“These letters are from someone named Vickie.”

  Gladys thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I sort of lost track of Ferrell over the years, but I heard that he and Linda met up at a class reunion back in the late eighties and started dating. They married and he moved her into his family home out there near where your horsie friends live.” Thinking about it, she said, “In fact, I believe it was the same property. Do you know when the Teagues bought that place?”

  “Maybe ten or fifteen years ago. Bonnie told me once that it was some sort of third-party sale. Evidently the owner had a mental breakdown and the care facility ended up with the property when she could no longer pay her bill.” She wrinkled her nose. “I guess it was in pretty bad shape when Barney and Bonnie bought it. The house was built in the fifties or before and in serious need of repairs. It was a fixer-upper.”

  “Well, that explains it,” Michael said. “People used to bury their garbage back in the day. The cats have probably been digging around in one of the old dumping areas. Over time, the ground has a way of shifting and purging. That’s why this stuff has started to surface.”

  “What kind of stuff is it?” Gladys asked, picking up one of the documents. “You say letters?” She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, love letters—probably from when he was overseas—or wherever he was stationed in the military.”

  “And a passport,” Savannah pointed out. “When did this guy go missing, Mom?”

  “As I recall, it was a few years after we moved to Los Angeles. You were still young. I just remember it was a horrible time.” She grimaced. “There was an awful storm. The river ran close to that property then. Part of his house was actually washed away and they figured he was swept away by the raging river. They never did find poor Ferrell.”

  She shuddered. “I thought they’d find his body by now, buried in the mud along the old riverbank.” Gladys looked at the items and said, “This stuff might have been washed away with that section of the house—you know, that was swept away that night.”

  Savannah thought for a moment and said, “We found this stuff pretty far away from the house, out in the eucalyptus grove, but I guess a river could have changed its course.” She looked at her mother. “Was the house always where it is now—facing Country Road?”

  Gladys nodded. “Yes, that was the Peters’s house. When Ferrell’s parents decided to move into town, he and Linda took over the place. At least that’s what I remember.” She looked into space. “So I guess Ferrell could have been washed away, but from what I understand, authorities didn’t think it was possible. Linda claimed that he and some of the ranch hands were busy out near the barn moving horses that night. I guess he could have gone back to the house to try to save something and was swept away. But how his passport and these other things ended up among those trees, that’s a mystery.”

  She looked at Savannah. “That stand of trees is north of the house, right?”

  “Yes, sort of northwest. That’s where the feral cats live.”

  “What about the men Mr. Peters was working with that night?” Michael asked. “Do they know what happened to him?”

  “As I recall,” Gladys said, “they claim that when they left, Ferrell was getting ready to take Linda and leave the property.”

  “And he was never seen again?” Savannah asked. She stared down at the documents. “Spooky.”

  “Are you going to throw them out?” Michael asked when she started picking everything up.

  “No,” she said, “not after what Mom told us. She’s talking about an unsolved mystery—a missing person—and don’t forget who brought this stuff to our attention.”

  Michael looked confused.

  “Rags,” she reminded him. “It was Rags. With his record for putting his paws on important clues and pertinent information, I’m going to hold onto this stuff at least until I can learn a little more about that poor missing man.”

  Chapter Four

  “Sure, I remember Ferrell Peters,” Margaret said the next morning as she drove out to the Teagues’ place with Savannah. “He died about thirty years ago, didn’t he?”

  “Well, I guess he went missing more like twenty years ago,” Savannah corrected.

  “Yeah,” she said, remembering, “they figured he was washed downstream in that awful flood. They never did found his body. Why do you ask? That was before your time—I mean, you were a little girl when all that happened, living in Los Angeles.”

  Savannah faced her aunt. “Well, those papers and the passport we found yesterday belonged to him.”

  “What? How in the world did his personal things become strewn across Bonnie’s and Barney’s property?” Something occurred to her and she added, “Wait. He used to live there, but how…?”

