Page 79 of The Cowboy’s Reckoning

So that was how he found himself in Grey’s Saloon, listening to Burke’s increasingly exaggerated stories as his mind kept drifting. His brothers shot him the occasional look, and he usually nodded back as if he was following the drift of the conversation, which, for the most part, he was not.

The second round arrived when his phone vibrated in his pocket. When he answered, Lil said his name in a way that made his gut tighten.

“We have a problem—”

She was cut off as the phone clattered, then went dead.

Jordan was out of his seat and on his way to the door of the saloon, stabbing the recent calls button on his phone when Hayes and Trev caught up to him. He should have stayed on the ranch.

“Want me to go with you?” Burke called after them.

“No,” they said in accidental unison.

“Where are we going?” Hayes asked.

“Willow Creek.” As soon as he got into the passenger seat of Hayes’s truck, heart hammering, Lil answered.

“Sorry about that, Betty bumped me and I dropped the phone onto the stairs. It took me a minute to find it in the dark.”

“You’re in the dark?”

“Meg heard the goats in the barn. Betty’s in the house so she was going to check to see if the bobcat was back, when she saw someone out there.”

“At the barn? You’re sure it was a person?”

“I saw him too. I called the sheriff and they’re sending someone, but almost everyone is at the far end of the county dealing with a hay truck wreck.”

“Are you armed?”

“Pretty much.”

“Don’t shoot us when we get there.”

He wanted to keep her on the line, but Lil said, “I’ll call back if there’s any developments.” Then the line went dead.

Jordan chewed his lip as he debated, then glanced at Trev in the back seat. “Where would you park if you were going to sneak into the Willow Creek on foot?”

“Either in that aspen grove we’re about to pass through or on the far side of the conservancy, up Kennedy Road,” Hayes said. “The road on Turner Ridge is washed out.”

Jordan knew about the Turner Ridge road washout, having been on the ridge not that long ago. And the hiker Lil spotted the day the fence was cut had been on conservancy ground. Libby Weston’s property.

“I hate to do this,” Jordan said as he picked up his phone.

Burke, apparently at the ready, answered eagerly. “Do you need me?”

“If you’re up for it”—an unnecessary caveat—“could you drive up Kennedy Road to the turnaround and see if there are any rigs parked there.”

“Sure—”

“There’s more.” Jordan could hear the sounds of the bar noise receding as Burke made his way outside.

“Okay?”

“I’m serious about this. If there is a rig there, do not get out of your truck. Do not intervene. If you can get a tag number, do it, but this is a sheriff’s matter. If you get involved, it could screw up the case later.”

Total fabrication, but Jordan would not endanger his friend. “Is there someone there you can take with you?”

“Nobody in condition to help,” Burke said. His truck came to life.