Colton 911: Caught In The Crossfire (Book 5) Read online

  “Just call me Casey,” the law-enforcement official said with a small grin on that good-looking face. As uncomfortable as she felt, she knew that getting along with him, including being on a first-name basis, was probably going to be helpful in the long run as they worked with him to find the missing cattle.

  “Okay, Casey. And as you know, I’m Melody.”

  “And I’m Pierce,” the other man said. “Are we all going to head to bed together now?”

  Melody found herself laughing, even as the discomfort within her eased a bit. “Not I,” she said.

  “Only if the missing cattle are there,” Casey retorted. “So, okay, tell me more about how you discovered that those cattle were missing.” He smiled at Pierce first, then her. “And we’ll keep our minds on the range, not in the bedroom.”

  “Fine with me,” Melody said with a shake of her head. Although the idea of combining Casey and a bedroom... She forced the thought out of her head.

  “Well, if that’s the case,” Pierce said, “I’m out of here. I’m supposed to be out in the east pasture with a couple of the other hands but thought I was needed here.” He stood, nodded toward Casey and said, “Hope you find those missing cows soon. Real soon.” And then he left.

  So, no matter what Clarence said, apparently Pierce wasn’t staying involved.

  “I second what he said,” Melody told Casey. “And though I can tell you a lot more about this place, I think it’ll be more productive if we go outside and I show you around.”

  “Fine,” Casey said. “I’ll want to see everything you and the others have found so far before I really dig into the investigation.”

  “Sure,” Melody said. “I’ve only worked here for about six months, but I’ve learned a lot about this great ranch. And although I haven’t gone chasing those missing cattle yet, we can go to the place they got past the OverHerd fencing and start our real investigation there.”

  They both stood and she looked at Casey. He had an odd expression on his face. A scowl, she thought, and it seemed to mar his good looks.

  What was he thinking? she wondered. Good thing he was scowling, though. He clearly wasn’t having the same kinds of thoughts about her as she had about him.

  Although... Well, not going to happen.

  It was better that way.

  Chapter 2

  Our real investigation? Casey didn’t want to contradict Melody, not when he needed her to show him what she and the others had found so far, but she wasn’t going to be part of his investigation.

  He was the deputy assigned here. This was his job.

  And besides...well, he was finding it a bit uncomfortable to be around Melody, especially now, when they were alone.

  Problem was, she seemed much too beautiful to be a ranch hand. Her long, dark hair was secured behind her head in a ponytail, and she had a gorgeous face, with deep brown eyes above high cheekbones and below attractively curved, dark eyebrows. Those eyes showed what she appeared to be feeling—sometimes infuriated by the rustling that had gone on here, sometimes amused, or irritated, by what Pierce had said, sometimes pleading with Casey to fix the problem...and always winsome and appealing.

  Too appealing. Never mind that she appeared to be a little older than him.

  And since he’d been left at the altar four years ago, he hadn’t been interested in another woman.

  Didn’t want to be now.

  But he needed information from her. So—

  “Great,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  He glanced around again before beginning to follow her out the door. The sofa from which he’d risen, which matched the other seats, had been surprisingly comfortable considering how elaborate it was, with its leather seating punched evenly with deep matching buttons and back lined with attractive, carved wood. It looked expensive. Everything in this room—everything he’d seen at this ranch—looked expensive. But then, he didn’t doubt that Clarence Edison could afford all that and more.

  Though perhaps not as much if he didn’t get back his valuable missing cattle.

  Melody, hips swaying gently even as she hurried, led him in a different direction down the hallway they’d walked along before, and soon they passed through the large kitchen, which was also elaborately outfitted with expensive-looking equipment, though no one was working there now. Did Edison have a personal chef? He wouldn’t be surprised.

  Soon they were on the varnished wooden porch, having exited from the rear door. The yard beyond was mostly dirt decorated with desert plants, cacti and more. Straight ahead, past the elongated stables and an even larger barn with a peaked roof, a mountain range rose, not especially tall but broad. Another building, possibly a bunkhouse, was located near the back of the ranch house. Toward the south, beyond the substantial-looking fence, was land covered with grass, as far as he could see. He couldn’t tell how large the vast rolling lawn was, but judging by what he understood of the ranch’s success, it probably went on for many miles.

  “I don’t think you need to see the insides of the buildings, at least not now,” Melody said. “The stable houses our horses, of course. We ranch hands usually ride them when we’re heading out into the pastures to observe and take care of the grazing herds. The cattle don’t spend much time in the barn, although the cows sometimes do when they’re calving, or if there’s any indication of illness. For now, we could ride out to the pastures on horseback, but I think you’ll get a better sense of the pasture if we just walk this time. Okay?”

  “Fine,” Casey said. It would be a good idea for him to borrow a horse when he’d learned the basics and was ready to start his real investigation, but for now he would learn best if he took the time to walk around and look at everything he could from that perspective. As long as—“But you will take me to the fenced area where the cattle escaped, won’t you?”

