Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel) (35 page)

Clipboard in hand, the deputy trotted toward them. “Better make this fast. I was on my way to do a house search. We have a hot tip we can’t let grow cold.”

All three men looked up at the sound of a vehicle coming toward them. The occupants stared straight ahead as they passed. Mike glanced at Clint. He was right about the truck belonging to the Clifford brothers. But what were they up to?

“So what’s the problem this time?” The deputy’s impatience was obvious in his tone. “And don’t tell me it’s those two knuckleheads. They’re as ancient and harmless as gnats.”

After briefly summarizing the situation for the officer, Mike rode with Clint up the hill toward the downed cow. Bernard followed in his department vehicle.

Navigating the uneven terrain with one hand on the wheel, Clint glanced at Mike. “I got the feeling Caldwell didn’t believe a word we said.”

“Welcome to my world.” Maybe it was the fact that the Whispering Pines was successful that irked Caldwell. He and his brother had made a short foray into the guest-ranch industry that ended when a kid fell off a hay wagon and broke his leg. Wouldn’t have been a problem if they’d carried insurance, but it ended in a lawsuit and the state shutting down their operation.

They stopped beside the gate at the upper corner of the fence line, checked the whereabouts of the herd, and stepped inside the pasture.

Bernard looked at the wound on the cow, which still oozed blood, and then at the ridgeline on their right. “You say a shot was fired from above the pasture?”

Mike pointed. “From somewhere near those big rocks.”

“You don’t know exactly where?”

“We were facing downhill.” Clint’s voice held a hint of irritation. “When we turned around, he or she was gone.”

“What makes you think it was a bullet?”

Mike elbowed his foreman, hoping to discourage him from slugging Bernie or assaulting him with the sarcasm that simmered beneath his easy smile. “We heard the gunshot. We saw the cow fall. Now we see a bullet hole. Feel free to do an autopsy.”

The deputy checked his clipboard. “So, where’s this dead calf?”

They secured the pasture gate before hiking up the hill, their boots crunching brittle twigs and brown pine needles. When they came to the calf, only an upside-down skull remained, tufts of hair and nubs of horns protruding above the eye sockets. The hide was gone, and the spine and leg bones scattered nearby, bits of fresh pink flesh still attached.

Mike squatted on his haunches beside the skull. He turned the empty shell over. It reminded him of an angry old man, which was exactly how he felt at the moment. He looked at Clint. “Wolves?”

Clint scanned the clearing. “They must have come while we were down at the road.”

Bernard snickered. “Haven’t been any wolves in these mountains in decades.”

Mike stood. “A pack came real close to killing my dog a couple weeks ago.”

“How do you know they were wolves?”

“I shot one.”

The deputy’s eyes narrowed. “Wolf kills are illegal in Wyoming.” He reached for the handcuffs on his duty belt. “I’ll have to arrest you and turn you over to the feds.”

“Federal law allows for self-defense.”

Caldwell smirked. “I s’pose you’re gonna tell me you and your dog were just walking along when the big bad wolves jumped out of the bushes and tried to eat you.” He swung the cuffs back and forth.

Clint huffed and stepped closer.

Mike held up a hand. “One of our employees, Kate Neilson, shot a she-wolf in self-defense when a pack attacked her in the mountains.”

Caldwell stopped swinging the handcuffs. “Neilson, huh? Sounds like a far-fetched story to me. Were you there?”

“I came along later and finished the job. The wolf was down but not dead.”

The deputy guffawed. “Yeah, sure. Did you call the game warden?”

“Of course. He said they’d been wanting a wolf hide to mount for a display.”

“I’ll call him to confirm. Are you sure it wasn’t a coyote?”

“Talk to the warden.”

Bernard started to ask another question, but Mike shook his head. “No more, Bernie. You choose to disbelieve everything I say, so there’s no reason for me to answer your questions. For the record, my mom and I have told you the truth every single time we’ve talked with you, and we’ve shown you the facts of what’s been going on up here. We don’t know why we’re being attacked, but somebody has it in for us and our bison.”

“Whatever. I’m just doing my job.”

“At the
rate
you’re doing your job, we won’t have a herd left.”

