of monitors, watching the man and woman as they walked back to their car. She was absently fingering the paper she had been reading from.

Looks like they’re going to leave. Then she turned to Helen. Why did West name the ranch—she glanced down at the paper—the Maria Filipa Montoya Jefferson Ranch? No one’s ever said why.

Helen smiled. That was my grandmother.

Sounds like there’s a good story in there somewhere.

There is, but that is a topic for another time, Helen remarked as the phone rang.

Felix answered it. Hey...Okay. Woody’s still watching? Okay. Ten minutes? See ya when you get back. She looked up as she cradled the phone, and announced, That was Jess. She’s started back.

This guy Stanik, Arthur Stanik, Charlie added, looking at her phone and standing just inside the doorway, is a P. I. out of Weaverville, North Carolina. She looked straight at Felix, her expression rigid. I think you, me, and Jess need to talk to West and Ratchet when everyone is back.

Damn! If what you’re thinking is what I’m thinking, Felix said, her expression matching Charlie’s, I think you’re right.

Sixty-Five

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It was dark when Bobby Frye returned to his apartment, tired and worried after a long working week. It had been two weeks and a day since Mary, now calling herself Carole Madison , had left Detroit. He set the plastic bags of groceries on his kitchen counter as he thought about those long fifteen days.

He put his food items away in the cupboards, refrigerator, and his makeshift pantry, and remembered the surprise and anger he had felt when he received Mary’s message telling him that she had been arrested as an accomplice to her husband Howard’s unscrupulous activities. He knew her well enough to not believe that she would have helped him.

She had sent it to him on a Friday, the Fourth of August, he thought. It was Fish Day in the hospital cafeteria, he remembered, confirming the day of the week. She had been charged and was being transferred back to her house, under house arrest with two policewomen for her companions.

Her message noted that Howard had been shot several times, arrested, and was in the police ward in the Henry Ford Hospital—the same hospital that he worked in as a cafeteria chef. Bobby was not a vindictive person by nature, but knowing how Howard was and some of the things he had done to his wife and daughters, he knew he could never like or feel compelled to abet Howard in any way. He had actually laughed in relief when Mary contacted him after she had escaped from the constabulary.

He fixed himself a cup of tea and settled on his living room sofa, needing a few minutes before he fixed himself something for dinner. Unlocking his phone, he absently began texting.

Hey, Mom. Just checking in, hoping your days are going good. The police station across the highway from the hospital started questioning everyone on the police ward floor yesterday about Howard’s escape. They were at it again today, but the rumor mill says they haven’t found anyone that knows anything yet.

He remembered the kitchen supervisor had explained that the questioning was normal practice after the precinct had reviewed all of the security videos. They were looking specifically at individuals that had worked an altered or unusual schedule the day Howard disappeared—one that was different from their regular, routine schedules. The scuttlebutt was that they figured it was someone that knew the hospital layout very well.

He remembered he had worked his normal shift and left at seven as usual that day. Nothing odd there to make anyone suspicious. Actually, every one of the kitchen staff had changed with the night shift at their normal times.

As for Howard, there has not been any word on where he might be. The media and television have not offered anything since they raided the Arden Park house. I also have not heard anything from your attorney. I am thinking I will wait on him to contact me, rather than to call him and risk being seen as someone being too interested. Drop me a text when you can. Stay out of sight and don’t get caught, especially not before they catch Howard.

Bobby sent the text and then went through the process of erasing it from his sent mail and history logs. Then he got up and decided he would stuff and bake a pork chop, and maybe accompany it with au gratin potatoes and sautéed asparagus.

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MARY HAD FINISHED HER dinner, washed and dried her dishes, and had stretched out on her living room sofa. Slowly her fears had subsided, though she knew that at any moment the local or state police could drive up to her house and arrest her again. But she found comfort in the fact that only a few people knew about this St. Ignace farm, and most of them were dead now, passed on in their old age.

She doubted Howard would remember, since he wasn’t actually involved when her grandfather Carl gave the land to her daughters, Catherine and Emli. And both of her grands had passed on and Mary’s parents knew nothing of the transfer. And with Emli gone for so many years, she figured only Catherine might actually remember it.

