sure she liked it.
Her mother’s company, MBP Management, continued to do well, even though her mom rarely talked about it like she used to. Since her mom had decided to trim back her hours and turn over more of the workload to her employees, she was able to be home more. Which was good, since her dad was gone so much on special assignments around the state. He called every night, though, except when he was in remote areas without telephones or cell service. Several of her mom’s new client businesses were start-ups on the reservation that bordered Twelve Sleep County and was occupied by Northern Arapaho and Eastern Shoshone. The proximity of the new businesses made it easier for her mom to stay close to home. In fact, Sheridan thought, after so many years out on Bighorn Road or on the ranch, their lives were achingly, numbingly dull. When she mentioned this to her mother, Marybeth smiled and said, “Dull is good, sweetie. Dull is good.”
Dull was certainly better than the last few months on the ranch, with her parents and her grandmother battling. Grandmother Missy, who didn’t look or act like a grandmother at all, wanted them to stay so she could keep some control over them. She was into control. She was also into what she had heard her mother refer to as “trading up.” Grandmother Missy, who was still beautiful and petite and looked like a porcelain doll, was on her fourth marriage, this time to rancher and good guy Bud Longbrake. Sheridan liked Bud, who was jovial, hardworking, and kind to her and Lucy. But Missy wanted more, and the rumors of her spending time with a multimillionaire named Earl Alden who had bought a ranch in the area turned out to be true. Everybody in Saddlestring knew about the affair except Bud Longbrake, it seemed. Not that Sheridan was involved in any discussions between her parents on the subject—they weren’t like that. Her mother was THE MOM, not a gossipy friend like some of her friends’ moms. Sheridan’s mom kept a parental distance that used to infuriate her before she realized, slowly, that it was an indication of trust, love, and maturity and not proof of unreasonable shrewishness after all. For Sheridan, this was a revelation, and she was beginning to respect her mother for being a parent and not her best girlfriend. It was the same with her father, although he was easier to manipulate because her moods and tears turned him into the male equivalent of a Labrador.
What she knew she had learned by overhearing, or what she could intuit from looks or gestures her parents gave each other, or the way they behaved after interacting with Missy on the ranch. Sheridan had overheard her parents agonizing over whether or not to tell Bud and finally deciding it was best to leave, to buy their first-ever house and move out, which they did during the summer. Bud helped them by loaning them a ranch truck and an empty stock trailer. Missy spent the moving days in her bedroom with the shades drawn and didn’t say good- bye.
Grandmother Missy had not been to their new house, and Sheridan’s only contact with her was a birthday card on her sixteenth birthday. Sheridan put it in a drawer. The situation was different with Lucy, though, who received not only a card but a dozen presents—including an iPod Nano and designer clothing. Sheridan considered her sister her grandmother’s in-house spy, her way of infiltrating the new Pickett household. Lucy denied the charge, saying she didn’t know why she’d been showered with gifts but at the same time saying she had no intention of sending them back.
“Why should I?” Lucy had said. “A girl needs clothes.” To prove her loyalty, she offered to give Sheridan the iPod. Instead, they decided to share it.
“WHAT WERE you doing in here?” Lucy asked again when she came back ten minutes later, her eyes darting from the computer to the desk to the drawer Sheridan had just hidden her half-written letter in.
“Working,” Sheridan said. “None of your business.”
“Dad’s home,” Lucy said. “Maybe you can ask him about a car now.”
Since Sheridan had turned sixteen, she was legal to drive and she’d already passed the driving test and had a permit, but the idea of driving herself around was intimidating. She liked to be taken places. So did Lucy, who was unabashed in her desire for Sheridan to get a car so she could get rides with her sister. Lucy loved living in town.
“How’s the mood?” Sheridan asked.
“Intense.”
“What’s going on?”
Lucy said conspiratorially, “Some hunter got shot. But it’s much worse than that.”
“What?”
“That’s what Dad said,” Lucy said, then paused for effect before whispering, “And whoever did it cut off his head and took it.”
“Oh my God.”
Sheridan scrambled out of her chair and both girls huddled near the partially open door to listen. Sheridan heard her dad say, “The governor formed a team to go after whoever did it. He’s also bringing in an expert in tracking.”
Mom asked a question they couldn’t hear, but they heard Dad say, “You’ve heard of Klamath Moore? He’s giving some kind of press conference tomorrow. This thing might turn out to be real big.” Sheridan noted the name.
“Honey,” Dad said, “it was probably the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I can’t imagine,” Mom said. “Actually, I can. It makes me sick.”
Lucy whispered to Sheridan,
Sheridan felt a wave of nausea wash over her.
They listened for a few more minutes until they could hear dishes clanking and their parents sitting down for a very late dinner.
“That’s horrible,” Sheridan said.
“It is,” Lucy said. “You probably shouldn’t ask about a car tonight.”
“WHAT’S THIS, a letter?” Lucy asked, sitting down at the desk and opening the drawer.
Sheridan quickly snatched it from her sister and put it behind her back.
“Who are you writing to? Who writes letters?”
“That’s none of your business.”
