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Callie had packed two coolers with sandwiches, cold sodas, and oatmeal raisin cookies to take in the trucks. Ruben grabbed one; Aaron carried the other and stowed it behind the front seat. “Want me to drive first?” he asked.
“No, I’ll take it for a while. That switchback road up to the pass is tricky with a trailer.” Lexie checked Whirlwind to see whether he was settling. The bull was still snorting, tossing his head, and rolling his eyes. Not good. But maybe the familiar motion of the ride would calm him.
As a safety precaution, the two trailers would go up the road separately. Lexie and Aaron would be leaving first. After the smaller trailer had reached the top, the larger one would start out. Ruben had made countless drives up the winding road with a loaded trailer. Lexie had no cause to worry about him or the bulls.
They started out slowly, rolling out of the ranch gate and onto the hard-packed gravel road. Lexie gripped the wheel, keeping the tires away from the edge as the truck pulled the trailer up the narrow switchbacks. With eyes narrowed behind her sunglasses, she focused all her attention on steering the rig over
the pass and down the other side without jostling its precious cargo.
When they finally reached paved road, they made a quick stop to check on Whirlwind. The bull was safe but still agitated.
“Will he be all right?” Aaron asked.
“He should be fine. He’s just missing his buddies,” Lexie said. “Driving on smooth roads should help settle him.”
Looking back toward the pass, Lexie could see no sign of Ruben and the long trailer. Maybe they’d had some delay—a problem with the truck or with one of the bulls. Or maybe they’d just needed a little more time.
Stop worrying! she told herself.
Would the ranch be safe, with just Tess, Callie, and the two boys to watch the place? There’d been no sign of trouble for days. But what if the person who’d opened the gate was just waiting for a chance like this, to make more devilish mischief?
Stop worrying! Just do your job!
Starting up again, they headed northeast, mostly by back roads, to Albuquerque. The monsoon had arrived, with its afternoon showers. The light rains had settled the dust, leaving the humid air smelling of rain and damp earth. Seeds were sprouting on the desert, poking up tiny green heads.
As the wheels rolled along the paved road, with the radio playing country music, Lexie began to relax a little. She’d known Aaron Frye as a neighbor for as long as she could remember, but she’d never spent time alone with him. She’d expected some awkwardness, but he was courteous, helpful, and didn’t try to fill the silence with small talk. Maybe driving with him wouldn’t be so bad after all.
At least the trip wouldn’t be too long. When it came to transporting PBR bulls, there were strict rules for their care. The animals could be trailered and on the road for no more than ten hours per day in trailers with air-ride suspension and six to ten inches of soft sawdust on the floor. For most events, the PBR tried to book bulls that lived within that range. For longer drives, the PBR had contracts with facilities that had pens for feeding, watering, and keeping the bulls overnight. But since Albuquerque was within the maximum range, there’d be no need for a long rest stop.
So far so good, Lexie told herself. Now she could focus on just one responsibility: Whirlwind.
* * *
Tess stood next to Callie on the front porch, watching the heavy-duty pickup, its trailer loaded with four bulls, head up the first steep grade. Worry nibbled at the edges of her awareness. Ruben was a skilled driver, and he’d pulled the trailer up that winding road more times than she could count. Still, just this once, she couldn’t help wondering if it might have been safer to send him the longer way, on the straight road that crossed the reservation to the east.
But her choice made sense. Hauling the bulls across the res would have added more than two hours to the drive, pushing the time over the limit. Regulations dictated that the bulls get an overnight break, which would turn a one-day trip into a two-day haul.
Everything would be all right, Tess assured herself. This trip would be no different from the others. But in the back of her mind, Lexie’s threatening note, and the haunting vision of the young bull dying in the arroyo, reminded her that things had changed. Everything in her beloved world—the land, the animals, and the people—had been put at risk.
And if Brock Tolman was behind the threat, damn him to hell!
Holding her breath, she watched the truck climb the switchbacks to the pass, pulling the trailer with the four bulls, each one weighing more than 1,500 pounds, along with feed and gear. The engine roared; the tires gripped the gravel road.
And then, on the sharpest and steepest part of the road, it happened.
With a pop like a gunshot, the truck’s right front tire blew out. The truck sagged toward the outside edge of the road, twisting the hitch and tilting the trailer with it.
Tess’s heart leaped into her throat. From the yard, she could see that Ruben was trying to steer the truck away from the steep edge, but the blown tire was resting on its rim. The bulls were bellowing in terror, their shifting weight making the situation even more perilous. Any moment now, the entire rig could go off the edge. Losing the bulls and the trailer would be disastrous enough. Losing the men would be unthinkable.
“Jump!” Tess screamed, but her voice was lost in the distance. Short of watching the men and animals fall to their death, there was only one thing she could do.
One of the horses the boys had used to herd the bulls into the loading chute was close by, still saddled and bridled. Springing onto its back, Tess shouted at Callie, “Get the boys! Tell them to get ropes and mount up! Hurry!”
Kicking the horse to a gallop, she tore up the road to where the rig was leaning over the edge. She had to get the bulls out of the trailer, both to save them and to lighten the load.
She reached the teetering trailer. There was no room to open the side gate. The bulls would have to go out the back, and she was too high to reach the lock. Looping the horse’s reins around her arm, she jumped to the ground. Then, praying for strength, she slid back the bolt and flung open the double doors.
There were four pens inside the trailer, two in front, two in back, with a gate between. The two bulls in back would have to come out first. A quick glance toward the cab told her the men couldn’t help her. Ruben was fighting to hold the truck on the road. Pedro was leaning inward, trying to keep his weight off the tilting right side.