She had almost dozed off when her phone chimed and she realized she had a text message. It was Bobby and she quickly opened it, worried that someone had connected him with Howard’s escape. But reading his words, she relaxed and enjoyed the connection, as feeble as it was.

After rereading his message, she decided to reply.

Thanks for saying hi. I am doing fine and am well. Today I was in the grocery store and saw a television alert with a picture of Mary Collingsworth. It said they were still looking for her and asked the public for information on her whereabouts, so I guess they still have not figured out where she went. No one here has noticed any resemblance.

I know you did not ask, but be glad that I have not burdened you with knowing where I am. It is better this way. I am well and get to exercise some, when the winter winds are not too severe. I have a secluded area where I can walk or jog a couple of miles. I am eating well, probably better than I have in a number of years, so please do not worry about me.

Thank you for letting me know you are ok, but please remember to erase these texts from your phone. Love you, Mom.

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SALLY’S MOTHER OPENED the front door of their home on the shore of Lake St. Clair as Sally led the trio up the short walk. The days were slipping away faster and faster. Their day had started early, with her and Fred going to breakfast and then to the city library, and now, after driving for forty-five minutes in traffic, it was nearly four when they arrived at her parents’ home.

Mom, Sally greeted informally, I’d like you to meet Officer Fred Mitchell and one of our technicians, Oliver Lamb. This is my mom, Lily. We’re here to meet with Dad. Is he around?

Officer Mitchell, Sally’s mother greeted, extending her hand. Sally’s mentioned you a few times. Nice to meet you.

Fred shook her hand. Very nice to meet you as well.

Then Lily turned to Oliver. Nice to meet you also, Mr. Lamb.

Oliver smiled, shook her hand. It’s just Oliver, ma’am. Nice to meet you.

Sally, Lily began, turning back to her, your father is in his office. I believe he is expecting you.

Thanks, Mom. Sally nodded and gestured for Fred and Oliver to follow her.

When they stepped into her father’s office, she motioned to Fred. Dad, this is my partner, Officer Fred Mitchell—Fred reached out and shook her father’s hand—and our information technician, Oliver Lamb.

Good to finally meet you, Officer Mitchell, and nice to meet you, Oliver.

Fred and Oliver thanked him politely.

Fred, Oliver, this is my dad, David, Sally continued, and turned to speak to her father. As I explained on the phone, we’re hoping Oliver can look at the email you received from June and Catherine. He might be able to figure out where it was sent from. We’re thinking that if we can monitor the email traffic through that server, it might lead us to where Howard is or what he might be planning.

Yes. I have it pulled up on my computer. He gestured for Oliver to take the chair. Let’s see what you can determine, Oliver.

Thank you, Mr. Ableman. Oliver moved behind the desk and sat down, immediately studying the email image on the screen.

Sally’s father turned to Fred and his daughter. Are you still on duty or will this wrap up your day?

Technically, we’re off duty, Mr. Ableman, Fred admitted, but the line often gets blurred. Things like this just have to be done when the time or people are available.

I can see that. Please call me Dave.

Thank you.

So, you’re Sally’s partner?

In a manner of speaking—

He is, Dad. She eyed Fred and smiled. We help each other in finding clues for the detectives and analyzing what we find. We discovered that we were both working on different parts of the same thing and decided to join forces. Fred has a knack at seeing things not completely obvious.

And Sally uses her unfailing feminine logic to glimpse the paths, the continuity in the data, Fred interjected. She’s very tenacious and quick to see things that are also not obvious at first glance.

Well, she always had an inquisitive mind as a child. I’m glad to see that she’s put her abilities to good use, Dave responded with a warm smile for his daughter. Now, I just hope you can figure out where Howard is and catch him soon.

Fred and Sally both nodded.

So if this is the last thing you need to do today, Dave asked, glancing at Fred, can you join us for dinner?

Fred started to answer, but Sally spoke first. I’m sorry, Dad, but we’re really not finished with our day yet. We’re going to grab a quick bite and keep working. Maybe another time.

