Читать книгу Never Trust a Cowboy - Kathleen Eagle, Kathleen Eagle - Страница 8
ОглавлениеLila wasn’t taking the new hand seriously. She’d known he was kidding when he asked her to go down to her father’s house with him for supper. She had managed not to look out her kitchen window more than once or twice, checking for signs of life at the bunkhouse. She told herself she was only parking her horse in Dad’s corral now because it was time to check in. She hadn’t seen her father in more than a week, and she was suddenly missing him.
She stuck her socks in her boots and left them in the elaborate mudroom June had added to the plans for the new house, padded through a kitchen filled with the smell of beef and fresh bread—interesting, since she’d never known June to bake bread—past the kitchen table normally used for meals and ventured into the dining room.
“Well, look who’s here,” Brad said. “There’s an empty chair next to me and one beside our new hired hand. Take your pick.”
“Your new hired hand asked me to go to supper with him.” Del almost managed to get out of his seat and pull out the chair before she claimed it herself. Lila tamped down a smile. “So I choose him.”
“You should’ve told me you had a date, Del. We could’ve picked her up.” Brad peered across the table at Lila. “How’d you get here? Don’t tell me you finally decided to put the crazy woman in the closet and get behind the wheel of a car again.”
She eyed him right back. “The horse I rode in on is helping himself to your hay.”
Frank laughed. “My daughter is no crazier than I am, son. I’m taking up bread making. Watched one of them videos and got the recipe off the internet. How’d I do?”
“I knew he’d find it relaxing,” June said. Her red hair looked freshly styled, the color skillfully revived. Dar’s Downhome Dos had done it again. “It’s very good, my darling. And you notice, the baker in the video was a man. The best chefs are men. So it doesn’t surprise me that this bread is delicious. No more store-bought for us.” She flashed Frank a doting smile. “No surprise, he especially enjoyed kneading the dough.”
“What else has he been kneading?” Brad pulled a fake double take. “Never mind. We probably don’t want to go there with our parents. Right, Lila? I mean, we’re eating.”
Once begun, half done, Lila reminded herself.
“He experimented with the dough hooks that came with that new mixer I got him, but that didn’t do it for him. Right, Frank? I’d say mission accomplished, technique perfected. What do you think, Del?”
Del brandished the buttered heel he’d just torn into. “Great bread.”
“There’s more in the kitchen,” Frank said.
“Just for you,” June told Del. “When Brad said he’d hired a new hand, Frank was all about welcoming you with a good meal.”
Frank gestured with the point of his table knife. “If you’re as good as Brad claims, I’d like to keep you around for a while. Guess Thompson took off without saying too much. I never thought much of him, tell you the truth. Brad says he called a guy you worked for, what? Couple of years, right? Said you’re a top hand.” He turned to Brad. “Where’d you say that was? Colorado somewhere?”
“Denver,” Brad said.
“So you came along at the right time. You mind puttin’ up hay?”
“It was a four-month job,” Del said quietly. “This last time. But I’ve worked for Walsh before. And I guess I wouldn’t be much of a ranch hand if I minded putting up hay.”
“I used to hate that part of the business, but nowadays, with the new equipment we’ve got, I can just—”
Brad’s knife clattered to his plate. “I’ll make sure Del has plenty to do, Dad. I drove him around all afternoon, so he knows what he’s in for. He’s like you. Says his cowboy ass ain’t sittin’ on no ATV. Right, Del?”
“Brad fixed me up with a good mount.” Del glanced at Lila, an I’m-on-your-side look in his eyes. “Nice big buckskin.”
“Hombre,” Brad told Frank. “Figured you wouldn’t mind.”
“Best horse on the place.” Frank grinned. “He should be ridden, and by somebody who knows how.”
Between her father’s grin and the look in the hired hand’s eyes, Lila suddenly took heart.
“Sounds like something I’ve heard before,” Brad said.
“That’s what Rhett Butler said to Scarlett,” June put in.