  “Absolutely,” Melody said. “All the hands are aware of it, and have seen the damage to the fence there, too. The other herds are now within different fenced areas so they can’t disappear that way, too.”

  “Fine.”

  “And in case our boss didn’t tell you, the cows are all branded with a logo that says ‘OHR’ for OverHerd Ranch. Even more important, they’re all equipped with GPS trackers. But the terrain out there isn’t appropriate for driving out to find them, so all we have so far is an accurate idea which way they went.”

  “Yes, he mentioned that. Thanks.” Not surprising that the ranch hands were up-to-date—but it was a bit surprising that apparently no one had used the technology to go after the cattle yet.

  Although it was a better thing that they hadn’t, if rustlers were involved. Law enforcement was his job, not theirs.

  For now, he found himself smiling slightly in amusement as the slender and clearly physically fit Melody hurried off in front of him, as she undoubtedly wanted to reach the pasture that usually contained the cattle—when they weren’t missing. He hurried, too, to catch up with her and stay by her side. He began asking questions about the landscape, the types of plants and the topography, which was flat at first but he saw rolling ridges in the near background.

  She climbed quickly over the portion of the long, substantial-looking fence that was chest-high to her, a bit less to him. The way she scaled it agilely made it appear as if she practiced daily. Maybe she did. And he told himself again to quit noticing such things.

  His mind landed briefly on his ex-fiancée, Georgia. He and his fraternal twin brother, Everett, had known her from childhood And Everett’s best friend had been Sean Dodd, Georgia’s brother, but she’d dumped Casey.

  But enough of that. He had important things to think about now. As he had to do too often, even now, he eliminated Georgia from his thoughts.

  The weather was typical for this time of year—November—in this part of Arizona. It was sometimes warm but far from scorching, though it often grew cooler, especially
at night. A nearly perfectly blue sky, no humidity. Nearly perfect.

  Past the fence, as they both strode over the uneven, grassy ground, he asked what Melody knew about the ranch and its origins, just to make conversation until she got them to where she could show him something significant.

  As Melody glanced sideways toward him, her long black ponytail swayed. “I can tell you what I heard, but I’m a relative newcomer here. The other hands have been here longer.”

  She wasn’t looking at him now, but somehow her expression had hardened.

  Where had she lived before? Why had she decided to become a ranch hand, and why here?

  Was she unhappy about being the least experienced of the ranch hands here? He was highly curious all of a sudden, especially considering that oddly defensive look on her face. He asked, “So where did you come from? Is this your first job as a ranch hand?”

  She again looked at him. Her brow creased and her mouth tightened. He assumed she was going to tell him where to go, to stop asking questions.

  Maybe she didn’t want to think of the past, either.

  “Er... I’m sorry,” he began, wanting to back off. “I didn’t mean to be nosy.”

  But she responded...kind of. “I came from Texas. And, no, this isn’t my first job as a ranch hand. I learned all about it there.” She turned her attention toward where she was walking, as she should on this uneven area. “And one of the things I know well is that this kind of grass, this terrain, supports cattle well.” She began a description of how she had studied different kinds of grasses and that these pastures seemed to incorporate several, although she wasn’t certain. “Whatever they are, the grasses here seem to feed some pretty healthy cattle.” She started talking about fescue and rye and stuff he really didn’t care about, but she made it sound noteworthy.

  “Interesting” was all he said. And in a way it was—considering the source.

  He was finding Melody much too interesting... Which had to stop.

  He started examining the topography more closely. It was flat in some areas, then rose to low hills and was flat again.

  “Hey.” Melody had suddenly stopped talking about grasses. “We’re finally approaching where they got out.”

  She kept walking as she pointed out a spot in the distance...and then tripped. He instinctively reached out to grab her and hold her up, although he quickly realized she’d regained her balance on her own.

  “Thanks,” she said, anyway, her voice hoarse as she pulled her arm from his hand quickly. She immediately looked away from him and began to walk fast again.

  He had an urge to hold her hand—to help her keep her balance. But that would be a bad idea.

  A very bad idea.

  He had a sense that if he tried it, he’d be the one to trip over his own feet and fall onto his knees.

  And he’d be the one to look bad.

  She was the ranch hand, not him. She could most likely wrangle a steer with her eyes closed. Even tie knots a lot better than him.

  Instead of holding on to her, he’d take a different kind of advantage of her company now, since he’d be on his own for the actual investigation, at least initially, and possibly until another deputy or two was assigned to work with him. And being in Melody’s presence...well, asking her questions related to what had happened here would be a whole lot easier for him than holding any other kind of conversation with her.

  Like a flirtation? No way. There were no women in his life now. He didn’t want any, despite how attractive she was. And especially not until he’d learned enough to be sure she wasn’t involved in stealing the cattle.

  So—who’d taken them, and why? They could certainly talk about that. It wasn’t something he had much of a notion about on his own yet, not without investigating first—though he did have one potential suspect in mind that wasn’t Melody.

