Colton 911--Caught in the Crossfire Page 10

  Yes, oddly, they seemed to be in somewhat of a routine out here on the ranch’s extensive grounds. But they hadn’t accomplished any of their goals yet.

  They hadn’t caught up with the stolen cattle even after two days.

  That had to change. Somehow.

  Did the rustlers know they were being followed?

  Were they doing something to ultimately prevent it besides continuing forward?

  Casey knew more about such things than she did, but she realized they needed to be careful. And do more to catch the criminals fast.

  And Melody knew that she, as the experienced ranch hand in charge of this part of their expedition, had to decide what to do next to accomplish it.

  Sure, that would eventually mean no more nights with Casey. But they needed to achieve their goal. And no longer being together?

  Things would be better that way.

  Although she truly would miss it.

  * * *

  They were out on the trail once more. As always—well, at least since this assignment had begun—Casey had first checked out the hoofprints they were following, which were a little more visible today in the drier grass of this area of the ranch’s land.

  Yes, Melody and he seemed to be heading in the right direction. Only this time, they weren’t just following those hoofprints.

  “Let me check the GPS,” Melody had said a while back, before they’d had that day’s breakfast.

  She’d shown the map on her phone to him after they stopped. Yes, the cattle seemed to be on the move again. Still.

  So they had a long way to go to catch up, even though Melody had suggested that they get the horses to go at a faster pace today, allowing for only brief rest stops. Her call, of course, since she knew the horses and the terrain best. But would that actually wind up in their going farther over the course of the day?

  Casey wasn’t sure. But somehow, they needed to get closer. Catch up.

  Save those cattle a lot faster than things appeared to be going.

  It felt like more than just his job now. It had also become his own personal goal.

  “Our current routine hasn’t gotten us far enough,” Melody had told him, and that seemed true to him, too.

  And now? Well, they’d also decided to take a slight detour—to check out the single separate dot showing on the GPS map, since they’d be passing it that day.

  Had one of the cows lost her tag? It could still be sending a GPS signal even if it had been dropped onto the ground.

  But they’d decided it was better to check it out, in case there was something at that site they needed to know—like an indication the thieves had discovered the sensors and were somehow allowing the others to send signals about false locations. Or maybe this was a test, where the rustlers had purposely left this one, along with someone observing it, to see if they were being followed.

  They would have to be careful.

  And in addition to everything else, it was Casey’s job to ensure that Melody wouldn’t come to any harm. Which felt as important to him—more so—than saving the cattle.

  It wouldn’t be surprising, after all, for the rustlers to know about the GPS. Many farms and ranches used it these days, according to Melody. “But if these rustlers know about it,” Melody had said, “and if they have any smartness at all, they’d have done something to prevent the signal from showing us how they’re progressing and the direction they’re going.”

  Casey agreed but added, “If they can figure out how,” and Melody had nodded.

  “So if you weren’t out here trying to catch cattle rustlers,” Melody said a short while after they started off, possibly to break the silence, “what would you be doing?” She kept Cal walking right beside Witchy, and she looked witchingly good, tall in the saddle with her jeans and hoodie hugging her body...as he’d hugged her last night. And would like to continue doing even now.

  Instead... “Not sure,” he replied. “Guess it would depend on what kinds of crimes were going on in town, or at least what was suspected—or reported, rightly or wrongly. I’d most likely be sent to a location where a citizen reported a theft or even an assault, with or without a weapon. That seems to be my most usual assignment. Crime in Cactus Creek is fairly minimal, mostly thefts. Very few robberies or worse.”

  “And I assume you’d help the person who called as well as you could, depending on the crime and its status then, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Which is your favorite kind of crime to investigate?” Melody asked. Judging by her expression as he looked at her again, she was actually interested in his answer, and he had to think quickly to come up with something that would amuse them both.

  Maybe even something that was true.

  “Battery,” he said after a few seconds of pondering, well aware of Witchy’s clomping steps on the ground beneath them. “That’s when someone—”

  “Not only threatens to hit someone but actually does it, right?”

  “Yes,” he said, somewhat impressed. Many citizens didn’t know the difference between battery and assault, which consisted of pretty much only the threat but no actual touching.

  “But why do you like battery?” She sounded upset by the idea.

  “I didn’t mean that I like it,” he clarified, “and even at that there are some kinds I prefer investigating over others. Not anything life-threatening, but I find it a tiny bit enjoyable to have to follow up on a call where someone complains of being hit by someone else, but it’s sometimes because a kid used some kind of flexible toy these days—often a tube like they sometimes bring into in swimming pools, or a plastic bat.”

  When he looked over at Melody next, unsurprisingly still riding tall—and sexily, somehow—on Cal’s back, she was staring at him skeptically. “Really?” she asked.

  “No, not really.” He grinned and used his heels to encourage Witchy to pick up her pace a little more.

