“He’d always gotten along with the hands but those last few weeks he always seemed to be angry.” Lovall scratched the back of his neck. “He gathered us up one day and told us to stop driving around at night yahooing. He said it set the dogs barking and disturbed his young son. The thing is, I don’t recall anyone driving around much at night at all. Like now, we’re all too exhausted. Some of the hands went into town on a Saturday night and returned late. They’d set the dogs barking. Funny thing, not long after Lawson complained, all the dogs vanished. It wasn’t Lawson. He was asking after them.”
“And what do you know about the accident that killed the Lawsons?” Styles cleared his throat. “It must be prominent in your mind even after all these years. It’s not every day the ranch owner and his wife get burned to death.”
“I recall it right enough.” Lovall ran a hand down his face. “Nasty business. Most of us had come in from the fields because there was a bad storm brewing. I didn’t know that the Lawsons were out riding way past the north pasture. I’m not sure who did. The thing is, we all know to take shelter if there’s a bad storm. There are hundreds of cabins across this spread, so when they didn’t return for supper, I’m guessing most people would have assumed they’d taken shelter, which we discovered they had. We all saw the smoke and when they didn’t return the following morning, Wade, being leading hand, got a few of the hands together and rode out looking for the fire. By the time we reached the cabin it was already burned out. Wade went inside and found the bodies.”
Beth nodded slowly. “Wade Cutter?”
“Yeah, he wasn’t the same after that.” Lovall shook his head. “He told Bowman that he kept seeing them all black, curled up, and grinning at him. One day he just up and killed himself.” He lifted his chin and stared at Beth. “He was weak to leave his wife and son all alone, a coward. I never got along with him.”
Finding his lack of empathy disturbing, Beth changed direction and focused on the Marie Reyes case. “Okay now, where were you working on Thursday afternoon and with whom?”
“I rode up to check the south fence line. I went alone.” Lovall’s jaw clenched, making a nerve in his cheek twitch.
“Everyone on this ranch seems to work alone. That’s very convenient.” Styles leaned against the door, his mouth turning down.
“We don’t need babysitters.” Lovall’s eyes flashed. “I often send groups of men out to move herds from one paddock to another.”
This man got into bar fights, so he had a short fuse. Beth wanted to poke the bear. “So you oversee all the cattle and bison?”
“Yeah, I’ve been the cattle boss for the last ten years or so.” Lovall frowned and gave a bored sigh. “Is there something specific you need to ask me?”
Beth leaned forward on the table and locked her gaze on him. “So you’d get reports of any livestock found dead and take the appropriate action?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Lovall cleared his throat. “Most of the hands understand the procedure. They remove the tag from the animal’s ear and then get one of machinery guys to dig a hole and push it in. We bury them where they drop. We don’t have an animal graveyard or anything. It would take too much manpower to drag in a steer, when it’s easier to just go to it and dig a hole.”
Nodding, Beth watched his eyes. She’d become an expert at reading expressions and gestures. “Did you visit a burial pit in the north pasture between Thursday and Sunday?”
“Yeah, Thursday. It was a dead steer.” Lovall waved a hand dismissively. “Routine.”
“Marie Reyes was buried in one. Is that also routine around here?” Styles pushed away from the door and pressed his hands flat on the table, staring at him. “What do you know about that?”
“Nothing.” The color drained from Lovall’s tanned face. “I didn’t know she was buried in a cattle pit.”
Needing a timeline, and suspects, Beth pushed a little harder. “When on Thursday did this occur? Who reported it and buried the steer?”
“Thursday morning.” Lovall scratched his cheek. “It was Cutter, Wade Cutter’s son, Branch, he lives here with his mom. He was moving horses through the north pasture. We’ll be moving cattle into that area shortly. He called me and I went out. It was a bison steer. It had got tangled up in the fence. It’s a problem we have because some of the adults lean on the fenceposts to scratch themselves, they tip over the fences, and the young ones get tangled. We don’t have a problem with wildlife migration and the fences due to the cattle grids. Cattle and bison won’t cross but most wildlife negotiate them well enough.”
“So who buried the steer?” Styles dropped into a chair, his expression grim.
“I didn’t ask.” Lovall raised one shoulder. “Either Branch or one of the other guys. Whoever was hanging around the machinery shed, I guess.”
Beth glanced at Styles to pull back and allow her to lead. “We’ll ask him.” She narrowed her gaze. “You’ve got a history of losing your temper—bar fights and assaults, but no charges against you. How well did you know the local sheriff back then?”
“I was a kid.” Lovall slammed his fist down on the table. “I didn’t get any favors from anyone. No one pressed charges, is all.”
“I figure you still have an anger problem.” Styles glared at him.
“You don’t know me.” Lovall shook his head, his eyes flashing with menace.
Beth refused to break eye contact with him. He had started to lose control. Perfect. “I don’t need to know you; your file speaks volumes.” She waited for him to look away. “One of the seasonal workers said you cornered Marie in the feed shed. What was that all about?”
“She was upset.” Lovall’s nostrils flared and he lifted his gaze back to her. “It wasn’t anything to do with me.”
“I hear girls often get upset around you.” Styles drummed his fingers on the table. “You’re a married man. Do you have difficulty keeping your hands to yourself?”
“I didn’t touch her.” Lovall shot to his feet. “I’m not answering any more of your darn stupid questions.”
Beth stared at him unblinking and lowered her voice. “Sit down.” She eyeballed him until he dropped reluctantly back in the seat. “Do you know it’s an offense to lie to an FBI agent? You’re jumpy and defensive. I figure you’re lying about something.”
