What was her problem today? She hadn’t thought about Rowan for…okay, she often thought of Rowan. But she’d learned to live with the ache.
Maybe it was watching Huck mimic him so well with a rope last night.
“Sierra, you okay?” Jake, his gaze on her.
“I’m fine. Let’s check the north pasture before we head back.”
They rode to the high meadow, where Blackwood land bumped up against the national forest boundary. The pasture stretched out in a gentle bowl surrounded by aspen and pine, the grass still thick and green from October’s rains. Beyond the far fence line, the terrain grew wilder—dense stands of timber climbing toward granite peaks, the same rugged country where she’d tracked those lost hikers yesterday. A dirt road wound along the edge of her property, toward the hiking area. Past Wallace—er, Jenkins land. And from here, she could see the approximate area where they’d found Tom Hendrick’s body.
The thought sent a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the mountain air.
A few scattered cattle grazed near the far fence line.
“All yearlings,” Tomás said, riding back to her.
Sierra pulled out her phone and checked for cell service. One bar. “Jake, ride the fence line. Look for breaks, anything that doesn’t belong.”
“You think they got out?”
“I think six cows don’t vanish into thin air.”
She dismounted and studied the ground. Cattle tracks, horse tracks, the usual pattern of grazing animals moving across familiar territory. But there—near the fence line—something different. Boot prints. Recent ones, judging by the crisp edges and lack of weather wear.
“Sierra!” Jake’s voice carried across the pasture, sharp with urgency. “Found your fence break!”
She swung back into the saddle and rode toward his position. The fence section looked normal from a distance, but up close, the damage was obvious. Someone had cut the wire, then twisted it back together in a hasty repair job. Sloppy work, the kind done in darkness, maybe.
“This wasn’t cattle pushing through,” Tomás said, dismounting to examine the wire. “Clean cuts, deliberate spacing. Someone wanted our cows to walk right through here.”
Sierra got off Honey and studied the ground beyond the fence. More boot prints, vehicle tracks, and the clear pattern of cattle being driven rather than wandering. Her chest tightened.
“They were stolen.”
“Professional job too.” Tomás pointed to the tire tracks pressed into the soft earth. “Look at these ruts. That’s not a pickup truck. That’s something heavy. Big trailer, commercial grade.”
Sierra knelt beside the tracks, her SAR training kicking in as she analyzed the evidence. Dual rear wheels, wide spacing between axles, deep impressions that spoke of serious weight. Someone had backed a large stock trailer right up to her fence line and loaded her cattle like they were at a sale barn.
“Follow the trail,” she said, mounting Honey again. “I want to see where they went.”
The tracks ran a quarter mile, down through rough country, across a seasonal creek bed, and toward a dirt road that connected several ranch properties.
Sierra knew this road—it cut through what used to be Tom Hendrick’s place, providing access to half a dozen spreads, including her own. Perfect for someone who wanted to move stolen cattle without using main highways.
“This is where they loaded them,” Jake said, pointing to churned earth beside the road. “Lot of activity here. Multiple vehicles.”
Sierra dismounted again, walking the perimeter of the loading area. More tire tracks, cigarette butts, boot prints from at least three different people. This wasn’t some opportunistic theft by kids looking for quick money. This was organized, planned, professional.
The road stretched both directions, connecting ranches and providing access to county highways. But one direction led toward the spot where she’d found Tom Hendrick’s body yesterday.
Sierra’s blood turned cold. She looked up at Jake. “What if Tom Hendrick caught these people stealing cattle and they killed him for it?”
Jake frowned, and oops, she hadn’t exactly shared the details with him.
And if that was true, who was the man who’d shot him?
She stood up. “Never mind.” She pulled out her phone and started taking pictures of the tire tracks.
“What do you want me to do?”
