Authors: Isadora Montrose
Tags: #General Fiction
She put her hands on his head, whether to urge him on, or stop him, she didn’t really know. He removed her hands and lifted his head. “No touching. Hold on to the bedstead,” he said.
Obediently she gripped the wrought iron poles. “Stay that way,” he commanded. His head went back between her legs and he sucked, and lapped, while her legs writhed in his firm grip. Her orgasm was building and building. But every time she thought she was going to come, he backed off again.
He moved his lips to some new spot and began his love play all over again. When he finally let her come, she was trembling, shrieking, and so desperate for release, that her mind had gone blank.
He was inside her, before the last spasms of her convulsions were over. He pumped into her with desperate passion. He bellowed into her ear, but she couldn’t make out his words over the blood thrumming through her veins. She thought that what he cried was, “You are my wife.”
* * *
Laura and Steve were a little late for morning turnout. Steve figured that as last night was the only honeymoon they were likely to have for a while, being a little behind was acceptable. But it looked as though Lance Prescott didn’t agree. Because as soon as Laura parked, he pounced on them.
“Thank God you’re finally here,” he cried. He looked gray.
“Nothing so bad it can’t be mended.” Steve attempted to reassure Prescott.
“I don’t see how we can fix this one,” Lance retorted. His fists were clenched.
“What’s gone wrong?” Laura asked.
“Someone seeded the training paddock with these,” Lance opened his gloved hand where two vicious, pronged devices were resting. “Carlos stepped on one of these. It went right through his boot, and into the sole of his foot. I sent him into Success with Darrell to see a doctor. He didn’t want to go, but you can’t be too careful. And I called the police.”
Steve picked up one of the caltrops between a cautious thumb and forefinger. Laura looked around his shoulder. “What is it?” she asked.
“Caltrop. Tactical weapon,” he answered. “This one looks like it might be a special order.”
“I don’t understand,” Laura said.
“Caltrops have been around for centuries. Since the Middle Ages. They’re simple and effective. Third Marine Corps uses them as its symbol.” Steve’s voice was abstracted.
“I don’t understand?” Laura said.
“It just four prongs arranged in a pyramid. No matter how they’re tossed, they land business end up. They can take out tires, horses, people. Modern armies use them, cops deploy them to stop cars.” Steve touched one of the spikes respectfully. “This would pierce a boot sole like a knife through butter.”
“Or do real damage to a horse’s hoof,” Laura breathed.
“They’ve been raked into the soil in the training rings,” Lance told them. “I was on duty last night, Boss. And I swear to God, I didn’t see anything or anybody.”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” Laura said. She touched the stable hand on one shoulder. “Did you call Rosa Diego?”
Lance smacked his forehead. “I clean forgot, Miss Laura.”
Laura whipped out her cell phone and spoke quietly into it. “He’s at the Success clinic, Rosa,” she said. “Why don’t you give them a call, and see if they’re going to release him?” She rattled off the number from her cell phone. “Don’t be silly, I’m sure he’ll need to you. And I don’t expect him back at work unless the doctor says so.”
“Deputy Brown said we should wait till he got here before we started to clean up those things,” Lance said.
“I want to take a look,” said Laura.
“Not on your life,” Steve slid into his command voice. “I don’t want you – or anyone – going over there, Laura, not in ordinary boots. Those things are dangerous. I don’t want you on the injured list as well.”
He thought she was going to balk at his order. But she nodded. “I want to see it for myself,” she said.
“And you will. Only not before we get some heavy boards to stand on. These things are designed to wound. And if they’ve been in contact with horse manure, they’re blood poisoning and tetanus waiting to happen.”
“Who the hell would’ve done such a thing?” Lance asked what they were all wondering.
The Sheriff’s deputies brought metal detectors with them. And rubber boots that they said had steel soles. They took photographs of the training rings from several angles. They raked the yard, collected what they could, and put them into evidence bags. Then they got out the metal detectors which turned up a couple dozen more of the nasty little devices which had been scattered over the three training enclosures.
