How to Wrangle a Cowboy (40 page)

“Wouldn’t we have heard something? Wouldn’t Cody?”

He shrugged. “It’s amazing how quick and quiet some predators can be.”

“I thought coyotes always howled before they ate, to call the pack.”

“Not always. And it might not have been a coyote. There’s been some talk of a mountain lion in the area.”

Despite her love for living things and her understanding of nature’s brutal necessities, Lindsey felt like she could shoot Stormy’s killer herself. But revenge never did much real good, and one dead coyote would simply be replaced by another living coyote.

“I’ve got a better idea,” she said.

Shane’s lips thinned to a grim straight line as he took in her purse and keys. “Thought you didn’t approve of puppy mills.”

“I don’t. But this is a chance to check and see if that’s what’s going on. And besides.” She gestured helplessly toward the cabin, where she’d last seen the inconsolable Cody.

“Aren’t you the one who said he was bound to cry once in a while? That we can’t protect him from pain?”

“We can’t. But we can cheer him up a little.” She hoped so, anyway. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to check out your friend the so-called dog breeder.”

“He’s no friend of mine. Sometimes you have to go along to get along, that’s all.”

“Mistreating animals isn’t something I can just go along with.” Lindsey hated the sound of her superior tone, but she couldn’t help herself.

“There’s no way he’s got any kind of breeding operation going on over there,” Shane said. “I mean, you’ve seen the place. Where?”

“That’s what bothers me,” Lindsey said. “He has a sign advertising ten different breeds of puppies, and I’ve never seen a dog outside the place or heard barking.” She tilted her head, wondering what Shane knew. Surely he was some sort of friend to Brockman. Hadn’t he recommended that she sell the man the ranch? “Where do you suppose he has them?”

“I don’t know.” Shane shrugged. “He doesn’t have a barn—just that ugly old Quonset hut, and I’ve seen the inside of that. It’s mostly car parts and junk.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Just be careful, okay? Don’t make Ed mad.”

“Why not?”

“Like I said, sometimes you have to go along to get along.”

“
You
have to do that.” She tossed her hair. “I don’t.”

“Okay.” He put up his hands, palms out, in surrender. “He just gives me the creeps, okay? Be careful.”

Lindsey nodded. Finally, they agreed on something.

Chapter 50

“Oh, he’s a darlin’, that one is,” said Connie Brockman.

Ed’s wife perched her ample bottom in a spindly kitchen chair to watch Lindsey play with an assortment of five Yorkie pups her husband had brought in. Lindsey’s efforts to discover where the puppies were kept had been frustrated somehow. One minute, she and Connie were chatting; then Ed was there, puppies in hand.

Lindsey set down the puppy she’d been holding and watched him stagger off on unsteady legs to join his littermates. “I’d like to see the parents,” she said.

“They’re not on-site,” Ed said.

“You’ve separated pups this young from their mother already?”

Ed cleared his throat, as if that could erase his lie. “Well, I meant the sire. The sire’s not on-site, and seeing the bitch won’t do you much good. You know it’s the father’s attributes that come out in the pups.”

“No, I don’t know that at all.” Sitting back on her heels, Lindsey looked Ed in the eye. “I’m not buying a puppy if I can’t at least see the mother.”

“You go on and get her, honey.” Connie gave Ed a sickly smile. “Me and Miss Ward will just sit here and play with the pups.”

Lindsey was determined to see where Ed went, but she was distracted when a puppy stumbled over and attacked her hostess’s shoelace.

“Oh, get him off me!” Connie kicked out with her foot and sent the pup sailing through the air. Fortunately, he landed unhurt in the midst of his brothers and sisters, but Lindsey wondered why a woman who didn’t even appear to like dogs would set herself up as a breeder.

Money, no doubt.

Glancing up at the window, she saw Ed carrying a small black-and-brown bundle along the side of the house, as if coming from the back. She hadn’t noticed any outbuildings back there, but maybe she needed to look a little harder. There might be a tumbledown shed of some sort back in the untamed trees that bordered the yard.

“Here she is,” Ed said. “Our little Maybelle.”

Their little Maybelle was quivering like an aspen leaf, eyes wide and frightened. Her fur stuck up in dirty clumps, and from the way Ed clutched her, it was obvious he was hiding something.

“Can I hold her?” Lindsey asked.

