Conard County Conspiracy Page 2

  The techs had had to cut the barbed wire to get to the animal. He pulled out his satellite phone and called one of his hired hands. “I need you and Jack at the Hall place to patch some barbed wire. Today.”

  When he got the response he wanted, he disconnected and watched the police vehicles drive away.

  Then he headed up toward the house.

  * * *

  Grace saw Mitch coming. Unable to help herself, she’d stood at her front window watching the distant activity. She wasn’t surprised when Mitch drove his pickup her way.

  A tan-colored vehicle with high suspension to get over rough ground, and enough dings to testify to its working life, the truck seemed to suit the man who, despite all, had remained her friend even though she wasn’t much of a friend to have.

  Sighing, she went to open the door for him, accepting the fact he wanted to help her in some way, but also accepting the fact she didn’t want to be alone right now.

  This event had jarred her, and not much shook her anymore. The senseless killing of that sheep bothered her at a deep level. Remorseless. Cruel. Those guys probably still laughing about it.

  What had a friend once called it so many years ago? Oh, yeah. Testosterone poisoning. She’d found the phrase cute, but over the years hadn’t had much call to think of it. Out here, she had met a lot of hardworking no-nonsense men. Men like Mitch.

  That didn’t mean there weren’t any jackasses, but none of them had evoked that phrase in her. Maybe it only applied to young jackasses. The idea brought a faint smile to her mouth, a smile still there when Mitch climbed the steps.

  “Hey, ranch lady,” he said. “Can I beg for a cup of coffee?”

  She waved him in. “Always. Let me make a fresh pot.”

  “Whatever’s burning in there will do for me.”

  She laughed at last. “Sure. Bitter, concentrated. Blech.”

  She led him to her farmhouse kitchen, a big room from past times, too big for one person. Mitch seemed to half fill it, though.

  While the coffee brewed, she leaned back against the counter and folded her arms over her sweater. “They won’t catch ’em.”

  Mitch relaxed against the wall on the far side of the room. He seldom encroached by getting too close to her. She’d begun to notice that.

  “Of course they won’t catch the guys. Unless they brag about it.”

  “We can hope they’re that stupid.”

  He passed his hand over his face. “A couple of my men are coming over to mend your fence. Cops had to cut it to get to the remains. Speaking of stupidity, there’s that ewe. What was she doing so far away from the flock?”

  Her brows rose. “That’s a good question.”

  * * *

  Mitch watched Grace as the coffee brewed. She’d always been a lovely woman, but now she was awfully thin. Once she’d been “pleasingly plump” as people would call it, a plumpness that gave a fullness to her curves. All that had vanished since John’s death. Well, he could understand it. Her hair was still inky black, her eyes still the bright blue of a summer sky. Her smile was wide and infectious beneath a small, straight nose.

  He’d just like to see her smile more. He remembered her before John’s death and didn’t think John would be happy about the way she was now. In fact, he was sure of it.

  He stifled a sigh, knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He turned his attention to a matter that was at least somewhat under his control.

  “I need to question my shepherds,” he told her. “I hired them to protect the flock, obviously. I’d like to know if they have any idea why that ewe was so far away.”

  She nodded. The coffeepot finished quickly. She’d evidently only brewed enough to offer him some. She filled a large mug and passed it to him. “Why wouldn’t the whole flock have followed her? That’s what they usually do, follow each other.”

  “I don’t know. I’ll ask Zeke and Rod if they have any ideas.” Those were not their real names, coming from Portugal as they did, but those were the names they preferred to be known by. Given how the Portuguese pronunciation was so easily massacred, Mitch understood it. God knew, he’d tried unsuccessfully.

  “I suspect she must have been ill.” Even sheep could refuse to associate with one of their number who was seriously sick. Protective mechanisms operated at a basic level. He needed to be as sure as possible, though. Strange things were afoot no matter how he looked at them.

  Yet he didn’t want to make too much of this. He’d been dealing with livestock his entire life, and weird things happened. Like cows practically dancing with glee when he let them out of their winter pasture, where they lived on hay, alfalfa and some supplements, into a freshly greening spring pasture. All of a sudden those supposedly “bovine” creatures began to run around as if they were spring lambs themselves.

  It always tickled him to watch that.

  This was definitely not tickling him, however. And worse, tough as she wanted to be, Grace was looking a trifle drawn. Still disturbed. Unwilling to admit to even a bit of weakness.

  Damn stubborn woman.

  How many erstwhile primary school teachers would take on the dream of a man like John Hall? He’d worked ranches. He’d married the teacher and Grace had quit her job. Then a year later, the two of them had jumped to buy this ranch at a court-ordered auction. John’s dream of raising sheep had become Grace’s and she’d worked beside him every minute to build this place.

  He sometimes wondered if she’d had dreams of her own that she’d relinquished for John. Or if in him she had found the answer to those dreams. That was a question he’d never be able to ask.

  He sipped his coffee, seeking another subject to discuss, something that didn’t have to do with that slaughtered ewe. Something to turn her away from grim thoughts.

