The next morning, her arms and legs didn't want to move. They were heavy with soreness from the previous day's work and the tree climbing. Still, she had to get up and feed the cattle. How would she manage here? It had seemed so easy when her brothers did it. Darn it, I'm going to have to get more help from that neighbor. After feeding the livestock, she spent some time that morning searching for any evidence of her brother around the ranch.

Her first thought was to speak with the maid, Lucy. But first, she knew she had to write a quick note to her family, informing them of her arrival and her efforts to find Walter. She didn't want to go into all the details, to avoid worrying them, and one never knows who might snoop through her mail. That brief note should reassure them for a while.

All attempts to speak with Belle ended in failure. Belle was busy tending to the chickens, other chores, and supervising her daughters, and was hardly talkative. Anna hoped to find a way to ask about her brother without being too direct, to avoid raising suspicion and getting fired. It seemed best to keep Belle unaware that she was Walter's sister. If Belle's own maid, on the first day, had claimed not to know him, that was reason enough to suspect something was amiss. Belle would no doubt deny any knowledge, and then Anna would be out of a job and clueless.

Fortunately, Duke had agreed to train Buster today. She owed him big time, and she also needed to learn from him, as promised, how to move the cattle between fields on horseback, and how to train a working dog.

In the late morning, she found Lucy among the rows of vegetables in the planting garden, digging up vegetables. A fresh pile lay on the ground beside her, still flecked with dirt.

"Fine morning, Lucy. Can I help you with the cleaning today? I finished my morning chores early."

"Oh, sure, if it's not too much trouble. It would be nice to have some help," she replied in her soft Scottish accent. "You know, where I come from, there's a tradition about vegetables called pulling the stalks."

Anna lifted an eyebrow, intrigued. "What's it about?"

"At the October harvest, eligible young men and women are blindfolded and guided to pluck veggies like these." She held up a twisting kale stalk. "The root of the plant they pull up would...well, tell you things. About your future husband or wife."

Anna grinned, feeling her cheeks warm. "Oh yeah? What kind of things?"

Lucy's voice took on an even more singsong tone as she recited a poem.

"A lad and lassie, hand in hand,

Each pull a stalk of kale;

And like the stalk, is future wife

Or husband, without fail.

If stalk is straight, then so is wife,

If crooked, so is she;

If earth clings to the stalk,

The puller rich will be.

And like the taste of each stem's heart,

The heart of groom or bride;

So, shut your eyes, and pull the stalks,

And let the fates decide."

Anna couldn't help but laugh. She had understood only about half of it. "So, it has to do with the kind of root clumps and the traits they represent?"

"Quite literally, yes. As the tradition goes. And the more dirt, the wealthier he is."

The two women laughed, and Anna closed her eyes, letting Lucy guide her hand to pull up a root. When she opened her eyes, she grinned again. The root was quite straight and well-shaped, with lots of upper body.

Lucy laughed. "Looks like tall and handsome. Not too much dirt, though, sadly."

"Alright, that's enough for now," Anna said, still laughing. "I've got to get to work!"

It was a pleasant break, bonding with Lucy over something as silly as it was. But she had to stay focused. She went into the main house, broom in hand, sweeping and subtly investigating. She cleaned her way through the kitchen, polishing the unfinished plank floor and the wood stove, then moved to the family room with its unused sofa and wooden chairs. She opened doors to find closets to inspect, still using the broom as cover. Her steps creaked on the wooden stairs as she ascended. Peeking into the children's room, which housed two twin beds, she opened dresser drawers to find clothing and books. They lived quite sparingly.

She opened the closet, listening intently for Belle's whereabouts. Then, she tiptoed into Belle's bedroom, making every effort to be silent. Once inside, she opened a closet revealing piles of trunks and baggage meant for travel, seemingly unused for some time. The trunks were empty, but one bag caught her eye. It was a large trunk, eerily familiar. She glanced around before slipping into the closet, hidden from the door's view. Pulling it out, she searched for the tag.

Walter Atwater.

Crumpling to the ground, she wrapped her arms around herself, tears welling up and eventually bursting into sobs.
Horrible thoughts swirled in her mind. Why would he leave without his clothes? His likelihood of being dead was high... She needed to find him, to uncover proof of the murder. Oh, my beloved brother!

What other reason could Belle have for keeping Walter's trunk? Was there an innocent explanation? But why deny his visit unless she harbored sinister motives? Belle was the prime suspect!

This is deeply disturbing. What should I do?
Her heart raced.
"She's up to no good. Something is terribly wrong here. I need evidence." She planned to question the townspeople, to see if anyone knew anything. But how could she find the time to do this? Despite her suspicions, she had no proof, and she was a stranger here.

Stepping outside, she called out, "Buster!"

The large, yellow, potato-shaped Labrador bounded over.

"Who wants some ham?" She tossed him the ham; he caught it in his mouth, devoured it on the spot, and then dashed off. "Belle?" she called.
The hefty woman entered, wiping her hands on her apron. "What's the matter?"

"It seems the dog ate the ham. I need to go into town to buy more."

"Who left that door open! This will come out of your salary, Lucy!"

