Page 16 of Maggie’s Match

“Thirteen calves gone this season alone?” Bryson nodded his head. “One or two a year, but thirteen?”

“They were all calves?” Maggie asked, suddenly shocked and disgusted. She’d believed the dead animals had all been older.

Rick reached over and took her hand. “A few of them were a couple seasons old.”

“Still.” She blinked the sting from her eyes. “They’re just babies. Why would someone do something like this? Besides the theory that the Tillersons are trying to whitewash Bottle Creek.”

“I had a fancy lawyer from Austin stop by last fall and inform me that someone wanted to make an offer to snag up the ranch. I turned him down, of course, but this offer stood out from the others I’ve gotten over the years,” Bryson said.

“How so?” Rick asked.

“Well, the current rate per acre is around four thousand. This offer was less than half that.”

“Was there a name attached to the offer?” Rick asked.

“Didn’t look at the paperwork. I just sent the lawyer on his way and tossed the file in my office,” Bryson answered, earning groans from both Becca, and Bent.

“What?” Maggie and Rick asked at the same time.

“Dad’s office is…” Bent started.

“A war zone,” Becca answered.

“Still, it’s worth looking around for,” Bryson answered.

“If you point me in the right direction, I can start after dinner,” Rick suggested. “I want to help out in any way possible, since you’re putting me up and feeding me so well while I’m here.” He took another bite of the steak Bridget had made for dinner.

“So we have two possible reasons why someone would want us off our land,” Bent said. “Any others we can think of?”

“Why haven’t you called the police?” Maggie asked.

Everyone except Rick turned to her. “Because the police are Tillersons. Well, the sheriff is, at any rate,” Becca said.

“After I found the third calf and suspected foul play, I called,” Bryson answered. “I was basically laughed at and told to rethink my livelihood if I couldn’t stomach a few dead calves. Still, every time I find another one, I call it in and have Rhonda, in the office, add it to my growing file.”

“Rhonda’s about the only decent one in the department,” Bent said under his breath. His father nodded in agreement. “Besides Officer Ben Johnson. But he’s State and doesn’t deal with local issues unless brought in.”

“Can’t you call the FBI or someone higher up?” Maggie asked.

“I’ve called the FBI. They suggested I let the local PD deal with it first.” Bryson sighed. “Our best bet is to catch the SOBs in the act.”

“Which is near impossible on a fifteen-hundred-acre ranch,” Bridget said with a sigh.

“Still, we’re not giving up that easy.” Bryson took his wife’s hand.

“May I make one more suggestion?” Rick said, getting everyone’s attention. “Move all the younger livestock and their mothers into a smaller grazing area. One that is easier to watch. Set up the cameras around those fences, on buildings, high up in trees if possible. Since they seem to only be hitting the young ones, that would give you one more line of defense. Also, don’t let it be known to anyone outside this room that you’ve put up cameras. We don’t know who we can trust yet.”

Both Bryson and Bent nodded their heads. “We’ll separate and move them first thing in the morning,” Bryson said. “Then get some trail cameras up. We can do that ourselves at night.” He motioned to Bent.

“I’ll help with moving the cattle,” Rick said.

The men continued talking about moving the livestock and installing cameras, while Maggie and Becca went back to talking with Bridget about the possibility of borrowing money from her to build a building.

Time was a factor in that case. Starting from scratch would not only be more expensive but take far longer. Maggie was also worried that any plans for buildings would have to go through city and county approval, which could be shot down anyway if the Tillersons had their way.

“What if,” Bridget started, but then she shut her mouth and shook her head.

“What?” Becca asked.