Authors: Stacey Coverstone
The life-long rancher inspected each horse’s teeth and hooves. He ran his hand down their legs, raised their tails, and even checked their privates. After a thorough examination, he chose three and wrote out a check on the spot. All the while, Houdini had been following him around the field like a pup.
“Is this the famous goat I saw on TV?” Massey chuckled, finally acknowledging the curious animal. Houdini nibbled at the hankie hanging from his back pocket and peered at him with impish eyes. “The one that was lost in the thunderstorm?”
“Yes, one and the same. Houdini was looking for his faithful companion, a horse named Buttercup. She’s still missing.” When Jordan rubbed Houdini under the chin, he spoke his goat language.
“Maaaaa.”
“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” Massey said. “First celebrity I’ve ever met.” As he loaded the horses into the trailer, he continued chatting.”Seeing this goat reminds me of a conversation I overheard last night at the pool hall.”
“Dad, what were you doing at the pool hall?” Rachel asked with suspicion.
“What do you think, daughter? I was playing pool.” He winked at Jordan and wiped his damp brow with the hankie from his pocket, not seeming to notice that the corner had been chewed off. “Two fellas were in there, drunk as skunks, and the one was bragging about how they’d stolen a horse. Said they’d had to hogtie some mangy goat that was buttin’ ‘em and wouldn’t let ‘em get near the horse. Then he said this SOB they work for was refusing to pay them for a few jobs they’d done, so they’d come up with their own scheme to blackmail him with the very horse they were sent to steal for him. That’s about all he got out before the other fella whacked him on the shoulder with a pool stick and told him to shut up.”
Jordan felt her pulse accelerate. She and Rachel acknowledged each other silently.
“Did you recognize either of the men, Dad?”
“Yep. The one doing all the talking, I did. It was that Mexican boy, Cimarron Cruz. I remembered him because he came around asking for a job a couple of years ago. I hired him, but the fool never showed up to work. I heard later he got thrown in jail for some damn reason. Oh, excuse my language, ma’am.” He nodded at Jordan.
“Did they say anything else about the horse, Mr. Massey?” she asked.
He closed the trailer gate, latched it and thought a minute. “Yes. The other man told Cimarron he was a moron. Then he said, now the cops will be out at my place snooping around.”
“Thank you, Mr. Massey,” Jordan replied, pumping his hand with enthusiasm.
“Thank
you
, young lady. These are some mighty fine horses I just bought.” As he and Rachel pulled away, Rachel hollered out the window, “See you at the rodeo tomorrow night!”
“I’ll be there!” Jordan ran into the house, dropped the check into her purse, and picked up the phone.
~ * ~
Cole was puzzled when he first heard Wyatt’s voice on the other end of the line. Wyatt got straight to the point and described his plan. When he finished, he asked, “Are you in?”
“You couldn’t keep me out.”
~ * ~
Joe Campbell gritted his teeth and thumped Buttercup with a whip, even though it did no good. The mare had already kicked the stall wall down and bit a chunk out of his hand. Blood oozed through the gauze bandage he’d wrapped around it, and his anger continued to rise as he tried but failed to settle her inside the barn.
“That damned horse! I’ve a notion to shoot her right now and be done with it,” he growled, yanking her halter and roughly tying her off to a post. He grabbed a muzzle from the floor and clamped it around the horse’s nose.
“If you do, I’ll knock the hell out of you,” Cimarron warned. He glared and then went back to shaving a callous off the heel of his bare foot with a pocketknife.
“You won’t knock anything out of me.” Joe raised the horsewhip menacingly above Cimarron’s head. Cimarron dropped the knife and lifted his arm to protect his face.
“I…I’m just saying we gotta use that horse to bribe Mr. Stillwell, Joe. He’ll pay us what he owes us if we threaten to kill her. That horse is the only thing standing between him and that Mackenzie woman’s ranch that he wants so damned bad.”
“I know that, you idiot.” Joe threw the whip into the dirt and paced the barn floor, running his fingers through his greasy hair. “Are you clear on the plan?”
“Yeah,” Cimarron replied. He pouted as he drew a dirty sock over his sore foot and shoved it back into his boot. The two of them headed outside. Joe closed the barn door and secured it with a lock.
“What the hell?” Cimarron pointed across the yard. “Look, Joe! Something’s on fire!”
