Twice A Target (Task Force Eagle) (13 page)

Her heartbeat clattered anew, and her knees wobbled.
“Holt, that bullet was aimed high. As high as...the body of a mounted rider.
Like
I
was the intended target.”

Returning, he handed over her mare’s reins. “If those
shots are connected with Rob’s murder, they could’ve meant to scare us off.
Aimed high not meaning to hit us. Just coincidence you started to mount at that
moment.”

She bit her lip, not convinced. “I believe I heard
that you lawmen types don’t believe in coincidences.”

Mouth tight and eyes averted, he made no reply.

Chapter 13

By the time Holt finished with the county detectives and
returned with them from the ambush site to the Circle-S, it was afternoon. The
rocky trail beneath Ghost Mountain had contained no tire tracks, but the aspen
had yielded bullets to be sent to the ballistics lab.

The guest and cattle ranch was a larger spread than
Holt’s by a thousand more acres and bordered the Pike National Forest, where
the Raffertys had grazing rights and access to riding trails for their guests.
Outbuildings clustered around the main house like Herefords around a feed
trough. A new stable to replace the one that had burned stood next to the barn.
In addition, the string of guest cabins attested to the ranch’s prosperity.

Witnessing what other ranchers had to do these days to
make ends meet, let alone flourish, made his gut queasy. Some of the larger
ranchers sold off great parcels of prime acreage for vacation homes and
wildlife refuges. Others, like the Raffertys, eked out their living by
entertaining city folks who wanted a taste of the real West.

What would he have to give up to make a go of the
Valley-D? He was sure no genial host like Will Rafferty. Nor did he have enough
acreage to spare for vacation real estate.

“The sheriff will notify you when we have more
information,” the chief detective said. He tipped his hat in farewell. After
the detectives picked up the other deputy who’d been questioning the ranch
employees, they drove away.

Holt strolled toward the ranch house to find Maddy.
She’d been more sanguine about that hot embrace than he had. Damn, he’d nearly
ripped off her clothes and had her there on the hard ground. And he had the
feeling it would have been with her cooperation.

If they had sex, could they keep it uncomplicated,
casual? Would a sweaty bout or two between the sheets excise his craving for
her? She already had him tied in knots, had him sniffing her scent and
listening for her voice in the breeze. The image of those perfect breasts
tipped with the color of ripening strawberries brought her taste back to him so
strong that his mouth watered.

Hell, he didn’t need this. He had to concentrate on
the ranch and on solving the murder of his family.

With all the excitement, he’d thought he might have to
forgo a discussion about Rob with the Raffertys. He spied Will on the porch.
Shit no, he had to get it over with.

Like the authorities, he’d found no inconsistencies or
shaky alibis for any of the ranchers or cowhands he’d interviewed. Whoever
wanted Rob dead must have hired the gun, and this neighboring property was a
prime staging area for a paid killer waiting his chance.

The ranch manager greeted Holt from the ranch-house
porch. A wide grin crinkled his eyes as he tipped back his high-crowned hat.
“You’ve had a day to put a crimp in your hat. Want some coffee or a
cerveza
?”
Will stuck out a hand.

Holt took the firm grip. “A beer would go down just
fine about now.” In a few minutes, he’d find Maddy and the horses, and they
could be on their way.

Will fetched a couple of long-necks, and they sat on
padded cedar chairs in the screen-enclosed section of the porch. “They find
anything?”

“Not much.” Holt knew better than to disclose
information. Word got around, no matter how circumspect one intended to be.
“Did anyone go out hunting this morning? Or see a vehicle between the creek and
Ghost Mountain?” He figured he knew the answer before Will responded.

The other man shook his head. “Most of the guests went
out with the wranglers on a trail ride through parkland. That’s the other
direction. They’re still out.”

“Anyone not go on that trail ride?”

“Some kids and a few older guests. My sister organized
activities for those who wanted them. Two of my regular hands are working on
props for next weekend’s cowboy action shooting matches. My folks went to
Denver for a few days. Aside from me, that’s it.” He slanted Holt a consoling
smile. “I went all through this with the deputy.”

“I appreciate that, Will.” Holt tipped up his bottle
for a calming gulp. “You’re real understanding to let me grill you like this
without taking offense.”