“Kissed.” Lila attended to buttering her bread. Attention with a secret smile. “He said she should be kissed often.”
“I don’t get to many movies,” Del said. “This Butler, is he a cowboy? You got a horse needs ridin’ or a woman needs kissin’, you find yourself a real cowboy. Ain’t many of us left.”
“Probably just as well,” Lila said. “Hollywood isn’t making many Westerns these days.”
“R-e-a-l,” Del instructed. “Not r-e-e-l. The world is full of actors.”
Lila flashed him a richly deserved smile.
“You like that?” His answering smile lit a true twinkle in his nearly black eyes.
“I do.”
“What’s going on here?” Brad said. “If I didn’t know better...”
“You’d think I was rackin’ up points with the boss’s daughter. But I can already tell she doesn’t give out easy points. I’m just trying to keep up with the conversation.” Del glanced around the table. “Lila and I witnessed a rare sight this morning.” He nodded at her. “You tell it.”
“We watched a fight between a badger and a rattlesnake. They tore up my garden.”
“I thought I tore up your garden,” Brad said.
“You ran over a flower bed.” She took Del’s cue and kept going. “It was amazing. They really kept at it for, I don’t know, five minutes, maybe... They just kept at it.” She turned to Del. “Didn’t they?”
A loaded look accompanied Del’s nod. “Time stood still.”
“In fact...” Damn, he was good-looking. Nearly black hair, chiseled cheekbones, angular jaw and no white-above-the-eyebrows farmer tan on this cowboy’s face. Unless she was mistaken, he’d be head-to-toe brown. Lakota, probably. It took her a moment to turn her attention to her father. “Del caught me before I walked right into the fray.”
“How awful. I hate snakes of any kind.” June gave a tight end-of-story smile. “And I really hope you’ll start joining us for supper regularly, Lila.”
“I didn’t have any kids today. Del helped me look for Bingo. I’ve been searching on horseback, still haven’t found him.” She lifted one shoulder. “So I was...in the neighborhood.”
“I haven’t seen the pup at all lately.” Frank turned to his wife. “Have you? You’ve been out quite a bit getting groceries and whatnot.”
“I thought he always stayed around your yard,” June said, turning to Lila.
Lila nodded. “That’s why—”
“Bingo is the first dog we’ve had around here since Lila left for college,” June explained, apparently for Del’s information. “I’m not a dog person. Kind of allergic.” She turned to Lila. “I think that’s why you decided to move into the old place when you came back, isn’t it?”
“That’s my house,” Lila said.
“I know, but it’s as old as the pyramids, all dark and depressing. We’d like to see more of you. That’s all I’m saying.”
“I’m not far away, June. You have to drive past my house to get to the highway. We see each other all the time.” Lila welcomed the mental distance that slid over her like a cool cloud. “And your hired hands are always perfectly positioned to keep an eye on me.”
“That happens to be where the bunkhouse is,” Brad said. “The men don’t give you any trouble, do they? You tell me if they do. I never hire anybody without checking him out. And I don’t tell them to keep an eye on you.” He turned to Del. “I never told you to spy on her, did I?”
Del shook his head. “This was a fine meal.” He tucked his napkin under the edge of his plate and slid his chair back from the table. “It’s been a long time since I had any homemade bread. Sure was good.”
“Now, listen, you tell her I never said anything about—”
Del chuckled. “In my line of work you quickly learn when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em. Hold your tongue, fold your napkin and leave the table.” Which he did, all but the tongue-holding part. His calm, cool parting shot was aimed at Brad. “I can handle most any chore, but spyin’ ain’t one of ’em.” He nodded at June. “Thank you, ma’am.”
* * *
Lila found Del in the barn currying the buckskin. He’d had time to saddle up after making that break for it, killing the time she’d allowed to pass before she left the house. Nothing further had been said on the subject after he left. Maybe they all felt ridiculous. Keep an eye on her. If Brad had asked—and she had her doubts about that—Del would have refused. She’d only been around him for a few hours, but she’d learned a lot, and she had no doubt he would have said no.
