All the Lost Little Horses (A Desperation Creek Novel Book 2)

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Mumbling, “Ah, it’s nice to meet you,” Troy backed away. He’d already disappeared into the barn when both men turned their pickup trucks around and left, Jed taking up the rear this time.

  She shouldn’t stand here and watch them go, but she did anyway. Her life was being flipped on end, and the flutter in her chest that she labeled apprehension might be something else altogether.

  Jed would be sleeping in her house tonight.

  *****

  Jed had learned that Baxter paid his bills by working for a roofing company. Maybe he’d been able to buy those shingles to re-roof his barn at cost. Rather than talk to him on a jobsite, Jed decided to tackle Fort Halleck Police Chief Harrison Seward first.

  Seward wouldn’t like Jed showing up at the police station, but Jed didn’t let that stop him.

  Dating to the 1920s, the building was classic government architecture, if on a modest scale. Imposing and unfriendly, it appeared dated rather than historical. The only exterior modernization was a ramp added to the side of the stairs to allow wheelchair access.

  Inside, the waiting room had the air of police stations anywhere. There was even an underlying scent that reminded him of a locker room, albeit this sweat had been induced by nerves rather than exercise.

  The desk sergeant had a thin comb-over and a huge beer belly. He looked astonished at Jed’s request.

  “Is Chief Seward expecting you?”

  “We didn’t have an appointment, but he’s expecting me to drop by.”

  The sergeant called to the back. Hanging up, he said, “Chief says to send you back. Last door on the right.”

  Jed nodded his thanks and strolled back, taking in the offices, record room and bullpens on the way. Not much security here, if someone showed up who had a grudge against a cop. The sheriff’s department at least had a locked steel door preventing anyone who hadn’t been invited to get beyond the front counter.

  Seward’s was the corner office, of course, although the blinds were down but slanted to allow some light in. In the middle of downtown, his views wouldn’t be anything special, and unless that was one-way glass he wouldn’t have any privacy. He rose from behind his desk but didn’t come around it, although he leaned forward and extended his hand. “Detective Dawson.”

  Jed shook. “Thanks for seeing me.”

  Impatience showed on the police chief’s face as he resumed his seat. A little guy, he never came across as very friendly. “This about the cattle rustling?”

  “It is.” Jed sat in a straight-back wood chair, all that was available.

  “As I told the sheriff,” Seward said pointedly, “I’ve kept abreast of the news. I’m too busy to join in any volunteer patrols, but of course I’ve instructed my officers to watch for any suspicious behavior or vehicles, and to lend their assistance should you need it.”

  “Thank you. That’s good to hear. Grant says you haven’t been visited by our neighborhood cattle rustlers?” Jed now knew that Seward owned a couple of hundred acres out toward Tribulation, an unincorporated community in the southeast corner of the county. The property bordered a stream that joined Desperation Creek, which Jed would have called a small river. It ran right through town and was the reason a fort had been built here in the nineteenth century.

  “Haven’t had any losses. Don’t think any of my near neighbors have, either.”

  The observation was interesting. Jed wondered if there were other clusters of ranches within the county that hadn’t been hit, either. Was it chance that Seward’s neighbors hadn’t had trouble? Or were there factors that would have made the risk for the rustlers too high? He’d lay out a map when he got back to the office and give some thought to this.

  “I hear you have some Charolais.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” the chief snapped.

  “Just curious. I’ve never seen one. Far as I know, Andy Ruckman’s the only other rancher in the county who was trying out the breed. He got wiped out.”

  “Are you implying…?” Seward half-rose to his feet.

  “Implying?” Jed let it hang.

  “That I have this Ruckman’s cattle?”

  “Never crossed my mind,” Jed lied. “Like I said, I’m just curious. We don’t have a lot of Red Angus locally, either. I think that’s what Jack Baker goes in for.”

  The effort it took Seward to make himself sit back down showed.

  “Someone told me he ran some,” he said stiffly. “I’ve met Jack. He’s an old-timer. I’m sorry for his loss.”