“After what happened to your brother, I don’t blame
you for trying to find out all you can. I’d do the same thing if anything like
that happened to my family.” Will plunged a blunt-fingered hand through his
thick reddish-brown hair. “You think the two incidents are connected?”

Holt’s gut tightened but he schooled his features into
a noncommittal mask. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’d sure like to know why
someone might have wanted to kill Rob. And why they might want to kill Maddy
and me.”

Anxiety creased Will’s freckled forehead. “You think
it was murder and not a hunting accident of some kind?”

“I do. For lots of reasons. And whoever shot at us
today meant to kill us.”

Will’s mouth curved in a wry grin. “So I’m a suspect
along with my cowhands and paying guests?”

“I suspect no one and everyone. No offense, Will.”

“None taken.” He shifted in his chair and crossed his
legs, propping one ankle on the opposite knee. “I’ll level with you. Rob and I
had our differences.”

Holt’s pulse kicked into a fast trot. In spite of his
temper, Rob had charmed everyone he met. Was this just another example, or
something more? “What do you mean?”

“When my family bought the Circle-S a few years ago,
we knew we’d have to keep adding activities and entertainment so guests had
plenty to interest them. We wanted repeat visitors, and visitors who’d tell
their friends about us.”

Holt tipped back his Resistol and scratched his
forehead in puzzlement. “What does this have to do with Rob?”

“One of the things I wanted to feature was a real silver
mine. I offered to buy the entire Ghost Mountain section of the Valley-D from
Rob. He turned me down. Twice.”

Holt blew out a breath. “That’s just business. I won’t
sell it to you either, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly neighbors. Is
there more to it?”

“Not really. Rob took the offers the wrong way. He
thought I was offering charity because he was having trouble making ends meet.”
He scraped fingers through his hair again. “Hell, I never even knew about his
financial troubles until he told me. Ordered me off his place and wouldn’t let
his wife come visit with Faith after that.”

Holt could picture his brother exploding like that.
“You’re not telling me anything new about my brother. He was the cheerful
charmer unless you crossed him. Usually he got over it pretty quick though. My
apologies on his behalf.”

“Not necessary. I just wanted you to know. I gave up
tryin’ to tame tornadoes a few years ago, so I wanted to give him time to cool
off, stop tossing his horns. If he hadn’t got killed, I’d have suggested a
compromise. My offer’s open.”

The former bulldogger’s analogy was apt, and the
possibility of a compromise piqued Holt’s curiosity. Not that he was
interested, but he might as well listen. Just to be neighborly. “What sort of
compromise?”

Will swallowed some of his beer. He leaned forward,
placing his elbows on his knees. Excitement gleamed in his eyes. “A lease for
recreational purposes. Rights to take trail rides through the meadows and up
Ghost Mountain. Rights to shore up the mine supports so folks could explore,
even dig if they wanted to. We could work out a fair price.”

Here was one answer to Holt’s question of what he’d
have to do to save his ranch. But would leasing some land cost the integrity of
his family’s heritage? “I’ll think on it, Will.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Holt followed Will out of the stable. “I’ll collect
Maddy and head home. Thanks for the beer.”

“Sure thing. Maddy’s helping Faith with the kids’
activities. On the way to the corral, I’ll take you to the new stable.” He grinned.
“It’ll give me a chance to show off the place.”

As they walked, Will pointed out the signboard
announcing the day’s activities. “The trail ride’s only one of our offerings.
Fly-fishing’s real popular. There’s more in the summer, but even now we have
hiking, archery, riding lessons, roping lessons, and a nightly campfire with
yours truly on the guitar. And the Circle-S boasts the best ranch cook in three
states. To be successful today a dude ranch has to offer a family vacation.
Faith has excellent children’s programs geared to age and ability.”

Holt couldn’t help smiling at the other man’s
ebullient enthusiasm. “Mighty impressive. You’re a walking brochure.”

Will laughed and clapped Holt on the back. “Here’s the
stable. About half the remuda are out carrying the dudes, but you can get a
good idea of my stock.”

They detoured to the new red-stained building beside
the barn. Holt agreed because he’d neglected some questions. They crossed the
yard and the dusty ground to the gleaming wooden structure beyond.

From the open doors, it was clear the stable floor was
swept clean, and bare new wood gleamed bright as the overhead lights. Dust
motes and odors of oats and hay floated in sunbeams slanting through the
windowpanes. He entered reluctantly, thinking his envy would only increase
after seeing such a dazzling facility.

