Marrying the Rancher

by Roz Denny Fox

  She caught Mr. Bones, dried his feet and put him back in the carryall. Maybe she should follow her partially diverted stream and see whose cattle Wyatt had photographed yesterday. He’d said it was too dark to check. They’d all assumed the animals belonged to whoever had ended up with Lonnie Wright’s estate.

  It didn’t take her long to reach the headwaters of Cedar Creek. She agreed with Wyatt’s verdict. It was impossible to tell if the boulders bisecting the stream landed there in a rockslide or had been strategically placed.

  Touching her heels to her mare’s flanks, she followed the bubbling water and was led to Lonnie’s meadow. Angus heifers grazing there, plus those drinking at the diverted stream, bore ear tags displaying the Circle H brand belonging to Hicks. So why had he lied about applying for a new lease near Eagle Crest?

  Angry enough to spit nails, Tandy rocked in her saddle while trying to decide if she should confront Hicks again, head home or call the sheriff now. If Lonnie’s land was tied up in court, she doubted Preston would’ve been granted lease rights. Even if he hadn’t deflected her stream it was unlawful to graze a herd except for on privately owned land, free range or a paid lease. The whole situation made no sense. The Circle H had always been the biggest ranch in the territory.

  Tandy knew Quail Creek used to meander kitty-corner across its fertile tableland.

  Oh, how she wished she could run her concerns by Wyatt. Darn it all! She’d told Scotty and Manny she’d make lunch, and besides, dark clouds again swirled overhead. It simply made sense to postpone doing anything.

  Even as she decided to turn around, raindrops began beating on the brim of her Stetson. The rocky ground she had to cross quickly became slick. As a result, she was an hour late getting to her barn.

  She wasn’t surprised to find Manny and Scotty had left. Wet to her skin, she still rubbed down Butterscotch and rewarded her with a scoop of oats. Then dashing through a downpour, she burst into her house and freed Mr. Bones.

  No lights were on, nor did a fire burn in the fireplace. Figuring the pair must have gone to Manny’s, Tandy donned a dry jacket and hat to dash across the muddy courtyard. She banged on the casita door and waited, expecting Scotty to burst out and complain about her being late to fix lunch.

  Manny eventually greeted her, yawning and blinking sleepily. “I don’t want any lunch,” he said.

  “Okay. Where’s Scotty? Has he eaten?”

  “He’s not in the barn or by the corral?” The old cowboy leaned out to stare that direction.

  “No,” she said, her throat tightening. “Did you leave him there?”

  Manny nodded. “After the rain stopped he went to your house and got the pamphlet Wyatt gave him with those animal tracks. My knee started to hurt worse, probably from the rain. I said we needed to go to one of our houses and wait for you. It was almost eleven thirty. He begged to look for tracks around the corral. I knew he’d done that before, and we expected you home around noon. So I let him stay. I came in, sat down and musta fell asleep. What time is it?”

  “It’s one thirty.” Tandy fought down mounting panic.

  “Lordy, it’s storming again. Let me get my poncho and we’ll go see if maybe he took shelter in the woods. Where’s Mr. Bones?”

  “I dropped him off at home. I’ll get him.” She flew off Manny’s porch.

  “Leash him,” the man called after her.

  Her hands shook so much Tandy’s fingers almost refused to hook the dog’s leash. When she succeeded, she grabbed him up and ran toward the barn, passing Manny, who hobbled along.

  “Wait for me,” he called.

  “You’re in pain. Stay by the barn in case Scotty returns. If I’m not back in fifteen minutes or so, call the sheriff and see if he’ll round up a search party.” Her head reeled at the thought of needing a search party that might not form for her.

  At first she took heart because Mr. Bones sniffed at the edge of the corral and bounded toward the trees, yanking her along. Once there she called Scotty’s name. Her shout rose on wind whistling through tall pines.

  The dog found a footpath. Never having had to study tracks, Tandy found those imprints in the still-icy mud indistinct and confusing. Dizzy with worry, she stopped, unable to breathe. But, she forced herself forward to where several muddy roads cut through the woods, seeming to intersect. Where did they all come from and where did they go? One went deeper into the dark forest, another angled up the mountain. She wasn’t aware these existed. Obviously they were fire roads built after she’d left home.

