Authors: Isadora Montrose
Tags: #General Fiction
They kept congratulating her, and wanting to shake hands with Steve. Of course they should have shaken hands with her, but she had lived her whole life in Colorado, and she knew that they would never offer their hands to the boss, especially because she was a woman. To them it would seem like bad manners.
“I want to get this stock moved today, Laura,” Gary said when the deputies had left. “I’d sure like to catch those varmints, but when it comes right down to it, I’m not prepared to leave twelve hundred head of cattle out here to be taken away. Don’t think we should ask the boys to keep watch, even though they would – if we told them too.”
Laura wanted to help get the cattle rounded up and see the herd moved to fresh pastures with her own eyes. Steve pointed out to her that her men didn’t have a spare ATV for her to use to help. She was surplus to requirements.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “But without a horse, or an ATV, it would be just the two of us on my Harley, spooking a bunch of cows. There’s a reason you use a silencer on the muffler of all your ATVs, isn’t there?”
Laura had to concede that Steve was right. She knew there was nothing that cows hated so much as strange objects. These animals were used to horses, and they were used to the little ATVs. But they weren’t used to Steve’s motorcycle. It was more likely to panic them than to get them heading where they were wanted.
“Besides, we don’t want to be heading home in the dark,” Steve concluded his argument.
Laura looked at her watch in startled disbelief. “I didn’t know it was so late. I didn’t even call home to let Rosa know I was going to be late. She’ll be worried, and so will Daddy.”
They backtracked, because taking the direct route over the fields as the trucks had done, was too dangerous on a motorcycle. At least, on the way back to the road they were able to ride over the trail broken by the rustlers. Steve still didn’t gun his engine, for despite the dry weather they had had, the flattened grass was slick under his tires.
The shadows were growing long and the deputies’ cars had gone by the time they reached the gravel road. The deputies had been sympathetic. They had taken photographs of the ATV tracks, but had not been optimistic that they had any evidence that would lead them to the actual rustlers.
Steve kept his pace moderate on the narrow road. The wheels of the Harley churned up the grit and flung it against the windscreen of the motorcycle in a series of little pings.
Laura was aware that if Steve had put the pedal to the metal, she would’ve been bombarded with tiny chips of stone that would have hurt, despite her visor. To say nothing of the risk of skidding. But Steve drove like he did everything else, with calm and competent skill.
Still she was glad to see the paved County road. Even though there seemed to be no traffic, Steve braked at the stop sign. He looked right, then left and then right again. The gunshot from across the road shattered his left hand mirror just as he leaned into his turn.
Steve’s pistol was in her hand, while he was throwing her to the ground and covering her with his body. Whoever was shooting at them from the trees tried again. But the light was going. Laura could see the muzzle flash. She gripped the Glock with both hands and fired back. Her shot was rewarded by a scream.
Steve’s mouth was against her hair. “Jesus,” he breathed. “Don’t move.”
Laura was quite content to lie still. She didn’t think that she had actually hit the shooter. She hadn’t had enough idea where he was. And even though she was a reasonably good shot, she had never used this handgun before. And she was aiming above her head. None of which added up to marksmanship.
It seemed a very long time before Steve rolled off her body. “Don’t move,” he said through his teeth. He was using his command voice again. She was getting a little tired of it. But it didn’t occur to her to disobey. She nodded very slightly.
Steve took the pistol out of her hand. He moved sideways into the ditch. And after that she couldn’t see him. A humped shadow flickered across the road. That was probably Steve, going the long way around to see if he could find the shooter.
His voice was loud when he called her. “Get an ambulance,” he shouted. “One down.” Laura called the EMS in Acton. The woman who answered the phone was folksy and very sorry. The ambulance had gone to Gloversville. Someone had had a heart attack. She would pass on the message, but it would be some time before they came. She promised to send the deputies back.
“Bring the blanket, Laura,” Steve called.
