“I’ll take it,” Cash says.“I only grabbed a pistol before I left.Wasn’t sure what kind of fight we were in for.”
Wyatt sighs.“You better take care of her.”
“Wyatt!Get your ass in the Truck.Now.”
Colt and I are already halfway across the pasture by the time my little brother catches up.“Who woulda done this?”
“Don’t know.”I spit.“But we’re gonna find out.”
The three of us head to the bunkhouse and question some of the ranch hands.I know beyond a doubt that no one who has worked this land for the better part of their lives is at risk of being guilty, but these drifters are just that—they drift—with no loyalty to any specific ranch or outfit.
Despite our efforts, there weren’t a lot of answers down that avenue.Just tired, hardworking men who had bled for my land and didn’t appreciate the interruption to their supper.
Wyatt drops me home.I clean the mess Ham has made of my porch and pick up the overturned bottles of beer covered in bull spit.Typical teenager.Then I put Ham to bed in his barn and walk inside to call Rhett.
“Winchester, you better have a real good reason for calling my number after ten and interrupting my date.”
“Can’t have been much of a date if you’re answering my call.”
“Fair point.It ended early anyway,” he deadpans.“What’s happening?”
“We got a situation at the ranch.Fifty bred heifers, springers, and cows, poisoned.”
He cusses.“What kind of poison?”
“That’s why I’m calling you.”
“I’ll bring a team in the morning.We’ll collect samples.Tell me you’ve stationed someone there you trust?”
“Wade and Cash.”
“Good.Make sure they know it’s a crime scene.”
“They know it’s a crime scene, Rhett.What we don’t know is who committed it.”
“Well, that’s why I’m paid the big bucks.”He laughs humorlessly.“I’ll be there at first light.”
“East gate.I don’t need your people trekking shit all over my pastures and I don’t want to worry my Mama and sister with this.”
“Understood.”
We hang up, and I toss my phone on the couch.I pour myself a stiff drink and scrub my hands through my beard.We can’t afford a loss like this, especially not coming into winter.The Bed and Breakfast slows down, feed costs grow due to frost, and this head of cattle would have been sold next summer, with a calving season in spring.Now they’re all dead, and there will be a lot less calves on the ranch next year.Fuck.A loss like this could ruin my family, the ranch, my sibling’s livelihoods, and my mama’s home.
“Fuck!”I roar and hurl my glass at the fireplace.Shards of glass litter the stone and floorboards; whiskey runs in rivulets down the brick.Outside, Ham bellows his unrest from the barn.Tomorrow, I need to plan to bring us back from the brink of bankruptcy but tonight, I’m okay drinking myself to damn death.