  Attempting to combat a growing runaway fear, Tandy reminded herself she’d been trained to be army calm when her life was in danger.

  But this is Scotty’s life.

  Tightening her hold on the leash, she started uphill where she saw a footprint. Mr. Bones tried to drag her down a different path. All at once that road narrowed and petered out. Dripping tree branches suddenly felt like monsters.

  “Scotty! Scotty!” Her screams died in dark foliage. She couldn’t tell if she followed a boy’s boot tracks or those of someone with bigger feet.

  Wyatt. Scotty and I need Wyatt.

  Extracting her cell phone with shaking fingers, her heart pounded wildly when she couldn’t get a signal.

  She picked up Mr. Bones and staggered back toward the ranch. What if this morning he’d completed his work and wasn’t available to help?

  She started to run but slipped, then she tripped on a tree root and almost fell. Mr. Bones whimpered so she loosened her grip.

  The corral came into sight just as she felt really light-headed and she battled against the sound of water rushing through her ears. Maybe she was hallucinating because she imagined she saw Wyatt’s pickup skidding to a stop in front of the barn.

  “I called him,” Manny informed her when she almost ran the injured cowboy down.

  “Thank you, thank you,” she cried.

  Suddenly Wyatt was there hugging her.

  Her breath came in gasps, and it was Manny who filled Wyatt in on what he’d done.

  “I know Scotty kept saying he wanted to help you find the last two wolf pups,” Manny said. “I must’ve been in too much pain to not realize he meant it. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up.” Wyatt took the wet dog from Tandy and handed him to Manny. “Tandy, you’re shaking. Stay with Manny. I’ll find Scotty.”

  “I can’t. I’m half-crazy with worry as it is. Waiting would finish me off.” She began to tell him about the confusing fire roads.

  “Let me grab a compass and a meter to pick up sound from any of my collared wolves. I found a missing pup. His pack traveled in a loop that may connect with those fire roads you’re telling me about.” He dashed to his pickup and returned straightaway with his dart gun and a bulging backpack.

  “I’m taking Mr. Bones to my house,” Manny yelled after the two jogged off.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Tandy saw Wyatt return a wave to indicate they’d heard, because she had plunged headlong toward the woods again.

  Chapter Nine

  Tandy set their rapid pace, feeling better for having Wyatt there to hold her clammy hand and share her anxiety. “I shouldn’t have gone to check cows today,” she huffed out. “Or I should have insisted Manny stay off his leg one more day.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. And don’t be mad at Manny for calling me.” Wyatt tightened his hold on her icy hand and added, “Where are your gloves?”

  “I’m not mad at Manny. I tried phoning you from here and couldn’t get a signal, which is why I went back to the corral. About my gloves, I dropped them when I put Mr. Bones on a leash. I worried the leash would slip through my gloves. Now, something else...before I returned from checking fences to learn about Scotty, I already could’ve kicked myself for sending you away.”

  “I’
m back now.” He stopped at the intersection of the fire roads. “What the hell? I don’t recall seeing these in our flyover.” He crouched and studied the mud.

  “I don’t remember them, either. I think this is still my land. And it’s where Mr. Bones lost Scotty’s scent. At least it’s where he ran in circles and howled. I thought I found two small boot tracks there.” She pointed uphill. “The dog tried to go a different direction. All I saw there were funny tire tracks. Scotty would’ve been on foot. Wyatt, I’m scared to death.”

  He straightened, brushed a kiss over her forehead then let go of her hand and duckwalked along the two intersecting roadways.

  “Okay, some kind of vehicle drove this route recently.” He indicated the dirt road the dog had favored. “Narrow tire tracks like from a dune buggy or golf cart go up and back. They cross the road where you saw prints headed up the mountain. I don’t know what type of vehicle the forest service personnel use around here. I thought they drove pickups. These tracks are new since this morning’s rain.”

  Tandy fisted a hand against her belly. “You th-think Scotty may have been kid-kidnapped?”