“So that was awkward, huh?” She ducked under one of the cross ties and scratched Hombre’s throatlatch. “I’m sorry.”
“Forget it. Whatever that was about, it’s for you guys to deal with.”
“But we put you in an uncomfortable spot, and I’m—”
“Don’t apologize. It had nothing to do with me.” He glanced at her. “Unless you think otherwise?”
“I don’t. I know you wouldn’t go along with anything like that.” She smiled. “I realize we just met, but I’m a pretty good judge of character. Brad can’t push you into doing anything you don’t want to. I’m surprised you’re still here.”
“I’m here to work, and I’ve been at this kind of work long enough to know when to excuse myself from the table.” He ran his hand down the horse’s back and patted his rump. “I’m the one who owes an apology. I asked you to come with me for supper, and then I didn’t show up.”
“You were working.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking. Should’ve taken my own pickup instead of getting in with Brad. But now that I’ve got this guy...” He lifted a familiar black saddle onto the buckskin’s back. “Brad didn’t tell me he was Frank’s. You think he minds?”
“I think he’s glad to have you ride him.”
“Is he a good judge of character, too?”
“Sometimes. He’s already taken a shine to you.”
“So...” He gave the saddle cinch a firm tug. “Would you like some company on the ride back to your ancient digs?”
She smiled. “Would you like a tour of the ruins when we get there?”
“You got any mummies?”
“I had one, but she died when I was twelve. Now I just have a stepmummy.” She gave a shy smile. She knew she was being too cute by half. She was far afield of her comfort zone. “You?”
“Mine’s dead, too. So’s my dad. Been a while, so, uh...” He lowered the stirrup. “We should cover new ground on the way back. I didn’t get much chance to look close, flying around the pasture in Brad’s pickup—hey, that man sure has a lead foot—but I tried to be on the lookout. You know, for...any kind of sign.”
“See what I mean? You’re obviously a nice man.”
“You want me to throw a saddle on that pretty black?”
“I pull out my own chair and saddle my own horse.” She smiled. “But thanks for the thought.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He touched his hat brim. “Always thinking.”
* * *
The sun hovered above the sawtooth horizon and the air was still, leaving the horses to stir the grass and offering the crickets a quiet setting for their serenade. Lila had covered the side of the road before supper, so they took the south side, zigzagging separately, cutting across a wide swath. She knew the odds of finding anything weren’t great, but every search was a chance, and she wouldn’t rest until she knew for sure. She’d adopted Bingo from a shelter in Rapid City, and he’d seen her through some lonely times.
“Was he sick or anything?”
Lila looked up and saw Del staring at something on the ground. His dismount was as fluid as any she’d ever seen. Reins in hand, he squatted on his heels, picked something up and sniffed it.
“C’mon, Jackpot.” She trotted her horse in his direction. “Anything?”
“Too old.” He stood up and tossed his discovery. “A piece of something hairy, but all dried up.”
“Why do I have a feeling you haven’t always been a cowboy?”
“I don’t know.” He used the horn as a fulcrum and swung back into the saddle without benefit of a stirrup. Grinning like the boy who’d taken a run and jumped all the way over the creek, he adjusted his hat. “Maybe I started out as a trick rider.”
She narrowed her eyes, considering, and shook her head. “What else you got?”
“I like to work my way up, one surprise at a time. Keeps ’em guessing.” He braced his forearm over the horn and took a turn studying her. “Where’d you go to college?”
“Minneapolis.” He’d started moving. She nudged her gelding to catch up. “Were you ever a cop?”
He gave her an incredulous look, caught himself and laughed. “How did you come up with that?”
“The way you examined the evidence.”
“Too many detective movies and not enough Westerns, college girl. What did you study?”
“Art history, music, British history, literature—”
He whistled appreciatively.
“—business, library science.”
“That’s a lot of studying.”
“I didn’t quite finish,” she said quietly.
A meadowlark answered Del’s whistle.
“I’m listening,” he prompted after a moment had passed.