“You don’t give me much to work with. An alleged stray bullet hits your cow. Wolves allegedly eat your calf, which was allegedly killed by a knife-wielding human, like the first one. All you have to offer is a skull and a theory. I can’t do anything with that.”

“Then maybe you could look for shoe prints and tire tracks. Check out the picture on the computer. Dig the bullet out of the bison and find out whose gun it came from. And maybe, just maybe, you could trail the ATV.”

“I’ve got more important things to do.” Bernard pivoted and clomped out of the trees.

Mike and Clint followed him to edge of the woods.

Before the deputy got in his vehicle, he yelled up the hill at them. “If your friend Neilson shot that wolf, then maybe she’s your phantom bison slayer. Ever thought about that?” He jumped into the SUV, slammed the door and charged down the hill, flying over the bumps.

Mike let out a long breath. “Now there’s a logical deduction. She’s in a wheelchair.” He rubbed his hand across his face. “Do I expect too much of the department?”

“That’s apparently what Caldwell thinks.” Clint shoved his hands into his back pockets. “When do you want to start playing detective?”

***

Ramsey peered through the slits of his eyelids. Two men faced each other at the end of his bed, one in green scrubs, one in uniform.

The doctor was speaking. “We stitched him back together. Though the wound was deep, and he lost some blood, we didn’t find any serious damage. I need to monitor him for infection for two to three days, mostly because we were unable to examine the weapon. Then I recommend you isolate him for several weeks to ensure he doesn’t get involved in another altercation or any other activity that might compromise the sutures.”

The uniformed man spoke. “We have an isolation cell. And we’ll post guards outside this room as long as he’s here.”

The doctor made a notation on a clipboard. “He won’t be hopping out of bed anytime soon, but I appreciate the department taking precautions.”

Feeling panic rising from his gut, Ramsey fought to keep his breathing shallow. Two, maybe three days, and he’d be returned to that hellhole.

***

Mike lifted the radio from his belt. “I’ll ask Mom to call the vet. He can remove the bullet from the cow. And maybe he’ll know where to send it to find out what gun it came from, if that’s possible. I’d do it myself, but we should probably have a third party investigate this.”

But before he could call the office, Laura’s voice came through the speaker. “Are you there, Mike?”

He pressed the button. “I can hardly hear you, Mom. Talk louder.”

“I can’t.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Buck Cunningham is standing in the lobby with Mamie and Minnie. I closed the office door so we can talk privately.”

The knots in his stomach tightened. A blue jay squawked at a squirrel in a nearby tree. The squirrel jabbered back. He held the radio against his ear.

“They say you promised to arrange buffalo hunts for them but keep putting them off. Not only do they feel misled, they feel cheated of their money.” Her voice dropped even lower. “Buck wants me to give him and his wife
all
their money back. He’s threatening to sue us.”

“I was just about to radio the office, Mom, to ask you to call Doc Hall. We need his help with an injured bison. Tell Cunningham and the twins they can hunt after the vet visits, possibly as early as tomorrow morning, if Doc can make it out this afternoon.”

And if they had time to haul the carcass to the processing plant before it closed. He didn’t want to explain the dead buffalo to the guests. Or tell his mother that yet another cow had been slaughtered. While he watched.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

ON HIS WAY BACK
to the house, Mike saw two sheriff’s SUVs parked beside the Blue Jay. He pulled up alongside one of them and cut the engine. Was this the house search Bernie was so fired up about? A family of guests sauntered past, eyeing the department vehicles. He raised his hand in greeting. By now, their lodgers had to wonder why deputies visited the ranch every other day.

Stepping from the passenger side, he slammed the truck door shut and strode toward the cabin. Just as he neared the doorway, he heard Bernard call out. “This place is a mother lode, Ramirez. Maybe we should go through Neilson’s car again.”

Mike looked into the living room. Bernard was bent down on one knee in front of the couch, his arm under a cushion. Mike folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “You’ve already searched every inch of this cabin, Bernie.”

Bernard straightened, his eyes wide and excited. “As good as we are, we missed these babies.” He dangled a small plastic bag from his latex-clad fingers. “We found them in the oven, in the bathroom cupboard, and between the mattresses.”

“What is it?”