Her fingers fumbled on the latch of the carrier, but eventually she wrestled the blanket out from underneath the cooler. She jogged across the street with it. Steve was kneeling behind a clump of bushes his hands pushing down on a slender man. There was blood everywhere and Steve was bare chested, his leather jacket on the ground. He had made his own T-shirt into a pad and was pressing hard on the gunman’s wound.
“Shoulder wound,” Steve said. “He’s in shock. His lung may be compromised. He needs to be warm. But I need some of that blanket first to try and stop the bleeding.”
Laura fished her pocketknife out. She nicked the blanket six inches from the edge, and tugged until it ripped all the way to the end. She handed Steve the strip of fuzzy material.
“Do you want me to help lift him?” she asked.
Steve nodded. The gunman’s cheeks were smeared with black goo, but as soon as she raised his shoulders, Laura recognized her cousin Nolan. “How badly is he hurt?” she asked. “The ambulance will be at least forty-five minutes, and probably more like an hour.”
“Shit,” Steve said. He wound the strip of blanket around Nolan’s shoulder and tied it tightly. Her cousin’s eyes stayed closed.
“Is he going to die?” she asked.
Steve shrugged. “Probably not. Did you call the cops?”
“Yep.”
“Do you know this guy?” Steve asked, still pressing down on the wound.
“Say howdy to my cousin, Nolan.”
* * *
Deputies Brown and Florez were first on the scene. They made Laura and Steve stand beside the motorcycle while they argued over whether it was worth the risk of transferring Nolan to the black and white and taking him to the hospital in Andover. In the end, they decided that it was better to wait for the ambulance, so that Nolan could be stabilized, before he was transported.
“I don’t think we’ve ever handled an ambush in the Sheriff’s Department,” said Deputy Gavin Brown. “The Sheriff is on his way. But I know he’ll call the Staties in on this one.”
Naturally, the police had impounded Steve’s motorcycle as evidence. They had also taken his gun, but had declined to charge Laura with any crime.
“Seems a pretty open and shut case of self-defense,” Detective Markham of the state troopers had said.
Nolan had gone directly to the hospital, and apparently to surgery. Laura didn’t know if he was going to live or die. She was now so tired she couldn’t really bring herself to care.
When the deputies drove them home, the porch light was on, even though the sun was coming up and the sky was already lightening. Daddy opened the door himself. It looked as though he had not gone to bed. He put his arms around Laura and held her in a tight embrace.
“Beats me how that little SOB knew where to wait in ambush,” Freddie said as they sat in the living room drinking hot chocolate.
“I’m sure the news that we had found the missing stock was all over the ranch within minutes,” Steve said.
“They still wouldn’t have known where exactly we found them,” Laura said sleepily.
“That’s right,” Steve said. “Only Gary had the GPS coordinates. But he probably looked them up on the map before he headed out. If he told his people, it would have been common knowledge in minutes. Which explains how Nolan knew where to wait for us.”
“Or maybe he knew where the cattle were stashed, because he’s the one behind the rustling.” Freddie put into words what they had not wanted to even hint to the police.
Steve had his arm around Laura, her head was resting on his shoulder, she was almost asleep. He got a good grip on her and stood up. “Bedtime,” he said. “We’ll tell you the rest in the morning.”
“I guess I should turn in too.” Freddie got to his feet.
Steve bore his mate off to bed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Laura woke to blazing sunshine. There was no one in bed beside her. And the clock told her it was closer to lunchtime and to breakfast. She rolled out of bed, feeling wearier than when she had fallen into it. She and Steve had spent hours and hours talking to the Sheriff’s deputies, as well as to the detectives sent by the state police.
Her mirror showed her that the activities of the day before had taken their toll on her face and skin. She looked hollow-eyed and haggard. And for the first time she could remember, she hadn’t shown up for work.
Steve had turned off her cell. When she flicked it back on she had a host of texts, and a bunch of missed calls. She called Gary back first.
