by Evie Nichole
“What are you suggesting?” She gave a laugh. “That we should go on the offensive?”
“Why not?” Cal burst out. He grabbed hold of his reins so tightly that his horse half reared. “Why not run over to the Flying W and open up all of their stock pens, chase their horses up to the peak, and then laugh while we watch them scramble to hold it together.”
“But that isn’t us,” she argued. Her brow was furrowed and she looked frustrated. “Believe me. I’m as sick and tired of this crap as you are! I’ve been listed in this region as a suspect for livestock theft for months now. Every single time I sell a horse, no matter whom it’s going to, I have to establish with a notary and a livestock inspector that the animal is mine to sell. It makes me look like a crook. And Aria Callahan is going through the same thing at Clouds End Farm! She sells horses to buyers all over the country. She lost a sale in Texas last week because the guy heard a mysterious rumor that the horse was stolen.”
“So, why are we letting him set the pace?” Cal snapped. He spun his horse around and pointed down the hill to where Brutus was now lying there with half a dozen people in scrubs poking at him. “Weatherby and the Flying W are screwing with us. I say we screw with them back.”
She rubbed her hands down her face. Her mare had finally settled down, and now even Mora was looking at Cal as though he were crazy. Finally, Jesse threw up her hands. “What would you suggest?” she demanded. “Come on! Tell me what you think we should do. Is there a plan or a thought in your head about what this potential offensive looks like?”
“Yeah.” Cal’s brain was spinning like a top. He could not believe he was suggesting this. He felt like a teenager on Halloween. “We can go over there and screw things up for them the same way they do for us.”
“Whoa!” She shook her head emphatically. “I’m not hurting any animals, and shame on you for suggesting it!”
“I didn’t”—he realized that he sort of had suggested that—“That wasn’t what I was getting at. I don’t mean we go poison their stock. I’m saying that we need to think of something to keep their asses so busy that they don’t have time to bother us.”
“Oh.” She sat back in her saddle, and her expression turned distinctly curious. “Well, now. That could be fun. Although I’m not toilet papering the ranch house. That’s just wasteful!”
Cal actually laughed in spite of the tension he was feeling in his gut. “I don’t remember you thinking that when you were in high school.”
“Yeah, that’s because I didn’t actually have to buy the toilet paper back then,” she retorted. “That totally changes your opinion, you know?”
She started to say something else, but they both heard the hum of a four-wheeler approaching. It was Deputy Perkins. The ATV stopped a respectful distance from the horses, and Perkins sat for a moment as though he was trying to collect himself.
“Nitrate poisoning,” Cal offered flatly. “That’s what you’re going to say. Right?”
“Yeah.” Perkins looked uncomfortable. “The wildlife guys are going to have to go after the cougar.”
Jesse looked incensed. “Why? Nitrate poisoning isn’t contagious like that.”
“The vet isn’t one hundred percent sure about what it is when ingested.” Perkins sighed. “Although I don’t know what they think they’re going to do. I believe it’s more of a concern about what happens when a cougar gets a taste of domestic beef.”
“Crap.” Jesse groaned. “That poor cat. It’s not like they can give it fluids to flush its system or something. I just hope they relocate it instead of killing it.”
“That’s the plan, to my knowledge.” Perkins paused for a moment. Obviously, this was not his actual reason for coming up here. “We looked at the brands. You’re right. These were most definitely your cattle. They’ve been branded over with the Flying W. I’m not exactly sure how to handle this.”
“Because Weatherby is a cop,” Cal grumbled. “Yeah. We’re getting a bit tired of that.”
“What about internal affairs?” Jesse suggested something. “I know it’s kind of a television thing, but can’t you call some kind of internal investigative branch from the state governor’s office or something? This is getting ridiculous. The man is making it nearly impossible for anyone but him to do business on the front range!”
Perkins actually looked a bit confused. “You know, we could file a complaint from our sheriff’s office. The Flying W is technically in our jurisdiction. Weatherby doesn’t have jurisdiction on his land. He’s always been given some leeway because that’s what cops do for each other in the law enforcement community, but this situation right here kind of blows that out of the water.”
“So, do something,” Jesse moaned. “Please?”
“Just so you know.” Perkins was busy reshaping his hat in his hands. Obviously, he wasn’t looking forward to this next bit. “The local Denver-based livestock inspector is getting tired of this bullshit between the ranches. He’s about ready to slap fines on all of you and be done with it.”
Cal nodded. “I had a feeling they would start questioning whether or not they needed to go outside the region for the livestock contract.”
“But that’s millions of dollars they’d be paying to some outsider!” Jesse protested. “Is the board really going to do that just because one rancher is acting childish?”
Perkins and Cal were both nodding now. Perkins cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, yes. It’s time to end this. All of it. The Hernandez Land & Cattle Company, the Collins Ranch, Clouds End Farm, the Flying W, and even the Farrell Ranch need to get their acts together and learn to get along.”
“Maybe it’s time to have a direct discussion with Weatherby himself,” Cal mused.
