The Cattleman (Sons of Texas Book 2) (40 page)

“She’ll be safe,” Pic said.

“
It’s not her safety I’m concerned about. Steve Logan can stay around here and keep an eye on things. But she’s unfamiliar with the ranch house.”

Mandy spoke up behind him. “What’s wrong?”

“Hold on, Drake.” Pic lowered the phone from his ear. “If Drake leaves, Shannon will be alone in the house.”

“I’ll stay with her,” Mandy said. Then added, “But I’m doing it for Shannon. I consider her a friend.”

Pic returned to his conversation with his brother. “What if Mandy stays with her? She knows her way around the house.”

“Hm. Yeah, that ought to work.”

Yes!
Not only would Mandy be able to keep an eye on Shannon, she would not be able to leave before they got back. He and Dad and Drake would get whatever problem existed at the homeplace resolved and then he could sit down with Mandy and talk to her. “Okay, we’re on our way to the house.”

He leaned down and kissed Mandy’s cheek. “Thank you, baby.”

She jerked her face away from him. “Don’t baby me.” She slashed the air with both hands. “I told you I’m done with all this and I meant it.” She stalked toward the house.

How had she gone from loving him to breaking up their relationship in the space of an afternoon? What had he done? What could he do to fix it? He walked beside her, double-timing to keep up with her
, but making sure he stayed out of her way. “I know you said that, but thank you anyway. We’ll get back as soon as we can.”

On the way to the house, he speed-dialed Kate’s cell. She didn’t even say hello. “I left because I needed to get home.
I’m tired and I’ve got things to do here. I said hello to every living, breathing human there and even a few dogs—”

“Kate, hush. Something’s happened at the homeplace. Don’t know the details yet.
Be sure you stay at home, okay? Which one of our security guys is with you?”

“I think his name is Ryan.”

“Hang close to him, okay? And make sure your horses are secure.”

“Okay, but—”

“Gotta go. More later.”

Inside the house, Pic tapped on Drake’s bedroom door. When Drake opened it, Pic said, “Mandy’s here.”

“Great,” Drake said. “Thanks, Mandy.” He stepped back to allow her into the room.

“No problem,” Mandy said grimly.

****

Left alone, Amanda heaved a great breath. She was worn out. The combination of having no sleep the night before and the bizarre events of the day had left her both logy and antsy at the same time. Maybe it was adrenaline. Someone had vandalized the old homeplace? What did that mean? Though it was located on private property and was marked with NO TRESPASSING signs, she supposed everyone in Treadway County knew where it was.

She thought about that, but for only a few seconds. She was so hot and tired, her brain wasn’t fully functioning and she was sweaty. At least the house was cool The circulation from the air conditioner felt good against her sweat-dampened clothing.

She had never been in Drake’s suite, but she had been in Pic’s. They were similar—a small sitting room separated from the sleeping area and bathroom by honey-colored wood sliding doors.

The blistering sun had already headed west, so Drake’s sitting room, being on the shaded side of the house
like Pic’s, was dimly lit from the outside. A pair of matching love seats flanked a corner table. A lamp cast a low amber light. A big leather recliner hunkered squarely in front of a large flat-screen TV. Everything in the room was big and comfortable-looking, a place for relaxation. Drake’s condo in Fort Worth had had the same look and feel. The scent of his cologne filled the room, subtle but unmistakable. Pic cared not a whit for cologne, but Drake had always worn the expensive stuff.

Amanda crossed the sitting room, slid the doors open a few inches and saw Shannon in the king-size bed sound asleep.

So she was stuck here for the rest of the afternoon. What would she do for the next three or four hours? Think about Pic? And that woman named Zoshi who resembled images of fertility goddesses Amanda had seen in books? And she had looked up at Pic as if he were a god. Sex waiting to happen. And she had been in close quarters with him for at least two days. Pic was a highly-sexed man and he was far from a saint. He expected her to believe nothing had happened between him and that…that beautiful sexy woman?

Amanda had to put it out of her mind or she would go crazy. Her thoughts veered to the library. Located between the living room and the den, it was full of books. She made her way to it.

Pic’s mother had enjoyed reading and had instilled that habit in all of her kids. She had also used the library for spreading out her quilting projects. When Amanda had come here as a teenager, seeing Betty’s quilts in various stages of completion all over the library wasn’t unusual. Now, as far as Amanda knew, Betty hadn’t lifted a needle in years.

Everyone would have been better off if she had stuck to the quilting
, an evil voice said inside Amanda’s head.

“True,” Amanda mumbled as she searched titles.
Damn Betty
. She had chosen Zoshi, knowing Pic’s eye for beautiful women.

Amanda loved books. Teaching literature to high schoolers was almost as much fun as coaching swimming. She chose a ten-year-old novel from the shelf and walked back across the house to Drake’s suite.

She closed the doors, took a seat in the buttery leather recliner and almost felt as if she were being hugged by utter comfort. She switched on a floor lamp beside the left arm of the chair, raised the footrest and opened her book. Before she had finished a page, she dropped off.

****

After a jolting trip at too much speed over the rough pasture, Pic and his group topped a rise and veered to the two-track lane that led to the homeplace. Soon, the pitiable bawls of a cow that had lost her calf came to them long before they reached her or saw the house. They drove upon her wandering and bawling. Pic came to a stop, slammed the gear shift into “park” and stepped out, hoping to be able to see if the cow was injured. She
darted into the copse of cedar trees a distance away and continued to bawl.

He looked around for a telling sign of damage or danger, but saw nothing.
He wouldn’t be able to get close enough to her to examine her. “She looked okay, what little I saw of her,” he told the group in the truck cab as he climbed back behind the wheel. “Just scared. She might never have ever seen a human being on foot.”

