Stone of Vengeance (11 page)

The horse, like in truce, temporarily stopped his battle then began stamping as if he were not satisfied with her slow advance.

‘Kate, this is Drifter.’ The horse made a snorting noise and shook his head: a wild-looking creature, big-boned heavy and grey, definitely not the sleek white Arabian horse she had pictured for Ty.

Kate reached out to pat the animal’s rough, unattractive head.

‘Careful. He doesn’t like anyone but me. And not even me most of the time.’

‘Where did you find him? Not in Arabia, I’m sure.’

Ty laughed. ‘Actually I adopted him from the BLM wild horse program. We’re just alike, us two. Most of the time he runs free, but once in a while we hang out together.’

‘What did you want to talk to me about?’

Ty did not answer at once, almost as if he had some
particular
reason to delay. ‘I thought we’d go for a horseback ride first. Would that be okay with you?’

Kate should say no; riding through the canyon with Ty was not part of her job description, but she brushed aside her doubts, smiled, and replied, ‘I’m not riding Drifter.’

‘I have the perfect one for you.’ Ty dropped Drifter’s reins and sorted out a gentle little mare. ‘Her name’s Chestnut. She’ll love you.’

Kate watched as he saddled the horse he had chosen for her. An improvement over Drifter, with coat pretty and glistening.

‘Need help?’

‘No.’ Kate reached for the saddle-horn, placed a foot in the stirrup, and pulled herself up.

‘A pro,’ Ty said.

Chestnut moved from the corral without any prompting. Ty struggled getting Drifter through the gate, then he stopped to latch it behind him. He swung up on the saddle, Drifter reacting with an irritable dance step. ‘Follow me,’ he said. ‘We’ll head up that high slope and down to the creek.’

Kate liked trailing after him, liked to watch his straight form, his natural poise against the jostling upward steps.

‘In May this hill is bright red with Indian Paint Brush,’ he said over his shoulder.

The lull of the jogging saddle, the fresh air around her, made Kate momentarily forget the continual trouble that had plagued her. Something healing about the high desert, she thought and felt almost happy. ‘Ty, look at that? Goldenrod everywhere.’

‘My favourite.’

The tall, graceful stems made her think of the vase of flowers she had taken home from the hospital and placed beside her bed, flowers Ty had gathered, arranged and brought just for her.

The sun began to make itself felt as they started down the sharp descent into another wide valley, this one dotted with mottled grey rocks and sage.

‘The sky is so blue here,’ Kate said. Many artists must have tried to paint this landscape, to capture the exact hue of a Wyoming sky feathered with clouds. She imagined most of them had given up in frustration.

‘Hard to believe it will soon be winter,’ Ty said.

‘I dread the snow.’

‘Mustn’t do that. Winter’s beautiful, too. The sun shining across white fields somehow lifts the spirits, gives you the heart to brave the cold.’

She could grow very fond of Wyoming, even think about making it her permanent home. Yet if she lost her job –
because of actions like this one – her family would pressure her to return to Michigan.

‘There it is, Rock Creek. Here’s where we stop.’

Ty dismounted near the tall pines in the draw, came back to her and lifted her down. Once her feet were on solid ground, she thought again of the reason she was out here. ‘Is this where we talk?’

‘Yes it is.’

‘What did you find out? What do you want to tell me?’

Ty did not let go of her, but drew her close. She could feel his muscular body pressed against hers, his strong arms holding her tightly. ‘What I have to tell you is very
important
, Kate,’ he said against her hair. ‘The most important thing that I’ve ever said. I can’t stop thinking about you.’ He held her away from him for a moment, smiling into her eyes, sunshine falling across his handsome, rugged face. ‘This is a very serious sign. I don’t know, but I think it might be the first symptom of falling in love.’

Kate was too surprised to answer, but she didn’t have to. Ty’s arms encircled her again and this time he kissed her. His lips, gentle yet exciting, caused in her an unexpected response. She felt giddy, exuberant, like some teenager
experiencing
first love.

‘We’re not far from where we were Sunday night,’ Ty told her. ‘If you want me to, I’ll show you the place where the rustlers cut our fence.’ Ty glanced back at the horses contentedly grazing in the shade of a huge cottonwood. ‘I think it would be easier to just walk from here.’

