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“Can I still go to the ranch this weekend? I want to see Tesoro.”
Tori hesitated. Will had said it would be fine for Erin to spend the weekend as usual. But that was before that poor murdered woman had been found in the bog. With the killer still at large, Tori didn’t want her daughter out of her sight.
“We’ll see,” she said. “Maybe I can get you there long enough to spend a little time with your foal.”
Tori’s heart contracted as she watched her child scamper off to watch TV. Erin was on the brink of becoming a lovely young woman. Tori’s dreams for her included college, but for now Erin was anchored to the ranch. She had blossomed there, happiest among the cattle and horses. And Will, despite his issues with Tori, was a good father.
A good father.
Was that why she’d canceled her appointments and rushed off to the hospital the minute she’d heard he was there? Because he was Erin’s father?
Lute had hitched a ride into town with Ralph. He dreaded walking into the Blue Coyote and not seeing Jess there, but he wanted to pick up the fifty dollars that Slade had promised him. This time he’d earned every penny, calling in about the roundup, Will Tyler’s snakebite, and especially the murder investigation. Maybe this time Slade would be pleased enough to give him a bonus.
Slade wasn’t in the bar, but Stella gave Lute a wave and a friendly wink, a sure sign that she had the money for him. Playing it cool this time, he sat down at the bar, ordered a beer, and waited for her to come to him. There was a new waitress on duty tonight, prettily plump with lots of makeup and short black hair that looked dyed. He guessed she’d probably moved into Jess’s old room, but she wasn’t anything like Jess. Looking her over, Lute decided to pass on asking her out.
Stella came by a few minutes later. Instead of slipping him the envelope, she whispered in his ear. “Wander on back to the office, Lute. I’d like a word with you, private like.”
The office was down a back hallway past the restrooms. Following Stella’s suggestion to “wander,” Lute took a moment at the urinal, then came out and sauntered the rest of the way down the hall.
There wasn’t much to the office except a locked army-surplus desk with an old desktop computer on it, a spindle of receipts, a couple of wooden chairs, and a dozen cardboard cases of beer and liquor stacked against one wall. Lute was standing with his hands in his pockets, wondering if Stella might be coming on to him, when she walked in, closing the door behind her. “Have a seat,” she said in a voice that was all business.
Fishing a key out of her shirt, she opened a locked drawer and handed Lute the envelope he’d been expecting. “Nothing I say leaves this room. If it does, I know how to make you very sorry. Understand?”
Lute nodded, fingering the edges of the three bills inside the envelope. His pulse skittered as he waited for her to speak. Was he in some kind of trouble? Did it have something to do with Jess?
“I know what you do
for Slade to earn this,” she said. “How would you like to earn more? Say, an extra hundred?”
“A hundred a week?” He gasped. Combined with fifty from Slade, it sounded like a small fortune. “What would I have to do?”
“Pretty much what you’ve been doing. Only you’d be doing it for me.” Stella inspected a small chip in her bloodred nail polish. “Slade and I have a few business deals going. I want to make sure he’s playing straight. You’d go on working for Slade and collecting your fifty dollars. But everything you report to him, you’d report to me, too, and you’d also keep me up on whatever Slade’s doing.”
Lute’s hopes sagged. “Fine. Trouble is, I don’t see that much of Slade. I only talk to him once in a while on the phone. And except for the trucks, I don’t even know what kind of business he’s in.”
Stella’s laugh sounded flat and metallic in the small space. “I’d say that’s about to change. Slade’s been telling me what a sharp lad you are. I know he’s planning more jobs for you. So if you keep your eyes and ears open, you could find yourself sittin’ right pretty.”
Stella rose and held out her hand. “Well, Lute, do we have a deal?”
Still taking it all in, Lute gave her his handshake.
“I’ll give you a phone number to call,” she said. “You can use the phone you use for Slade. Just make sure you keep the numbers straight in your head, and don’t say anything till you hear my voice. All right?”
Lute nodded. This was the break he’d been waiting for. In no time at all, he’d have money for a decent car, nice clothes, and all the girls he wanted. And all for being a spy—almost like James Bond.
Will had been home for ten days, but his swollen leg still pained him. Unable to put weight on it, he clumped around the house on crutches and relied on the Kubota mini tractor to get him around the ranch yard. Bed rest or the use of his father’s old wheelchair might have speeded his recovery, but Will would have none of either.
Pain and frustration hadn’t helped his disposition. The attendant hired to look after him had thrown up his hands and quit four days ago, with Will insisting he could take care of himself. As Bernice had muttered at the end of one especially trying day, “Glory be, it’s like having Bull Tyler back among the living!”
He rode his brother mercilessly about the management of the ranch. Beau tried to bear it with patience, reminding himself that Will had endured years of the same treatment from their father, but there were times when he was tempted to call the DEA in Washington and tell them he no longer required the leave of absence he had requested. It was only the awareness of how much he was needed at the ranch that kept him from turning his back and flying to D.C.
With Sky off scouting for colts to train and Will unable to mount a horse or sit comfortably in a vehicle, Beau had his hands full. The roundup was over, but there was plenty of other work to be done. In addition to the usual daily chores, the calving season was under way in the lower pasture. On the empty land there were fences to be mended and clumps of mesquite to be chained. Up on the Caprock, the windmills and pipelines that fed the watering tanks had to be kept in good repair, the cattle checked and guarded by the men in the line shack. And there was the endless, vital record-keeping to be done for the ranch, which Beau had taken over when he’d agreed to stay. Now, in addition to the busy days, he was spending his evening hours at the computer. Sometimes until long after midnight.
His most notable accomplishment so far was upgrading the ranch’s security. He’d attached small signaling devices to the ranch vehicles, trailers, and other equipment and installed a tracking program on the computer. Will had grumbled about the expense, declaring that nothing had ever been stolen from Rimrock, but in this, at least, Beau had overruled him.
For now the murder investigation had gone cold. The lawmen had collected their evidence and moved on to matters more pressing than the killing of a prostitute.
Running hard day and night, Beau had found his one refuge of calm and wisdom in Jasper. The old man had seen the ranch through good times and bad, and his long-range view gave Beau the perspective he needed to keep up his spirits. Even more valuable was Jasper’s in-depth knowledge of the ranch and the day-to-day things that needed to be done.