“No, she’s fine,” Ed said. “You can see she’s a little cold. I’ll just hold on to her over here by the stove.” He started to settle into a chair at the far end of the table, but Lindsey stood and intercepted him.

“I need to hold her,” she said. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep her warm.”

She more or less yanked the dog away from him. Immediately, the little dog’s trembling increased, and Lindsey felt a warm stream of urine run down her hand.

“Oh, she’s gone and peed on you. Naughty girl. Naughty, naughty Maybelle. I’ll just take her now,” said Connie, reaching for the dog.

But Lindsey wasn’t letting go. Turning away from the Brockmans, she set the dog on the floor and watched Maybelle scamper off to see her puppies. As the little dogs whined in effusive greeting, she noticed the mother dog’s furry butt was even more matted than the rest of her. Worse yet, her tail hadn’t merely been docked, although in Lindsey’s opinion the traditional tail cutting was bad enough. It had been completely removed, a common puppy mill practice to facilitate breeding and birthing.

Connie had hiked herself out of her chair and was now running after the dogs, who scampered across the room like a single peculiar creature—one with twenty-four legs and six furry heads.

“Bad doggies! Oh, bad Maybelle! I’ll get you for peeing on nice Miss Ward!”

To Lindsey’s horror, the woman grabbed for a broom. Meanwhile, Ed grabbed a dirty cloth from the counter.

“Too bad our Maybelle had to go messing on that pretty sweater,” he said. “Let me help you with that.” Picking up the dirty towel, he moved toward her, his eyes on her soiled chest.

Eyes rolling, the errant Maybelle scampered over to Lindsey, who scooped her up and pressed her to her breast, blocking Ed with the skill and speed of a cage fighter.

The little dog shuddered in waves that began at her pricked ears and ended at her tailless rump. The shudders seemed to run through Lindsey’s entire body as her rage built and boiled over. What she really wanted to do was grab that broom and give both Brockmans a good thump on the head, but that wouldn’t help the dogs.

And she
would
help the dogs.

“I tell you what,” she said, clutching Maybelle to her breast. “It’s obvious to me that you’re not able to care for these dogs. So I’ll be taking them off your hands. All of them.”

Connie’s grin nearly cracked her face in two.

“Oh, well then.” She set down the broom and beamed. “All of them?”

Lindsey nodded, gathering the puppies close as she made them a silent promise that she wouldn’t leave without them. She didn’t know where Ed was keeping them, or what conditions were like in his kennels, but the dogs reeked with an ammoniac stench that could only come from unclean bedding—or never-cleaned bedding. They seemed so fearful of people in general, and Mrs. Brockman in particular, that Lindsey suspected the broom and other implements were used often, and with vigor.

“Well, now,” Ed said, his brows lowering. “That’s an interesting proposition. You’re not thinking you’ll breed them yourself, are you? I’m not about to enable my own competition.”

“Not at all.” Lindsey’s stomach was starting to burn from all the harsh words she was swallowing. “I want to keep the family together. And I want them out of here.”

Ed laughed. “It’s your funeral. Lockhart know you’re bringing home a bunch of sissy dogs?”

“Shane? He has nothing to do with this.”

“No kidding.” He narrowed his eyes when he smiled, giving his grin a malicious tinge. “I’d like to see his face when you drive up with this lot. He wanted that kid of his to get a rat terrier, somethin’ tough, but the boy was dead set on a Yorkie.” He snorted. “Kid’ll probably grow up to be a gay.”

Lindsey swallowed a retort. She needed to concentrate on what mattered at this moment—getting out of this house and taking the dogs with her.

Spying a cardboard box by the end table, she swept the puppies inside, dropped Maybelle beside them, and picked up the whole lot. As she started for the door, Ed blocked her way.

“The pups are five hundred, like I told you,” he said. “But Maybelle, she’s different. That dog’s been one of our best breeders, you know. She’s worth a bundle in future litters.”

“And she’s my favorite.” Connie shoved out her lower lip in a very unattractive pout. “I just love my little Maybelle. I don’t think I can sell her, Ed. I just can’t do it.”

Lindsey couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “You were just about to beat your little Maybelle with a broom, Mrs. Brockman.” She fished out what cash she’d brought along—about five hundred dollars—and slapped it on the table. “Final offer for the lot,” she said. “Take it, or I’ll make a call to Animal Control and report conditions here.”

