Oregon Outback (16 page)

“Yes. Would you please step out of the house? Bring your driver’s license, insurance, and your papers for transporting these cattle.” Although branding wasn’t mandatory in Oregon, every truck transporting them for transfer of ownership out of state or for slaughter needed branding inspection papers.

The man laughed. “You followed me all the way out here for that?”

“Sir, please do as you’re told.”

He slipped back inside and when he returned, another man—younger, maybe his son—followed him out. He proffered his license. “What’s this about? I wasn’t speeding.”

Sheridan took the license and read the name, Frank Driggs, and wrote down his license number so she could call it in. “And the papers for the cattle.”

“They’re all mine. I don’t need papers. But you need a warrant to search my property.”

Slipping her hand onto her firearm, she tensed. “Sir, I have probable cause to believe stolen cattle are being trucked out of state. We’re searching every truck. If those cattle belong to you then you have nothing to worry about. But I need to see them.”

She would call out the brand inspector, too, if there was any doubt. Lee Holder worked part-time these days, and he wasn’t going to be happy.

The man’s expression grew dark. Sheridan’s training kicked in.

“All right.” He glanced back at the younger man then marched to the back of the trailer.

Sheridan kept her distance as he opened the trailer door wide. The cows began to shuffle, expecting to be released from captivity, but he didn’t roll out the ramp.

Mr. Driggs turned his attention to Sheridan. “We trucked them back from where they were grazing and stopped off at the house, that’s all. Have another thirty miles or so to take them. You’ll understand if I don’t want to unload the lot of them. You can see what you need to.”

What he said didn’t sound right. Sheridan had a bad feeling about these men, but she’d manage the situation with all caution. “Step away from the trailer, please.”

The stink of manure was strong as Sheridan approached the open trailer and studied the cows, looking for brands, specifically Carver’s, and calves without brands. Chances were she’d need the cattle unloaded to see what she was looking for, but one step at a time.

A shadow gave her a millisecond warning before the trailer door slammed into her, knocking her to the ground.

Pain sliced through her head. Her vision ebbed, darkening at the edges. The ramp slid down with a deafening jar, and the cows stampeded to freedom in a panic, some leaping out, avoiding the ramp and nearly trampling her. Sheridan pulled her weapon out and rolled under the truck in one fluid motion.

T
his should be it.” Carver pointed to the side road on the left, just off the main highway.

He leaned forward, practically on the edge of the passenger seat in Janice Holston’s truck. Itching to get out, he hadn’t even buckled his seat belt.

“Whatever you say, cowboy.” The pretty blond smiled his way and turned the dually, pulling his horses into the rutted, dirt road.

From a distance, he’d seen the sheriff’s flashing lights head this way, but he couldn’t be certain if she had taken this detour or another from the main road. He wished Janice would drive faster. She hadn’t been willing to let him behind the wheel, but at least she’d agreed to help.

The truck and trailer crept along the path, Janice slowing to an almost complete stop at every pothole.

Carver’s patience ran out. The sheriff might have run into trouble. Finding his cattle was one thing, but if something happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. Why had he called her?

“Tell you what. Let me unload one of my horses, and I’ll ride ahead of you.”

“I’ll pull over.”

“Don’t bother. Just stop here. Nobody’s coming, so you’re fine at the moment.” Carver opened the door, but before he could slip out, Janice reached toward him.

“Remember, you promised to meet me for coffee.” Her contact-enhanced lavender eyes were warm and inviting. But … she wasn’t Sheridan.

“I’ll remember.” Carver nodded, slipping out of the cab, then slammed the door. Surely, she didn’t believe she wouldn’t see him again. He had to get his trailer and horse.

He jogged back to the trailer, grateful he hadn’t unsaddled the horses yet. As quickly as he could, he unloaded the first one, and prevented the second from escape. “Sorry, girl, you’re going to have to stay in here for a while.”

“You talking to me or the horse?” Janice leaned against the trailer, poised to show off her curves.

“The mare. She’s staying in the trailer. You’re driving the truck and meeting me up the road a bit.” He couldn’t help his sharp tone.

Without another look at the woman, Carver climbed onto Kodiak and pressed him into a gallop.

Hold on, Sheriff, I’m coming
.

What was he doing? Sheridan was the law and didn’t need his help. She’d left him behind to prove her point. But she also needed her deputies to back her up, and as far as Carver could tell, help hadn’t arrived.

He didn’t bother glancing back at Janice, trusting that she would follow. As long as she didn’t run off with his trailer and horse, he didn’t care. If only the sheriff would look at him like Janice, who didn’t even know him.

But Sheridan had once, a long time ago. He’d blown his chance back then.

A couple of miles farther on, the road curved around a bluff, preventing him from seeing what was up ahead. He urged Kodiak off the main path and up the rise to save time and get a better look. At the top, he could see for miles. The drive ended at a small farmhouse. He pulled his binoculars from his pack and peered through them. The sheriff’s vehicle was parked a little ways behind the cattle trailer. Cows poured haphazardly from the trailer into the yard around the house instead of a holding pen.

No one was there to guide them or handle the mass exit. What was going on? Where was the sheriff? The coffee in his stomach curdled.

Oh Lord, am I too late?
Staying alert to his surroundings, Carver maneuvered Kodiak down an access in the bluff, then charged toward the house.

He meant to save the woman he loved.

Weapon at the ready, Sheridan peered out from under the cattle trailer, searching for the suspects, waiting for the press of hooves to clear from her line of sight. The dust to settle.

Coughing, she covered her mouth to filter the dirt stirred by the cows, growing more aggravated with Ronny, her backup, by the millisecond. If only she’d brought Carver with her, this wouldn’t have happened. But then, he wasn’t her deputy, nor would she want him to get hurt.

