ShotgunRelations (5 page)

The middle-aged cowboy who’d stared at him
when he’d picked Liz up for the wedding yesterday spat out a mouthful of
chewing tobacco and glared at Liz. “’Bout time you got back here, boss-lady.”

Not about to let the asshole get in Liz’s
face, Jack stepped forward. “You apologize now. What makes you think I’ll stand
by and let you disrespect a lady?”

“It’s all right. Frank, go on now and take
Nancy to church.” Liz sounded conciliatory, and that pissed Jack off.

“All right. I’m going. I sent the crew out
to round up more calves for branding. They should do okay without you riding
herd on them.” Frank started to leave but Jack caught his arm and spun him
around until the foreman had no choice but to stop and face him.

“Apologize to Miss Wolfe. Now. I never want
to hear you’ve spoken to her again the way you just did.”

“Sorry.” From Frank’s tone it was obvious
he wasn’t sorry at all.

Jack itched to wipe the belligerent
expression off the foreman’s leathery face. “Go on. Do what you need to do.” He
watched as the foreman got into a jeep with a laughing wolf painted on its
doors and drove away.

“Don’t you want to come inside and say
hello to Mother?” Liz asked

Jack didn’t much care for Mavis Wolfe and
didn’t feel up to making nice. “I’ll pass. You go ahead inside and change. I’ll
head on down toward the barn and commune with the horses, if that’s okay with
you.”

“It’s fine, Master. I’ll join you in a few
minutes.”

“One other thing, honey. Don’t wear any
underwear. I want to know your shirt and jeans are the only things between me
and your breasts and pussy.”

He thought he heard her whisper, “Yes,
Master,” as she headed for the house.

* * * * *

Cowboy boots weren’t made for serious
walking. Jack’s feet ached in several places by the time he got near the barn,
so he climbed onto the top rail of a nearby paddock and observed half a dozen
horses cropping the grass and frolicking around. He squinted into the bright
sunlight, then put on his sunglasses even though he was sure they looked weird
with the straw Stetson that Liz had assured him he’d need to keep the sun out
of his eyes.

He didn’t know why he’d once thought he’d
enjoy being a rancher, because with every furtive glance at the rambunctious
horses he figured his ass would hurt worse than his feet by the time he
finished this ride—that was, if he survived it.

Bye would certainly laugh if he saw him
now. At least that wasn’t likely, since he and Karen had flown away to a resort
in Baja California as soon as they could decently leave their wedding guests.

“You picking out your horse?”

Jack turned at the sound of Liz’s voice and
watched her as she sauntered across the field with a sexy swing of her hips.
She seemed in her element now, in jeans and a long-sleeved red plaid shirt. Her
ponytail swung in the breeze and he liked the way the sunlight seemed to bounce
off the golden-brown strands. When he jumped down from the fence and went to
join her, he couldn’t resist taking her in his arms.

“I’m gonna have to get you a cowgirl outfit
to wear when we go play at the club,” he whispered close to her ear. “One that
looks just as sassy as what you have on but leaves a lot more of you uncovered
for me to ogle.”

He found he liked the way she blushed when
he said something to embarrass her. “Yes, Master. Which horse would you like to
ride today?”

“I think I’ll let you pick for me. Keep in
mind that I’ll find an interesting way to punish you if you put me on one that
bucks me off.” When a grizzled old cowboy limped out of the barn toward them,
Jack stepped back from Liz, not wanting to undermine her authority with her
employees.

“I think you’ll look good on Zeus. He’s the
black gelding over by the gate.” She moved in that direction and spoke to the
cowboy. “Tom, saddle Zeus for Mr. Duval. I’ll ride Athena today.”

“Yes ma’am.” Tom glanced Jack’s way, a
curious look on his weathered face. Then he snapped a lead onto the black
horse’s halter and led him into the barn.

“Zeus is a fierce sort of name. Are you
setting me up for a spill?” Jack asked Liz as they waited for Tom to come back
with the horses.

“No, Master. If I wanted to give you a hard
ride, I’d have told Tom to saddle
him
.” She gestured to the paddock on
the other side of the barn, where an equally jet-black horse snorted and pawed
the ground. “His name is Neptune. He’s Zeus’ sire. Right now he’s chomping at
the bit to get at some of the mares that are in heat. I wouldn’t ask anybody to
ride him when he’s got mating on his mind.”

