that looked new, an electric fan that didn’t, a coffeemaker and a cheap toaster, cords all neatly coiled. On the front passenger seat were an empty water bottle, two candy wrappers and a Colorado road map that had been refolded in correctly. Some kind of crystal dangled from the rearview mirror, its faceted surfaces sparkling in the sun light.
Charlie debated whether to go inside and ask her a few more questions, maybe see if she’d be interested in dinner or help in finding a place to stay, but the cell phone clipped to his belt chose that moment to claim his attention. Filing away his first impressions of Waterloo’s newest resident, he checked to see if a crime wave had just hit town.
Robin had been watching Sheriff Winchester through the front window of the clinic as she tried to explain to a suspicious-sounding older woman why she was answering Doc Harmon’s phone and not his “regular girl.”
“I don’t know where Erline is today,” Robin said for the third time, explaining again who she was and what had happened to the real vet. The term hadn’t exactly endeared the caller to Robin, but she resisted the urge to tell the old bat she had duct-taped the “real vet” and stuffed him in the supply closet just so she could have the thrill of this phone call. Curbing her tongue wasn’t easy, especially when the pressure in her bladder increased with each word.
By the time she’d taken a message and glanced outside, the sheriff had disappeared. After she’d found the bathroom and made use of it with a groan of relief, she did a bit of exploring.
The clinic was small but complete. In addition to the reception area, there were two examining rooms, a well-equipped surgery, a small lab and a supply room. Its only current occupant was the dog, a black lab mix with a bandaged leg, sitting in a roomy crate. When he saw Robin, his tail wagged, but he stopped barking and began whining instead. He wiggled so hard the cage shook. After she’d made sure he had water, she let him lick her fingers and she scratched his chin while he squeezed his dark eyes shut in obvious pleasure.
Typical male, she thought with a grin. Noisy and easy to satisfy.
As if she knew anything about satisfying a male, or wanted to. Her grin faded as fast as it had appeared.
Despite her fatigue, she was eager to get settled and start working. Doc Harmon had promised to find her a rental she could afford, but she didn’t have an ad dress, and of course she couldn’t leave until he got back. There wasn’t anything she could really do here until he showed her around, and she was hesitant to poke through his files, so she went back to the reception area and sat down at the big desk. There was a phone with two lines, thankfully silent, but no computer, which didn’t surprise her. With a sigh she started flipping idly through the open appointment book. Nothing scheduled until late afternoon and no telling how long Erline would be out sick, so she might as well get familiar with the setup.
Charlie didn’t need to follow the faint track through the grass to find the pasture where the two owners of the Running W had said they’d meet him. The land was as familiar as the face he saw in the mirror, and the men nearly so. He’d spent his youth on the Running W, chasing after his older brothers, Adam and Travis, and working beside them.
Topping a rise, Charlie spotted them standing with the vet near their rigs and several mounds that appeared to be sleeping cattle.
A chill went through Charlie. His hands tightened on the wheel of his Jeep as he struggled to replace a rancher’s sick dismay with the objectivity of a lawman.
No one had been more surprised than Charlie when he’d beaten out a bully and a green kid to win the election ten months before, and not everyone was happy about it, considering his reputation as a skirt-chasing lightweight who’d been riding along on his brothers’ coattails. He’d discovered a knack for the job, equal parts politician, paper pusher and crime solver, but he knew convincing his detractors would take time.
Whether chasing a woman or a criminal, Charlie was a patient man.
“Hey, bro, thanks for coming out,” Adam said after he’d parked next to the ranch pickup and joined the other three men.
“No problem.” Briefly, Charlie clasped the hand Adam extended. Charlie had sold out his share of the ranch to his brothers, but they’d all remained close. Today’s summons was no surprise; Charlie would have been upset if they hadn’t called.
“How you doing?” he asked Travis, whose grim expression matched Adam’s.
“I’ve been better,” Travis replied around the stalk of grass stuck in the corner of his mouth. “Dead cattle’s a bad business.”
“That’s for sure. What happened?” Charlie looked from him to the vet, who’d been bent over a dun-colored steer with his black leather bag open beside him. Five other carcasses were scattered nearby.
The old vet packed up the specimens he’d been collecting. “I’ll know for sure when we hear back from the lab,” he said by way of greeting as he got to his feet, “but it looks pretty obvious to me what happened.”
The sick feeling Charlie had been trying to blot out came flooding back. “What do you mean?” he asked.
Doc Harmon glanced at Adam. “Show him what you found.”
Adam held up a bag Charlie hadn’t noticed before. “This was mixed in with some feed we found scattered nearby.”
Charlie glanced at the printing on the bag. It was a common brand. “Have any idea how it got out here?” he asked.
A muscle flexed along Adam’s jaw as he shook his head. “It’s the same kind we keep in the shed,” he replied. “I’ll have to check and see if it came from there, but everyone who works here knows better than to leave rat poison anywhere near the stock.”
The vet cleared his throat. When Charlie glanced at him, he said, “Looks deliberate to me. Maybe you’d better ask your brothers if they’ve made any enemies lately.”
When she heard a vehicle pull up outside, Robin set aside the three-month-old magazine she’d been reading and went to the window. Once in a while a car went by and she’d had several calls; no one had come into the clinic. Even the dog in the back was asleep.
She recognized the SUV, relieved Doc Harmon had returned. She had a lot of questions, a couple of them being whether she had anywhere to sleep tonight—or a job tomorrow. As she continued to watch through the window, he got out of his car, grabbed his bag and walked over to the olive-green Cherokee that had pulled in behind him. It had a gold star painted on the door and an official-looking row of lights on top. Through the back window she could see a rifle rack, and it wasn’t empty.
Robin couldn’t hear what they were saying and the vet’s back was to her as he leaned forward, but the smile Sheriff Winchester had worn earlier was noticeably absent. After a couple more moments, Doc Harmon straightened up.
The sheriff glanced at the clinic window and Robin moved away so he wouldn’t see her spying on them and get the wrong idea. By the time her boss came through the front door, she was standing behind the counter trying to look indispensable.
“Everything okay?” she asked innocently as the dog in the back room began barking again.
“Some days I really dislike this job.” He set his bag on the counter, looking tired. “How did you get on? Any emergencies?”
Robin told him about a couple of the calls she’d