“What’s the news?” she asked.
“It’s your news I’m interested in,” he returned. “Imagine my surprise to hear that after you left us, you were nearly bushwhacked.”
“It was Nolan Belington,” she said.
“So I hear. I thought you would want to know how many head we found yesterday.”
“I would.”
“Thirteen hundred and six. Thirty of the mamas are still in calf.”
“That still leaves us shy seven or eight hundred head,” Laura pointed out.
“I hired Alvin and Roger to do some aerial reconnaissance,” Gary said. “I sent them up with Dusty and Aaron.” Alvin and Roger were the local crop dusters. Dusty and Aaron were seasoned Double B cowboys. “They’re crisscrossing the northern range where we never pasture stock in the winter. I’m hopeful they’ll find a few more head.”
“The rustlers probably got a lot to market, before we even knew we were being robbed,” she reminded him.
“Yeah. I just hope to God, Laura, that we’ve shut them down for good.”
* * *
“Now I reckon you’ll be surprised,” Sheriff Ramirez said. “We surely were. You told us that Duane Smith was down in Texas, driving truck for his uncle. My guys followed it up. But it seems like there never was a job for him there.”
“Go on,” Laura said.
Ramirez looked around and dropped his bombshell. “While Smith does have an uncle in Texas, and his uncle did buy a new semi, the uncle didn’t asked Duane to come drive it for him. He sold him the old one.”
“Well, dang it,” said Gary.
“So now we have Duane Smith in possession of a cattle truck,” Ramirez said. “My deputies located him up this morning. He’s been renting a house in Wyoming, so we are having to work with the police there. But we should be able to extradite him no problem.”
“What about my cousin?” Laura asked.
“He is still in the hospital,” Ramirez said. “He’s not answering any questions. His folks showed up the first night, and his sister.” He raised his brows but Laura didn’t comment. “He’s got some high power lawyer out of Boulder, so he’s not going to tell us anything.”
The Sheriff shrugged. “But we’ve got him dead to rights, that shotgun has his prints all over it. And we found the slugs. There’s no question but that he was shooting at you and Holden last night. I don’t think there’s much a lawyer can do for him, but I expect he’ll try.”
Ramirez went away. Gary and Carlos found something they needed to do. Freddie told them his vaccination reports were behind. Pretty soon there was only Steve and Laura sitting around the board room table at the ranch offices. He got up and closed the door.
“You want to tell me why I was the last person on the ranch to know that rustlers were operating with impunity?” he asked her. “I would never have taken you out there if I had known you could get shot at.” He folded his arms across his chest and glared at her.
“Could we have this fight another time?” she begged.
“Will your answer change if we wait?” he asked.
She sighed. “No. I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t know what you would do with the information. You’re still an unknown quantity, Steve, and I have the responsibility of millions of dollars of this estate.” She squeezed his arm. “If it makes you feel better, I realized yesterday when we were both in bear, that I could trust you to the ends of the earth.”
“Easy to say now,” he growled.
* * *
Steve and Laura circled around each other for a few days. But life on the ranch had to get back to normal. It was still May. Mares were still dropping their foals, calves still needed to be vaccinated, and the cattle that they had found out on the open range had to be processed.
Gary and the boys had brought home over thirteen hundred steers, cows, and calves. That meant there were still over seven hundred missing. Some of them had probably and inevitably gone to market. It was unlikely that they would ever be accounted for, or the rustlers caught. But it was also possible that some of those animals were still on the ranch.
After three days of flying over the back country of the Double B, Gary was able to report that the crop dusters had located an additional two hundred head of cattle. These ones were steers. It seemed that the rustlers, having realized that stashing the animals right on the Double B was such a successful strategy, that they had started separating out the most valuable animals.
The sharp eyes in the air had found a field where the rustlers had put in a gap so that they could access a side road. It was obvious that they had been provisioning cattle in that section until they were ready to take them to market.