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Chapter Thirteen
I’d only meantto sit down outside of Tiberius’s stall after graining him to rest for a minute. The square bale of hay looked so inviting, and I was so damn tired. I’d not gotten a moment of sleep the night before. I was too busy listening to the crickets, owls, wolves, and Bishop breathing to nod off. Even with double the amount of caffeine in me, I was fading fast. It sucked to get old. Back in my college days, I could go two or three days on little to no sleep. Now I have one bad night, and my ass was dragging.
So, I took a break. Something that I rarely did especially in front of the hands, but I was just going to rest my stiff back for a second. Ass on hay, back on stall door, legs stretched out in front of me, I closed my eyes to contemplate on things.
“Hey.” A jolt to my boot startled me out of what had been deep sleep. I jerked and glanced upward, glowering at Kyle as he stood above me with Mark at his side. “Sorry to wake you up…”
“I wasn’t sleeping. I was just thinking.” I stood and offered Mark my hand as the ranch hands gave the lawman the widest berth they could.
It was sad, but I understood. Hundreds of years of the police treating the Native Americans in our country as if they were second-class citizens had built up a healthy dislike for the men from the reservation who came over to work for us. We’d never had a bit of trouble from any of the workers the Bureau of Indian Affairs sent our way through a job placement program. It was how Perry came to us as well as many others over the years. Hell, we’d had more trouble with Will Abbott in less than a month than we had ever had from the Native Americans who worked here. But old hate dies hard. Thankfully, Mark was one of the good ones. Speaking of Will, he chose that time to meander by with some tack and a swollen lip. I’d not seen Perry this morning, but I doubted he looked much better.
“Think we can talk?” Mark asked. I waved a hand at the barn doors. Kyle, me, and the man in the stiffly pressed tan uniform with the big silver badge stepped out into the early morning sun. We made our way to the corral, a small pasture with white wooden fencing that needed painting badly. Inside the pasture were Perry’s red and white pinto mare Chex and her foal Kima.
“This do?” I asked. Mark nodded then removed his hat to show a balding head with more silver than brown hair.
“Warming up fast,” Mark opened with as he dabbed at his sweaty brow. Kyle and I bobbed our heads. “I’ve already been to the big house and spoke to Landon. He wanted me to relay to you what I found last night.” He looked right at me. “And to relay a warning to you,” he said then glared at Kyle. My first bristled a bit but wisely kept his mouth closed.
“Go on,” I prompted as Kima kicked up her heels while her mama grazed on sweet grass.
“The tracks at the scene do lead directly into the Hollow Wind property,” Mark said then crammed his hankie back into his pants pocket.
“I told you that last night,” Kyle stated with vinegar. I gave him a scowl. “Well, I did.”
“Yes, you did,” Mark replied as he adjusted his hat on his head. “And I had to see for myself. I’ll be riding to the McCrary house once I leave here to speak with them and ask politely if they would let me search their barns. If they refuse, I’ll have to get a warrant which will take time that I’d rather not waste but—”
“Let me go talk to them,” Kyle said with a gleam in his eye.
“No one from this ranch is to step foot on the Hollow Wind land. If I get a call saying anyone was seen even near their property, I will toss asses into my jail cell. It might be small, but I wager I can fit a few of you in there.”
“So they just come over here and rob us and the university blind, and we’re supposed to sit here on our thumbs?! That’s bullshit. Mark, you know the McCrary’s are shit.”
“I know that without evidence nothing can be done. I also know that there are laws in place that I have to adhere to. Now, that is how this is going to play out. Do not make me get my ugly face out of the jar. No one likes it, least of all me.”
Mark stared at Kyle with cold gray eyes.
“Fine. Fuck around with your warrants and shit while they sell off all the professor’s bones. Stupid laws,” he grumbled as he stalked off, anger rising off him like heat waves off a blacktopped road.
“Nate,” Mark said, and I held up a hand.
“I’ll keep him on a short leash. Any news on the burglary at the big house?”
“Nothing yet. The forensic boys should have something for me soon. They said three to five days, but I know one fellow so he might be able to get a rush put on it. For now, you all are going to have to chill out as the kids say.”
“Chilling is hard when people are hurting someone you care about, but we’ll do our best.”
“Good. Now, any chance I can speak with this professor of yours?”
I gave him a nod not even thinking to say that Bishop wasn’t mine. That denial ship had sailed.
I led him to my cabin to discover Bishop was up, showered, and was burning some eggs and charring some toast.
“Hey, so this is happening,” he said with a wave of a spatula. I threw the kitchen window open to let the smoke roll out before I gently nudged him away from the stove with my hip.
“Bishop, this is Mark Lucerne, the Copper Falls sheriff. Mark, this is Dr. Bishop Haney.” They shook hands. “Mark, can I interest you in some breakfast?”
He gingerly lifted a slice of black toast from the toaster. “Not if it all looks like this.”
“It won’t,” I said then gave Bishop a small smile.
