Travis

Grant hurled the broken padlock across the stable yard. Wood splintered when the lock struck the door to the stable. The black and white pup on his heels yipped and skittered sideways. Beyond the door, several horses called out in protest. One set of hooves connected with the wall a couple of times as though answering the call to arms. That would be Cloud, I wagered with a disapproving shake of my head.

“Trying to finish what someone else started?” I asked.

Grant’s blue streak of curses shattered the relative peace of the stable yard. “What’s the point of dumping all the feed?”

Gus emerged from the feed shed shaking his head. “Good and wasted. They pissed in it, wet it down good, and then tossed shovelfuls of manure from the pit all through it. You’ll be lucky to salvage a handful.” He glanced at the dog, shaking his head. “Where were you last night, Patch?”

As Patch covered his face with one paw, Grant snorted. “With Dad, probably at the foot of his bed.”

“Dad lets dogs in the house?” I pushed my hat back and stared at the border collie.

“Lets?” Grant choked back a laugh. “Hell, no, he sneaks him in every chance he gets, unless I get him first.”

“I’ll be…” I whispered. My whole life, dogs had been relegated to the barn, had never been allowed in the house. “Guess things changed.”

Gus cleared his throat. “I think we got us a situation.”

“Yeah…” Grant scrubbed a hand over his face. “What’s happening here?”

I leveled a look at my brother. “You know the answer. This is personal.”

“But why after all this time?” Grant kicked at the dirt beneath his boots.

I blew out a breath, exhaustion catching up with me. “We’d have to crawl inside Bull’s head to figure that out.” I shook my own head. “I don’t think I’m ready to do that.”

* * *

Christine

Singing a song about lucky hearts with the stars on their side, I dashed down the stairs. It was an upbeat song, light and happy. Not my normally heavy sensuous choice, but it warmed my heart to sing it. I’d have to see how to fit it into my act. For the moment, however, I was ready to hit the day with a list of errands and a plan to take Cloud out for a short ride. And just maybe I’d be able to track Travis down. The light of day had reined in my insecurities.

As I rounded the corner of the building and headed into the parking lot, my nose began to protest, and the song died in my throat. I would never understand what it was about being drunk that made a person decide to take a leak in a parking lot. Now I’d have to call one of the kids, who did landscaping for us, to spray down the sidewalk before we lost the lunch crowd to the odor. When my suspicions were confirmed by the sun glinting on the telltale crystalline residue along the side of my truck, I only rolled my eyes.

“At least they could pee on their own ride.”

I frowned at a whitish substance gunked across the hood. “What the heck is that?” Visions of people having raunchy sex on the hood of my vehicle presented themselves, turning my stomach. “Ew. This is just nasty,” I muttered to the empty parking lot. “And wrong. Get a room, folks.”

As I reached for the door handle, the word WHORE carved in big block letters leaped out at me. “Geez…” Rolling my eyes, I slumped. “Great, we’re back in middle school.”

It wasn’t worth repainting my rusty old truck, but I certainly couldn’t drive around town with that on my door. Something about the door’s angle was off, and I realized the truck was leaning. I’d paid good money to have the potholes graded out of the gravel parking lot, so it must be another flat.

“Son of a bitch!” Was anything going to go right? I was going to have to invest in new tires all around, since they’d all seen better days. I couldn’t risk a blowout on a patch when I was driving the desolate roads out to the ranch or up to Jackson. I walked around the rear of the truck and ground to a halt.

The deadly black blade sticking out of my tire was a pretty specific threat, not to mention incredibly intimidating as such things went.

“Oh, wow.” Irritation turned to alarm and sent my heart into a tailspin of thumps against my chest. Did someone want to do that to me? I looked around uneasily. I couldn’t write it all off as a drunken prank any longer.

No one was watching me as far as I could tell, but I did spot DC at Cross’s. If I could catch him before he left, I could save myself some waiting time. Ignoring the crosswalks, I made the direct trek diagonally through the intersection.

DC looked up from his clipboard. “Christine, don’t be making me write you a ticket for jaywalking.” A wide grin took the sting out of his words.

I surveyed the deserted road with disdain, then swept my gaze back in DC’s direction. I peered at him over the top of my sunglasses. “Don’t make me hurt you, DC. Not one car has gone by in the past fifteen minutes.”