The cattle began to settle. Sheridan crawled toward the clearing air, hoping for a way out. Were the suspects waiting for her, planning to shoot when they saw her? She could make out the house. Crawling out near the front of the trailer would make her vulnerable. The sound of pebbles and dirt, scraping from somewhere behind, pinged her alarm—someone was making their way under the trailer with her. She jerked her weapon around, ready to fire.

Carver!
Sheridan lowered her gun, hands trembling. “I could have shot you.”

He pressed a finger against his lips and motioned for her to follow him out. She scooted across the dirt, then climbed to her knees, crouching beneath the trailer near the back. Carver’s strong arms reached underneath and pulled her out, propping her steadily on her feet. Concern creased the skin around his eyes. The Carver she knew, brusque and arrogant, was gone.

He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to him. Surprise engulfed her. Sheridan allowed herself to rest in the comfort and shelter he offered. And … just for a minute, she was a woman, and not a sheriff in pursuit. The last few hazardous minutes of her life suddenly swooped down on her, and her knees shook.

What was she doing? She couldn’t afford to be weak. She pushed away from Carver’s embrace.

“I was worried about you.” He rubbed his thumb across her cheek, scrubbing at something. Probably dirt. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m all right. What do you think?” She swatted his hand away. She’d worked hard to become tough as steel, and here he treated her like she might break. Weapon in position, she crept around the side of the trailer. It was then she realized Carver had his horse, leading him.

“What are you doing here?” She peered around the trailer. “You could get hurt.”

Carver sighed. “Your boys took off on their horses and into the wilds of Oregon.”

Figures. They’d released the cattle as a distraction so they could escape. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now.”

“We need to go after them.”

“I don’t know if there’s anyone in the house that we need to worry about,” he said.

“I don’t even know if the house belonged to them.”

“Well, I can tell you the cows belong to me. They’ve got my brand except for the calves, which haven’t been branded yet. Obviously, though, this isn’t all of them. But this could just be their first load. Ray is still searching.”

“Why don’t you go help Ray, then? I’ve got my hands full with these men. Ronny should be here soon. We’ll take it from here.”

“There’s no time to get more horses for you and Ronny, Sheriff. But definitely, you should wait for him.” Carver climbed onto his mount and rode off, herding his cattle into a nearby corral.

Tired and frustrated, Sheridan shook her head. She hiked back to her vehicle, wary that someone in the house could cause them harm. She reached inside the Yukon and radioed dispatch, who informed her Ronny had been detained by a traffic accident that shut down the left lane of the main highway through the mountains. Great. The state police would be there, but Ronny wouldn’t be free for a while. Two other deputies couldn’t meet her for another hour, if that.

When she looked up again, she spotted Carver closing up the corral filled with cattle. He was fast. He looked her way, tipped his hat, then he pressed his horse into a gallop, heading in the direction he’d indicated the men went.

“Carver!”

Sheridan scrambled into her Yukon, turned on the ignition, and shoved the gear into D
RIVE
. She swerved around the truck and off the road, bouncing across the yard and unfenced pasture behind the house.

Honking her horn, she wanted Carver to know she was in pursuit, not him. But she couldn’t stay in the SUV, following the suspects through Oregon Outback scored with geological scars, bluffs, and mountains. That’s why they’d brought the horses to begin with.

Carver stopped at the top of a slope and waited in the saddle. She pressed the accelerator, steering and bouncing over the rough terrain. Near the top of the rise, she yanked the steering wheel around in a hard stop. Hopefully, Carver had control over his horse, because he certainly didn’t have control over himself. The man was a wild mustang. Someone needed to tame him.

Sheridan leaped from the vehicle. “What do you think you’re doing? I’ve about had it with you. You cannot take off after those men. You are not the law.”

He didn’t even look at her but lifted his hand from where it rested on the pommel and pointed. Sheridan’s gaze followed where he indicated.

Two men on horses were riding hard and fast. The rustlers …

“I needed to see where they were headed.”

“Well, you can’t go after them alone, and I can’t follow them without a horse.” Sheridan looked back at the house. Another truck sat in the drive now. A dually with a horse trailer. Carver’s trailer. She’d not had a chance to wonder how he’d caught up with her on his horse.

He guided his mount to where she stood. “Looks like Janice finally arrived with the other horse.”

“Janice?” She stared at him.

He grinned and winked. “Let’s get you in the saddle.”

Oh boy
. Sheridan held her shoulders high, despite the weight pressing down. She’d had the rustlers. Why had she allowed them to get the best of her?

Suddenly, she realized Carver was watching her. To her surprise he dismounted and stepped over to lean against the Yukon, his face inches from hers. “Don’t blame yourself they got away. You’re alive. That’s all I care about. But if you still insist on going after these men, I still insist on going with you.”

I know
. The way he stared at her, the way he’d said the words, Sheridan could swear something about this whole chase had changed them—changed their relationship.

She had to shake herself from the way the man affected her. “We’re wasting time.”

Opening the door, she nearly knocked him over. She climbed in and closed the door, then leaned out the window. “I’ll race you down the hill.”

B
y midmorning, the sun had begun its climb into the sky, and Sheridan, finally in the saddle, raced behind Carver after the rustlers. She’d never ridden at a gallop like this over such rough and rocky terrain, but trusted Carver’s horses were well-trained for the challenge. After this experience, she wished the county could afford a full-time, well-trained mounted patrol. A mobile command trailer would be nice, too.

How she wished they had bullet-resistant vests. It was a matter of economics, but since facing off with that mobster, Sheridan had applied pressure to those in control for the purchase of new vests. The current ones were purchased years ago. They’d been taken off the market because they didn’t work. She’d tried one—it didn’t fit, choked her, and she couldn’t even drive.