“I want to look at your video,” Deputy Brown told them when they all agreed that the last of the devices had been found.
“We’ll look at it together,” Steve said.
“I see you still have the same shitty equipment. I thought you guys were going to invest in some decent cameras.” Brown’s voice was peevish.
“We did. But I didn’t see any reason to advertise it. I left the old cameras up and the old video feed is still running in the tack room. You can look at it. But I’m sure buddy avoided those – just like last time. We’ll go into Miss Laura’s office, and take a look at what the new cameras show us.”
What the new CCTV showed, was Lance Prescott going into Sweetie-Pie’s stall, and assisting her with her labor. At about the same time, Cory Saunders carefully pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up and turned his face away from the old camera outside of the central stable block.
Saunders was holding a cardboard box and wearing heavy leather gloves. He went into the empty training rings, carrying his box and a rake. He sprinkled the little caltrops around, raked them into the soil to disguise them. He was done in six minutes and forty-three seconds.
It was obvious to them all, that he was convinced he had outsmarted the cameras. As soon as he was done, he walked around to the barn, still keeping his face averted from the old cameras. He went behind the barn and after a few seconds Camera Twelve showed a truck driving away.
“You know who that guy is?” Brown asked.
“Cory Saunders,” Steve said. “Carlos sacked him two days ago.”
“We’ll pick that son of a bitch up before he’s much older,” Deputy Brown said. “Think you can pick up that tag number?”
“You bet,” said Steve. His fingers flew over his keyboard and he began to go through Camera Twelve’s footage, frame by frame. He froze it when he had a clean shot of Cory’s rear license plate. Brown wrote it down.
“Just make sure you find out who is working for,” Laura said.
Brown scratched his head. “We can ask him, Miss Laura. But he may not answer us. Or he may lie. We’ll probably have to get warrants for his bank and cell phone records if we want to know the truth, and that will take a good few days.”
“What I want to know is where he got those things?” Laura said.
“Online,” Brown and Steve said together.
“Is that legal?” Laura demanded.
Brown shrugged. “Depends where he ordered them from. They’re not illegal in Colorado – but deploying them to injure people and livestock like this sure is. We’ll get him for that.”
“I’ll look forward to hearing you have Saunders in custody,” Laura’s voice was grim. Steve put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Steve pulled up to the Belingtons’ huge split-level house. He stalked around to the back, and opened the gate to the pool enclosure. Piper was sitting under an umbrella, avoiding the afternoon sun. He hauled out a chair from her table, turned it around and sat down with his arms folded on the top rail before he spoke.
“I thought I’d stop by,” he said cordially. “I wanted you to be the first to hear our good news.” He laid his hands flat on the table top so that they framed Piper’s cup and saucer.
“I don’t know what you’re doing here,” Piper sneered. “This is private property. Get lost!”
“I came to tell you that Laura and I were married yesterday.” Steve stood up again. He pushed the chair back under the table, nodded once, and left.
Her incoherent imprecations followed him to the truck.
* * *
Three days later, Sheriff Ramirez showed up at the stud to update Laura on the progress of their investigation. Laura summoned Steve and Carlos in to listen to the Sheriff’s report. They sat around the chipped Formica table in the office building and drank Rhonda’s coffee.
“We’ve arrested Saunders. He had holed up at a friend’s place. We brought him in. Unfortunately, he lawyered up before we could question him properly,” Ramirez reported.
Laura made a disappointed noise.
Ramirez smiled ferally. “That was his first mistake, Ms. Bascom. Feller that has no record, shouldn’t have a fancy criminal lawyer on speed dial.”
“Not an offence to have a lawyer,” Steve pointed out. “Not in America.”
“No. But it sure made us wonder,” Ramirez said. “We put our heads together, pooled what we knew about Alonzo Bruckner that Saunders hired. Then we called some of the other Sheriff’s Departments in this area. Turns out Bruckner has a nice roster of clients that have been indicted for among other things, cattle rustling.”