“They’re both good-looking horses. Why’d
you have Zeus gelded?”

“His dam has some flaws in her bloodlines.
We didn’t want those flaws being passed down. She got bred with Neptune by
accident—meaning that Neptune jumped a fence and had himself a good time around
seven years ago.”

So Zeus was a bastard too. Jack looked
again at the stud that had sired Zeus. The horses looked alike to his untrained
eye, except that Neptune stood a few hands higher—much like Four towered over
him. “I take it Zeus is better behaved than that one?”

“Much better. You don’t really think I’d
put my master in danger, do you?”

Jack squeezed her hand. “I don’t think you
would. I know you like how I can make you feel.”

“You’re right. Here come our horses.”

Liz’s mare was pure white. “Athena and Zeus
contrast nicely,” he said. “Are all your horses named for Greek and Roman
gods?”

Liz laughed. “No. Only the ones Neptune has
sired. Athena here was a real surprise. Most of Neptune’s get have been black
or blood bay, no matter what color mare he was mated with.” She scratched her
mare’s nose when she took the reins from Tom.

When Tom handed Zeus’ reins to Jack, the
big horse nuzzled his chest. “I think he likes me.”

“Zeus likes everybody. Come on, let’s get
busy.” When she mounted, Liz shot Jack a pointed look. “You okay, Master?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Jack swung up into the
saddle and waited for Tom to adjust the stirrups.

Tom finished what he was doing and stepped
back. “Does that feel okay, Mr. Duval?”

“It’s fine, thanks.” Drawing on old
memories, Jack dug his heels into Zeus’ side and loosened his grip on the
reins. “Let’s catch up with Athena.”

Riding through the overgrown pasture with her
master made the flowers seem brighter, the sky above bluer than before. Jack
made an arousing picture on Zeus’ broad back—a dark, handsome man astride a
horse with gleaming jet-black hide that almost matched the stubble on his
rider’s strong jaw. Even the straw Stetson perched on his head at a rakish
angle lent a sense that he belonged here, to her land. To her, as much as she
belonged to him.

When they reached the fence that separated
the Laughing Wolf from the northwest corner of the Bar C, Liz had to force
herself to take care of business when all she really wanted was to keep looking
at Jack.

“What do we do now?” he asked.

She smiled. “We watch for broken fences
between the Laughing Wolf and the Bar C, and for Bar C cattle that may have
strayed through the cut. In this pasture, if there are any cattle, they
probably belong to the Bar C, since we haven’t been running cows here since
last spring. When we’re riding along the farm road, we pay special attention to
places where it looks as though the fence has been cut and then repaired,
because nobody has ridden this section for a couple of weeks. We shouldn’t see
tire tracks, but if we do, then we’ve probably had a visit from a rustler.”

“Rustlers? Seems to me that the prospect of
spending ten years or more in prison should be a pretty good deterrent for
somebody considering getting himself some free beef.”

“You’d think so. But as the economy gets
worse, rustling has become a real problem. We’ve lost twenty-five almost
market-ready steers in the past couple of months, which is why the hands are
out counting heads on our main pasture, which is bordered on two sides by
outside roads.”

Jack let out a low whistle. “If one person
made off with all of them, that would be grand theft for sure.”

“If they took one, it would be that.
Feedlot-ready steers sell on the hoof for upwards of two thousand dollars
apiece.”

“I should have guessed, with decent steaks
selling for more than ten dollars a pound. Hey, aren’t those tire tracks?”

They certainly were. The overgrown grass
was bent and broken where a vehicle had come off the road and apparently driven
straight to the fence that separated the Laughing Wolf from the Bar C. Liz
dismounted and examined the fence where the tire tracks stopped. “Somebody cut
this fence and then repaired it. Not long ago either. What I can’t figure out
is why. We don’t have any cattle here.”

“Maybe they weren’t stealing from you,
honey. Looks to me as though there are plenty of cows over there.” He gestured
toward the meadow where cattle were grazing among the dozens of pumpjacks.

“Why would rustlers cut two fences, though,
when they could have gone right onto the Bar C and taken whatever they wanted?”
Liz looked along the distinct tracks to the section of fence next to the road.
“Let’s go look and see if the fence was cut back where the tracks started,” she
said as she mounted Athena and spurred her along the path of the tracks.