He had never really considered that option. At this point, it was about the only one left open to him. He could go talk to Weatherby without his father’s mouth and big boasts getting in the way. Joe Hernandez was still in the hospital. Maybe it was time for his sons to take this opportunity and settle some things once and for all while the grumpy old grizzly bear was out of the way.
“Thanks for your help, Perkins,” Jesse told the man with a smile. “I know it must suck to get stuck out here trying to investigate crimes that don’t make sense.”
“Speaking of that crime.” Perkins replaced his hat on his head. He gestured to Cal. “What can you remember about last night when that stock got dropped off?”
“The smell,” Cal murmured. He began to nod. “It had to be silage in the bottom of that trailer. Maybe they coated the whole trailer in nitrate-heavy feed. That stock would eat, even if it wasn’t much. The smell was bad enough that the stuff had to be loaded with rot.”
“Did the trucker look like he realized what was going on?” Perkins wanted to know. There was still something in his expression that suggested he really wanted to go after that trucker.
Cal was heavily aware that the poor guy in the driver’s seat was too far under Weatherby’s thumb to be of any use to them. “I don’t think the driver knew squat. If he had, he would have been trying to get that stock off his trailer before they keeled over right there. I thought they’d just been up there without water for too long. They were walking like they were drunk. Staggering a bit, falling down, that sort of thing.”
“So, they were already dead when they walked back onto your property,” Perkins muttered. “I’m sorry for that, Cal. Nobody likes to see their stock misused and thrown away like that. It just burns, especially when it’s a good bull.”
“Weatherby couldn’t have known they took Brutus,” Cal decided suddenly. “He would realize that it might tip our hand against him.”
“Then, maybe I’ll focus on that,” Perkins said thoughtfully. Then he tipped his hat to them both. “I’ll be in touch.”
Jesse and Cal both nodded as he headed out. Then once the ATV was far enough away that they could hear each other think, she pointed at Cal. “You’re going to go try to talk to him. Aren’t you?”
; “I think I have to.” He couldn’t imagine any next step that did not include that as a major part of it.
She got that mulish expression on her face once again. “Then, I’m coming with you.”
“Fine by me.” He winked at Jesse. Everything in life was better with her there by his side anyway. He certainly wasn’t going to turn her down now.
Chapter Nine
The day had been hellishly long, and just about the only thing that Jesse could think about was a shower, but that wasn’t going to happen just yet. There was no time to go back to her own house. Not even to change. She was still wearing the same clothes she had dragged on in the middle of the previous night just to come over and start bugging Cal with questions about their parents.
All of that seemed so very far away right now. The search for justice, the curiosity to find out what had really happened, and the desire to know the truth had not lessened. But right now, she felt as though she and the rest of the Hernandez family and their longtime friends were caught between Paul Weatherby and disaster. This was what mattered. Nobody was going to care what had happened in the past if current events were making the world fall in around them.
“Are you ready?”
Jesse glanced over her shoulder at Cal. He had just stepped out the front door of the Hernandez house. The sun was just beginning to start its trek toward the horizon on its way to a glorious western sunset.
Jesse tried not to be distracted by the man so that she could focus on his words. She lifted her shoulder at what had to be a rhetorical question anyway. “I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“You want me to drive?” Cal gestured to his pickup.
Jesse shot him a withering glare. “I rode Mora over here last night. Remember? So, unless you want to make the drive over to the Flying W in reverse, we’re going to have to take your truck.”
“Right.” Cal’s features took on the ghost of a smile right before he headed for the driver’s side of his truck. “You should really have that looked at.”
“Uh huh?” she grumbled. Yanking open the passenger door, she climbed up inside. “You know anyone who’s good with transmissions?” She strapped herself into the passenger seat. “Because I’m not so great with mechanical things.”
“Oh, I know a guy.” He started the engine and the big diesel truck roared to life. He backed out of his spot and angled the truck toward the road leading back to the highway. “But he’s really expensive.”
“That right?” Jesse turned and stared morosely out the window. “Maybe he just thinks too much of himself and his time.”
“Or maybe he isn’t looking for money.”
Of course, the man Cal was referring to was himself. He’d been rebuilding engines and transmissions for years. If he couldn’t fix it, he would at least be able to tell her exactly what was wrong. But Jesse was hesitant to ask for that sort of favor from the man. She was in deep enough with Cal. She just didn’t know how far she wanted it to go. What did she want? Was it right? Was it wrong? Was she losing her damn mind? It was difficult to say, and sometimes she really didn’t want to think about it anymore.
They were silent most of the way to the Flying W. It was the dinner hour and Jesse was starving. Right now wasn’t the time to worry about it though. There was a strong likelihood that they would catch Captain Weatherby at home right now. That was the main goal. Everything else could wait.
Cal turned off the highway and drove under the big wrought iron sign with the winged W worked into the scrolling metal. From here it was actually possible to see the sprawling ranch house. It was new, only a few years old. Most of the older ranches sported homes that had been around in some shape or form since Colorado’s early history as a territory. Paul Weatherby had gone against convention and built himself a million dollar ranch-style brick home at the front of his property close enough to the highway to make access easy in all weather. It was practical in many ways, but Jesse could not imagine it being a good financial decision.