Ed stared at her, his brows lowering in a way that made Lindsey think she should be the one trembling with fear. Channeling her inner Wonder Woman, she stared him down.

It wasn’t easy. Ed and his wife gave her the creeps, and the way they looked at her money made her realize she’d made a mistake. For her five hundred in cash, this pair might be inclined to keep the puppies and make sure Lindsey never said a word about what she’d found here. Who would know what had happened to her if they killed her and buried her in the backyard?

Fortunately, Ed was the first to break the stare down. Glowering, he folded his arms across his chest. “You don’t know nothing about conditions here.”

“I know these dogs are filthy, frightened, and abused.” Lindsey tilted her chin a little higher.

“That’s a lie, pure and simple. These are valuable dogs, Miss Ward. And I’m not about to break my wife’s tender heart for that.” He nodded scornfully toward the pile of cash.

“Okay, then.” She moved toward the table, reaching for the money without putting down the box of dogs. It wasn’t an easy move, since the puppies seemed to sense that their future was being decided by forces far beyond their control. Whimpering, they squirmed from one end of the box to the other, forcing Lindsey to balance it with the skill of a juggler.

Slowly, she began to gather up the bills, watching a silent drama play out between Ed and his wife as Lindsey picked up one twenty at a time.

She picked up the last bill, folded the wad into a fat roll, and began to shove it into her pocket, but Connie, whose face had been getting progressively redder and redder, snatched it away from her.

“That’ll do,” the woman snapped. “Now take those dirty dogs and get out of here. And there’d better not be any phone calls, you hear? My husband has power and influence. He can make your life a living hell.”

The woman toddled off to a back room as fast as her orthopedic shoes could carry her. Lindsey caught a glimpse of a room that might have been featured on an episode of
Hoarders
as the woman swung the door open and turned.

“And stop your flirting with my husband, missy. I see what you’re doing. Don’t you think I didn’t notice.”

Ed watched the exchange with an evil smile creasing his face. Lindsey suspected he liked seeing his wife upset, and wondered how often he used his supposed power and influence to make Connie’s life a living hell.

“She’s just upset about losing Maybelle.” His smarmy smile told Lindsey she had him worried.

“She’s upset someone’s figured out how you’re treating these dogs.”

A scowl wiped out any hint of ingratiation as Ed wagged a finger in her face. “Don’t be thinking you can get away with something like this again. These dogs are just a little dirty, that’s all. I take good care of my livestock.”

“Really?” Lindsey faced him, the box of dogs balanced on one hip. “I’d like to see the rest of them, then.”

“No way, missy.” Ed’s whole demeanor changed at the mere suggestion. “I can tell you’re one of them PETA people, figgerin’ animals got the same rights as people. Well, that way of thinking doesn’t fly here in Wyoming. So don’t be believing you can come out here with your liberal friends and stage some kind of demonstration. My land is protected by Smith & Wesson, if you know what I mean.”

Lindsey resisted the urge to roll her eyes. If all went well, she wouldn’t have to deal with Connie Brockman again. Or her husband.

“There won’t be any demonstrations.” She mustered as much calm as she could. “I believe in taking action, not marching around with signs.”

Ed made a low, growling noise deep in his throat, and Lindsey took a step back, almost tripping over the doorsill. The sound was subhuman, and his expression made her wonder about his sanity.

“You done stole those dogs and threatened my livelihood.” His hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly as he spoke, as if he was just itching to throttle her. “Don’t you think I’ll forget it either. Don’t you ever think I’ll forget.”

Chapter 51

As Lindsey headed for her truck, she wished she’d come earlier in the day. Darkness came on fast this time of year. Almost sprinting to the car, she spotted a ray of light shining out from the east side of the house, about the spot she’d seen Brockman carrying Maybelle. He and Connie had wanted Lindsey to think he was going out to the Quonset hut, but it had looked more like he was coming from the back of the house.

Maybe there was something back there. Or a basement entrance. She hadn’t thought of that.

Shoving the box into her truck, she made a “stay” gesture to the puppies, hoping they’d somehow understand they should keep quiet. So far, they hadn’t made a sound, so maybe Brockman did have a collection of pups in the basement, all of them scared silent.