Free Alberta Alibi by Dayle Gaetz

still had the leather band she braided for Ben the same year she made the white one for her dad. Ben’s was brown of course. It seemed everything Ben owned, other than his work shirt, was brown. Even his last name was Brown.
    She wondered if Ryan liked brown as much as his father did. Ryan used to wear a cowboy hat the same as his dad’s, but it was probably too small for him now. Come to think of it, she hadn’t noticed him wearing a hat.
    The living room and dining area to the right were flooded with light from one of the dormers above. The door on their left was closed, but Sheila knew it was Ben’s bedroom. Behind his room, along a short hall that ran behind a steep ladder-like stairway to the loft, was the bathroom, and beyond that was Ryan’s room at the back of the house. They followed Ben through the wide-open living room and dining area to a small kitchen.
    Ben’s kitchen might be tiny, but it was as neat as a kitchen can be. Unlike Sheila’s dad, Ben always insisted that everything be in its place. His coffee mug sat on the counter in front of a high stool with a newspaper neatly folded by it. The coffeepot was already washed and sat gleaming on the coffee machine.
    â€œHave a seat, girls.” Ben waved at the two high stools in front of the counter.
    â€œUh…if you don’t mind, I’d rather stand,” Katie said, eyeing the hard wooden stool.
    â€œSuit yourself.” Ben smiled knowingly, winked at Sheila and then said, “I’ve got some chocolate milk.
    Do you still like it as much as you used to, Cowgirl?”
    â€œSounds good,” Sheila said, although she didn’t feel like drinking anything right now, with the way her stomach was leaping around. She worried Katie would embarrass her or hurt Ben’s feelings, or both.
    Katie stood at the end of the counter and flipped open her notebook. She thanked Ben for the chocolate milk and ate one of the graham wafers spread with peanut butter Ben put on a plate.
    Ben perched on the stool next to Sheila, sipped his coffee, put the mug down and asked, “Why do I get the feeling you two aren’t simply here for the pleasure of my company?”
    Sheila almost choked on her chocolate milk. How did he know? What should she say? “Katie thinks you might know something you don’t know you know,” she told him.
    â€œHow can I know it if I don’t know I know it?” Crinkles fanned out from Ben’s eyes.
    Sheila tried to laugh, but she suddenly felt like crying. She stared at her chocolate milk, wrapped her fingers around the cold, frosty glass and waited for someone else to speak because there was a lump in her throat that made talking impossible.
    â€œThe thing is, Mr. Brown…”
    â€œPlease, call me Ben! Nobody calls me Mr. Brown, makes me sound like a politician—or a criminal,” he chuckled.
    Katie smiled politely. “The thing is, Ben, that you were there on the night in question…”
    â€œWhat question…sorry, bad habit. I promise not to interrupt again.”
    â€œThe night the night watchman was shot,” Katie explained, “you were up at the house, right?”
    Ben nodded.
    â€œSo you might have seen something important to the case. Can you please tell me what happened, in your own words?”
    â€œWell, I generally tend to use my own words on account of whose would I use if I didn’t use mine?”
    Ben slapped his hand to his forehead. “Oops! Sorry again.” He took a deep breath, sipped his coffee and stared out the window. A moment later he said, “Okay, here’s how it went. Chris called me about ten thirty on the night in question. Said he was worried about the calves up on the range to the north.
    Apparently our neighbor up that way called about some problem with wolves.”
    He spoke slowly, a half smile on his face, while Katie scribbled in her notebook.
    â€œI asked if he wanted me to ride