“Oh.” Carlos smiled for the first time in three days.
“Mind you, Bruckner got them off – on technicalities,” Ramirez continued. “But his client list suggested possible confederates to look at with regards to Saunders. Right now, I’ve got some good men following up on those leads. The good news is that the judge gave us warrants for Saunders’ domicile, his bank and phone records, and his computer. The bad news is that he granted bail.”
“We’re going through his email. We’ll get his bank accounts tomorrow or the next day. We’ve already seen some stuff he’s been posting on Facebook.” Sheriff Ramirez shook his head. “Time was a feller went bad, he knew to keep a secret. But nowadays, criminals brag about their crimes right on the Internet.”
Steve snorted. He didn’t know what Ramirez was complaining about. It just made catching crooks easier.
Ramirez stood up and put his hat back on his head. “I don’t think there’s any way that we can charge Saunders for the damage to the barn roof. But now that he is under bond, things should settle down around here.”
Steve and Laura stood together outside the office building as Sheriff Ramirez drove away in his black and white SUV. “I sure hope I can look forward to a quiet life,” Steve whispered into Laura’s hair. “We have a wedding to plan.”
She laughed. “We’re already married,” she said.
* * *
Steve was sitting on the little bench at the end of their bed, pulling off his boots. It had been a long hard day, and she knew he was looking forward to a shower and a cold beer. Since Saunders had been caught, and things were back to normal at the stud, if not on the ranch, she was less worried.
She and Steve had fallen into the habit of cleaning up together after work. But maybe this evening, they could do something different. Laura had decided that the time had come for her to be a shade more adventurous.
She had been letting Steve take the lead, and while that had been a lot of fun, and they had had a lot of good times together, it seemed she’d been letting him do all the work. That didn’t seem like the equal partnership she thought a good marriage should be. But did they have a good marriage? And would Steve like her being aggressive?
Steve glanced up and smiled when she stood in front of him. He ran a hand over her hip and squeezed lightly. She began to undo the snaps of her short-sleeved shirt one at a time. He did a double take, took his hand away and leaned back on his palms. His mouth fell open.
“Now, what are you doing, my darlin’?”
“I’m taking off my clothes.”
“So you are. Would you like me to give you a hand?”
“I can manage,” she said. Steve’s avid face gave her confidence. He didn’t look a bit amused by her impromptu striptease. She slid the shirt down her arms and twirled it twice before throwing it behind her.
“Woo doggies,” he whistled.
Laura undid her belt buckle. She pulled her belt out and tossed it after the shirt. She unsnapped her jeans and gave her hips a little shimmy. Steve mimed a body blow. Emboldened, Laura unzipped her jeans and pulled them down a couple of inches.
“Are you sure I can’t help?” He leered. “I have some experience with those jeans.” He paused a bit and winked at her. “And those hips.”
Laura answered him by turning around and bending over. She tugged her jeans down and stepped out of them. She waggled her butt at him. Big hands gripped her hips and pulled her back hard against a rock hard zipper.
“Are you taking charge again?” she asked him.
“I’m taking something, sweetheart. Might be advantage. You got a license for that ass?”
“You got a license for that cattle prod?”
“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.” She was giggling so hard, that even though she put both palms on her knees, it was only Steve’s strong hands that kept her from toppling over.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m no good at this.”
Steve sat down on the little bench again. She was naked except for her socks, bra and panties. So not sexy. He turned her sideways and nibbled on her neck. That always made her hot. Of course, being in the same room as Steve made her hot.
“I don’t know what it is you think you’re no good at,” he said. “But I was enjoying your striptease. And I’m enjoying this. Making love doesn’t have to be deadly earnest, Laura darlin’, sometimes love is funny. Doesn’t mean the feelings aren’t serious. What exactly did you have in mind before you started laughing?”
Laura put her mouth to his ear, and now it was Steve’s turn to go brick red and start laughing so hard he nearly fell over. “I’ve created a monster,” he said with masculine satisfaction.