Fred looked at her and she saw her dad watching him.

Okay. I realize it was short notice. We’ll plan to have you to dinner another night. Then he looked at her and smiled. May I ask when you stop and relax?

Sally knew she was blushing and nodded. Later, I guess. After we review what we’ve learned on the case this week, I’ll catch a little sleep and we’ll start again. Saturdays are our usual time for our out-of-the-office investigating and when we pull things together.

How long have you two been doing this?

Since Howard escaped a month ago, Fred noted. We thought we had him a couple of times, but Howard’s been one step ahead of us. That’s why we’re trying everything we can think of.

I hope you’re successful, Dave said. Maybe you can figure out how to stop his collection contracts as well.

Thanks, Sally added, and glanced at Fred, hoping he would leave the subject lie, at least for the moment. Maybe. First, we need to know who he’s talking to, who is working with him... Sally suddenly looked at Fred, catching his arm and pulling him aside. Dad, give us a minute.

She stopped near the front window and stood close to Fred, her head tilted back to talk to him. He bent his head down to listen.

That lawyer, the one that filed Cathy’s claims. He’s been sending us information that we don’t have and that has been very helpful. Do you suppose—

You think he can follow Howard’s emails?

I don’t know, but I think we should call him, she said. He had photos from inside Howard’s house in Canton. Maybe he has other sources of information.

I’d say it’s worth a try. Fred nodded and smiled as he looked at his watch. It’s only two thirty out there.

What was his name? she asked as she accessed her phone.

Norman...Norman Kent. Look under lawyers.

I’m way ahead of you. She smiled. Still focused on her phone, she nudged him with her shoulder.

I’ve got it, Oliver said softly from where he sat behind Dave’s desk. He looked up and assessed the room; Dave was standing beside the door and Sally was near the window with her head down and Fred looming over her. May I print a copy?

Dave turned at Oliver’s announcement, and quickly went to the printer and turned it on. It’ll be ready in a couple of minutes. Please print whatever you need to.

A phone connection rang and Dave and Oliver looked at Sally; she was holding her phone up for Fred to listen.

Kent and Kent Legal Offices, the announcement greeted through the speaker. We are presently away from the phones, so please leave a message at the tone. The connection beeped.

Hello, this is Officer Ableman and Officer Mitchell of the Detroit Police Department’s Third Precinct. We have a couple of important questions and are hoping that you can help us. Please call this number back as soon as you are available. She left her mobile phone number and then added Fred’s. Thank you in advance for your assistance.

She looked up at Fred and tapped her phone off.

That should do it, Fred said, and turned to Oliver. Did you get what you needed?

Oliver took the sheets from the printer and smiled at Fred and Sally. Yes. Now I have to get to work. He looked up at Dave and extended his hand. Thank you again. I need to get back to the office and get started.

You’re going back to work also? Dave asked, and Oliver nodded.

For a few more hours, Oliver explained. Then I‘ll start again in the morning. He thanked Fred and Sally and stepped to the door.

We’re right behind you, Sally said, and smiled at her father. Thanks, Dad. This will help a lot. Now Oliver can try to set up a monitoring program that will check the server at different times of the day and night. Maybe we’ll catch something.

She nudged Fred and gestured to the door.

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WELL, THE WEBSITE INDICATES the Maria Jefferson Ranch, Pat was saying, reading from her phone as Arthur Stanik pulled off the highway at the El Moro exit north of Trinidad and stopped at the same rest area they had stopped at that morning, is named for Maria Felipa Montoya, the daughter of Rafael Montoya, a noted horse breeder near Seville, Spain. She and her husband established Jefferson Farms in Kentucky. Rafael passed back in the eighties.

So who’s been running things since then? Arthur asked as they walked up to the rest area’s stone-and-glass building.

Don’t know yet, she answered, and left him to find the men’s room on his own.

He was waiting when she rejoined him and they resumed their discussion as they walked back to the car. It seems the Seville operation is under a trust that Rafael set up, and still raises horses under the original ranch’s name.

So what about the ranch here? he asked as he opened the car door for Pat.

He hurried around the front of the car, slid in the driver’s side, and started the engine.

