~ Angel On The Mountain ~

by

Sharleen Johnson

"After the phone call from my brother on Monday evening, I had to arrange for someone to take care of my cat, then I caught a plane out of Atlanta Tuesday morning. Was that yesterday? Yeah, I guess it was, but it seems like forever. Seth called to tell me that our parents were killed in a plane crash Friday night on Yampa Mountain. He said the accident was caused by heavy fog and faulty radar."

Mitch recalled his mother telling him about the incident because, first, Yampa Mountain was not far from their property, and second, because the Dunbars were well-known in the area. In fact, he used the same flight path traveling in the opposite direction between Denver and Craig on the exact same night and had not seen any fog or been aware of poor visibility. "Why did he wait three days before calling you?" Mitch’s ingrained legal training in the art of cross-examination always bled through into every situation. "I would think he would have been afraid that you might have seen the accident reported on the TV news before he told you."

Angel lifted her left hand and scrubbed across her brow as if the massage might ease a pounding headache. "Will and Alice Dunbar aren’t nearly as newsworthy as Jane Fonda or Ted Turner’s romantic antics--at least in Atlanta. I don’t know. He said something about a search party. He said there was nothing left but a couple of cinders when the rescue crew scraped them off the mountain. I... I guess I should have smelled a rat when he told me they wanted their ashes scattered from atop Harper’s Corner. I can’t remember Mom and Dad ever talking about dying, much less discussing the benefits of cremation over burial. Anyway, we were about halfway up the trail when Seth and I got into an argument about the terms of Dad’s will."

"It takes a rotten brother to toss his sister off a mountain."

"No, my brother is weak-willed and I guess he allowed himself to be influenced by a rotten lawyer."

Mitch forced a noncommittal smile onto his face. "The legal profession is infected with a few bad apples."

"Did we introduce ourselves?"

"Yes, but we can do it again."

"I’m Angel Hart Dunbar. Well, legally I’m Angelina Hartwell Dunbar."

"That’s a mouthful. My mother named me Walkingstar, but in your world, I’m known as Mitchell Walker. My friends call me Mitch."

"Mitchell. What a strange coincidence. My brother’s lawyer is Jared Mitchell."

"Life is filled with oddities." Mitch managed to project a blank expression even though the name cut painfully into his mind. Jared Mitchell was his estranged half brother. If there was a shady deal in the works, Jared was probably a part of it. Mitch threw out another testing question. "Was this lawyer on the mountain with you and your brother?"

Angel closed her eyes and almost drifted off to sleep again. "Jared? I think so. Yes, yes, of course, he was. In fact, he was the one who pushed me... no, he socked me in the jaw." Again she lifted her hand, this time to rub her sore jaw. "Damn, it hurts to think. In fact, every bone and muscle in my body hurts. Do you think Seth will tell the authorities what happened?"

"To cover his butt, he’ll have to... eventually."

"Well, that’s one tiny sliver of hope."

"Who will miss you at home?"

"Rosa is the cook; her daughter, Salina, cleans house and keeps up with the laundry, but Seth sent them away to visit relatives in Pueblo. Rick Sullivan is the ranch foreman. He flew me from the airport in Grand Junction directly to the ranch."

"The Dunbars have more than one aircraft?"

"Yes, a couple of old helicopters used for herding cattle. It was a noisy, drafty ride, too."

"If Sullivan is like Ramez, my foreman, he would take it upon himself to go out searching if a family member went missing."

"Rick might do the same thing. He’s worked for us since before I was born. But I seem to recall Rick telling me that Seth planned to send him to Cheyenne to a big cattle auction. He took the eighteen-wheeler so he could bring home new stock."

"The theory when planning a murder is that the fewer people who know, the better. The strength of a chain is dependent on the weakest link."

Angel nodded slowly in agreement. "I feel pretty sure this was something cooked up between Seth and Jared."

"They might even give the ranch hands some time off. How many do you have?"

"As best I can remember there are six full-time, but one is handicapped. Sometimes they hire extras during spring calving and fall roundup."

"That’s enough for now. No more questions."

"That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. I’d kill for a long, hot, soaking bath."

"We’ll get you cleaned up, then you’ll feel better. Angel," he injected a softer tone into his voice. "Now that we’re properly introduced, I’m going to have to remove your clothing so I can tend to your injuries. I’ll try not to hurt you."

The haze of pain incinerated her as Angel used her left hand to struggle into a partially upright position. His belt and sweatshirt kept her right arm tucked snugly around her midsection. "Undress me?" Her eyelids fluttered rapidly. "You’ll do no such thing."