  “Don’t...sweetheart.” Rising, Wyatt briefly rubbed her tense back. “Who’d be on these roads but neighboring ranchers or the forest service? Scotty may be young, but he’s smart as a whip. He’d give his name, yours and tell a ranger he lives at Spiritridge. Let’s go a little higher and get out from under these evergreens. If there’s a satellite signal we’ll call and see if Manny’s heard anything.”

  Tandy expelled the breath she held. “Okay, forget my hysterical momitude. I discovered my army training doesn’t mean squat when it’s my child who’s lost. I’ll do what you think is best. Just do it fast, okay?”

  Wyatt again took her hand and led her up the rocky road. They reached a plateau but still didn’t have phone service. “Here’s where the vehicle with the narrow axle parked.” He showed her a few clear adult-sized boot tracks that soon disappeared uphill amid broken rock.

  “Would Scotty hike this far from home? Maybe we’re totally wrong, Wyatt.”

  Dropping her hand, he searched beneath a thicket of high desert brush and found clear kid footprints. “Tandy, come look. I think Scotty took cover in this underbrush.” He unhooked a torn piece of cloth off a thorny bush and handed it to her. “Is that from his jacket?”

  She cried out as she took the cloth, but nodded.

  Wyatt held her momentarily. “Let’s go.”

  They both backed out of the thicket. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Wyatt bellowed Scotty’s name several times.

  Doing the same, Tandy listened between shouts.

  Hearing nothing but a few echoes off the rocks, Wyatt dug out his wolf radio tracking device and urged Tandy to scramble higher.

  “Do you think the wolves are near here?” She panted between words.

  “Maybe.” He worried more about seeing an occasional partial kid footprint following whatever adult had roamed the area in a storm. He kept that worry to himself because he felt Tandy’s body tremble.

  “Your wolves or the hybrids?” Tandy yanked hard on him, forcing him to stop. “God, I almost forgot. Preston Hicks owns two big mean dogs matching your description.” In fits and starts, she relayed her morning encounter as they climbed. “Oh, Wyatt, he also said with you gone he could rid the area of your wolves. What if he picked Scotty up?”

  “I’ve not seen any hybrid tracks in still-wet areas. I didn’t see kid boot tracks near those tire prints below.”

  “I just have a bad feeling. I used to get them and the guys in my command learned to pay attention to my hunches.”

  “I’m not brushing you off, Tandy. I think we’re still on Scotty’s trail. Once we find him I intend to visit Hicks’s ranch and take someone who has authority to nose around.”

  “It’s going to storm again.” Tandy shivered and stabbed a finger toward dark clouds lowering overhead.

  “Time to pick up our pace.” Wyatt reached back and lifted her atop the next outcrop of rocks.

  Fat raindrops started to fall but didn’t slow Wyatt. He moved quickly in and out of low-growing mesquite and wet creosote bushes.

  Tandy huffed. “I can’t believe Scotty climbed this high.” She spoke to Wyatt’s back even as he knelt at another copse of brush.

  “See this? I believe he hunkered here a while. Will you trust me a little longer? I think we’re heading in the right direction.”

  Lightning flashed followed by rolling thunder. Cold rain stung their exposed flesh. Tandy bit her lip but curled her fingers with Wyatt’s. “I trust your tracking.”

  “Do you hear this?” He held his tracking device nearer her ear. “We’re in range of one of my collared wolves. The readout suggests it’s from the pup I vaccinated and banded this morning.” He tucked her under his arm and did his best to proceed and provide her extra cover.

  “Wyatt, I see a stand of sycamore trees up there. The rain’s turning to snow. Are we heading into more thundersnow?”

  “I hope not. Let’s dash across that next wide flat mesa. The radio noise has gone static. Odd, although one pack may have found a cave around here.” Placing the chattering locater in Tandy’s hand, Wyatt unsnapped a cross-body sheath that held his dart gun. He checked to see it was ready to use. “Grab the back of my jacket. Step where I step, okay?”

  “Roger that. If Scotty’s up here he must be so frightened.” Tandy’s teeth chattered as they crossed the open space. Still, the wooded area they aimed for sat on the other side of another incline of ice-slick shale.