Jack beat her there and slid off Zeus. “My
guess is that you haven’t had people riding fences while there haven’t been cattle
here to tend. I imagine Four is pretty careful to protect his cattle, not to
mention those oil wells. Here’s where it looks as if the fence was cut and
pieced back together.”

“You’re right.” After dismounting and
checking the section of fence Jack had indicated, Liz shook her head. “I’d
better let Four know he may be missing some of his prize Brangus steers, but I
can’t imagine him not knowing that already. He has cowhands counting heads of
cows and riding fences every day.”

“Maybe some cowhands are the ones doing the
rustling.”

“That’s certainly possible but I doubt it.
Bye mentioned how Four has been mighty careful to run background checks on all
his employees since one of the wranglers ran off with Deidre a few months ago.”
She followed Jack’s gaze toward the spot where somebody had cut the fence
between the two ranches. “I’d hate to think anybody who works on the Laughing
Wolf is a rotten apple, but I’ll talk to Frank and see if he’s hired anybody
recently without thoroughly checking references.”

Jack looked at her as though he felt her
distress and wanted to allay it. “It’s more likely the Bar C hands were tied up
getting ready for Bye’s wedding and didn’t have time to ride all the fences
every day. Honey, if somebody trespassed across your land to steal some other
rancher’s cattle, you can’t be blamed.”

“Maybe not legally. But I shouldn’t have
thought this field was safe just because we had no cows in it. I’m the one who
told Frank it was okay to slack off on checking it regularly.”

“Nobody would expect something like this to
happen. What you need to do now is call Four, and then get the sheriff out here
before these tracks get washed away. Maybe they can take casts of the tire
treads and match them up with the tires on somebody’s vehicle. Unless I’m
mistaken, whoever did this did it within the last few days—but I’m certainly no
expert on gathering evidence.”

Jack pitied the son-of-a-bitch who’d
rustled Four’s cattle while the man had celebrated his fair-haired son’s
marriage, if that proved to be what had happened. He listened while Liz spoke
on her cell with the man, then remounted and went back to checking for cuts in
the fence along the farm road.

“He’s coming over to look for himself.” Liz
took another long look at the tire treads. “I hope these tracks don’t match any
of our ranch trucks, or any of our employees’ private vehicles.”

“Did he insinuate that you might be
rustling his cows?” That didn’t make sense to Jack. The Laughing Wolf was
nowhere near as big as the Bar C, but it had plenty of cattle and Liz certainly
had no need to risk going to prison for stealing Four’s beef.

Liz shook her head. “He suggested one of
our wranglers might be doing some rustling on the side. Since we’ve lost cows
too, that’s a definite possibility. Do you see any more cuts that have been
repaired?”

“Not yet. Is the sheriff on his way here?”

“Yes. That looks like his car coming up the
road.”

Jack followed Liz’s gaze toward a
late-model SUV speeding in their direction. “He must live nearby.”

“I don’t think so. He must be coming from
another ranch around here.” She joined Jack at the spot where the fence had
been cut. When she dismounted, so did he.

“Mornin’, Liz.” Sheriff Todd Atkins looked
at Jack, a suspicious look on his familiar face. “Mornin’, Duval. I hope you’re
not out here on business.”

Liz started to say something but Jack
squeezed her hand and spoke. “Strictly personal business, Sheriff. I came out
this morning to spend some time with Liz since she needed to ride fences. We
noticed these tire tracks and traced them from this fence to the one that
separates the Laughing Wolf from the Bar C.”

“This sure looks like you’ve had a visit
from some rustlers. Think it could be the same varmints who made off with those
cows of yours a few weeks ago?”

Liz shrugged. “I don’t know. We didn’t find
anyplace they’d cut fence to get in with a truck, but the pasture where we lost
cattle has a gate that opens onto the asphalt road and a good gravel road into
the pasture where tracks wouldn’t be easy to spot, the way these are.”

Alarms went off in Jack’s head. “Isn’t that
gate kept locked? If it isn’t, I’d think it would be practically as good to a
rustler as an invitation to steal.”

“It was locked. Before and after the cows
disappeared.”