  “I don’t know. Mom said the river washed away part of their house during that storm, but how would those things get from the house to where we found them? Did the river ever run through there at all?”

  Margaret shook her head. “Not that I know of. Maybe Ferrell’s wife discarded that stuff after he disappeared—you know, buried it out near that grove of trees.” After some consideration she said, “But I don’t think she ever went back to that place. As I recall, she was a basket case—couldn’t even function. Relatives took her in for a while. I’m pretty sure she ended up in a home—you know, for the mentally unstable. I wonder whatever happened to her. She’s probably dead by now.”

  “Maybe the next owners of the property buried that stuff out there. Or Mrs. Peters’s relatives did. That might have been where they buried their trash like people used to do out on ranches and farms. The cats seem to have made their home over the old dump.” “Could be, I guess.” Margaret was quiet for a moment, then said, “Passport. Passport.”

  “What?”

  “I’m starting to remember something about a passport. As I recall, there was a newspaper article saying that Ferrell and Linda had planned a trip. They’d received their passports just months earlier. When they couldn’t find him or his passport, there was some speculation that he took off somewhere without her. Yeah, that’s right. One of his friends told police that Ferrell was talking about leaving Linda. I remember being surprised by that.” Margaret jumped a little. “Vannie, you know who that friend was.”

  She looked surprised. “I do?”

  “Yes, we talked about him at the meeting yesterday. He’s our treasurer’s husband, city councilman Arnie Seacrest. I actually didn’t know at the time that the two of them were friends or even acquaintances, but I guess he was there helping Ferrell batten down the hatches during the storm. He told the authorities later that Ferrell planned to leave without his wife.”

  “Well, he left without his passport,” Savannah said.

  Margaret was quiet for a moment. “Maybe he did get washed away that night, with the passport on him.” When Savannah didn’t respond, she exclaimed, “Yowza! Mystery solved. Ferrell was planning to leave without Linda. He had his passport on him when he fell into the river and drowned.” She turned to Savannah. “I guess they’ll find him somewhere, someday.”

  “But, Auntie, you said the river ran next to the house on the other side of the property, not where we found that stuff.”

  Margaret looked at her wide-eyed. “That’s right. So that takes us back to your original theory—someone threw all his stuff out in the dump. That must have been their dump.”

  “But who and why and when?” Savannah questioned. “I mean, something about this just doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “Well, here we are,” Margaret said, parking the car. “Let’s get into work mode, shall we? We’re not going to resolve that decades-old mystery, anyway.”

  The women had set and baited two traps when Barney approached. “How’s it going?” he asked, pushing his cowboy hat back a little on his head.

  “Good, I guess,” Margaret said. “We caught two cats with burns yesterday and reunited a tortie with her kittens.”

  “Tortie,” Barney repeated. “Is that one of those splotchy-looking cats—you know, black and orange?

  Margaret nodded.

  “Good. I’ve been concerned about her and those kittens.”

  “How’d you know she had kittens?” Margaret asked.

  “I noticed her tummy getting rounder and rounder—then she disappeared for a few days.”

  “You keep a pretty close eye on the cats, do you?” Margaret asked.

  He nodded. “Lizzy’s one of my favorites. I hope to keep her around as a mouser. She’s a dynamite mouser.”

  “Lizzy?” Savannah repeated, writing it down. “That’s the name of the tortie-mom? Do you have names for any of the others?”

  “Oh yes,” he said. “The white-and-brown cat—that’s Snazzy, and the large orange one is Razzy.”

  Savannah laughed. “You like the zees, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, there’s also Jazzy and his sister, Lenore.”

  “Lenore?” Margaret questioned.

  Barney grinned. “She looks like a teacher I had in the fifth grade. I couldn’t help it.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Bonnie named most of those that have been here for a while, but I can’t remember them all. I’m pretty sure we have two—maybe three—pregnant females by now. We just got busy and didn’t take them in to see Dr. Mike soon enough.” He shook his head. “Besides, we didn’t know how to get our hands on those traps.”

  “That many late pregnancies?” Margaret grumbled.

