Chapter 1
Bluejacket Hollow, Oklahoma
Saturday morning began like every other morning on Charlie Bluejacket’s farm until his nine-year-old daughter, Julia, came running in from outside in hysterics.
“Daddy, Daddy! Butters isn’t in his pen, and I can’t find him anywhere!” The little black-and-white pygmy goat was Julia’s shadow, and a family pet.
Her mother, Frances, turned off all the burners at the stove and took off her apron, as Charlie put down the cup of coffee he’d been drinking.
Sonny Bluejacket, Charlie’s younger brother, had been living with the family ever since a bull ride at a rodeo ended his career and nearly his life. He jumped up from the table, followed the others as they went outside to the goat pen, expecting to see coyote or cougar tracks, and blood.
But there was nothing to tell them what had happened. Just little goat tracks in the pen, and then leading out through a gate left ajar.
Julia was sobbing. “I shut the gate good last night, Daddy! I always do.”
Sonny was circling the pen looking for signs but saw nothing but Julia’s sneaker tracks. “I’ll get the ATV and head north toward the creek,” he said.
Frannie took her daughter by the hand. “We’ll go south,” she said.
“I’ll check the driveway to see if I see tracks there, and if not, I’ll go west,” Charlie said, and they scattered like quail.
Sonny took off on the ATV, slowly winding his way through the heavily wooded areas around the farm, looking for signs. About a half hour later he rode into a clearing, saw little goat tracks on a patch of bare ground, and got off the ATV.
“Butters Bluejacket, you can’t hide from me. I smell you, and I’m not going to chase you down. Get your little self out here now. Julia thinks something ate you, and hurry up. I don’t have all day.”
Moments later, the little black-and-white goat trotted out of the brush right in front of Sonny, and head-butted one of the front tires.
Sonny laughed. “Look at you being all tough,” and as he slipped a lightweight cotton rope around Butters’s neck, the little goat began to jump about in protest. “Oh no you don’t! You had a chance to ride like a big boy, but you thought you needed to be all tough.”
Sonny grabbed him by the horns, rolled him over onto his side, and hogtied the little goat’s legs, like a calf at a roping competition.
Butters began protesting loudly, bleating pitifully as Sonny called his brother.
“Hey bro, I found Butters. The little squirt came out of the brush and head-butted the ATV. Yeah, that’s him making all this noise.
I’ve got him hogtied, and he’s riding in my lap all the way back, so you can tell Julia that Uncle Sonny found her baby. ”
“Good job,” Charlie said.
“See you soon,” Sonny said, then hopped on the ATV with the little goat in his lap and started the ATV with Butters bleating objections.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Sonny said. “Sorry about all this, but you shouldn’t have run away.
Julia thought something ate you, but I think you’re too ornery to be tasty. ”
They rode all the way home with Butters steadily bleating his disapproval. Fifteen minutes later, Sonny arrived and pulled up into the backyard where the family was waiting.
“Come get this noisy critter,” Sonny said, and handed him off to Charlie.
“Thank you, Uncle Sonny,” Julia cried, and then hurried to catch up to her father, who was carrying the goat back to its pen. There would be some remodeling to the goat pen before nightfall.
Sonny rode the ATV back into the shed, parked and hung the keys up on a nail beside the door, then headed back to the house. From the aroma drifting out the kitchen window, he guessed Frannie had gone back to making breakfast, but now he smelled like goat.
He went inside, bypassed the kitchen to wash up and change clothes before going back to the table. He was headed up the hall toward the kitchen when Frannie called out.
“Sonny! Mailman needs you to sign for something!”
“Coming,” he said, and hastened his stride to the front door and went outside to meet him. “Hey Wilson.”
Wilson nodded. “Hey, Sonny. I need you to sign for this registered packet.”
As soon as Sonny signed, Wilson handed over a large, fat, manila envelope. “Have a good day.”
“You, too,” Sonny said, glanced at the return address, then went back inside.
“Breakfast is ready,” Frannie said.
“Coming,” Sonny said, and headed to the kitchen while there was still food left to eat. He laid the packet aside and sat down at the table.
Charlie looked up. “What was it?”
“I don’t know. From some law firm in Texas,” he said.
“Are you in trouble?” Frances asked, as she put his plate of food down in front of him.
Sonny laughed. “Not that I know of. I left plenty of blood in the dirt back in Texas, but it was mine.”
“Open it,” Charlie said.
Sonny shrugged. “I will, just as soon as I eat this good food while its hot.”
Charlie frowned.
Frances smiled at her husband’s impatience and curiosity, and pretended not to see Julia sneaking food into her pocket to take out to Butters’s pen later.
The meal progressed until Sonny had taken his last sip of coffee, and then he got up and brought the envelope back to the table.
They were all teasing him about everything from being sued for child support for a kid he didn’t know he had, to a pillow he’d taken from a motel when he was still on the rodeo circuit.
But none of them could have ever guessed the contents of what was inside.
Sonny read the cover letter, then looked up in shock.
“Emmit Cooper died.”
George frowned. “Isn’t that the bullfighter who nearly got you killed?”
Sonny frowned. “Don’t say that. It wasn’t Emmit’s fault. He stumbled and fell before he could distract the bull. But the bull was mad at me, not Emmit.”
“Okay, so he’s dead. Why is some lawyer telling you this?” George muttered.
“Because Emmit left everything to me in his will, which includes a thousand-acre spread in West Texas, and a horse operation, including a dozen registered Quarter Horses. I guess you all are finally getting me out of your hair. This is something I never saw coming, but it’s my chance to start over. ”
Frances frowned. “Please tell me you’re not going back to the rodeo.”
“No way. I’ll still be riding and training horses like I’ve been working horses for the ranchers around here, but these will be mine. This is unexpected, but I wouldn’t deny this gift. Emmit had his reasons, and I will honor them,” Sonny said.
At that point, his family reluctantly celebrated his good fortune, while Sonny read the rest of the paperwork in detail, then got his laptop and began looking up bus schedules.