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Chapter Six

The following Wednesday, Leo met with Blake Kemp and Fred Brewster in Kemp’s office, to draw up the instrument of partnership.

“I’ll never be able to thank you enough for this, Leo,” Fred said as they finished a rough draft of the agreement.

“You’d have done it for me,” Leo said simply. “How long will it take until those papers are ready to sign?” he asked Kemp.

“We’ll have them by Monday,” Kemp assured him.

“I’ll make an appointment with your receptionist on the way out,” Leo said, rising. “Thanks, Blake.”

The attorney shook his outstretched hand, and then Fred’s. “All in a day’s work. I wish most of my business was concluded this easily, and amiably,” he added wryly.

Leo checked his watch. “Why don’t we go out to Shea’s and have a beer and some pizza, Fred?” he asked the other man, who, curiously, seemed paler.

Fred was scrambling for a reason that Leo couldn’t go to Shea’s. “Well, because, uh, because Hettie made chili!” he remembered suddenly. “So why don’t you come home and eat with me? We’ve got Mexican corn bread to go with it!”

Leo hesitated. “That does sound pretty good,” he had to admit. Then he remembered. Janie would be there. He was uncomfortable with the idea of rushing in on her unexpectedly, especially in light of recent circumstances. He was still a little embarrassed about his own behavior. He searched for a reason to refuse, and found one. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, I almost forgot!” he added, slapping his forehead. “I’m supposed to have supper with Cag and Tess tonight. We’re going in together on two new Santa Gertrudis bulls. How could I have forgotten… got to run, Fred, or I’ll never make it on time!”

“Sure, of course,” Fred said, and looked relieved. “Have a good time!”

Leo chuckled. “I get to play with my nephew. That’s fun, all right. I like kids.”

“You never seemed the type,” Fred had to admit.

“I’m not talking about having any of my own right away,” Leo assured him. “I don’t want to get married. But I like all my nephews, not to mention my niece.”

Fred only smiled.

“Thanks for the offer of supper, anyway,” he told the older man with a smile. “Sorry I can’t come.”

Fred relaxed. “That’s okay, Leo. More for me,” he teased. “Well, I’ll go home and have my chili. Thanks again. If I can ever do anything for you, anything at all, you only have to ask.”

Leo smiled. “I know that, Fred. See you.”

They parted in the parking lot. Leo got in his double-cabbed pickup and gunned the engine.

Fred got into his own truck and relaxed. At least, he thought, he didn’t have to face Leo’s indignation today. With luck, Leo might never realize what was going on.

Leo, honest to the core, phoned Cag and caged an invitation to supper to discuss the two new bulls the brothers were buying. But he had some time before he was due at his brother’s house. He brooded over Fred’s dead bull, and Christabel’s, and he began to wonder. He had a bull from that same lot, a new lineage of Salers bulls that came from a Victoria breeder. Two related bulls dying in a month’s time seemed just a bit too much for coincidence. He picked up the phone and called information.

Cag and Tess were still like newlyweds, Leo noted as he carried their toddler around the living room after supper, grinning from ear to ear as the little boy, barely a year old, smiled up at him and tried to grab his nose. They sat close together on the sofa and seemed to radiate love. They were watching him with equal interest.

“You do that like a natural,” Cag teased.

Leo shifted the little boy. “Lots of practice,” he chuckled. “Simon’s two boys, then Corrigan’s boy and their new girl, and now your son.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Rey and Meredith are finally expecting, too, I hear.”

“They are,” Cag said with a sigh. He eyed his brother mischievously. “When are you planning to throw in the towel and join up?”

“Me? Never,” Leo said confidently. “I’ve got a big house to myself, all the women I can attract, no responsibilities and plenty of little kids to spoil as they grow.” He gave them an innocent glance. “Why should I want to tie myself down?”

“Just a thought,” Cag replied. “You’ll soon get tired of going all the way to town every morning for a fresh biscuit.” Cag handed the baby back to Tess.

“I’m thinking of taking a cooking course,” Leo remarked. Cag roared.

“I could cook if I wanted to!” Leo said indignantly.

Tess didn’t speak, but her eyes did.

Leo stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Well, I don’t really want to,” he conceded. “And it is a long way to town. But I can manage.” He sprawled in an easy chair. “There’s something I want to talk to you about—besides our new bulls.”

“What?” Cag asked, sensing concern.

“Fred’s big Salers bull that died mysteriously,” Leo said. “Christabel and Judd Dunn lost one, too, a young bull.”

“Judd says it died of bloat.”

“I saw the carcass, he didn’t. He thinks Christabel made it up, God knows why. He wouldn’t even come down from Victoria to take a look at it. It wasn’t bloat. But she didn’t call a vet out, and they didn’t find any marks on Fred’s bull.” He sighed. “Cag, I’ve done a little checking. The bulls are related. The young herd sire of these bulls died recently as well, and the only champion Salers bull left that’s still walking is our two-year-old bull that I loaned to Fred, although it’s not related to the dead ones.”

Cag sat up straight, scowling. “You’re kidding.”

Leo shook his head. “It’s suspicious, isn’t it?”

“You might talk to Jack Handley in Victoria, the rancher we bought our bull from.”

“I did.” He leaned forward intently. “Handley said he fired two men earlier this year for stealing from him. They’re brothers, John and Jack Clark. One of them is a thief, the other has a reputation for vengeance that boggles the mind. When one former employer fired Jack Clark, he lost his prize bull and all four young bulls he’d got from it. No apparent cause of death. Handley checked and found a pattern of theft and retribution with those brothers going back two years. At least four employers reported similar problems with theft and firing. There’s a pattern of bull deaths, too. The brothers were suspects in a recent case in Victoria, but there was never enough evidence to convict anyone. Until now, I don’t imagine anyone’s connected the dots.”

One of a Kind: Lionhearted / Letters to Kelly

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