  They continued to converse as they rode, which Casey found himself enjoying, probably too much. He considered what he’d do when this assignment was complete and they didn’t need to see each other professionally any more. Would he find a way to keep Melody in his life? No matter how much he was attracted to her out here, he hadn’t changed his opinion about having any kind of romantic relationship, no matter who the woman was and how much he enjoyed her company.

  And he did enjoy Melody’s company. A lot. And getting to a point where he’d no longer see her?

  Well, he didn’t really want to think about that.

  Just in case, he kept reminding himself of Georgia. Of her dumping him, and not just doing it any random time. No, she’d waited until the last moment, when they were just about to get married. When it would hurt him the worst.

  No, he didn’t need to risk anything like that ever again.

  And besides, Melody was a new divorcée.

  So she would be a good choice to continue developing a friendship with. Less risk with someone who’d also been there, done that, and come away with a similar attitude to his.

  He realized his musing had caused a silence between them—one he needed to end. “Sorry,” he said. “Just thinking of some of the battery cases I’ve looked into—and fortunately most of the perpetrators were arrested and found guilty at trial.”

  “The kids, too?” Melody asked, in a tone that told him she was joking.

  “Oh, absolutely,” he lied, then laughed. “No, I haven’t tried prosecuting any kids.”

  And so their conversation went as they continued forward, sometimes discussing Melody’s life as a ranch hand and her favorite part of it.

  “Cleaning up a pasture after some members of the herd have been moved,” she told him, her expression sincere...until he started laughing. Then she started laughing, too. “Or not,” she said. “Instead, that could be my least favorite part.”

 
; “Got it,” Casey acknowledged. As he did often, he scanned the mostly green pasture they were traversing at a quicker pace than they had over the last couple of days. This part seemed more irregular than some of the locations, with its deeply rolling hillsides and even more areas with bushes. Plus the grass was pretty long except where it had been worn down right around them by the cattle who’d been driven through here. He doubted that many cattle were brought out here to graze.

  It shouldn’t be too long, he figured, until they reached the area where that one lone red dot appeared on the GPS app.

  That was Melody’s take, too, he assumed when she slowed Cal down a bit and pulled her cell phone from her pocket. Holding the reins more loosely, she looked at the screen and swiped it.

  “We’re almost there,” she said. “Let’s head a little to our right. Whatever’s causing the dot to appear in my GPS tracker is just over that hill.” She pointed ahead, but unsurprisingly toward their right.

  “No further indication of what it is?” he asked, even knowing that greater detail, even close by, was highly unlikely on a GPS map.

  “Nope, though it’s likely to be a cow—or just the GPS tag that’s somehow been taken off. We’ll find out soon.”

  And they did. The result clearly upset Melody. A lot.

  For as soon as their horses walked over the small ridge nearest the dot’s location and they could see the grass-covered part of the hillside beyond, the cow that was wearing the tag was visible.

  Lying there, on the ground.

  Clearly dead.

  * * *

  “No!” Melody quickly urged Cal to get closer, then slid off the saddle from her horse’s back. There were bushes close by, so she quickly tied Cal to the nearest one and kneeled near where the black Angus cow was lying on the ground, unmoving, a mat of darkness against the otherwise green-and-brown surface below her.

  And yes, it was a her, undoubtedly one of the female cattle they were chasing.

  What had happened to her?

  And what were they going to do about her?

  Melody would definitely have to notify Clarence, and soon—but not until she had more answers for him.

  She moved around on her jeans-clad knees on the roughness of the dirt and the little bit of grass above it until she reached the cow’s head. Wincing, she nevertheless reached forward until she had the poor creature’s ear in her hand. It felt cold, despite the warm air surrounding her. No warmth of life. And, fortunately, no smell of death—at least not yet.

  With a sigh, Melody gently massaged that ear, anyway, not because the cow could feel anything but because Melody needed the information from the tag concealed at the back of her ear. She knew it still had to be there, for why else would the GPS have picked up this location?

  She noticed then that she wasn’t alone kneeling on the ground beside the dead member of the herd she’d been seeking. Casey was beside her, one arm around her back as she continued to lean forward and caress the cow’s closest ear, her left one. The other ear was beneath her head, against the ground. Fortunately, the OverHerd cattle’s tags were always attached to the left ear. Otherwise, they’d have had to find a way to lift that heavy head and maybe even the front part of the body.

  And, oddly, the brand at the back of the poor cow’s side, near her tail, looked off. This had to be one of the OverHerd stock, yet instead of displaying OHR, some of the hair around it had been singed differently, and somehow so had the skin beneath. It now said SG.

  What ranch was that?

  “Can you tell yet what happened?” Casey asked.

  “No. I’ll do what I can here to check, but I’m no expert in anything medical.” But she did finally feel the small tag by the cow’s ear and, though she hated to move away from the comforting feel of Casey beside her, she edged closer and looked down.

  It was well camouflaged, so it was entirely possible that the rustlers weren’t aware of it. But Melody could read it. The poor cow was Addie. Melody had worked with her before. Now, Melody stopped herself from giving her a hug while she attempted to study the tag.