  “Thank you,” she said presently. “I appreciate you having your men come fix my fence.”

  That drew a hollow laugh from him. “Your fence, my fence, who cares? It’s helping to contain the sheep. I’m hardly going to give them an excuse to wander into a road, and where one goes they all go.”

  Except last night.

  Then a thought occurred to him. “You need to go into town anytime soon? I ought to make a run for provisions. I’m feeding myself, my housekeeper, three hired hands and two shepherds who are pretty good at feeding themselves out in the pasture, but they still need staples.”

  She knew all this, of course. The problem with the years was that you got to know someone, at least on the surface, and conversation became sporadic. The details had already been shared.

  Plus, you knew where all the Do Not Trespass signs were planted. Grace had quite a few, and he guessed he did, too.

  Grace’s smile was wan, but still a smile. “I was thinking about it when I was making breakfast this morning. I need to stock up.”

  “Well, then, let’s go do it today. Plenty of room in that pickup to carry supplies for a whole bunch of people.”

  “Thank you for the offer. I’ll take you up on that.”

  A short while later, he departed with the feeling she wanted to be alone for a bit. The princess, returning to her isolation in her tower.

  Well, the large landowner, not princess. Fact was, they’d both been recently approached by an industrial farming group that had made an offer for their acreage. Neither of them had had the least trouble in turning down the offer.

  It was some damn good land, better than most, with streams that ran sweet well into the summer with mountain runoff, ponds that stayed full unless there was a drought, and some good trees.

  Although the cows had nibbled the bottoms of the tree branches until they looked as if someone had come along and pruned them all off at the same height.

  His own topiary.

  He was glad to see his hired hands Bill and Jack already at work on the fence. Bill touched the brim of his cowboy hat as Mitch drove by.

  As he reached the end of Grace’s drive, he saw a black sedan turn in. Betty Pollard, Grace’s only girlfriend, the only one who came to visit occasionally. He gave a friendly wave, glad to know that Grace wouldn’t be alone after all.

  Then he returned to his own place, full of questions, with only a few hours to seek answers before he came to get Grace for the trip to town.

  * * *

  Grace heard a car pulling up and looked out her front window to see Betty Pollard. A close friend over the last couple of years since they’d met. Betty had pushed past Grace’s reserve, and Grace always enjoyed seeing her.

  Except this morning. She’d have preferred a phone call first, because she really didn’t want to entertain anyone, not Mitch, not Betty.

  The beginning of a cheerful mood in the morning had been dashed when she came across that ewe. She was still shocked that anyone could have done such a thing. Shocked that it had happened so close to her home.

  She was getting bluer by the minute. Counting her blessings hadn’t worked well since John’s death. That particular shock didn’t ever seem to quit. It still seemed impossible that a heart defect had killed a young and healthy man like him instantly.

  She watched Betty climb out of the black sedan that looked so out of place. Grace had often wondered how Betty kept it clean, what with all the dust around here. Even now a layer was already starting to build on that shiny black surface.

  Betty waved, obviously seeing her through the window.

  Grace half-heartedly waved back and went to open the door.

  Betty breezed in as she always did, this time without a smile. “I heard,” she said.

  Heard? Already? That seemed quick.

>   Betty must have noticed the question in her eyes. “You should get a police band radio, Grace. Never miss out on any of the so-called excitement in Conard County. Tickets. Rowdies at a roadhouse. A drunk staggering around who needs to be led home. Why in the world would you want to miss all that?”

  Despite herself, a laugh escaped Grace. “I guess it was more exciting this morning?”

  “Believe it. Do I smell coffee?”

  “The pot’s empty, I’m afraid.”

  Betty smiled. “Then I’ll just make more.” She marched into the kitchen. “My God, I can’t imagine how you must have felt when you found that. I’d be feeling attacked if that was my sheep.”

  Grace didn’t bother to tell her it was now Mitch’s sheep. He hadn’t wanted their arrangement broadcast for some reason, so she kept quiet.

  “I don’t feel personally attacked,” Grace answered. “Just some drunk idiots having what they think was a good time.”

  Betty shook her head as she measured out coffee and filled the machine with water. “I’d be scared to death to live out here if I were in your shoes. Really, you need to think about selling. You need a life.”

  That wasn’t the first time Betty had suggested selling. Every time she did, she set Grace’s back up. But Grace was unwilling to get into an argument over it, and she knew perfectly well that Betty would argue when she believed she was right.

  “Just think about it,” Betty said.

  “I will,” Grace answered, to end the topic .

  “Anyway,” Betty said, plopping herself at the table, “let me tell you my good news.”

  That perked Grace up. “Good news? Do tell.”

  “I fully intend to. I met a guy.”

  Grace felt a smile spread across her face. “Just a guy?”

  “Well, more than a guy,” Betty said impishly. “I mean, it’s all brand-new and could disappear by next week, but at the moment he has me over the moon.”

  Grace had often been surprised that Betty didn’t have a trail of men following her everywhere. Blonde and beautiful in every respect, nice to be around. Except she gathered Betty was very picky. A good thing to be when it came to romance.

