Rita Herron - Rawhide Ranger

He searched for footprints, and noticed matted grass, but there were no definitive footprints, nothing clear enough to make a plaster cast.

A mud-splattered vehicle pulled up, gears grinding as it slowed to a stop. Dr. Nina Jacobsen, the forensic anthropologist who’d worked the original crime scene with Wyatt, threw her hand up in greeting as she climbed out.

He’d heard she and the lieutenant had hooked up during the investigation—like Sheriff Hardin and Livvy—and that they planned to marry.

“Wyatt said you found another body,” Nina said as she approached.

“Yeah,” Cabe said. “Evidence suggests it’s a Native American female.”

A smile of excitement tilted her mouth. “Then I was right. I thought this property was sacred.”

The energy of the spirits and the sound of their cries reverberated through the air, and Cabe nodded, then led her down the embankment around the boulder to point out the latest find. “Wyatt is working on a court injunction to prevent the land from being touched and the bodies moved,” Cabe said. “But we have to verify that the bones are not a recent murder, and if possible, identify who they belong to.”

Nina squinted through the sunlight, excitement lighting her face as she skidded across the rocky terrain, and halted to hover over the bones. “Judging from that headdress, which looks like it might have been from the 1700s, you’re probably right about it being a female. But I’ll need to study the bones in detail to verify the age and sex.”

“As long as you don’t move the body,” Cabe said.

“I understand.” Nina’s ponytail bobbed as she nodded. “Wyatt also mentioned that you found a leather pouch.”

“Yeah, Jessie Becker identified it as belonging to one of her groomsmen who worked here two years ago, a woman named Linda Lantz. Let’s just hope the girl it belonged to isn’t dead and buried on the property as well.”

Another vehicle rolled up the drive, this one a squad car.

“That’s Deputy Spears,” Nina said, shading her eyes with her hand. “He’s been taking shifts guarding the site with the floating deputies Sheriff Hardin called in.”

“Good. Once the Native Americans hear we found another Native buried here, some of them may be tempted to come out to pray for the dead.”

“Or protest,” Nina said. “That woman Ellie Penateka has been leading marches at the county office for months.”

Ellie—a name blasted from the past. “I know. And I don’t want trouble out here.”

Nina adjusted her camera over her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll alert you if there’s a problem. I want to preserve and document this find myself.”

A blond deputy climbed out and strode toward them, his stance wary as he studied Cabe. “Deputy Spears. Sheriff Hardin sent me.”

Cabe shook his hand and introduced himself.

“I heard there was a shooting,” Spears said. “Is Jessie all right?”

Something about his tone sounded personal. “She’s fine,” Cabe said. “Are you two … involved?”

A faint blush crept on the young man’s face suggesting he wanted to be. “No. Not really. But I was worried about her.”

Cabe clenched his jaw. What did it matter if the deputy and Jessie hooked up? once this case was over, he’d be hauling ass out of Comanche Creek.

“I’m going to run some evidence by the sheriff’s office, then call a meeting of the town and local Native American faction to update them on the investigation.”

Spears nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll guard the area.”

Yeah, and he’d probably guard Jessie if the need arose.

But Cabe would handle Jessie himself. He didn’t trust anyone else.

“Good luck,” Nina said, as she headed back to her SUV to grab her equipment.

Cabe stowed the bagged bullets he’d recovered in his evidence kit, then started the engine, hit the gas and sped toward the road leading into town.

A few minutes later, he dropped the evidence at the sheriff’s office, signed the chain of custody form for the courier, then phoned Mayor Sadler to request a town meeting. Sadler agreed to call the Town Council as well as the leaders of the Native American faction.

Cabe grabbed a quick bite at the diner, then headed back to the inn, showered and shaved. With an hour to kill before the meeting, he jotted down notes on the case and his discoveries.

At seven o’clock, he strode over to the town hall, his senses honed for trouble as he watched several people entering the building. Voices drifted to him from the meeting room, and when he went inside, the room was packed with a mixture of Native Americans, Hispanics and Caucasians.

A rugged-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair lumbered up to him and extended his hand. “I’m Mayor Woody Sadler.”

So this was the man who’d raised Sheriff Reed Hardin. He’d also been spotted at the cabin where Marcie had been murdered, making him a suspect as well. Although Sheriff Hardin staunchly defended the man’s innocence.

Cabe shook Sadler’s hand. “Sergeant Navarro.”

“Glad you’re here,” the mayor said. “Maybe you can calm these Indians down.”

Anger churned in Cabe’s gut. “There are two sides to every argument, Sadler, and I’m not here to play favorites, just to uncover the truth.”

Sadler’s bushy eyebrows rose with distress, sweat beading on his forehead. “Don’t forget, Sergeant. This is my town, and if you make things worse, then you won’t last long.”

Cabe shot him a challenging look. “Is that a threat, Mayor?”

A smile suddenly stretched the man’s weathered face. “Of course not, Sergeant. I’m sure you’ll do the right thing.”

“I’ll do the honest thing,” Cabe said in a calm but firm voice. “I’ll find the killer and the truth about who that land belongs to.” He took an intimidating step closer. “And no one will stop me or interfere.”

The voices in the room grew heated, cutting into the tension vibrating between Cabe and the mayor. Anger from opposing sides charged the room as hushed mumbles and complaints echoed along the rows of people seated in metal folding chairs.

Cabe frowned at the mayor. “I requested a small meeting with just the leaders. You know this could get out of hand.”

Mayor Sadler folded his beefy arms. “This matter concerns everyone in Comanche Creek. And I’m counting on you to keep the situation under control. That is why they sent a Native, isn’t it?”

A muscle ticked in Cabe’s jaw. “They sent me to bridge the gap.” And maybe balance out the underdogs, the Comanches.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cabe spotted the sheriff scrutinizing him. Yes, Hardin definitely was protective of the mayor.

But Wyatt had assured him that Hardin was a professional and had done everything by the book.

Hardin stalked over to him. “I hope you’re not going to stir up the town, Navarro.”

Cabe’s jaw tightened as he repeated his comment to the mayor. “I’m on the side of the law.” He tapped the badge on his chest for emphasis.

Hardin gave a clipped nod. “Good. Then let’s keep it orderly.”

“I’ll do my part, and you do yours,” Cabe muttered.

The mayor loped over to the podium, and Cabe studied the room. Deputy Shane Tolbert stood leaning against the doorjamb in the back, his arms crossed, his posture antagonistic.

Tolbert had been cleared of Marcie’s murder, but he still appeared on the defensive. That fact alone raised Cabe’s suspicions. Evidence could be tampered with, doctored, especially by someone with the right knowledge. And Tolbert had taken classes in crime scene investigation.

Plastering on his stony face, he walked to the front to join the mayor, still skimming the crowd. Ellie Penateka waved two fingers at him from the front row. As always, she was dressed to seek attention in tight jeans and a bright red, hand-beaded he was sure, shirt that hugged her big breasts. Her long black hair gleamed beneath the fluorescent light, her brown eyes just as cunning as always. Ellie would use any asset she had to achieve her goal.