“Look at this place,” Cal muttered as he pulled up the last twenty or so yards and parked in the house’s circle driveway. “Is he running a ranch or trying to build the set of some sitcom about a ranch?”
“I’m going to go with option two,” Jesse muttered. “This place looks like a magazine layout. He’s certainly going for image.”
Jesse had seen this place from the highway plenty of times, but she’d never been up this close. She couldn’t imagine what the masonry alone had cost during construction. The brick-and-stone “castle” style facade was both elegant and very, very ostentatious.
“All right, then.” Cal shut off the engine and opened his door. “You ready?”
“Yeah.” Jesse felt a shot of panic. “I’m going to let you do the talking. I’ll just tell him what I really think and get us both arrested for something stupid.”
“That’s what I love most about you,” Cal said warmly. “Your beautiful talent for driving right to the point and cutting through all the bullshit.”
Jesse nearly fell out of the truck. What? What was he saying? That he loved her for sticking her foot into her mouth? No. Way. She didn’t say anything. She was too confused and surprised to even think. Besides, Paul Weatherby apparently kept an eye on his front drive because at that moment he threw open the elaborate plank wood front doors and gave them both a very fake, very toothy grin.
“Welcome!” Paul boomed. “I must say I’m surprised to see you two here, but I’m glad for the company all the same. Won’t you both come inside?”
Paul Weatherby was a bear of a man at six feet tall and perhaps three hundred pounds. He was wearing khaki slacks and a polo shirt. The man looked like a golfer, not a rancher. His hands had no callouses anymore. He paid people to do his work for him. His thinning brown hair was shot through with gray, and he looked every bit of his sixty years old. Perhaps the thing that bothered this man the most was the fact that at sixty years old he had not managed to unseat the ruling family—the Hernandez Land & Cattle Company—to become the premier ranch in the region. Oh, boohoo. Jesse couldn’t bring herself to feel bad for the man at all.
“Well, come on now,” Paul urged. “Don’t be shy.”
Shy? Cal glanced at Jesse. She knew that she didn’t have to say it out loud for him to know that she was not going into that house. As far as she was concerned, the man was evil. Going inside was just giving him an opportunity to commit murder and hide the bodies.
“Actually, Paul”—Cal gave Paul a pointed look that said far more than his words—“while we appreciate your offer of hospitality, it isn’t necessary. What we’ve come to say can be said quickly.”
“All right, then.” Paul folded his hands in front of him. The man certainly had a good poker face. Nobody could fault him on that. It would remain to be seen if he could hang onto it even when he was faced with his own sins.
Cal pointed at Weatherby. It was a bold move, as it immediately put the man on the defensive. “You have to stop this bullshit with the stock, Paul. And don’t try to tell me that you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’re taking stock from our ranch, rebranding it with your brand, throwing it back on our property, and trying to claim that it’s stolen.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Paul murmured.
His body language said otherwise. Apparently, that poker face was barely skin deep. Paul crossed his arms over his barrel chest. Cal didn’t let that deter him. “You can deny all you want, but last night, you poisoned my stock and then turned them loose on my ranch. It would have been a disaster of epic proportions if you hadn’t made the mistake of stealing and then poisoning a bull that is so well-documented as belonging to our ranch that not even the sheriff’s department, the veterinarians, or the state livestock inspectors questioned what brand was really supposed to be on his hide.”
Paul’s reaction to that statement was almost violent. The man’s face turned into an ugly mask of anger and irritation before he was able to quick
ly smooth out his features and return them to studied blandness.
Paul cleared his throat. “Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Perhaps you should think things through before you start throwing wild accusations around. Just because you’re afraid that your illegal activities are going to lose that rodeo stock contract for you.”
Jesse couldn’t stand it anymore. She pointed her index finger at Weatherby and growled. “Are you really that stupid? Do you honestly believe that people don’t know what you’re up to? Poisoning was an idiot move, Captain. That meant it was easy-peasy to strip those animals to find out what the original brand was. It’s documented now. You can pick one of your employees to take the fall, like usual, but what good will it do?”
Cal picked up where Jesse left off. “You’ve also created a situation where the committee would rather just go outside the region to choose someone to get that contract. Your shenanigans haven’t done anything but make us all look like a bunch of morons. So, congratulations. You’ve managed to screw it up for all of us.” Cal snorted and half turned to go back to his truck. “We’ll survive just fine with our other contracts, with our real estate deals, our land deals, and all of the other businesses that we have. How are you going to do when you don’t even get any secondary contracts from this deal?” Cal let that sink in for a minute. He was aiming below the belt, and Jesse wondered if Paul Weatherby could stand the heat.
“That’s bullshit!” Paul blustered. “They won’t go outside the region.”
“Are you sure?” Jesse shot back. “You’ve made it seem like nobody here is worth working with. You’re throwing suspicion on everyone but yourself, and yet you look like the asshole because everyone knows you’re the one behind the scenes yanking everyone’s strings. The board is tired of the drama, and you’re in the hot seat. I hope you didn’t want to retire from the police force anytime soon, Captain,” Jesse said nastily. “You’re going to have to work until you’re eighty to make the payments on this place.”