Page 152 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

“I’ll come.”

“If he spots both of us, he’ll know we’re following him.”

Willy gives me an exasperated look. “And if he spots you?”

“I’ll keep my distance.”

His jaw tightens before he shakes his head. “You already made up your mind.”

“I did when he pulled out of the yard.”

He rubs the back of his neck, then gives in. “If this goes sideways, you leave. Don’t try to be a hero.”

“I won’t.”

He studies my face long enough to decide I’m telling the truth, then steps aside. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“So do I.”

I hop down from the fence, glance toward my truck, then veer for the side-by-side parked outside the equipment shed instead. Beau would spot my beat-up pickup long before I got close enough to see where he was headed.

I climb behind the wheel and turn the key just as Willy crosses the yard toward me.

“If this turns into more than curiosity,” he says, resting a hand on the roll bar, “you call one of us before you get creative.”

I look over at him. “You’ve got a pretty low opinion of my decision making.”

“I’ve watched you long enough to know curiosity usually wins.”

I can’t argue with that, so I nod instead. “I’ll call.”

He searches my face, then steps back and jerks his chin toward the road. “Good. Now go find out why Beau’s acting like he’s got a secret.”

I nod, start the engine, and follow Beau’s fresh tire tracks onto the back road.

A few minutes later, I pull beneath a stand of pines before the rodeo grounds come into view, kill the engine, and climb out. Beau has enough of a lead that I don’t bother waiting.

I lock the steering wheel and follow the fresh tracks through the dust until they curve behind the practice arena and disappear into the trees.

Nobody parks back here unless they don’t want to be seen.

The office, barns, and maintenance sheds all sit closer to the entrance. Anyone with legitimate business would park there.

I slip into the tree line and circle until the arena disappears behind the trees, weaving from tree to tree until Beau’s truck comes into view, hidden beneath the pines where nobody driving through the front gate would spot it.

I crouch behind a cedar and scan the area.

The truck sits empty.

Then voices carry through the trees.

I ease farther into the woods. Every dry twig suddenly sounds loud enough to give me away, until I reach a moss-covered log overlooking a narrow clearing.

Beau stands with his back to me.

The man facing him wears a dark baseball cap pulled over his eyes, but I don’t need to see his face to recognize him. His shoulders fill out his jacket, one boot angles outward, and I just know.

The mugshot Sheriff Hank showed me flashes through my head, spread across Red’s kitchen table beside a stack of incident reports.