  “I think the rustlers have to be local men and women. Not a single ranch in any neighboring county has so much as lost a calf during the past couple of months.” He watched the police chief closely. “You’ve been in law enforcement in this county for quite some time.”

  “Thirty-six years,” Seward agreed.

  “Given that perspective, do you have any suspicion who might be involved with this rustling ring?”

  Expressionless, Seward held his gaze. “If I did, I’d have given you a call.”

  Jed waited a minute, but had to give up. With a nod, he rose to his feet. “Thank you for your time, Chief Seward.”

  All the man said was a cool “I assume you can see yourself out.”

  Was ‘You’re welcome’ too much to ask?

  He was crossing the waiting room when he nailed down an oddity in the conversation.

  Grant says you haven’t been visited by our neighborhood cattle rustlers?

  Strange. He’d expected something like, Nope. Neither have my neighbors.

  Instead, Seward had taken a sideways step. Haven’t had any losses. But the rustlers might have visited?

  And then there was the added comment, Don’t think any of my neighbors have, either. This man was a cop. He’d been kept informed about the surge in cattle rustling. And yet he hadn’t spoken to his neighbors about it? Wouldn’t you think he’d have wanted to know how close the rustlers had gotten to his ranch?

  Jed thought he might have an interesting conversation with one or two of those neighbors.

  *****

  Baxter wasn’t any happier to see him than the police chief had been. Fortunately, Jed had long since become inured to the antagonism he faced on a day-to-day basis.

  This time, he parked at the curb in front of the tiny rental house Baxter had given as his mailing address instead of driving out to the ranch. Baxter might go straight out to check on his cattle, but it seemed likely he’d stop at home to grab a bite to eat first.

  In fact, Jed hadn’t been here fifteen minutes when Baxter’s pickup, a ten-year-old Dodge, appeared around the corner at the end of the block, coming to a near-stop when the driver spotted the sheriff’s department vehicle in front of his house. The guy was evidently smart enough to know that doing a U-turn and fleeing wouldn’t look good. He pulled into his driveway in front of a single-car, detached garage too small for a modern-day pickup truck, got out and walked to meet Jed.

  “You again,” he said flatly.

  “Get used to it,” Jed advised. “Until I arrest every single man or woman involved in the cattle rustling operation, I’ll keep coming back.”

  “You have no reason to suspect me.”

  “Most ranchers have welcomed me with open arms. They want me to catch these sons-of-bitches. They still have hope they might get some of their herd back. Most of the ones who haven’t suffered a loss are welcoming, too. They’re eager to participate in patrols. They invite me out to inspect their fences and see their herds.”

  Gene Baxter stared at him with growing alarm. For the first time, he had to understand how bad he’d screwed up.

  Jed continued, “Then there’s the handful of you who meet me with hostility. Who seem nervous at the idea I might look around their property.”

  “I called you out when my trailer was stolen,” Baxter blurted.

  “Sure you did. But me, I’m distrustful by nature. I couldn’t help wondering whether you were afraid that trailer of yours had been seen hauling
cattle that weren’t yours. Might be a good idea if you made sure we wouldn’t trace it to you.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” The protest came out sounding weaker than Baxter had undoubtedly intended.

  “Just a thought.” Jed shrugged. “Either way, we’re looking for your missing trailer.” He nodded, turned away then back. “Oh, something else. One of the Webb’s neighbors heard some shouting the night Gary was killed. Interesting thing. The neighbor heard a name. Bet you can guess what that name was.”

  From the shock on Baxter’s face, Jed could have been a rattlesnake coiled in the driveway. Tail rattling, head positioned to strike.

  He nodded again. “Good day, Gene.” He strolled to his vehicle, got in and drove away.

  Baxter stayed unmoving, staring after him.

  *****

  Jed’s phone rang before he could call Grant to report on his conversation with the police chief. He recognized the number, having spoken several times with the detective in Crook County.