Joe saw red flames licking the sky and took off running. “It’s my shed!” He sprinted to the water spigot and stopped short. “Where’s the hose?” he shouted.
“I see it! It’s over there.” Cimarron pointed some twenty feet away. The water hose lay coiled on the ground like snake.
“Drag it over here,” Joe ordered. Cimarron bundled as much of the hose as he could into his arms and pulled it. In the meantime, Joe scooped up handfuls of dirt and tossed it onto the raging fire. “Dammit!” he yelled, seeing his efforts had little effect. He dashed over to Cimarron and together they hauled the hose to the spigot. Joe twisted the water hose on as fast as he could and cranked the knob, while Cimarron grabbed the sputtering end and aimed it toward the flames.
Absorbed in their task and all sound deafened by the roar of the fire, neither man heard the thunk of metal on metal when Wyatt broke the lock on the barn door with the whack of a wrench. But both heard his whoop and his hollered, “Yah!” They turned in time to see Buttercup fly out of the barn with Wyatt on her back. He clung to her white mane as she galloped away. Joe was the first to realize what was happening. When he did, he pitched his hat on the ground and flew to his truck. Diving inside, he turned the key, which was in the ignition, but the engine only whined. He cranked again, and again it whined. In a split-second decision, he reached for the rifle hanging in the back window, jumped out of the truck, and cocked the rifle as he ran to the middle of the yard to take aim at the fleeing horse and rider.
Cimarron continued to douse the burning shed as he watched Joe take aim. Buttercup tore down the road with her mane fluttering like a flag. Suddenly an engine roar drowned out that of the crackling fire. A truck squealed from around the corner of the barn. It barreled straight toward Joe. Momentarily stunned into inaction, he hesitated before swinging his aim to the oncoming vehicle. But he moved too slowly. The truck thundered by, so close that he fell backward, off-balance. His shot went wild with the bullet whizzing toward the cloudless sky. The truck spun past him, kicking up gravel. It gained the road and sped off to disappear around the distant bend. The horse and rider were no longer in sight either, long gone.
“Damn it to hell!” Joe stumbled to his feet. He turned to see that Cimarron had shut off the water. The hose lay on the ground, the last trickles of water seeping into the earth. What was left of the shed was charred and smoking.
“Look, Joe. I found these cut wires lying on the ground.”
Joe grabbed the frayed wires out of Cimarron’s hand. “They’re from my truck.”
“Who was on the horse?” Cimarron asked. “Did you get a look?”
“Wyatt Brannigan.” Joe scowled. “Did you see who was driving the pickup?”
Cimarron shook his head.
With steel-gray eyes staring down the road, Joe vowed, “Whoever it was, they’re both going to pay.”
~ * ~
Wyatt and Cole hid Buttercup in a safe place and gave her fresh water and grain. Wyatt stroked her nose and then he and Cole shook hands.
“Good work,” Cole said.
“Back at ya, scout. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Are you going to tell Jordan?”
“I’m going to tell her Buttercup is safe, but that’s all for now. My main concern is her safety, and to get our evidence to the police. I want all three of those bastards to pay for what they’ve done to her.”
Cole pulled a small digital camera from his shirt pocket. “I snapped some pictures of Campbell’s truck fender. It clearly shows the scrapes and green paint from Jordan’s Jeep. I also have photos of the Lucky Seven sign that was vandalized as well as the obscenities that were painted on her barn. It’s not much, but it’s something, I guess.”
“That’s right. We’ll use the pictures to show how they’ve been harassing Jordan. Let’s head to the police station in Alamo.”
~ * ~
Officer Rafael listened carefully to the story the men told together. He was a young man, but Wyatt—who considered himself a good judge of character—felt Rafael spoke and behaved like a competent and dedicated upholder of justice.
“I saw the news reports about Ms. Mackenzie and the goat that saved her life,” Rafael said. “Tell me, Mr. Brannigan, why isn’t she here with you now to file her own complaint?”
Wyatt didn’t hedge at telling a little white lie. “She’s at home recuperating from her injuries. Cole and I have firsthand knowledge of everything that has happened to her since she acquired the Lucky Seven. One or the other of us has been a witness to it all.”
Cole added, “Ms. Mackenzie and I went to the sheriff’s department in Tularosa on the day she was forced off the road, but as far as we know, the sheriff hasn’t conducted an investigation. She’s not heard from him since that day.”