  Wyatt slowed of necessity, picking his way ever more carefully. Bone-jarring claps of thunder overhead warred with increased noise from the unit Tandy carried.

  All at once Wyatt ground to a halt. He reached back for Tandy, dragged her around and flattened her against his left side.

  She sputtered, “What by all that’s holy are we doing stopping with lightning cracking everywhere?”

  He stabbed the barrel of the dart gun, drawing her attention to a spot in a clearing nearer the trees.

  Tandy adjusted her Stetson. “Are we looking at that wooden crate?” She stiffened and clutched his arm. “Yikes, I see two wolves. One’s circling the box, the other is batting it.” She moved closer to Wyatt. “I can’t tell what’s happening over the noise of this thing.” She shook the tracker. “Is one wolf crying?”

  “The female,” Wyatt said through gritted teeth. “That’s a box trap. Our wolves are exempt from even licensed trappers. I’ll bet one of the pups is caught. Pass me the tracking device. I’ll shut it off and try running the big wolves off by throwing loose rocks. Can you use the dart gun to tranquilize them if I get close and they don’t run away?”

  “If it shoots like a rifle I’ve got it.” She eyed the wolves through sleet while Wyatt picked up loose rocks.

  Stifling an anguished cry, Tandy suddenly clutched his arm. “If Scotty got this far, what if wolves attacked him? Oh, Wyatt.” Her face contorted in pain.

  “Honey, don’t think the worst. Wolves generally fear humans.”

  She hauled in a deep breath and let go of him. “All right. Maybe Scotty’s hiding in those trees. Your plan is what? Release the trapped pup? How much time do we have? Do you know how that thing opens?”

  “One of the sides lifts up. The person who built and set it no doubt put some fresh-killed meat inside as bait. Box traps rarely snag a full-grown wolf. They smell the human scent and would have to be starving to go in for food. A pup’s different. They’re curious like human kids. He’d enter for the bait and trip a bar that drops the spring-loaded door.”

  Swiveling to gaze uneasily around, Tandy checked the dart gun. “Do you think the trap setter is still close by?”

  “I don’t think so. Remember those tire tracks we saw? They turned around and went back. Probably
whoever set this plans to return in a day or so, not caring if the animal inside starves to death. I’ll throw rocks. You stick close and call again for Scotty.”

  She did, but the wolves howled along with a loud clap of thunder.

  Issuing a loud rebel yell, Wyatt charged the wolves, throwing rock after rock.

  Tandy lost her grip on his jacket and stumbled.

  The two big wolves turned tail, disappearing into the trees.

  Wyatt stopped at the crate. Cries coming from within sounded animal and oddly human. He grabbed one edge and jerked up on the slats. Nothing budged.

  Panting hard, Tandy fell against Wyatt. She couldn’t talk at first because she was out of breath. But she stabbed a finger at a hook lock near the bottom of the hinged side of the crate.

  “I see. Thanks.” On his knees now, Wyatt opened the catch and threw up the door. The low cries inside became a shriek and Scotty scrambled out on his hands and knees, followed by a wolf pup who scampered off toward the sycamores.

  “Scotty, Scotty, oh, my God!” Tandy dropped the dart gun and opened her arms. However, her son launched his body at Wyatt, throwing his arms around the man’s neck. The force knocked Wyatt’s cowboy hat off and nearly landed him flat on his backside.

  “I knew you’d find me, Wyatt. Mama said you went away. But I knew you’d come back. The bad man brought that box up here. He left and I saw a baby wolf go in. I lifted the side to let him out. He wouldn’t come past a stick thing so I crawled in to pick him up. The stick fell and I couldn’t get out. And big wolves came.” His whole body shuddered and he began to sob. “I’m so...sorry. I just wanted to free the little wolf. The big ones scratched at me. They snarled. I’m c-cold and hungry. Will you take me home?”

  Wyatt unwound Scotty’s arms. He raised his own tear-glazed eyes to Tandy, who hovered above them. Her tears had frozen on her cheeks. But at least the thunder and lightning had moved on.