  Detective Frasier launched right in. “We got lucky. You know we were at a standstill with Oren Calderon.”

  Jed knew. Frazier had been more than cooperative when Jed asked for a favor, going right out to talk to the man, then returning again a week later to put some pressure on. Neither visit got him anywhere. Apparently he hadn’t given up, for which Jed wouldn’t have blamed him.

  Feeling a buzz, he pulled off the road. “What happened?”

  “The idiot had a break in his fence. Can you believe he’d be that careless? A fellow driving by had to slam on his brakes to keep from hitting a calf. He saw a few cows and calves had wandered out. Some were grazing on the road verge. A rancher himself, he saw that the calf carried Calderon’s brand. But it ran back to its mommy, and her brand didn’t match. He kept checking, found three unknown brands, but all the calves he could get close to bore Calderon’s brand. Plus, the fence down was his. That passing rancher didn’t like what he’d seen. He gave us a call, waited for me while I drove on out. Just got back, in fact. Took some pictures, then the two of us shooed the strays back into the pasture and propped up the fence. I’m waiting for my warrant, which we’ll serve first thing tomorrow.”

  “You’ve made my day. We haven’t had a recurrence of the rustling, which means the patrols and fly-overs are doing some good, but I’m not even close to making an arrest. Glad the guy driving by had sharp eyes. And that you were available.”

  “Oh, I’d have made myself available even if I’d been in the middle of a high-speed pursuit. And, like I said, Frank had heard about the troubles ranchers were having in your county. You’re not that far from his place. He’s steamed, and glad to keep his mouth shut until we get out there to secure the animals on Calderon’s land.”

  “He could have bought already-branded cows.”

  “Check your email.” Frazier sounded smug. “I sent the photos. Three of the brands matched ones you asked us to watch out for.”

  Jed gave an astonished laugh. “I never thought we’d get any of the cattle back.” He frowned. “You have someone watching his place tonight?”

  “Damn straight we will. Once we sort out the cattle and sit Mr. Calderon down, you want to join us?”

  “There’s nothing I’d like better.”

  A minute later, he called Grant with even more to report on than he’d expected.

  *****

  From the moment the men arrived, they took over Linette’s house as if they belonged there. Niall deposited half a dozen bags of groceries in the kitchen before carrying his duffle and sleeping bag upstairs. She hadn’t gotten halfway through putting away the groceries when he returned to shoo her out of the kitchen.

  “I’ll cook tonight.”

  Not sure what Jed was doing, Linette took refuge in the barn until he chased her down to say dinner was ready. As they walked back to the house, she saw how worn Jed’s face was and that his usually clear eyes were bloodshot.

  Once they sat down to eat beef stroganoff and asparagus, he said, “This is for your ears only.”

  She and Niall nodded.

  He proceeded to tell them about what sounded like a big break in his investigation of the cattle rustling ring. They might even be getting back some of the stolen animals.

  Feeling a rush of relief, Linette said, “You mean, this might be over?”

  “You’re talking about what’s been going on here at your place?” When she nodded, he said, “No. For one thing, if we can’t get this guy to talk, we’ll be back at a standstill. For another… I’m not convinced your troubles are connected.”

  Linette wasn’t sure what his expression meant. Was that pity she saw? Frustration? Or something else altogether?

  Niall’s gaze flicked from Jed’s face to hers, then back again. “Did I tell you I apparently don’t have a horse anymore?”

  They both stared at him.

  “Yeah, my youngest sister, Ginny, started riding Grendel.” Grendel was his black quarter horse/morgan cross. “Next thing I knew, when I showed up at the boarding ranch to ride, I’d find out she already had him out. He’s, man, I can’t believe it, fourteen now. Anyway, I made it official when I set out on my cross-country jaunt.”

  “You love that horse.”

  “I love my sister, too.” He smiled crookedly. “They’re good together. Once I’m settled, I’ll find a young horse.”

