is a suspect. Old fella named Stan Chasing Elk. His daughter and mine were real close.”
“Who’s accusing him?”
“Mostly the tribal police, but I guess the tribal council is getting down on him. Anyway, that’s what I’ve heard. As long as it’s just the tribe’s cattle, it’s none of my business.”
“Could be it’s your business. You callin’ the law on this?”
“If we’re missing cows, you damn betcha. You did a nice job here, but we’ll string up new wire.” His tone shifted, as though he’d been asked to testify. “It ain’t Stan. We go way back. Good man, Stan.” He turned his attention to a passing cloud. “Stan the Man. Remember the baseball player?”
Del glanced at the cloud, half expecting to see a Stan or two up there, acknowledging Frank’s memory with a thumbs-up.
Frank snapped out of his reverie with a chuckle. “Course not. That was a long time ago.”
“Stan the Man Musial. One for the books, and I do read some. Musial said, ‘When the pitcher’s throwing a spitball, just—’”
“‘—hit it on the dry side,’” they quoted in unison, and then they both laughed as Frank clapped a hand on Del’s shoulder.
“I played baseball in high school. First base. Pretty good hitter.” Del read approval in Frank’s face, and he figured the old man had faced more spitballs over the years than he had. “Your sport, too?”
“Was. Never had time to play much, but...” He looked down at the tire tracks and shook his head. “Yeah, I think we might’ve lost some cows. We’ll see what Brad comes up with. I keep my books on paper. He’s got this computer thing going, and we don’t always match up.”
“I’m not much of a computer guy myself.”
“Glad I’m not the only one. Guess we need to get with the program, buddy.” Chuckling, he laid his hand on Del’s shoulder. “They say everybody’s replaceable these days. Even cowboys.”
“Yeah, that horse is out of the barn.”
“Come to think of it, they haven’t made the computer yet that can chase that horse down and run him back in.”
“Or string wire,” Del said. “So I guess I’m not completely replaceable.”
“Brad either chose well or lucked out this time.” Frank smiled. “I admire a man who knows the value of a good horse. Still the best way to herd cows.”
* * *
Del tried two hills before he found a piece of high ground where his phone quit cutting out. Truth be told, he was one hell of a space-age cowboy. While truth telling wasn’t part of his job description, he made an effort to keep mental tabs on it, and taking his smartphone in hand and tapping out a couple of texts allowed him to get in touch with reality even as he was keeping his head in the game. The message that came back was unsatisfying, but at least it was a contact.
Follow Benson. Get a line on Chasing Elk. Move up the line ASAP.
ASAP wasn’t Del’s preferred approach to a job. Space-age aside, a dyed-in-the-hide cowboy didn’t do ASAP. If the question was “Fast or good?” his answer was always “The best you’ve ever had.”
Which made him think of Lila.
“I like her,” he told the dog in the passenger seat. He gave the animal’s head a vigorous scratching, the velvety drop ears a floppy workout. The pup lifted his head, eyes closed in pure bliss. “Okay, so she rejected you for now, but it’s not personal. She can’t give up too soon. It would be like saying out with the old, in with the new. That’s hard for a woman like her. She’s got no ASAP button. Give her time.”
The dog whined.
“No? Sorry, buddy, we got no choice. We gotta let her come to us. Okay?” He patted the dog’s back. “Meanwhile, I’m here for you.”
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