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So very, very long.
A coyote howled in the distance, breaking the silence. The killer tensed his senses on high alert. He didn't want any more distractions tonight.
He moved slowly, stalking forward, head bent, eyes on the ground.
He inhaled the scent of the earth, of the air.
No one understood what had to be done.
But he knew.
He paused by the campfire, snatched the gun where it rested on a rock, lifted it in his hand.
Not a normal gun. No.
But one that was part of the important ritual. One that had to be used tomark.
To cull.
He nodded, allowing a small smile to creep across his face.
He took aim with the weapon at a tree. Pulled the trigger two times.
Pfft. Pfft.
Not the sound of a gun, either.
But he watched as the projectiles struck dead center.
He nodded in appreciation, and then continued back in the direction he'd come from.
CHAPTER FIVE
Truck headlights blazed unforgivingly, casting the group's long shadows onto the dusty road. Rachel's heart raced as her gaze darted between Sheriff Hank Collins and Jebediah Clark. The two men had come to blows moments ago, their faces flushed with anger. Jeb's mean eyes fixated on Collins, his jaw clenched. Beside him stood his brother, Samuel, equally imposing in demeanor and twice so in stature.
"Look," Rachel began, stepping forward cautiously, "we don't want any trouble. We just need to gain access to the crime scene." She gestured to herself and her partner, Ethan, who nodded firmly in agreement.
Sheriff Collins wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The tension in the air was palpable, the Clarks' hostility towards outsiders and the government well known throughout town.
As sons of the ranch-owner, Silas, they were fiercely protective of their property, and this situation was no exception.
"Y'all ain't gettin' on our land without a fight," Samuel growled, crossing his arms over his chest. His words were a challenge, a warning.
Rachel exchanged a quick glance with Ethan before taking another step closer, determined not to let their investigation be stonewalled by the stubborn ranchers. "Listen, we're just here to do our jobs. We have a murderer on the loose, and we need to find them before more lives are lost."
"Or maybe you're just lookin' for an excuse to snoop around our land," Jeb countered, his voice laced with suspicion. He narrowed his eyes at the detectives, sizing them up.
Rachel could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable like the dust that swirled around them. Jeb's eyes locked onto hers, a look of fierce protectiveness – no, defiance – etched across his face. Beside him, his brother stood tall and silent, arms crossed, sizing up the two detectives with equal skepticism.
Rachel's gaze fell upon one of the horses tied to a hitch on the side of the road. Her keen eye caught something amiss, and she couldn't help but point it out.
"Hey, Jeb," she called out to the rancher, who was already turning away. He turned back with an impatient scowl, clearly annoyed at being addressed once more. "Your horse there," she continued, gesturing towards the animal. "The bridle's not done up properly. See how the bit is too low in his mouth? It's gonna make him uncomfortable, might even hurt him if you're not careful."
Jeb's expression shifted from annoyance to incredulity as he glanced between Rachel and his horse. The look in his eyes seemed to say, 'Who do you think you are, telling me how to handle my own horse?' But Rachel held his gaze, her own eyes full of sincerity and concern for the animal. She may have been a Texas Ranger, but she was also a woman who knew and respected the ways of the land and its creatures. The Clarks had little reason to trust her, but in this moment, she was just a fellow horse lover offering advice.
Jeb's laughter rang through the air, sharp and disbelieving. "You really think you know better than me, Ranger?" He spat out the last word like a curse. The tension in the air felt as thick as the clouds of dust kicked up by their horses' hooves.
"Here's an idea," Rachel said, her voice steady and strong. She knew men like this. And she needed to remember to play the gametheirway. It was all a pissing contest. All about pride and legacy. But sometimes, a challenge could break through even the hardest of shells.