“It was good thinking to take photos,” Rafael told him. “But I can’t guarantee they’ll be sufficient to use for a case of harassment.”
Wyatt chewed his lip, and his brows knitted together. “Oh. There’s something else. You should know that Cole and I just stole a horse and burned down a shed.”
“Come again?” Rafael clearly didn’t comprehend. Wyatt explained how the two of them broke Buttercup out of Joe Campbell’s barn and set fire to his shed as a distraction.
“Technically we didn’t steal the horse since she belongs to Ms. Mackenzie. We were just taking the mare back on her behalf. I’ll testify as to having personal knowledge that the mare was originally Lydia Albright’s, who passed away recently. Jordan—er—Ms. Mackenzie inherited the horse along with several others. Ms. Mackenzie saw Joe Campbell’s truck backed up to her barn with the horse inside his trailer on the night of the big storm. Cimarron Cruz chased her down like an animal, with every intention of causing her harm that night. She saw him very clearly but was fortunately able to elude being captured.”
Cole piped up, adding to Wyatt’s information. “I was a witness to all the property damage, and I was the one to call 911 at the time she was run off Bookout Road. She was physically injured that day as well, and I can also testify to the emotional distress all of this has caused her.”
Rafael scratched notes as they talked. “Seems you’re both good friends of Ms. Mackenzie’s. I assure you, we’ll begin conducting a full investigation into all these matters immediately.”
“I appreciate that,” Wyatt said, relieved. “But there’s one last thing, Officer. And I think it might be the feather in our cap.” He handed Rafael the note they were sure had been written by Stillwell. Rafael read it.
“There’s no way to prove this was written by Mr. Stillwell. He didn’t sign his name.”
“But if he shows up outside the ticket booth at the fairgrounds at nine tomorrow night, we’ve got him. He’ll convict himself.”
Rafael nodded. “You’d make a good officer, Mr. Brannigan. Gentlemen, do you think Ms. Mackenzie will agree to help us conduct a sting operation?”
Wyatt and Cole grinned at one another. “I believe I can talk her into it,” Wyatt stated. “She wants all of this to end and for Addison Stillwell to get what’s coming to him.”
“All right then.” Rafael shook both their hands. “See you at the rodeo.”
They left police headquarters satisfied with the plan. “Thanks again, Cole,” Wyatt said at the truck. “You’re a good man to help Jordan this way.”
“I’d do anything for her. She’s a fine woman. I know you and her are…well, would you mind very much if she and I remained friends?”
Wyatt smiled. “She’s free to choose her own friends.”
Cole chuckled. “You don’t think I’ll try to steal her away from you?”
Wyatt flung open the door of his pickup and climbed in. “I wouldn’t think you were any kind of man if you didn’t want to try.”
Chapter Twenty Three
“You’re sure Buttercup is safe?” Jordan asked for the third time. She still could not believe what Wyatt and Cole had done to rescue the mare. “You actually set fire to Joe Campbell’s shed?”
“Technically, it was Roberts who lit it up.” The two of them sat in the courtyard, having just finished dinner outdoors.
“What if Campbell swears out a warrant against you?”
“Let him try. I’m not sure he saw my face, or Cole’s. Besides, that would be a stupid move since we have Buttercup, as well as your testimony about seeing him leave with the horse in the back of his trailer on the night of the storm.” Wyatt had told her about his and Cole’s visit to the Alamogordo Police Department and asked if she was willing to participate in the sting to trap Stillwell. She wholeheartedly agreed.
“Do you think he’ll really show up? You’d think he’d know by now I won’t simply hand over the deed to my ranch.” She gathered their plates and silverware and went into the house. Wyatt picked up their glasses and followed her in.
“He’s clearly not thinking straight. His game is about to come to an end.” Together they drifted into the living room.
Jordan sunk into the sofa and sighed. “I hope so.”
He scooted beside her and stroked her thigh. “Are you afraid?”
“No. I know you’ll be close by.”
“You can take that to the bank.” She pressed closer and they kissed. “I’ll always be here for you,” he assured.
~ * ~
Around six o’clock that evening, two uniformed police officers entered the Tulie Café, where Joe Campbell and Cimarron Cruz were enjoying the dinner special. Nicki shoved her elbow into the grill cook’s rib and jerked her head toward the big plate glass window in front. Cole stood outside, looking in with an expectant expression.