  After that, conversation at the dinner table flowed easily, for the most part. They shared enough history to give them something in common. Jed had seemingly gotten over his earlier dark mood, although he spoke less than Niall and she did. Which was nothing new; he’d always been quiet. Charm and a southern brand of good manners characterized Niall, although she suspected that both were a thin veneer protecting whatever demons lay beneath.

  When Jed rose to start clearing the table, she took the dishes from his hands. “Have a cup of coffee and sit. Both of you. I’ll clean up.”

  From the kitchen, she could hear them talking, but not make out what they were saying. When she rejoined them, she learned that Jed planned to stand his watch first. Linette thought about protesting. The few hours’ of sleep he’d had this morning obviously hadn’t been adequate, but she knew he wouldn’t let her take his place.

  When he rose to his feet, stretched until he touched the ceiling and said, “I’ll go out the back,” Linette jumped up, too.

  She said, “I’ll head to bed.”

  “I won’t be far behind,” Niall agreed. “I’ll get the lights.”

  Linette thanked him and trailed Jed toward the kitchen. She should have stopped at the foot of the stairs. That she kept going had to be the result of some kind of compulsion. She watched as he turned off both the kitchen and outside lights and opened the back door.

  “Be careful,” she whispered.

  “You know I will,” he murmured, in a voice of deepest velvet.

  She hadn’t seen him move, but she felt a soft stroke on her cheek, his fingertips or knuckles. And then he slipped out, leaving the door open. By the time she peered out, he had already vanished from sight.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Linette might be an early-to-bed, early-to-rise woman, but she was far from sleepy. Conveniently enough, she was in the middle of a really good British mystery, so she propped herself up with several pillows and settled in to read. As tired as she usually was at the end of a day, she had been making slow progress on the book. Having Troy here fulltime and now Niall working for a few days, too, she could indulge herself.

  She heard Niall come up while her light was still on, so she called, “Goodnight,” and he did the same.

  A couple of hours after her usual bedtime, she turned off the light, readjusted the pillows, and declared herself ready to sleep. Unfortunately, the message didn’t shut down her thoughts.

  What was Jed doing right now? Sitting in the tree house? Patrolling her property the way he had last night? What if he got in trouble? Would she or Niall hear, too late, a shot from the far reaches of her
land or a squeal of tires on the road out front?

  The worry drove away what little drowsiness she’d dredged up.

  She lay still, listening as hard as she could. Her screened window was open, but it looked westward, while most of her land lay north and east of the house. She’d left her door cracked, too, not liking the idea of being oblivious to whatever happened during the night.

  Now, she punched her pillow into shape and rolled over. She was tired. She was. So why couldn’t she sleep?

  She knew herself better than to ask such a dumb question.

  Eventually, she must have dozed, at least, but she didn’t sleep through the faint squeak from the staircase. Oh, no. Consciously or not, she’d been waiting up for Jed. Unless this was Niall going downstairs for some reason? Had Jed called him? Body tense, she heard a low voice. Niall’s, she thought. A light from the hall must be coming from the crack beneath the bathroom door. A soft exchange of voices didn’t relax her. Jed was back safe.

  Finally, the sixth step betrayed Niall heading downstairs.

  After that, Linette didn’t hear a thing. She lay still, staring toward the dark hall, unable to tell if Jed had paused outside her door or already gone into the bedroom to sleep. Finally, she couldn’t help herself.

  “Jed?” she whispered.

  *****

  Busted.

  Jed stifled a groan. How had she seen him standing out here? He’d been asking for it, though. The knowledge that she lay in bed so close had rooted his feet in the hall right outside her door.

  “Yeah? Did we wake you up?”

  “I don’t know,” she said softly. “I wasn’t sleeping well. Did anything happen?”

  Still talking to the darkness, although he knew exactly where her bed was and that he was looking straight at her, he said, “Nope. Quiet as a mouse.”

  “Oh.”

  He waited, although he should say goodnight and go on to bed. God knows he was tired enough to fall asleep before he got his boots off.