more time.
Take nothing for granted.
Lancer picked up the phone to make travel arrangements to Canada.
19
Quiggly Ranch, Ram River Ridge, Wyoming
The Quiggly place was thirty miles outside of Big Cloud in the foothills of the Laramie Mountains.
In the late 1800s, Lance Quiggly drove his herd from Texas to establish his Five-Spur brand here after purchasing five hundred acres of grassy rangeland in the river valley. But each time the operation was passed to a succeeding generation, it was parceled and subdivided.
All that remained were forty acres where Emma Lane had come to search for answers. She turned down the dusty road to the ranch, praying the Quigglys would come to her aid again.
“Of course we’ll talk to you,” Mave Quiggly told her earlier when she’d called. “Anything we can do to help.”
Driving out, Emma sensed the purity of this place and the goodness of its people. When she reached the house, Mave stepped from the porch and greeted her with a hug.
“Come on in, I’ll put the kettle on.”
She took Emma to the sofa in the living room, which opened to the large kitchen, where Mave gazed out the window.
“The fellas saw you drive in, they’re coming up from the river now.”
As the older woman busied herself, she punctuated her tasks by checking on Emma’s well-being, patting her hand and shoulder.
“We went to the funeral service,” Mave said. “We sat at the back of the church.”
The kettle boiled and Emma struggled to hold herself together as Herb Quiggly and his teenaged son, Rolly, entered the kitchen from the rear door, telegraphing concern as they approached her.
“Herb Quiggly.” The elder man shook Emma’s hand. “This is our son, Rolly.”
Rolly’s acne-ravaged face was as still as a mountain lake as he nodded to Emma, his eyes lingering on her cuts and scrapes.
“You drove out here all by yourself, in your condition?” Herb asked.
“Hush now.” Mave set a tea set down. “Emma’s a strong young woman. She wants to talk to us and after all she’s been through, we’re going to listen.”
Emma slid both hands around her teacup to steady herself.
“I need to know what happened that day, what you saw. Did you see the second car?”
“No, we saw nothing at all. We told the deputy we’d been out to Three-Elk Point. Rolly and I wanted to look at a bull J. C. Fargo was selling.
“We were northbound on that stretch, not another vehicle in sight until we saw your SUV on its roof. Rolly said he thought they were making a movie, or something. Kevin Costner shot part of one of his films out here years back.”
Rolly nodded.
“But he didn’t think that for long,” Mave said. “We saw you there—saw your husband halfways out, saw the baby’s seat caught up in the twisted metal like it was in a steel web.”
“Did you see Tyler? Could you see him inside?”
“No,” Rolly said. “Just saw that baby seat in the mess, heard you and smelled the gas.”
“Could you hear Tyler crying?”
“I don’t recall—you were screaming pretty loud,” Rolly said.
“We had to get everyone out of there on account of the gas,” Herb said.
“But you didn’t actually see Tyler in his seat?”
Herb and Rolly shook their heads.
“It was twisted up in there,” Rolly said.
“And you saw no other cars in the area?”
“Nothing,” Herb said.
The Quigglys were patient with Emma as she continued pressing them. But as they recalled details for her, their voices faded until she heard only fragments.
“It happened fast…like a blast furnace…nobody could’ve survived…”
Their recounting of the aftermath had catapulted her back to those terrible moments on the highway.
Emma struggled with what the Quiggly family was telling her: There was no other car.
It can’t be true because if it is it means my baby burned to death. But I saw someone. I saw someone save him.
Didn’t I?
Emma’s hands shook.
“Careful, Emma, careful.” Mave rushed to her.
Hot tea had splashed over the cup’s rim, onto Emma’s hands and to the floor.
“I’m sorry.”
Mave hurried her to the kitchen sink and ran cold water gently over her wrists and hands. It was an act of kindness and as the water soothed her skin Emma felt something deep inside break apart. Mave Quiggly comforted her until she was calm again.
“Thank you,” Emma said. “I should be going.”
“Maybe we should take you home and have Rolly drive your car back?”
Emma shook her head then collected her purse.
“You sure, you’re okay?” Herb asked as they saw her to the door.
“I am convinced there was another car.”
Rolly was scratching the back of