Maria Felipa Montoya was nineteen when she married Robert Thomas Jefferson of Kentucky. She came to the States with him and the two of them continued the legacy of raising horses—thoroughbreds and specialty breeds.

So I presume this ranch has something to do with the Kentucky horse business. He headed north on I-25.

"Yes. It appears this ranch was established to continue and rehabilitate the wild mustang breeds. The website says the horses are raised on the various ranches in the Montoya Farms Corporation but it doesn’t say where the corporation is headquartered. Oh, there is a url for serious inquiries only."

He laughed softly. I take it Maria has passed and the corporation runs the ranches under various Montoya ancestral names. He glanced at Pat and smiled at her focus.

Yes, there are six, counting the Maria. They are the Consuela, the Gabriela, the Lucinda, the Rafaela, and the Trini ranches listed, but the website does not show where they are. Not even the Maria.

Well, horses can be expensive assets. He chuckled. And as we’ve seen, they are a bit protective of their investments.

And I suppose, she continued, the airplanes are used to help keep track of the herds?

And probably fences and anything else they need to keep track of. He chuckled again. Even unannounced visitors.

Yeah. We know all about that. She chuckled with him.

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I GUESS THE PART THAT worries me the most, Charlie explained from where she sat beside West on the front veranda love seat, is that he’s a PI, and that means he’s looking for something—

Or someone, Felix added.

June sat beside Ratchet, Lenny stood behind Jess, and Monte sat beside Felix, listening. Helen sat in the chair at West’s end of the love seat.

We have no way of knowing, Ratchet countered, if he’s looking for anything other than the Glen West Restorations, like he said. He paused, looking at Charlie. But you’re right, he probably is looking for something else.

West nodded and held Charlie’s eyes for a long moment, wishing he could will her worries away. I know this worries you, but you know that we have had people looking for the mysterious Ghost Ranch and the place where our restorations are kept for many years. I agree we should continue to keep watch and we can check with Will and others to see if he’s been asking a lot of questions around the smaller airports.

As for security, Jess interjected, we have very good pictures of him and the woman with him. We’ll know them if they come around again.

I don’t think they’ll just come snooping around, Helen added. I don’t know what you, Ratchet, and Lenny did, but the expression on their faces when he saw you three and then went for his binoculars was priceless.

We couldn’t see what they saw, Felix added, absently rubbing her recently obvious baby bump. What did you do?

Jess smiled and looked away for a second. "Well, I’ve never had to greet anyone that way before, so we just parked side by side about a half mile up the road, on the last rise before the gate. And then Ratchet and Lenny stood up with a rifle cradled in their arms. I’m too short to just stand up and look intimidating, so I climbed up on the tallest thing I could find, the hood of my jeep, and then I cradled my rifle in my arms."

And wearing a gun belt and sidearm and that weathered hat must’ve helped a lot. Charlie chuckled, conjuring a mental image of her. "Once he got a look at you through his binoculars—I imagine something like a cross between a red-haired Hannie Caulder without a serape, and Sarita from 100 Rifles—it sure didn’t take him long to get the message."

Jess snickered behind her open hand and then looked at Felix. Thanks for the help rewriting that alert program and for delivering the greeting.

You’re welcome, Felix responded. I was a bit apprehensive to have to read it, but I just envisioned myself as a recorded message.

Charlie turned to look at West. That makes me wonder. I’ve been here for just over a year now, not to mention a few visits before that, but this is the first time anyone mentioned an official name for the ranch. Why haven’t I heard this before? She looked at Helen. And all you said was that it was named after your grandmother.

Well, first, West began in an effort to help Charlie understand, "once we’re on the ranch and coming and going by air, the official name is somewhat unimportant. I never thought to mention it. Sorry."

Charlie shook her head and turned back to Helen. So what’s the story?

"Not too much of a story, really. Maria Felipa Montoya was my grandmother. Her family is from Spain—Seville, actually—a well-known horse family. How they chose Maria’s name, I don’t know, but it fit her perfectly. She was spirited—rebellious when she didn’t like what was going on or when she was told what