  “What can I say? They’re prolific.” Barney became more serious. “Between us and old Al, they’re fed pretty good, so they’re probably healthier than cats that are fending for themselves.”

  “That’ll do it,” Margaret said. “Well-fed colony cats will have more litters.” She faced Barney. “Hey, if you or your ranch hands happen to notice when a trap has been sprung, would you let us know? We’ll be back this afternoon, but if you see cats in the traps, we can come earlier.”

  “Sure. Old Al has a special bond with the cats out here. He’s worked for us for about fifteen years. In fact, we inherited him. He worked here when the Peters still owned the place. He’s darn near seventy and shows no signs of slowing down.”

  “So he was here when Mr. Peters was swept away in that flood?” Savannah asked.

  Barney stared at her for a moment. “Yeah, I imagine he was. I remember old Al and some of the other hands talking about a gentleman going missing. Yeah, he probably was here when it happened.”

  “Is he here today?” Savannah asked.

  Barney shook his head. “No. He and Hank are moving some horses for us. They won’t be back until later. Why?”

  Savannah hesitated, then said, “Oh, we’re just curious about a couple of things. Hey, maybe you can tell us—was this area ever used as a dump?”

  “Out here? No, not that I know of. No, I don’t think so.” He pointed. “In fact, we’ve found some interesting bottles and things over on the south side of the house. I’m pretty sure that’s where the dump was and the incinerator—there’s evidence that garbage was burned in that spot.”

  “Oh no,” Savannah said, squinting into the distance.

  “What?” Margaret asked.

  She picked up her binoculars. “Looks like another burn victim.”

  “Oh, that’s the Rogue,” Barney said. “He came here like that. He didn’t get burned, that seems to be a wart or a tumor or something. It was when he showed up obviously in need of medical treatment that I urged Bonnie to get your group involved. I don’t know what happened to the gals who were working out here before, but I’m glad you came back. Yes, if there’s any way you can get him some help, I’d sure appreciate it. He’s a great mouser, too. I see him over at the barn a lot, hunting. I feel sorry for him. I’m sure he’d be a lot happier without that burden he carries around.”

  Savannah glanced at Margaret. “Did we bring the net?”

  “Yeah, it’s in the car. Want to give it a try?”

  “Let’s do.” Savannah stared at the cat for a few moments. “Oh yes, he needs help, poor guy. Looks like that thing is starting to affect one of his eyes.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and took a picture, then enlarged it so she could get a better look. “Nasty. I’ll send this to Michael and Bud, and see what they think.”

  By the time Margaret returned with the net, Savannah had worked her way closer to the affected cat.

  “He’s fairly comfortable around people,” Barney told Margaret. “In fact, he might come up to me. Do you have some food?”

  Margaret nodded. “Some really good stinky food we use in the traps.” She opened a can, spooned some onto a small plate, and handed it to Barney. It didn’t take long for the cat to walk up to Barney and he was able to pick him up, but it took some doing to get him into the carrier.

  “That’s gross,” Margaret said, once the cat was secured. “Just gross. Poor guy.” She winced while watching the frightened cat fight inside the carrier. “Let’s get him to the clinic.”

  After the women loaded up their things, waved to Barney, and drove off toward the clinic, Margaret asked, “Did you send that picture to Michael and Bud?”

  “Yes. Michael said he’s seen that particular growth before, but never one quite this large. He hopes it’s operable. Anyway, he and Bud are eager to take a crack at it and help this guy.”

  “Yeah, he sure has a nice coat. He’s a pretty cat.” She cringed. “Except for that thing.” She faced Savannah briefly. “What’s going on with your sister and Bud? Do you know?”

  “Only that she’s still in her apartment with Frankie and Snowball. I hope they’re at least talking and can resolve their issues, whatever they are.”

  “Yikes, what is that?” Scarlett said minutes later when she peered into the carrier that Margaret had carried into the clinic. “Dr. Mike said you were bringing in a grotesque cat. He’s right.”

