Now his smile was wide and obvious. “Yes, ma’am.”
An hour later, they were riding the fence line, stopping to get out and check posts and testing wire tension. Finally, up ahead, she spotted the problem. A section of downed fence. Hopping out of the vehicle, the two of them walked over to assess the situation. Shaking a loose post, she didn’t like the way Clint had stopped walking, his gaze suddenly shifting from the downed section to some spot in the distance.
“What is it?” She moved to stand beside him.
“Tracks.” His voice was tight, body suddenly alert in a way that put her on edge. He pointed to the ground. “No cow knocked this down. Someone’s ridden through here.”
Clear as day, right in front of them. Tire tracks, cutting across their land. Alice’s hands fisted at her side. “Damn it. Not again.”
“We’ll have to round up the misplaced cattle, secure the fence, and then…” his voice slowed as he stared after where the tracks might lead.
Alice shook her head. “No. The cattle aren’t going anywhere today. I want to see where these tracks are going.”
Tension coursing through Clint was almost palpable. For a minute she thought he was going to argue, maybe take her back to the house, call the sheriff, but finally he nodded. “We’ll ride alongside, far enough away not to disturb any evidence.”
“Good idea.” Climbing back into the four-wheeler, she was torn between wanting to catch the SOBs in action, and praying they were long gone by now.
The tracks seemed to go on forever. Eventually, they could see one of the old-line shacks ahead. Her mind ran through all the possible scenarios. Kids wanting a party place. Travelerlooking for a cheap place to catch a good night’s sleep. Or trouble. Heaven knew they’d had plenty of that.
When Clint came to a stop, she saw what he saw. The door slightly ajar. Oh, how she hoped it was teenagers. She was so tired of trouble.
“You’d better wait here a minute.” Clint pulled a rifle from the back of the vehicle and handed it to her, then he grabbed another. “And whatever you do, don’t shoot me.”
Any other circumstance and she would have either laughed with him or reminded him that she could shoot an apple from a tree at twenty yards. As it was, she simply nodded, took hold of the gun, and kept her finger away from the trigger. She had no intention of shooting Clint, but if anyone else came out of that shed, she wasn’t making any promises.
With no other vehicle in sight, Clint was pretty sure whoever had come around was probably long gone, but all it would take for assumptions to kill him was for one man to be left behind—armed. Quietly approaching the shack, he nudged the door open with his toe, thankful the hinges didn’t squeak. His finger on the trigger, he eased inside, scanning the small area through the sight of the rifle. No one to his left. Kicking the door fully open, he whirled about bringing the other side into view. No one. He still wasn’t finished. His back to the wall, he eased over to the closet that housed the toilet and sink. Taking in a deep breath, he slowly turned the knob and shoved the door open.
Lowering his weapon, he blew out a relieved sigh, disappointed he couldn’t catch the intruder red-handed, and equally relieved he didn’t have to kill anyone today. “Coast is clear, Ms. Sweet.”
Alice crossed the threshold, her gasp startling him out of his thoughts. “Oh, Lord.”
So intent on securing the shack from a human intruder, he’d barely taken note of the condition the shack was in. Several words came to mind, but the Lord’s name wasn’t one of them.
“Somebody was definitely looking for something.” Alice righted a knocked over chair, and then another.
Unable to avoid stepping on shards of broken glassware and dishes, he righted the turned over table. “What I can’t decide, is if they found it or not.”
Feathers flew as they moved around the small space. Shaking her head, Alice hefted the slashed mattress back onto the metal framed cot. “They certainly left no corner unturned.” She swiveled toward the wall of the narrow stove and sink that made for a kitchen, the oven door wide open. “Did they really think someone would hide something in an oven?”
“I don’t know, but at least we know they weren’t looking for another hay baler.” Clint kicked a pile of trash to the side with his boot. These shacks were meant for emergencies like blizzards or injuries, only holding a military-style metal bunk bed, a table, two chairs, and non-perishable food items, including the required heaven’s brew—coffee. Brooms and dust pans weren’t standard materials.
Shaking her head, Alice surveyed the mess, her gaze suddenly narrowing, one finger lifting to point in his direction. “Which shack was that hay baler found in?”
Dang, that woman was smart. He should have thought of that. “This one.”
“The cameras?” Her face lit up as if she’d found the leprechauns pot of gold.
Like he said, smart. Except for one thing. Looking up instead of around, there was no sign of any cameras. Hurrying outside, he quickly circled the small building. Nothing. Returning towhere Alice stood staring at the doorway, he shook his head. “Gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?”
He shrugged. “They must have spotted them. Taken them down. Not wanting us to view the SD cards inside.”
“Don’t they alert you when someone approaches? You know, like those fancy doorbells?”
How he hated to keep shaking his head at her. “Feature would be turned off or every armadillo and cow that meanders by would be sounding it off.”
She heaved another sigh as she crossed the space, pulled her work gloves from her back pocket and retrieved a trash bag from a drawer by the sink.