He was wrong. The new stable was great, but his old
barn built by his great-grandfather was fine for the Valley-D. He didn’t want
or need a fancy building for twenty or thirty animals. “Damn nice facility.” He
meant it. “Perfect for your operation.”

While they checked the occupied stalls, he turned the
conversation to the day of Rob’s death. “You get much turnover in employees?”

The other man nodded. “We have our year-round hands
and wranglers, but in the summer we hire on short-term hands. Mostly itinerants
who don’t want to stick around long anyway.”

“What about in March?” Holt hoisted a shoulder in
rueful dismissal. “I expect the sheriff asked you about any strangers working
for you about the time Rob was killed.”

“He did—twice.” Before Holt could apologize for
bringing it up again, the other rancher held up a staying hand. “But I don’t
mind telling you we did have one extra man for a week or so then. Fellow said
he had a job in April down in Sonora and needed cash to tide him over. Since I
could use an extra hand to finish the stable, I hired him on the spot. Some
cowboys resent having to pound nails, but it didn’t seem to bother Riggs. He
was a bit older. Driver’s license said thirty-six.”

They stopped in front of a dun-colored horse with a
star on its forehead. “Faith needs help mounting up, but she didn’t let the
accident stop her from riding. This is her favorite. Daybreak’s as gentle a
mare as you’d find.”

“Morgan, is she?” Holt noted the upright ears, the
tossing head. “Looks like she expects a treat.”

Will fished a hunk of carrot from a hanging pouch. He
gave Holt a wide grin. “I’m too soft with these animals.”

“Riggs. That’s the fellow’s name? The one who left?”

“K.C. Riggs. He showed up in a small RV. That was the
first odd thing.” 

That he might finally be onto something started a
twitch in Holt’s jaw. None of the other ranchers had sensed anything unusual in
their help. Transient hands were typically young cowboys on the circuit, guys
who worked wherever they could during the week so they could travel to the next
weekend rodeo. “Odd, how?”

“He stayed in his RV, not in the bunkhouse. He was
friendly enough with the other hands, but mostly kept to himself. Real private.
Almost secretive.”

Holt’s cop senses clicked to alert. “Did you tell the
sheriff this?”

“It didn’t come up. He just wanted the name, when he
worked here, when he left.”

“And that was?”

“The day after Rob was killed.” Will’s russet brows drew
together in thought. “Gave no notice, no warning. He up and left before anyone
else here had their boots on—without his pay. I did tell the sheriff that.”

Holt’s excitement grew. He scooped up a handful of
clean woodchips from a nearby wheelbarrow and let them drift between his
fingers. “ ‘First odd thing,’ you said. What else was odd about Riggs?”

Will leaned on the stall door. He lifted his hat,
dragged a hand through his hair and adjusted the hat again. “What with building
the stable and all, I never got around to examining his paperwork until he’d
left. A buddy in the Federal Building helped me research his identity. Riggs’s
Social Security number didn’t check out. It belonged to K.C. Riggs all right,
but to a K.C. Riggs who died in 1985.”

“You mean the man had a phony ID?” Holt squeezed his
hand closed, crushing the wood chips to dust. “You did tell the sheriff about
that.” The first real lead, and he should have already known about it.

“I telephoned as soon as I discovered the problem,”
Will said. “Talked to my brother. Said they’d get right on it. Foley or Luke
didn’t tell you about that development?”

Holt’s throat tightened. “The sheriff has no
obligation to tell me how he’s conducting the investigation. I have no official
status here.”
I’m only the dead man’s damn brother. ‘Sorry for your freaking
loss.’
He flung the mangled wood chips back into the wheelbarrow.

The dun mare’s nostrils flared, and she tossed her
head. Will smoothed a hand down her nose. “Easy, girl. It’s okay.”

Holt headed toward the other end of the stable, the
one leading to the corral. “I didn’t mean to upset your horse.”

Will caught up to him, waved off the apology. “Luke’s
supposed to show up this afternoon after his shift. You could ask him about
Riggs.”

This might be Holt’s chance to dig into Luke’s issues.
He cinched up his resentment toward the sheriff and drew a deep breath. “Maybe.
Luke’s problems in Denver have anything to do with Chris Hawke?”

Confusion creased Will’s forehead. “Can’t imagine how
they would. Why?”