Ty caught her hand as they set off following the creek, which did not absorb the sunlight, but looked still and murky. They became surrounded by tangles of thick underbrush and twisted branches that rose from out of the muddy, shallow water. Although they were only a few miles from Swen’s stables, Kate felt as if she had entered some alien land.

‘How long have you known Hal Barkley?’ Kate asked him.

‘He has worked for Kingsley for some time, on and off. About two years ago Kingsley made him foreman.’

‘And you’ve fought … often?’

‘He hates Swen with a passion. Sometimes I have to step in and shut him up.’

That accounted for their fight; Barkley had come to Swen’s, cursing, belligerent, probably even drunk. Of course Ty had intervened. Neither he nor Swen would be ones to call the sheriff’s office instead of handling the situation themselves.

‘I suppose Swen told you about the map I showed him,’ Kate remarked.

Ty released her hand so quickly she felt as if she had said something wrong. ‘Yes, and he’s beginning to think one of rustlers might be working for him.’

‘You have no idea who made the x’s or why Jennie Kingsley’s phone number was jotted in the margin?’

‘No. Unless it was done by your attacker the night he stole our truck.’

‘But why would he want to do that?’

‘To make Swen look like the cattle rustler. To make it look as if he has direct ties to Jennie Kingsley.’

‘I heard they did date before her marriage.’

‘You’re on the wrong track,’ Ty insisted. ‘Swen doesn’t double-deal.’

Kate hoped he was right, but her doubts seemed to float in the air, as strong as the noises of the creek.

Ty stopped where a little waterfall trickled over rocks. The rushing of the stream told her this must be near the place she had fallen the night she had been shot. The gurgling noise, the same sound she had heard that night, brought a chill to her.

‘Swen told me he was working on a plan that may trap the rustlers,’ Kate said.

Ty hesitated. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I trust you, Kate. I believe Swen is wrong about not bringing you in on this.’

Ty seemed on the verge of confiding something to her. Kate waited, reluctant to say anything that might cause him to change his mind.

‘The thieves have been changing our brand, and they’ve been getting away with it. About a month ago, when we first suspected rustling, we started embedding microchips into the hides of some of our cattle.’

‘Good thinking,’ Kate replied. ‘Since you’ve always used branding, the thief will not suspect you’ve started using another identification method.’

‘Swen and I have been watching the cattle auctions. So far, none of the microchips have turned up, but I think it’s just a matter of time.’

‘If any of your cattle do show up, once the State Brand
Inspector reads the chip, the consigner, the thief, can be identified.’

They walked on.

‘Where did you see the blond man who was out here?’ Kate asked.

‘I caught a glimpse of him here before he slipped into the cover of those trees. I tried to follow him, but soon lost his trail.’

Ty pointed out to her where the barbed wire had been slashed and pulled away. He crossed the fence line, saying, ‘We’re on Kingsley land now.’

The terrain began to look familiar. Kate could look straight up and see the cliff where she had parked the Landcruiser. Ahead of them sage and grass-filled pasture land was flanked by grey bluffs.

The steep ravine that held the secluded corral wasn’t far away. Ty had not told her he intended to bring her here. Ty and Swen were the only people who had been proven to be out here the night she was shot. Filled with misgivings, she dropped further behind him.

‘Not far now,’ Ty said, the sound of his voice making her doubts vanish. ‘The going’s a little rough so watch your step.’ Stones crumbled beneath their feet as they made a sudden descent onto the isolated valley floor.

With a shudder, Kate’s gaze settled on the makeshift corral. As she wandered closer, the scent of cattle wafted up from the dry earth.

‘I knew you were going to make a trip out here on your own,’ Ty said. ‘Thought we might as well join forces. Let’s go
over the area together, see what we can find. The rustlers must have left some clue behind.’

Kate knew she should doubt him, but strangely she felt safe. And being here would give her a chance to look for a bullet or shell casing. The location where the gunman had shot her, because it was set in a spot easy to find just below where her Landcruiser had been parked, would be the place to start. ‘I’m going to head towards the cliff,’ she told Ty.

