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“I wanted to wait until I could tell Lexie, too,” Tess said. “Ruben showed me where the tire had been cut most of the way through, on the side. Someone had done it with a blade.”
Lexie’s stomach lurched as the whole situation came crashing in on her—the threatening note, the open gate, the loss of the young bull, and now somebody had tampered with the trailer. Somebody with access to the property.
This wasn’t just a damaged tire. This was attempted murder.
* * *
Lightning split the clouds, accompanied by a deafening boom as the rain began to fall, first in stinging drops, then in gray waves that flowed over the house’s tile roof and streamed down the gutters.
In the paddocks and pastures, cattle shook their hides and endured. Even the pampered bulls were outdoor animals. With no shelter except a few scattered mesquites, they weathered the storm, accepting it as a natural part of life. Rain drizzled off their long, blunted horns, sheeted down their massive sides, and puddled beneath their hooves to nourish the awakening grass.
In the cow pasture, spring calves clung to their mothers. A few bold ones, already showing promise, ventured out into the wet to buck and play. Over the fence, the untried yearlings and heifers were restless, displaying spurts of energy, then huddling against the storm.
It was still r
aining at suppertime. Aaron arrived on his Kubota ATV, pulling it up to the porch and shaking the water off his army surplus poncho before coming inside. The two boys and Ruben were eating with the family in the dining room tonight. Only Pedro, who’d gone home to his family, was absent.
Callie brought out the pot roast that had been simmering in the slow cooker. “My stars, doesn’t that smell good!” Aaron exclaimed. The others responded with nods and murmurs. A heaviness, like the proverbial elephant in the room, seemed to hang over the group. By now everyone knew about the slashed tire and the tragedy that had been so narrowly averted. But nobody knew who could have been responsible, what to do next, or even what to say.
“Maybe we ought to call the sheriff.” Lexie started the platter of meat and vegetables around the table.
“But what could the sheriff do now?” Tess countered. “Any evidence, like tracks or fingerprints, would be long gone, especially now, with the rain. Most likely, we’d have some pencil pusher come and fill out a report, and that would be the end of it. It’s a shame you didn’t keep that note, Lexie. At least it might be a clue.”
“I know.” Lexie sighed. She’d already beaten herself up over tossing the note. Tess didn’t need to do it for her, especially since Tess’s decision not to call the sheriff might have caused more clues to be wiped out.
“As I see it,” Tess continued, “there are two possibilities. The person who slashed the tire—and possibly opened the gate—was either someone who knows the ranch, or at least the country, well enough to come and go without being seen, or . . .” She paused and glanced around the table. “It was one of us.”
“Oh, honestly, Tess, that’s enough!” Callie said. “There’s no way anybody at this table could’ve done such awful things! We’re like family here. If we can’t trust each other, what’s this world coming to?” She glanced around the table. “Let’s talk about something else. Lexie, how did Whirlwind do in Albuquerque? I’d like to hear more about that.”
“He did great.” Lexie was glad to change the subject. “Ninety points. Better for his record than a buck-off, or so I was told.”
“And who did you say rode him?” Tess asked.
Lexie’s cheeks warmed. She glanced down at her plate, then back at her sister. “I didn’t say. It was Shane Tully.”
Tess frowned. “Isn’t he that cowboy who works for Brock Tolman?”
“Not anymore. He broke with Brock before the ride.” Lexie could’ve said more, but she’d revealed enough.
“And you know this how?” Tess demanded.
“He told me. And in case you’re wondering, Brock wasn’t at the event. He was in Albuquerque, but he had to leave early.”
“Interesting,” Tess said.
Lexie speared a slice of beef and tried to focus on eating, but her appetite had fled. She knew what her sister was thinking. Brock Tolman was their number one suspect as the person behind the incidents at the ranch. And anyone with connections to Brock was under suspicion, too.
Even Shane.
* * *
By midnight the storm had moved on. The moon shone through drifting clouds, its golden image reflected in pools of rainwater. Crickets emerged to fill the darkness with their chirping songs. A lone coyote trotted across the yard and vanished behind the machine shed.
The house was dark and silent—except for the quiet opening of the kitchen door. The figure that emerged, keeping to the shadows alongside the house, made no sound.
The dogs, lying on the porch, raised their heads as Callie passed, but they didn’t try to follow her as she skirted the yard and headed along the narrow road that led to the north property line, walking the grassy border to avoid leaving tracks in the mud.
Dressed in a dark rain jacket and rubber boots, she lengthened her stride until she rounded the curve in the road where the Kubota ATV was waiting. The driver climbed out and opened his arms.
