Rachel Lee - Deadly Hunter

“Wow,” a couple of voices said.

“But we need to get to Avogadro, a very brilliant man, so I’ll just keep this short. During the early stages of the Little Ice Age, when the climate was starting to change, the weather went through wild swings for about two hundred years. They’d get a couple of really cold years, a couple of warm years, back and forth like a pendulum. Give that some thought. But only after you think about Avogadro.”

It seemed almost cruel to get on with her lecture, because she’d excited their interest and they wanted more. She kept a lid on it until after class. When students clustered around wanting to know more, she suggested they hit the computers and look it up.

“Do your own research,” she said, smiling. “Don’t take my word for it.”

It was kind of amusing, though, to realize she’d sparked the interest of quite a few of them, and of course it had not one darn thing to do with chemistry.

* * *

Jerrod was surprised at the knock on his door. He’d been here two weeks and not one person had knocked. Well, he might have missed some friendly overtures because he’d been so busy spending his days out in the countryside.

He went to answer it and saw a tall man with steel-gray hair and a weathered face. The man smiled and held out his hand. “Nate Tate. Allison called me this morning and suggested I stop by and introduce myself.”

“Jerrod Marquette. You must be the former sheriff?”

“That’s me.”

“I didn’t expect to meet you so soon.” He stepped back and waved the man inside. Tate looked around and Jerrod knew exactly what he saw: minimal signs of habitation, not even a chair to sit on.

“I’ve got coffee,” he offered.

“I never pass on a cup,” Tate answered.

The kitchen wasn’t any better. If anyone lived here, the only sign was the hot pot of coffee on the stove.

“Roughing it?” Tate asked.

“Still haven’t decided what I want to do.”

“That can be a big decision sometimes. I was lucky. I made the decision before I went to ’Nam, and she was still waiting for me when I got back.”

“That makes you a lucky man.”

“I guess you weren’t so lucky.”

“Lucky enough, just not that way.”

With no place to sit, Tate leaned back against the counter with his coffee. “Thick enough to stand a spoon in,” he remarked after he took a sip. “So what brought you to these parts?”

“Your son, I believe. Seth Hardin. I met him a few times and he always had great things to say about this place.”

“I should’ve figured my boy would be part of it.” Nate Tate smiled. “He’s liked it here since the first time he set foot in the county.”

Which opened the door to some questions, but Jerrod didn’t ask. He’d just met the guy. “I was out with Allison yesterday while she collected samples from the Madison ranch. It sounds bad.”

Tate’s face darkened. “Damn bad. I still don’t get why the Department of Agriculture is allowing the stuff to be used again in some states. I get that it’s in livestock collars. I get that coyotes can be a problem. I also get that this stuff is so dangerous it shouldn’t be permitted. Those collars get punctured. They get lost. And yeah, the poison deteriorates eventually, but how far will it spread before it does? Boggles my mind to think that killing one coyote might result in some bear dying, or some wolf, or poisoned water....” He shook his head.

“Why do they put so much poison in the collars? Allison said it’s enough to kill six grown men. Coyotes aren’t that big.”

“Sure kill,” Tate said. “One nip, a little on a canine tooth, and the coyote will bite the dust. From that perspective, and only that perspective, does it make sense.”

Jerrod nodded, taking a gulp of coffee. Hot and bitter, it slid down his welcoming throat. “Nobody’s worried it might kill their animals?”

“Some aren’t, apparently. Most of the time a grazing animal wouldn’t be affected, and since the coyote runs away he’s not likely to poison anything else until he gets sick and dies. Then you get a case like Madison’s.” Tate shook his head again.

“Would anybody do that deliberately to Madison? Have a grudge that big?”

Tate’s eyes narrowed, even as his lips stretched in a humorless smile. “Anything’s possible. Thing is, though, around here you might have a grudge, but you don’t mess with a man’s stock. That’s a killing offense in these parts.”

“Really?” Apparently some of the Wild West still survived out here.

“You get caught at it, somebody might take the law into their own hands. We have some rustling problems from time to time, and no jury around here would convict a rancher who shot a rustler. Or someone caught poisoning a rancher’s land or stock. No, you got a problem with someone, you’d best take it up with them directly.”

“So it was probably some kind of accident.”

“Probably. A bad one, though. If we ever found out where it came from, somebody would be paying for two Angus cows and maybe a little more, besides. I sure wish we could find out where it started.”

“Allison doesn’t think that’s likely.”

Tate sighed. “Mebbe not. Likely not. What little I know about that toxin gives me a real bad feeling, and the way it spreads makes it almost impossible to trace.” He cocked a brow at Jerrod. “So you went out with her on Saturday? You keeping an eye on her?”

“I thought she shouldn’t be out there alone. In case.”

“There’re a lot of in cases out there. Especially when the snow covers things. From prairie-dog holes on up. I don’t think cell phones work any too good out at the Madison place.”

“I didn’t think so. Which brings me around to something else.”

Tate nodded. “She ought to have a radio. I’ll stop by the office and talk to Gage Dalton. He’s the new sheriff.” Tate suddenly laughed. “Been a while since I retired, but he’s probably always going to be the new sheriff. Anyway, I’ll have a word with him. Chances are Allison won’t get around to it.”

He turned and dumped the dregs of his coffee into the sink. “I’ll think on what you said about a grudge. Don’t want to dismiss any possibility. In the meantime, you keep an eye on that young woman. I reckon you’re good at that.”

“It’s not exactly something I’ve done before, but I get the basics.”

Tate’s gaze measured him. “Reckon you do,” he said finally. “Who were you with?”

“Can’t say.”

“Like that, is it?” The former sheriff let it drop. “You need anything, give me a shout. And if you get to feeling sociable, I got a wife who loves nothing better than a guest for dinner.”

When Tate walked out, Jerrod was left holding his card. He stared at it, figuring he had just found an ally who could help with intel.

So Tate didn’t think it was likely someone had a score to settle with Madison. That was good to know, but it opened up some questions, like who and why? Just an accident?

It had been a long time since Jerrod had given much credence to accidents. Just like he wasn’t ready to give credence to the idea that they’d never be able to find the person who was responsible for the poison. It might be difficult, but not necessarily impossible. And what if the person responsible for the release had something to hide? Say, some illicit stock of the poison that wasn’t in collars at all. That would fit better with the idea of those cows ingesting some. In which case, somebody could have a whole lot of reasons for stopping Allison.

Remembering the way he’d felt watched out there, then later here on the street, he couldn’t dismiss the possibility out of hand.

Of course, it was always possible that he was trying to act on training that had no place here in his new life. Maybe he wanted to believe this because it gave him a purpose again.