‘I’ll be along shortly,’ he answered. Ty had dropped back, kneeling, examining the ground as if he had found
something
that interested him, possibly tyre tracks. ‘Don’t stray too far.’

The air cooled as she passed into the shelter of the trees. A shiver ran through her as she thought of the cattle rustlers, of one in particular, the nameless man who had stalked her with a rifle.

Her task appeared hopeless. Jeff and the sheriff’s crew had already scanned the canyon and had failed. Anyone would, in an attempt to uncover small objects in such a large wooded area where one clump of trees looked identical to another.

She followed as direct a course as she could, winding through endless mazes of pines and aspens. Apprehension grew the farther she got from Ty and the corral. She thought of turning back, but pressed on, determined to complete her search.

Prompted by her ever-increasing sense of uneasiness, Kate speeded her steps. As she did, a noise – like a footstep
falling on dried leaves – crackled from behind her. She stopped, turned back, and listened. It must be Ty catching up with her. She waited, every sense alert, but time passed and he did not appear. No other sounds followed. Satisfied that what she had heard was just a deer or some small
scampering
animal, she headed on.

Kate recognized the area immediately, for she had fled from her place of hiding into a small clearing. Either the strain of the horseback ride or the remembrance of that sudden zing from the flying bullet caused a sudden,
throbbing
pain to start in her arm.

Finding the exact spot where the bullet had hit her had been so easy that she knew the gunman had probably found it, too. She took her time, combing the ground around the junipers she had dived into. He had been close to her when he had fired the shot, probably within twenty feet. She paced back to where she thought he had been standing and
examined
that area, too. Nothing. Likely, he had been here before her and had already removed the evidence.

But would he be able to locate the scene of the first shot? She didn’t think so. Trees and darkness would have prevented him from seeing what she had seen. The bullet had struck a jagged rock and its odd shape had stayed in her mind. With any luck she could locate the stone again, find the nick in it, and trace the course of the bullet.

Kate wandered around for a long time before she stopped with certainty. She recalled how she had headed uphill and seen this very boulder rising from a flat bed of rock. Kate started toward it, but stopped at the rustling of branches
from the slope just below her. For a moment she envisioned a gunman halting, lifting his rifle.

‘Ty?’ she called, but no answer came. Once again she reminded herself that the hillside was alive with many forms of life.

Kate turned full attention back to her search. She inspected the rock and found, dead in the centre, a small chip. She recalled how she had jumped back out of the path of the ricocheting bullet. It had barely missed her. She had thought at the time that it had hit the tree trunk just to her left.

She moved over to it and was able to locate the tiny
tell-tale
mark where the bullet had struck. It had lost the force to penetrate the bark of the aspen and so must have dropped to the ground close by. On hands and knees she used her fingers to brush through the debris. After a long search, surprisingly, she found a small portion of badly damaged bullet.

Her heart pounded. On fired bullets and cartridge cases no two firearms – even those of the same make and model – produced the same unique marks. She had won, had been able to come up with almost certain proof, with the ‘
mechanical
fingerprint’ that would lead them to the shooter.

Eagerly Kate lifted it from its bed of leaves. But as she examined the small object she held, disappointment drove away her rush of joy. The bullet was so fragmented, she wondered if it would be of any use to them. It looked as if it wouldn’t have sufficient rifling impressions to match with those contained in the gun’s barrel.

But if the gunman hadn’t found this bullet, chances are he hadn’t found the cartridge case either. Stuffing her find into her jeans pocket, Kate stood up. She hurried to where she supposed he had been standing at the time the shot was fired, and began an avid search for the shell casing. Being larger, it was much easier to find than the bullet. Again Kate felt a sense of elation.

Strong evidence, if it happened to match Swen’s rifle or the one belonging to Slim Barton or Ty. She slipped it into the pocket of her jeans just as Ty emerged from between thick trees.

Kate stared into his eyes, shadowed by the overhead branches. He might have been standing there for some time, watching her. She half expected him to demand that she turn over to him what she had found. Unable to meet his steady gaze any longer, afraid she had led him to the evidence he could not track down himself, she turned away.