To make good on her intentions, she sat down at the laptop and called up her email. Sure enough, there were several orders. “Oh, my…” There was also an answer from the D. C. lawyer. Her finger hovered over the key. She shouldn’t open it without him. Her whole body tensed in excitement – because she didn’t have to open the email to get an inkling of its contents.
For the subject matter line was plain to see.
Sergeant Cole Black declared innocent. His name was cleared.
* * *
“Good man.” Kota slapped Reno on the shoulder. “Now, that you’ve gotten the lawn mower taken apart, put it back together.”
“All right.” Reno looked at the wide array of parts. Little nuts and bolts. Colored wiring. “No one is counting on cutting their grass with this anytime soon, are they?”
The grandson, Brandon, snickered. “Be careful or he’ll have you mowing our lawn.”
“I definitely need the practice,” Reno admitted as he held one part up to another to see if it might fit together. “Journey tells me she shared a meal with one of your relatives.”
“Oh, really?” Kota sat down heavily on a metal chair. “Brandon, turn the horses out into the paddock and give them some nuggets.”
Once the grandson left, Kota folded his hands against his paunch. “I have few kin that I claim. What was this relative’s name?”
“Skye McCoy, I think that’s what Journey said.” Reno didn’t look up to see the old man’s reaction.
“She’s a distant relative. Dog-tail kin, we always called it. Nice girl, though. She had a rough time early on, but she did well for herself.”
“Seems so.” From what little he knew. “She said you shared an interesting ancestor who lived near here during the war of northern aggression and…just after.”
“Ah, do you speak of Ela Blue?”
Reno perked up, stealing a glance at the old man. “Yes, I believe so. What can you tell me about her?”
“What do you want to know? History from that far back is pretty dim in my sight.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m just interested in that time period. What the life was like.”
“I see.”
Reno was having a hard time gauging his elder’s state of mind. “I understand she lived in a cave on the big rock.”
“I believe you’re right.”
“She was a shaman, wasn’t she? A healer?”
“A healer wasn’t a wise thing to be. If an Apache medicine man loses over six people to death, he’s killed and replaced.”
“Ela was known as a wise woman in her tribe.”
“Sounds like you know her better than I do.”
Reno didn’t look up, but he widened his eyes in surprise. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“What would you say if I told you that your saddle has a center fire rigging design? The kind that’s placed closer to the center of the saddle. You don’t see it on western saddles made today. I understand it was used during the 1800’s on the Pony Express saddle.”
“Oh, really? Well, you can be sure I didn’t ride in the Pony Express.”
“They also used in on the McClellan saddle during the Civil War.”
Reno’s hands stilled at what he was doing, and he kept his eyes on the ground.
Kota kept making his matter of fact sounding observations. “Saddles made in the 1800’s used rigging rings made of forged iron. They would rust when exposed to horse sweat. The iron oxide would degrade and rot the leather, which caused the rigging straps that were held by the rings to break.”
“That sounds unfortunate. Makes you feel glad to be alive in this time, doesn’t it?”
“Very true. Of course, saddle makers of that time corrected the problem by covering the metal rings in four to five ounces of medium thickness belly leather. Of course, they started using brass hardware on the rigging around 1915 or so.”
Reno was almost sure the old man could smell a rat – a hundred and fifty-year old rat. Anybody who knew their tack could see that the rings holding his rigging straps were covered in leather. He cleared his throat. “Well…”
“Reno! Reno!”
With a breathed sigh of relief, he rose from where he was kneeling. “I think I’m needed elsewhere.”
Kota Blue gave him a knowing nod, his rheumy eyes alight with knowledge. “We’ll speak again. Good luck with the mower.”
“I’m sure I’ll need it,” he muttered as he stepped out where Journey could see him. “You provided a very timely interruption. Is something wrong?”
“We heard from the lawyer.”
The anticipation on her face caused him to hurry even more. “What did he say?”
“I wouldn’t open the email without you.” As they ran back, Journey almost entangled herself in the dog lines.
“Ready to take them in?” he asked, making sure she didn’t fall.
“Yes, please.”
He unhooked the dachshunds, taking their leads in hand. “They may just be saying they can’t help us.” Reno was afraid to get his hopes up too high.
“From what it says on the subject line, that’s not the case.”
“What does it say?” he asked as he held the door for her and the dogs to go in ahead of him.
“You’ll see.”
He groaned with frustration but followed her to her workstation. When he could see, he read it for himself. “Declared innocent? How can that be? The account the librarian read to us said he was executed for his