"Oh no! It was my fault. I'll cover it."

"That's very responsible of you." Saddling her horse, money in hand, she headed into town. It was early afternoon, the sun beginning to lower, but there was still time.

She decided to start with Bob, the local store owner, whom she already knew. He was approachable and might know more than he let on. If Bob had no leads, she'd try other shop owners and then the post office.
The bell jingled softly as she crossed the threshold of the small shop.
Approaching the desk, she found Bob perched on a stool.

"Hello, miss. Settling in okay? Found your brother yet?"

"Well, sir, I'm not sure yet. I had some more questions for you, if that's alright."

"Of course."

She nodded gratefully. "That first day, when I was going to see Belle, you looked concerned. What did that look mean?"

Bob scratched his neck. "Well, lots of folks come to Cherry Springs for the Belle ranch. Mostly young men, though, not women like yourself. They don't stay long and, according to Belle, leave at night. I've helped them find the farm, but truth be told, I've never seen them leave. Belle claims they're distant cousins visiting. That's all I know. Some folks are just private."

"I see."

"You might talk to Bessie, the innkeeper. She's well-informed about the town's comings and goings. And old lady Perkins, she's been here long enough to remember the Belles moving in," Bob suggested.

"Thank you, sir. Also, could you direct me to the butcher? I need to buy a ham before they close."

He opened his pocket watch with a flourish, checking the time.

"He's probably not closed for lunch yet. Sherman's a good butcher, though a bit slow, enjoying his midday nap. But I wouldn't speak ill of him. Down the street, a block on the left."

Leaving the store, she headed toward the butcher's, but on the street, she encountered an unexpected familiar face.

"Well, if it isn't Lady Anna."

"Hi, Duke. Surprised to see you in town. Don't you have extra chores today?"

"Yep. Got saddled with them." He winked. "Just buying some treats for my animals." He lifted a sack of apples.

"I found a trunk with my brother's name in Belle's room. Now I'm here to find out more, to get proof, clues. See if anyone recalls him leaving abruptly, without his trunk. I have a terrible feeling about all of this. I don't want to believe it's as bad as I fear..." She hugged herself tightly.

"I can join you for a bit."

"I was just going to chat with Mr. Sherman, the butcher," she said, heading in the direction of the butcher shop.

"Oh, that farm? Yeah, it had a bad reputation. The previous family that lived there had issues and eventually sold it cheap to the Widow Belle and her children," Mr. Sherman squinted at her underneath bushy eyebrows.

That struck her as odd. Hadn't they said her husband had died in a tragic fever after they moved in? Was it before or after... either way, he wasn't around much longer after they got the farm.

"Or maybe he did die soon after, I can't fully recall. Tragic though, leaving her alone with her children."

"Can you tell me about any relatives who might have visited her?"

"Oh, yeah. She gets cousins coming sometimes. They arrive during the day."

"Have you ever seen them directly leave?" Anna asked, hoping she was not attracting attention but determined to pry loose as much information as she could.

"Well, I close the shop late in the afternoons and have other duties at home, but no, I suppose I don't see them leave."

"Thank you for your time."

"Something is definitely up there," said Duke, once they were back out on the street.

Anna agreed. They walked outside. The sun was high now, raising dust from the street, and Duke fanned his face with his hat. This gave her a chance to steal a look at him without being observed. He had the tan of a working man with a lean face to match his lean body, highlighting the green of his eyes. Somehow, she felt like she could trust him, which was good as she knew no one else in town she could talk to. It was so confusing; she wanted to be a working ranch hand and needed him to teach her. There were so many things to know about moving the cattle to the right place, birthing of calves, mending fences, and probably a dozen other things she couldn't think of at this minute. In addition, she needed an ally to help her find out about Walter. "Oh my god, let him be okay," she thought, hoping there was an innocent explanation despite Belle's suspicious behavior. Oh, and those green eyes and the mysterious wife who left him. Was it all his ex's fault, or did Duke carry some dark secret?

She ended up saying nothing, which seemed to suit Duke, who was more of a taciturn person anyway, except when she had climbed the tree and brought him out of his shell. "Are you going to ride back?" Duke asked, his desire to accompany her left unspoken.

"Alright, I'll ride with you."

They rode their horses together, side by side, in silent companionship.

She worked up the right moment to thank him. It was so kind of him to help out today. "Hey, Duke?"

He looked at her with those big green eyes of his. "What's on your mind?"

Nice eyes, sure. Whatever, he wasn't that attractive. Stay focused. "I just wanted to thank you for your support. And since I am done here, and a bit distracted, I was wondering if you could help me train Buster to track."

"Sure thing, ma'am," he tipped his hat.

She smiled and then returned to facing forward, trying to suppress the strange, tingly feeling growing inside her. Affection for Duke? No, well, just in the way you feel affection for a good friend. She had lots of things to work on and needed help to get with the program.

She smiled to herself as they rode off together in comfortable silence back to Belle's farm. Though it wasn't clear if the dog training would prove to be an invaluable asset to her hunt for her brother, she was actually looking forward to spending time with Duke. He was a quiet man, but she was starting to appreciate him.