  She also tried to remove it before Casey said, “Don’t do that. It’s potential evidence in this crime. In fact, don’t touch it.”

  “Of course,” she agreed. She took a picture of it with her phone, although the tag’s text was hard to read that way. She would grab some paper and a pen from her saddlebag soon and jot down the number on the tag that confirmed the cow’s identity.

  She could notify Clarence of both, let him know that they’d found one of the stolen cattle—and what condition she was in.

  But Melody really wanted to know why. And so, before rising again, she started crawling around on her knees, examining all she could of poor Addie—

  And then, as she moved a bit more, looking at the cow’s head from a different angle, she saw it: the hole in the middle of her forehead, above the closed eyes. It was a little difficult to see in the cow’s black fur. Only the tiniest bit of blood had seeped from it.

  She pointed it out to Casey, who also remained on the ground but not right at her side. Instead, he was nearer the cow’s still legs and hooves.

  “There,” Melody said, hearing the hoarseness in her own tone. Not surprising, considering her sorrow. And anger. “That may be what caused her death. Is it...do you think it’s a bullet hole?”

  She held her breath, hardly wanting to look toward that hole and not choosing to see the expression on the face of the deputy who was with her. He had a lot more experience, she presumed, with recognizing bullet holes.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I just noticed that myself and...well, I wasn’t sure I should point it out to you.”

  “Of course you should.” Melody felt affronted. She needed to know all she could about what had happened, all the details possible.

  Even the most horrible ones.

  “Then, yes. Best I could tell, that’s a bullet hole. And would you like my take on why someone shot that cow?”

  “Yes.” Melody had an urge to shout at Casey. Tell him off for treating her like some fragile little woman and not revealing all he knew or suspected to her.

  She needed to know it all.

  Casey turned to point somewhat behind him...and Melody saw at once what he was pointing at.

  One of the cow’s limbs seemed extended in the wrong direction. Had she broken her leg?

  That would have given the rustlers reason to leave her here, since she couldn’t have kept up with them.

  Was slaying her somehow an act of kindness to prevent her suffering? Melody shuddered. Nothing about this was kind. It was horrible that the cattle had been stolen and herded along out here—

  And that this one had somehow been injured and therefore killed.

  “I—I see,” she said softly to Casey. “I think you’re right. I need to let Clarence know what we found, right away. I doubt he’ll send a team here immediately but he might want to. First, though, I want to look around here a little more. I doubt there are any more dead cattle, with just the one GPS dot showing up, but I’d like to see if I can tell how this one got hurt in the first place and if there’s anything else I need to tell Clarence.”

  “Fine. I’ll stay with you.”

  Which she appreciated. She pulled herself up to a standing position, and Casey did the same. Then she looked down again at Addie.

  Melody felt terribly sad for her. She’d suffered an injury and then been killed because of it.

  “You poor thing,” she whispered, then looked around.

  Casey had started walking away—he was heading toward a row of uneven bushes at the edges. She was unsure why he pursued that track. Had the cow somehow slipped there? But how had Addie wound up back here, at the top?

  Maybe they’d never find out exactly what had happened. Melody pulled her phone from her pocket again and took some pictures of the p
oor, dead cow.

  Then she followed Casey toward the slope.

  He waited for her there, holding out his hand. “This does look a bit treacherous, though that cow must somehow have been injured up there since the rustlers probably couldn’t have gotten her back to the top otherwise. But we can go down to check it out.” It was, in fact, a fairly steep slope, one that a cow probably could not walk down safely without assistance, Melody believed.

  “Fine,” she said, then took another couple of pictures from this angle, before they started down.

  And then—

  Casey must have seen what Melody did at the same time. “Damn!” he exclaimed, still holding her hand as they began to hurry as much as they could on this dangerous incline.

  “No!” Melody shouted, pulling ahead of Casey as much as she could without falling. She shoved her phone back into her pocket—for now.

  In moments, she bent down over the horrible thing in front of her.

  “Pierce?” Melody called out as she kneeled beside the body of the kind, smart ranch hand who’d pretty much been her mentor. Her friend. She felt as if she had been punched in the gut. She had felt sorry about the dead cow—but Pierce? Surely he would be okay, right?

  She grabbed his wrist to try to find a pulse, but with his pallor, his lack of breathing or any other movement, and what she saw, she knew the answer.

  There was a similar hole in the middle of his forehead, but much more noticeable than the one on the cow. Blood had flowed from it...and was visible on his ashen face.

  Pierce Tostig was dead.

  Chapter 11

  Casey immediately dove into deputy mode. He kneeled down to check for any indication the victim was still alive and found nothing. Even so, just in case, he quickly started CPR, but when chest compressions still had no effect, he noted in his mind the location and the hour—one in the afternoon—though he wouldn’t be the one to determine the time of death.

  Now he realized Melody had begun sobbing beside him. How well had she known the guy? No matter. They’d clearly at least been coworkers and probably friends.