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.”
Her expression turned into a glare, even as she put her hands on her hips. He noticed then that her nails were short and plain. No polish on them. No lipstick on her, either. Not that she needed anything like that to look pretty. But this way she looked more like the ranch hand she was.
“Then maybe you’d better bring your own horse,” she told him coldly.
They both continued to glare at each other as his mind raced to try to figure out where he’d be able to get a horse on his own—and fast. Could he soothe her somehow in a way that ensured she’d still back off from interfering in his investigation?
She dropped her hands, even as she shook her head, a wry expression on that too-attractive face. “Look, Casey,” she said—and for just then he’d have preferred her to refer to him as “Deputy Colton.” “You’re in charge of this investigation. I understand that. But I’ll bet I can help you since I probably know this ranch, and cattle, better than you. Let’s look around a little bit now and I’ll try to convince you. But even if I don’t, please let me join you tomorrow. I really give a damn about those missing cows, and I’ll do everything I can to save them and bring them home.”
He raised his head, just a little. “Look, Ms. Hayworth.” He, at least, could return to formality. “It’s one thing for me to be out there attempting to solve this apparent crime and to go after any perpetrators as well as the missing cattle. I’m trained to do such things. It’s my job. But I don’t want to have to worry about protecting you, too.”
“Then don’t worry about it. I’m volunteering. If anything happens to me, it’s my own fault. And what if I really can help you?”
He recognized that this argument was going nowhere. “We’ll see,” he responded, then he moved forward to the broken fence and maneuvered his way to the property beyond, intentionally ignoring his difficult companion for the