  According to local news, Edison’s wife, Hilda, had left him last year and was no longer in town—or so Casey believed, but that didn’t mean she was innocent. Hilda Edison was surely getting up in years, like her ex, so she probably couldn’t have done this herself. But had she arranged for the rustling for her own financial gain, or revenge...or both?

  Melody started responding to what he’d asked before, relaying her knowledge about the origins of OverHerd Ranch, which she had already admitted was limited since she’d moved here fairly recently. She understood that Clarence, who had grown up in Phoenix with a wealthy family, had moved to Cactus Creek after college and started the ranch. Then he’d married and he and his wife had a couple of kids, who were grown now and living elsewhere. She didn’t know much about the ranch’s development, which was fine since it probably had nothing to do with the current situation, although it might have been interesting to hear.

  Casey could ask Clarence about that, if necessary, or maybe even look it up online. But for now, he interrupted gently and asked instead who she and the other ranch hands suspected in this, and why.

  Unsurprisingly, she mentioned Hilda first. The other hands were already gossiping that their boss’s ex might be involved. No one knew how much Hilda had gotten from the divorce, but if she didn’t consider it enough, that could be a motive for her to steal some cattle.

  Their kids? From what she’d gathered, Clarence had remained fairly generous with them, so while they were possible suspects, they didn’t rank high on the others’ lists.

  Who else? Again, there were rumors, sometimes about political opponents or other townsfolk who didn’t always agree with how Clarence ran things, but no one person stood out as having anything particularly against the man. No, the ranch hands seemed to think it was somewhat random.

  “You might check in other areas around here to see if there’ve been other rustling situations lately, and if any of them seem at all similar,” Melody said. A good idea, one he’d already thought of and would make sure Sheriff Krester had someone work on while Casey conducted his on-site investigation here.

  “Will do” was all he said to Melody. And for the next few minutes both of them remained quiet. They were getting close to the clearly damaged fence, and Casey, at least, was studying the rolling hillside, mostly covered in grass and patches of other kinds of plant life, but with several other areas of bare soil. There were more pasture areas beyond the broken fence that seemed to stretch forever.

  And no sign of cattle anywhere.

  He glanced at his watch. It was nearing three o’clock. They’d been out for more than half an hour, and the walk back would also take that long. He wanted to spend some time at the broken-fence site first, too.

  There would still be a few hours of daylight after their return, on this late fall day. Still, even if he found something around here, darkness might drop before he could deal with it. It would make more sense to return tomorrow. On horseback, maybe.

  On his own, with whatever it took to track the cows’ GPS signals.

  Suddenly feeling the urge to stop wasting time and get to the fence already, Casey began sprinting forward. And he noticed that Melody was keeping up with him.

  The fence consisted of oblong wooden stakes of moderate height, anchored into the ground, with three rows of straight metal piping connecting each pair of those stakes.

  Here, though, four of the stakes had been knocked from their anchors and damaged, with gouges in the splintered wood indicating that some kind of tool had been used. The piping had been removed and stacked in rows off to the side. And the grassy ground beneath the opening was tamped down unevenly, as if cattle had walked through it—not a surprise.

  This was clearly not some kind of accident or natural phenomenon. Someone had done it. Probably several someones, since removing the stakes could not have been easy.

  Casey emitted a low whistle. “Wow. What a mess.” He kneeled and started examining some of the splintered wood and the pipes, looking at the ground, as well.


  “With no tools left here, either, to show how it was done,” Melody said.

  “Yeah,” he responded. “I’ll request that my department send someone here to check for fingerprints, but I suspect they won’t find anything.”

  Melody nodded her pretty head as she kneeled beside him. “Anyone skilled enough to do this most likely has done something similar before—and knew to use gloves.”

  “Could be.” He, of course, carried plastic gloves in his pocket for situations in which he didn’t want to mess up any evidence, as well as a gun in his role as a deputy sheriff. “Well,” he said, “I guess I could start looking for any evidence right here, but—”

  “But here’s what we should do,” Melody interrupted. “Let’s find those cattle. We can go on a stakeout on horseback—follow the cows, thanks to the way Clarence has made sure all his animals are tagged. Keep following them until we find them, even if it takes a few days and nights. And—”

  It was Casey’s turn to interrupt. “Sounds like a great idea.” Of course, he’d already been considering it—though not exactly the way she said. “And I appreciate your offer, but I’ll do it on my own, starting early tomorrow.”

  “Well, of course, I’ll come with you,” Melody insisted. “How well do you know how to ride a horse? I’ll have to pick out one for you that matches your skills, though I can handle any of them, the faster the better. I’m damn good at it, so—”

  “Now, wait a minute.” Casey stood up quickly and stared down at Melody. She, too, rose and met his gaze. “I’d appreciate your allowing me to borrow one of the ranch’s horses tomorrow, and maybe longer,” he said to appease her. He continued, “I’ll have to see how things go before rushing back to town, so as you suggested I might camp out for a night or two, depending on what I find—or don’t find. But that’s me. I’m the deputy assigned to handle this investigation, and I’ll do it. Myself.”