  Inevitably, she thought of John. They had fit together like peas in a pod. A great match, though it had surprised her when it began.

  “Anyway,” Betty continued, “he’s sexy enough to catch my eye. And so far he’s been considerate and fun to be around.”

  “A great combination. Do I know him?”

  “I don’t think so. He’s not from around here. I only ran into him because we were both in Casper at the same time. At the same bar with dancing. We meshed so well I don’t think either of us saw another person there.”

  Grace smiled again. “I’m happy for you, Betty.”

  “Too soon to be happy. But for the moment I’ll enjoy it. Now about you. You need to get out there more, Grace. There are some really nice people in the world.”

  “You’re right. I’m just not ready.”

  “You will be,” Betty said with certainty. “Anyway, I’ve got to run. Dan and I are meeting midway for lunch at one of the roadhouses. The way it’s been going we may close the place tonight.”

  Betty left after giving her a hug and another suggestion to sell the ranch, leaving Grace with yet another pot of coffee. She turned it off. She felt caffeinated enough to want to crawl out of her skin.

  Instead she set about cleaning a bathroom and dusting. Dusting was a perpetual task out here, except during the winter. And it was getting time to pull out her windows and clean the frames. If she didn’t do that, they’d get to the point where they wouldn’t open or close properly.

  Endless household chores. Maybe she did too many. Or maybe she didn’t do enough.

  Either way, they kept her busy.

  * * *

  Betty drove away, thinking about Grace and her situation. The woman ought to be ready to leave that ranch. She should have been ready a long time ago.

  Betty had the feeling that it would take more to convince Grace to move on with her life. If a butchered ewe couldn’t persuade her, then what would?

  Sighing, Betty pondered the problem. She needed to get Grace to sell.

  Chapter 2

  Mitch picked up Grace around noon. A trip into Conard City seemed like just the ticket after her morning. He was going to insist on one thing, however. This time she was going to accept his offer of a satellite phone, the only thing that worked out here other than a landline.

  It had bothered him for some time that she was all alone, except on those occasions when he could find time to check in with her. Brave and stubborn or not, she needed to take better care of herself.

  The first item on his agenda was feeding her. He claimed to be ravenous, so she didn’t object when he suggested eating at either the truck stop diner or at Maude’s. He gave her the choice, but she was indifferent.

  “I’m fine either way, Mitch.”

  He decided on the truck stop. At least it wouldn’t be full of locals, which might inadvertently make her uncomfortable.

  Her discomfort with meeting people had become apparent to him. Sometimes he wanted to point out John wouldn’t have liked her feeling this way, but he figured it was a lost cause. Everyone grieved in their own way, on their own timeline. It wasn’t something that could be marked on a calendar.

  The diner wasn’t very busy. He supposed a lot of drivers snoozed outside in their growling big rigs. The waitress who came over to take their orders was middle-aged, full-breasted and kindly. Her graying hair was confined in a net, something not often seen anymore.

  Grace’s order seemed too little, so he ordered extra toast and ham, hoping to tempt her to join him. Damn, this woman needed to eat before she vanished.

  “Did you talk to your shepherds?” she asked.

  So much for distracting her from the morning’s ugliness. “I got a hold of Zeke. He said the flock scattered during the night and they suspected coyotes had scared them but thought it was strange they didn’t just knot together for protection. Anyway, after they scattered, he and Rod started rounding them up. He didn’t notice a ewe missing until this morning. He also suggested I spring for some herding dogs, and he’s right. But they don’t come cheap.”

  “A lot of training?”

  “Zeke said most herd by instinct but still need to learn commands so they do what we want them to. Apparently one trained dog can train others, even puppies.”

  “Maybe Cadell Marcus,” she offered, mentioning a local dog trainer.

  “Maybe. I’ll check with him, but I thought he mainly trained police K-9s and service dogs.”

  “Since he can do that, he might be able to branch out. Then there’s Ransom Laird. He’s been raising sheep forever. He helped John and me out when we first started. In fact, we bought the beginnings of our flock from him.”

  “That’s a good idea,” he allowed.

  Breakfast was served and he watched her pick at hers. He wished he could find a way to increase her appetite, although after this morning that might be difficult.

  “How is Betty?” he asked, diverting the conversation.

  “She’s doing well. Has a new man in her life and seems really happy. And she pushed me about selling again.”

  “She doesn’t give up, does she?”

  Grace smiled. “I guess not.”

  Mitch agreed with Betty. He understood Grace’s attachment to the land and the house but also spent a lot of time worrying about her solitary existence. She was practically in the middle of nowhere by herself. What if she got hurt?

  That was why he wanted to push the sat phone on her. What if she couldn’t reach him, her nearest neighbor, on her landline?

  Mostly she needed the phone so she’d have communication wherever she went, like down there to find the ewe this morning. He imagined her running back to the house to call him and the cops.

  Nope. He wasn’t going to let that continue, but he had to find a way around her stubbornness, and a way to get her to eat. She didn’t seem any more interested in conversation than eating. Nothing he could do about that either.