Free Yarn Over Murder (A Knitting Mystery) by Maggie Sefton Page B

the canyon to get them out. Who’s going to take care of them now that Andrea’s dead?”
    Jayleen held open the screen door for Kelly to enter the homey ranch house kitchen. “Well, Dennis is taking care of them for me, but you can’t breathe a word. He’s laying low at Andrea’s place. Staying out of sight, keeping the lights off at night so no one can spot him. He’s even sleeping in the barn with the animals to make sure no big cat comes a-hunting. He hikes back to his place up the river when he needs supplies.”
    Kelly stared at her friend in surprise. “You are kidding? And the cops haven’t spotted him?”
    “Nope. Dennis is a mountain man. He knows how to stay out of sight in the bushes and trees. He stays off the road and moves around at night. When he has to go to his place, he hikes back at night, sleeps some, then goes back to her ranch before dawn. And, frankly, the police are too damn busy to care. The firefighters are volunteers who live up there, and they’re off fighting the fire or keeping watch so it doesn’t come into the Poudre again. Besides, everybody up there knows Dennis. And they all must have heard about Andrea, or will soon. Word spreads around police and firemen.” Jayleen opened the refrigerator and took out a large glass pitcher of iced tea. She grabbed two glasses from the nearby cabinet and poured both glasses full. “I’ll bet they all figure that Dennis is taking care of Andrea’s livestock, and they’re leaving him the hell alone.”
    “Wow,” was all Kelly could say as she pictured Dennis Holt hiking a few miles at night in the dark and back again. Taking care of his ex-wife’s alpacas . . . and Jayleen’s.
    “Besides, police can’t force anyone to evacuate. If you stay you assume the risk, knowing firemen won’t put their forces in jeopardy to rescue you.”
    Kelly gratefully accepted the icy glass, condensation appearing already on the warm surface. Even in air-conditioned homes, the heat crept inside. Normally she didn’t drink iced tea. But a couple of years ago, she’d tried Jayleen’s sweet tea and found it was delicious, much to her surprise.
    “Thanks, I need this.” Kelly drained the glass, the icy cold sweet tea flavor quenching a thirst she’d ignored all the way from Lambspun.
    Jayleen smiled and refilled her glass. “That’s a long drive over here in the heat. Drink up.”
    Kelly did as she suggested, draining half the glass this time.
Ahh
. “Boy, that hit the spot. I didn’t know how thirsty I was.”
    She glanced around the warm, inviting Stackhouse kitchen, with its sunshine yellow walls and wide counters.
    “Wow, sleeping in the barn, keeping watch over the herd at night. That means he must have his shotgun with him. The first time I saw Dennis Holt was when Jennifer and I discovered the body of Jennifer’s client Fred Turner in his cabin up the Poudre. I was standing on the cabin front porch while Jennifer was in the yard calling police about finding her real estate client dead. Shot in the head. I glanced around and spotted this shaggy-looking guy hiding in the bushes beside the cabin, obviously eavesdropping. And he had a shotgun over his arm.”
    Jayleen grinned and pulled out a chair at the rectangular kitchen table. “That would be Dennis, all right. Have a seat, Kelly girl.”
    Kelly responded to the familiar nickname that Jayleen had started using years ago. It always made Kelly feel good inside for some reason. “I figured. Boy, that’s devotion to duty. And you said Andrea divorced him, right? So their relationship must have stayed amicable.”
    “Oh, yeah. Dennis used to have a drinking problem, and when he drank he’d pick a fight with Andrea and yell. Well, she finally had enough and divorced him. That was the shock Dennis needed. I offered to take him with me to AA meetings. And thank the Lord, he agreed. And he’s been sober for over three years. Once he stopped drinking, Andrea would at least talk to him