He put the truck in ge
ar and inched toward the house.

“Did you look for her calf anywhere?” Dad asked Andy.

“Nossir, I didn’t want to take the time. The only thing I saw was some blood around the cistern.”

Pic and Drake exchanged looks.
Drake leveled a pointed look at Andy. “You think the asshole who did this killed that cow’s calf and put it in the cistern?”

Andy’s throat worked. “I don’t really know, sir.”

“My God,” Dad said from the backseat.

A few minutes later, they arrived in front of the house.

The front section of the wrought-iron fence lay collapsed, as if something had crashed into it. “Truck with a cattle guard on the grill,” Dad mumbled.

The four of
them stepped out of the truck.

The lantana plant at the corner had been uprooted and lay in shambles. “Betty will be upset about that,” Dad said. “She liked that plant.”

Pic gave his dad a look across his shoulder. As far as he knew, Mom hadn’t been to this house in more than eight years.

Four great swaths of something white arched across the house’s stone front. Empty paint buckets had been thrown across the yard. Pic picked one up, noted that the paint smeared on the outside of it was almost dry. He read the label. “Shit. It’s oil-base enamel. In this heat, it’s probably already dry. It’s not ever coming off those walls.”

He pulled keys from his pocket. “I’m almost afraid to go inside.”

He didn’t need keys. The padlock on the front door on the living room side had been sawed off and the door stood open. He stepped in ahead of the others. One by one they followed.

The sofa and most of the furniture had been upended. Large slashes across the sofa and chair cushions exposed their linings. Shards of broken dishes were scattered over the floor in the kitchen area, as well as foodstuffs like flour and sugar. Cans of food had been smashed and spilled out over the floor. White paint was splattered randomly over all of it, including the antique wood cookstove. A fire had been attempted in the middle of the room near the dining table and chairs, but evidently, the culprit hadn’t been able to get it started.

“Looks like it’s a good thing everything’s made out of rock,” Andy said.

“All of this took some time,” Pic said. “And maybe more than one person. I left here around one o’clock yesterday. I didn’t see a sign of another rig at any point going out. So whoever did this must’ve showed up after two. They had the whole afternoon to do mischief.”

Drake had re
mained silent until now. “Goddammit. This is bullshit.”

“I’m gonna check out the other two rooms,” Pic said.

He strode across the breezeway to the bedroom where the door stood open. Inside, he found the mattress slashed, the stuffing dragged out and scattered all over the room. The dresser looked to have been hacked in half with an ax. More white paint had been splattered across the rock walls. The cute little red woodstove was gone, its stovepipe hanging loose. The vandals must have wanted it.

Pic wanted to cry. Besides being important to his family, this place meant something to him personally. And to Mandy. They’d had good times here. He was glad she wouldn’t see this destruction.

When he went to the reading room, he found again where a fire had been attempted, using paperback books for fuel, but again, it hadn’t caught.

They re-grouped in the breezeway, away from the sun’s heat.

“Who the fuck would do something like this?” Drake demanded.

A rhetorical question that, by now, probably had been asked mentally a dozen times. “I don’t know,” Pic answered, “but it’s high time these cops get
in gear and get to the bottom of this. They’ve been pussyfooting around long enough.”

“What the hell is taking Gilmore so long to get out here?” Drake growled. “I’m gonna call Blake.” He yanked his phone off his belt and speed-dialed the Texas Ranger’s number.

Drake had little respect for Tom Gilmore, the Treadway County Sheriff. True, the guy wasn’t a great cop, but then he was probably the best Treadway County could dredge up to do the job of sheriff. Pic and his dad had supported him in the last election.

After a short conversation, Drake turned back to the group. “Blake and Jack will be here as soon as they can. He said try not to mess up anything.”

Leave it to Drake to get whips cracking and balls rolling.

“Let’s go take a look at that cistern,” Pic said. “If that calf really is in it, we need to get it out. There’s nothing in there that will dispose of it. We can’t let it contaminate the water any more than it already has.”

They walked from the breezeway around the corner of the house. A wide streak of blood showed on the cistern’s concrete side. On the ground, a wide trail leading from the front yard to the cistern showed, as if something had been dragged. Spots of blood showed on the grass near it. The solemn group stood together staring at the cistern.

“Shit,” Pic stage whispered as all that might be required to remove a large dead animal from the cistern and decontaminate the water scrolled through his mind.

“They must have shot it,” Drake said. “There’s not enough blood for them to have killed it any other way.”

“If it was a spring calf, it would weigh around five hundred, maybe five-fifty by now,” Pic said.

“I don’t know any way to get it out but to go down there,” Dad said.

“How deep is the water?” Pic asked.

“Four, maybe five feet last I knew.”

Pic and Drake looked at each other. They were both thinking the same thing. The question was, who was more afraid of water—Pic or his brother?

“Well, is it four or five?” Drake snapped. “When you’re talking about water, there’s a big difference between those two numbers.”

“It doesn’t
matter,” Dad said. “That calf won’t be floating. If you want to get it out, you’ll still have to go under the water and tie on to it.”

Pic swallowed hard and stole another look at Drake.

“I’ll go down there,” Andy said.

“Just hold it,” Drake said in his firmest no-nonsense tone. “Why the fuck does anybody have to go down there? What we do is get some equipment in here, tear this concrete top off and fill that fuckin’ hole with dirt.
Carcass covered. Problem solved.”

Dad stared wide-eyed at Drake. “We can’t do that, Son. It’s water for the house.”

“Dad,” Drake argued. “Why does the house need water? Who comes here anymore?”

A few seconds of silence passed. “It was sure nice being able to stop off here for a cool drink on a hot day,” Andy put in meekly.