  “Shhh,” Savannah said. “Let’s not make him feel any worse than he already does.” To the cat she cooed, “You are beautiful just the way you are.”

  Scarlett looked into the carrier again and shuddered.

  “Hi, ladies,” Bud said when he stepped into the waiting room. He chuckled. “Who’s your new friend, the hunchback of Notre Dame?”

  “Do you think you can help him?” Margaret asked.

  After studying the cat for a moment, he said, “I sure hope we can. He’s a beautiful cat if that thing hasn’t distorted his head too much.” He looked at the cat more closely. “I hope we can cut that off him without making him look even worse. That’s always a risk with something like this. Let me take him back and get some x-rays. Want to wait?” He glanced around the empty waiting room and said, “Or come on back if you’d like. You can help me with him.” He laughed. “If you aren’t too squeamish.”

  The two women waited outside the door as Bud got the x-ray machine ready. “Margaret asked quietly, “What’s up with Bud? He seems kind of silly—you know, giddy.”

  Savannah smiled. “I’d say he and Brianna have been talking.” She winked. “Or something.”

  Margaret shook her head. “Those two. They are on such a roller-coaster ride.” She added, “Maybe that’s the draw—they’re addicted to the highs and the lows. Do you think so?”

  When Bud returned, he asked, “Who wants to hold him while I take his picture?”

  “Give me an apron. I’ll do it,” Savannah said.

  “Well, yeah, we’d never do an x-ray without an apron. By the way, I gave him a small dose of sedative and whispered in his ear.”

  Suspiciously, Margaret asked, “What did you tell him?”

  “That if he could tolerate the handling and the surgery, we’d be able to make him the prince charming he was born to be.” He chuckled at his quip.

  Margaret and Savannah rolled their eyes at one another and smiled.

  “Dr. Mike, would you come and take a look at this?” Bud called once the x-rays had developed. Bud held the groggy cat in his arms.

  “Good lord,” Michael said when he saw the patient. “Poor cat. That thing must weigh almost as much as he does.” He scratched the cat under his chin. “It’ll be okay, buddy.” He looked at the x-rays and he and Bud discussed them for a moment, then agreed that it appeared they could remove at least most of the mass. They thought it was benign, just a fatty tumor that got out of control, which probably was exacerbated by the cat’s lifestyle.

  “Can you neuter him at the same time?” Margaret asked.

  Bud took a look at the cat again and nodded. “Yeah, if we don’t run into any problems, we can do the snip-snip surgery as well. Right, Dr. Mike?”

  “Let’s hope so. What’s our schedule like?” Michael asked.

  “I just checked with Scarlett. My after-lunch client cancelled. Evidently Skeeter’s problem resolved itself. You don’t have anything until two.”

  Michael winced. “I’d planned to take a long lunch and shop for some things for the kids’ playhouse, but I can do that after work.”

  “Okay then,” Bud said, “if we start now we should be finished in time to grab a sandwich before the afternoon chaos.”

  “How about we go out and get you some lunch?” Savannah offered.

  “Great—I’d love one of those turkey-and-avocado sandwiches they have at that deli around the corner,” Michael said.

  “Ditto,” Bud said. He tried to hand Savannah some money.

  “No. I’ve got it. You two get to work. She started to walk away, then returned and kissed the cat on the cheek. “Good luck, pretty boy.”

  ****

  Later that afternoon Savannah placed a call to her aunt.

  “How is he?” Margaret asked.

  “Oh, you mean the rogue cat? I’m not sure. I checked in with Scarlett a while ago and she said they had some complications. Michael’s staying with him for a while until he stabilizes. I guess it was a difficult surgery. They almost had to take an eye, but were able to save it. One ear will be deformed, but, if he lives, they don’t think there will be damage to his hearing or his sinus cavity. They’ve sent the growth to be tested, but they’re pretty sure it’s benign.”

  “Wow! I can’t even imagine them cutting something that big off and leaving the cat with any part of his head left. I wonder how deformed he’ll be.”