DC shrugged. “The law’s the law. What can I do for you?”

“Someone did really disgusting things with bodily fluids all over my truck, carved some free advertising in the door, and then murdered one of the tires with a hunting knife. And in case that sounds a little too Chicken-Little-Sky-is-Falling for you, the knife’s still in the tire.”

DC blinked, stared at me. He shoved his hat further back on his head. “Aw, geez, Christine. It’s too early in the day for this crap.”

I examined the parking lot with a critical eye. An assortment of tires lay scattered, like oversized donuts, burning black in the strong morning sun. A tire rack was toppled, and one tire had been tossed onto the hood of an antique cherry-red Cadillac convertible. Mayor Bennett wouldn’t be thrilled with that.

“What’s going on here? It looks like a baby giant had a temper tantrum.”

But DC had gone silent. He cast a speculative look in the direction of the bar, then back at the chaos surrounding us. Frowning, he stooped, picked up a tiny tan cylinder, glancing back across the intersection as he stood. With a shake of his head, he walked a few feet and looked down again, then crouched to pick up another cylinder.

“Heck of a thing, ain’t it?” Allan announced, joining me. “Got in here this morning and found all my new tire stock slashed. Never had to lock it up at night before. I knew he’d bring trouble, coming back here like he did.”

I stared at the old auto mechanic. “I’m sorry, you lost me. Who brought trouble?”

Allan shook his head, as though he couldn’t believe I didn’t already know. “Why, young McGee, of course.”

Apparently, Allan Cross had already tried and convicted Travis.

Irritation sparked. I fixed Allan with a narrow-eyed glare. “Mr. Cross, do you seriously think a responsible man in his thirties vandalized your shop?”

The mechanic remained stubborn in his notion. “Just making the obvious connection. He’s back and now there’s trouble. The fire at Ed’s yesterday, now this.” He took out a pack of cigarettes and plugged one into his mouth, then pulled out an ancient silver lighter with a fading U.S. Army emblem on the side.

As the sunlight glinted off the lighter, I realized what DC had been plucking from the ground. Cigarette butts. “You know, Travis was having lunch with me and DC at my place when the fire started,” I argued. “He couldn’t have been responsible.”

But there was no swaying Allan. “Someone with his know-how would be able to rig it for a delayed start.”

Not enough coffee to process the input. I squinted at him, struggling to put it all together. “Know-how?”

“Oh, yeah…” He became animated, using his hands and gathering momentum as he talked. “He used to work putting out fires on oil rigs, you know. Them fires most often get put out with explosives.”

Actually, I hadn’t known what Trav had done while he’d been away, but fighting oil fires would have suited him. There would be no winning the argument, so I made a noncommittal sound and changed the subject.

“Did they get all your stock?”

Allan nodded his head. “Every last one of ’em.”

“How soon can you get a replacement tire ordered up for me?” I asked.

“For your truck? I can send Scott up to Jackson today, be ready to put it on tomorrow.” Allan leaned sideways and peered over my shoulder. “Why? Did you get hit, too?”

I nodded without going into detail, though from the way his eyes strayed between his ruined tires and the parking lot across the street, Allan clearly would have appreciated the gossip.

Fortunately, it became a nonissue when my cell phone signaled an incoming call. I checked the caller ID and answered with a smile. “Hey, Grant, what’s up?”

“We need some supplemental feed. Were you still planning to stop by the feed store for Cloud’s blend?”

“Actually, I’m going to be delayed.”

“Delayed, huh?” Grant chuckled. “My brother’s out here at the ranch, so it can’t be good lovin’ delaying you.”

Before I could think of an appropriate comeback, I heard the telltale oomph of breath being pushed from his lungs, probably with a gut punch. I winced for him. Then I heard a masculine voice in the background, and Grant was suddenly apologizing profusely.

I laughed into the phone. “I’ll pick up your feed as soon as I can, Grant. Tell Rocky I’ll see him after I change a tire.”

“What happened to your tire, Christine?” Grant asked sharply. I sighed, afraid I knew what would result when I answered. “I had a visitor last night who decided to leave a hunting knife in my rear tire. I’m here with DC now, so—” I broke off with another sigh as Grant relayed the information to his brother.

“Travis’ll be there in forty minutes,” Grant said before the phone went dead.