Brenda Mott - Cowboy For Keeps

He recalled the shots Reno had exchanged with the poachers. He hadn’t thought to berate her last night, but she was going to get herself hurt if she wasn’t careful. After taking pictures of the broken glass, Cade gingerly picked it all up and wrapped it inside his bandanna-style handkerchief. It wouldn’t do to leave the glass for the mustangs—or any other animal—to step on. He’d show the digital pictures and the glass to Sam.

So intent was he on what he was doing, it took Cade a moment to notice the hoofbeats coming his way. Mustangs? His heart jumped, until he heard the unmistakable sound of a horseshoe striking against rock. A moment later, Reno rode into view on the same blue roan he’d seen last night—when she’d stared at him as though she’d seen a ghost. Cade could hardly blame her. He supposed in some ways that’s exactly what he was to her. Had his actions all those years ago haunted her the way they’d haunted him?

Still, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her. Until he saw Sheriff Pritchard riding behind her on a big sorrel horse. Cade’s smile turned into a scowl.

“Morning, Cade,” Reno said, not meeting his eyes.

“Look what the cat dragged back to town,” Austin said. “It’s been a while, Lantana.”

“That it has.” Cade narrowed his eyes. “There wasn’t any need for you to ride all the way out here. Sam’s got this investigation under control.”

“Well, Sam’s not here, and seeing as how I’m the sheriff of this county, I’d say it’s my sworn duty to uphold the law under all circumstances, including this one.” Austin’s pale blue eyes stared back at him.

As cocky as Cade remembered.

“Would you two knock it off,” Reno said. “Find anything interesting, Cade?”

“Tire tracks from the ATVs. Looks like there were three or four of them.”

“I know I shot out the headlights on two,” Reno stated.

Cade started to tell her why that hadn’t been a good idea, then decided not to get into it in front of the sheriff.

“I did not just hear that,” Austin said. “Reno, you can’t be out here shooting at people, even if they are trespassing.”

“They shot at me first. Besides,” Reno said, “I didn’t shoot at people. I shot their lights. They need to stay off my property. Don’t they know about Colorado’s Make My Day law? Some property owners would shoot a trespasser pretty quick in these parts.”

Austin looked as if he was going to argue the point further, but Cade cut him off. “I was just getting ready to walk upriver a ways.”

“What for?” Austin asked, resting one arm against his saddle horn, as the sorrel gelding cocked a hind leg and relaxed beneath him.

“To check out a hunch.” Cade started walking again, eyes carefully scanning the ground. He found the spot where the canyon narrowed, where the poachers had attempted to drive the mustangs into the trap they’d set for them. The shod hoofprints of his own horse and Reno’s were mixed with the ATV tracks. The muddy ground was churned up from all the activity of the night before, clumps of sagebrush trampled.

“Looks to me like they set up a portable fence here to corral the herd,” Austin said, from the back of his horse.

No shit, Sherlock.

“What exactly are you looking for?” Reno asked.

Cade hated to share his theory with Austin Pritchard, but then he supposed two heads—three in this case—might be better than one. “Trailer tracks. I have a feeling those ol’ boys were planning to haul as many horses out of here last night as they could. Before we came along and interrupted their fun.”

Reno’s eyes widened. “I’d assumed they were going to drive them into the canyon and fence them off, then come back later.”

“Could be,” Cade said. “But I don’t think so. I talked to Sam before I drove out here. The poachers have been hard to catch, and they know the BLM is onto them. I’d bet they’d want to get in and out as quickly as possible.”

“Where in the world would somebody park a sizable rig out here?” Austin pondered. “They’d have to leave it up where you parked, and that would make it mighty hard to turn around. That road’s not wide.”

Cade had already thought of that. “I don’t think that’s where they left their rigs.”

“Where, then?” Reno asked. She’d dismounted and now walked alongside Cade, leading the blue roan.

Her proximity made Cade feel too warm in the light jacket he wore. She smelled like wildflowers, and he noticed that beneath her black cowboy hat, her black braid hung nearly to her waist. She’d always worn her hair long, and the silk of it used to nearly drive him crazy whenever she let her hair fall free. He pushed away the image of an eighteen-year-old Reno.

“According to my topo map,” Cade said, “there’s a place upriver shaped like a bowl in the rocks, and a road leads from there to the one up above. They could’ve parked a rig in that bowl and had plenty of room to turn around.”

“I know the spot,” Reno said. “But the track leading out is pretty hairy. Still, it’s worth a look.”

“Glad you approve.” Cade hadn’t intended to say that so sarcastically. He supposed he was annoyed because of Austin breathing down his neck, and Reno stirring up old feelings.

She frowned. “Hey, I’m just here to be an extra pair of eyes,” she said.

Cade said nothing, but thought he saw Austin smirk.

Farther along, the ground became less trampled, but the ATV tracks continued on. Cade followed them until he found exactly what he’d been looking for. The small meadow, surrounded by canyon walls, lay at the end of a road resembling a wagon trail more than anything else.

Satisfied, Cade studied the flattened brush and tall grass. A rig had been here, all right, and not just one. From the appearance of the tire tracks, two heavy-duty trucks pulling what were likely roomy, fifth-wheel trailers had parked here last night. Cade took more pictures and video, working his way up to the road, careful not to disturb any evidence.

“I can get my deputies out here to cast and mold those tire tracks,” Austin said, when they came to an area where the road was still damp but drying fast. The tracks here were quite clear.

Begrudgingly, Cade nodded. “Be a good idea,” he said. “Can you get a copy for Sam?”

Austin lifted a shoulder. “I suppose, though I don’t see why that’s necessary. I told you, this is my county.”

“And this is BLM business,” Cade contended.

“Okay, you two boys go ahead and kick sand in each other’s faces,” Reno said, swinging back onto her gelding. “I’m going to ride farther up this road and see what’s what.”

With a final dark look Pritchard’s way, Cade kept walking, wishing now he had brought his horse.

“Care to swing up behind?” Austin halted the sorrel alongside him, and offered a hand. Cade read the mockery in the man’s eyes.

“Thanks, I can walk.”

“Suit yourself.” Austin rode after Reno, and Cade plodded after them, feeling both irritated and foolish. He’d thought about hauling Jet up here, since his trailer was a two-horse, trickier to back up than a longer trailer, but requiring less space to maneuver. But he’d decided it would be easier to examine the tracks and other possible clues left behind by the poachers if he were on foot, even if it did take a little longer to cover ground. Leave it to Austin to one-up him.

Cade peeled off his jacket and continued his mission. From the looks of things, there had to indeed have been three or four poachers, if the telltale ATV tracks were any indication. By the time he reached the upper road, Cade had no doubt the poachers had used this escape route. He hadn’t noticed their tracks as he and his dad drove in, because the poachers had taken the left-hand fork, not toward town, but away. They’d followed back roads out of the area, and would’ve taken the horses who knew where if he and Reno hadn’t stopped them.