Bernard smirked. “Can’t say for sure until the lab tests come back, but several of the packets are filled with white powder.” He looked at the one in his hand. “This one has crushed leaves.” He chuckled. “Can’t imagine what plant that came from—”

Deputy Ramirez walked in from the bedroom. “Found another one in the bottom dresser drawer. That was a great tipoff we got.”

Mike looked from one officer to the other. “Any chance this is a setup? If this place is such a gold mine of drugs, surely you would have found at least a couple of those packets before.”

Bernard stood, sucking air until his shoulders rose and his chest filled his shirt. “I can’t please you, Duncan. First you complain because we don’t find enough evidence or we don’t come up with a suspect. And when we do find good solid proof you call it a setup.”

“Did my mom tell you about the missing keys?”

“She mentioned them. What does that have to do with this?”

“Maybe someone used a key to get in here—and to break into our office.”

Bernard narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to tell us how to do our jobs?”

Mike shrugged. “Just asking.”

“We’re taking this stuff in for testing.” He dangled one of the packets in front of Mike’s nose. “Just keep in mind, if this proves to be what I think it is, you’re going to be in a heap of trouble, along with Ms. Nielson. After all, you’re the owner of this building.” He handed Mike the key to the cabin and left.

Mike watched the two officers drive away. Bernie knew he couldn’t be charged with drug possession just because he owned the cabin. So why did he even suggest the possibility? Was he intentionally doing a lousy job investigating the theft and the bison killings?

Who planted the packets? Was it the same person or persons who’d killed his bison? Or someone out to get Kate? He closed and locked the Blue Jay door. Maybe it was the guy who broke into the cabin. Was he still around?

***

One hand on the gurney, the other on her hip, Tara Hughes smiled her sweetest smile. “Good morning, Officer…” She read the nametag on his uniform. “Watts.” Just what I need—a big, strong, handsome man to help me lift this patient.” She winked and adjusted the mask that covered her nose and mouth.

“Where are you taking him?”

“To the lab.” She scooted the gurney next to the bed. “We need to run a few tests.”

“I’ll escort you.”

“Can you grab his legs?”

Ramsey was dead weight, playing his part like a pro. The officer pushed. She tugged. And finally, they got him transferred from the bed onto the gurney.

Tara adjusted the sheets and glanced at the deputy’s shirt pocket. “This might be a good time for that smoke break you’ve been hankering for.” She winked again. “I’ll bring him right back.”

Officer Watts touched the telltale rectangle but shook his head. “Don’t tempt me.” He grabbed the bed. “I’ll drive this thing for you.”

“If you insist.” As soon as they exited the room, she hurried toward an elevator door, high heels tapping, and hit the button several times.

The deputy awkwardly steered the stretcher through the hallway and into the empty elevator, bumping it against the railing.

Ramsey moaned but didn’t stir.

Tara looked both ways before following the two men inside. Good, no one hurrying to join them. As the doors closed, she slipped a syringe from the pocket of her nursing scrubs and removed the cover, all the while eyeballing the deputy’s backside. Officer Watts would be sorry he turned down the opportunity for a smoke break.

***

Kate watched Deputy Ramirez cast the footprints beside the bush. She rubbed her neck and shoulder. Why did she feel so tense when she hadn’t done anything wrong, when those weren’t her footprints? Dymple was right. She had to move beyond her self-focus.

Dymple, who sat next to her on a bench, squeezed her arm. “I apologize for what I said earlier, sweetie.”

“You mean when you told me to get over myself?”

Dymple pressed her red lips together. “That was rude and uncalled for.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’ve got to stop assuming the world revolves around me.”

The older woman plucked a flower from a nearby bush and slipped it into her braid. “When I forget that God promised to take care of us, I become frightened and snippy, even though I believe from the depth of my being he will turn evil into good.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Deputy Caldwell came bounding across the yard, a broad smile across his face.

Dymple stood. “What did you find?”

The deputy’s chest raised a notch. “You need to see this for yourself.”

Kate reached for the wheels of her chair, but he motioned for her to stay and led Dymple toward the road. They hadn’t gone five steps, when he said, “Can’t you walk any faster? This is the find of the century, especially after what we discovered at the Whispering Pines.”