“I had a bad car accident.”
He let the words have their due. The grass swished, crickets buzzed, the sun settled on the sharp point of a hill.
“Hurt bad?”
“I wasn’t. The person I hit... She was.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t drive anymore.”
“Not at all?”
“Not at all.”
More grass sound filled in.
“She okay now?”
“Were you ever a reporter?” she retorted stiffly.
He said nothing. He’d gone one step too far. Game over.
“Put it this way,” she amended. “You don’t strike me as the kind of man who usually asks a lot of questions.”
“I’m not the kind who’d strike you at all. I’m the kind who’d do his job, tip his hat when you walk past him and keep his thoughts to himself.”
“Sounds like we’re two of a kind. Or were, until you took an interest in helping me find my dog.”
“You’d do the same, right? It’s all about the dog.”
“We were talking about ancient history before,” she reminded him. “Mummies and all like that. Been a while, you said. For me, too. And the passage of time helps. I know it does. It takes the edge off regrets, shuts down the what-ifs.” They were riding slowly now, the search all but set aside. “She recovered, but it took a long time, and it changed her life. Don’t ask me how it happened. It doesn’t matter.”
He nodded.
She knew she didn’t have to tell him not to discuss it with anyone. It wouldn’t kill her if he did, but somehow she knew he wouldn’t. They had things in common, spoken and unspoken things. What things they were didn’t matter as much as how they felt about them. They could move on without exchanging details.
“I have to find Bingo, no matter what. I have to bring him home.”
“Do you have a picture of him?”
“You’ll know him when you see him. He’s the only little black terrier around. This isn’t exactly terrier country.”
“What’s the cell phone reception like around here?”
“Terrible. You have to go up on a hill, and even then it’s hit or miss. You’re welcome to use my old reliable landline anytime.”
“I was thinking if I find the dog and he won’t come to me...”
“He loves cheese.” She tucked her hand in her back pocket, pulled out a chunk of it wrapped in brown paper and reached between horses to hand it to him. “He won’t care if it’s a little squashed.”
“Funny dog.”
She smiled. “You two will hit it off just fine.”
* * *
At breakfast the next morning Del was assigned his first official chore. No surprise, he was to ride the fence and check for breaks.
“Neighbor called and told Dad there’s been cattle disappearing again. I’m gonna head down to the south pasture and start counting.”
“If I find anything, you want me to fix it right away?” Since he knew where to look, he was going to help himself to a second cup of coffee. He gestured with the pot, and Frank offered up his cup for a refill.
“Well, yeah,” Brad said. “That’s one job you can be sure gets delegated.”
“Just wanted to make sure.”
“If we’re missing cows and we don’t find them, we’ll let the sheriff in on all the details.”
Frank took no notice. Either he didn’t hear, didn’t want to hear or his agreement went without saying. In any case, nobody was too concerned about preserving a possible crime scene.
Del took his time riding the fence along the dirt road that separated two Flynn Ranch pastures. He knew he would find the wire down less than a mile off the blacktop, but along the way there was a chance he might run across Lila’s dog. He found himself hoping otherwise. This far from the house, it was bound to be a sad discovery.
A faint set of tire tracks in the dry ground led to the hole in the fence. Three loose strands of barbed wire curled away from the steel post in three different directions. A qualified lawman would be able to get a clue or two, and fixing the fence wouldn’t make too much difference. But it would make some. Not to Del, of course. He’d been a witness. Now he had to figure out where Frank fit in, and he knew better than to ask questions he didn’t know the answers to.
He fixed the wire, and then he followed the fence line until it took a right turn at the highway. There he saw the grass stir. It could’ve been a snake or a grouse, but it wasn’t. He knew before he reached the spot that he’d found the little black dog.
Not quite what he’d expected, but it was small and male and black. Who else could it be? And he was alive, which was a whole lot better news than he’d expected. Del whistled. The paper crinkled as he unveiled the chunk of cheddar.
“Got some cheese for you, Bingo. Come and get it, boy.” He sank to his knees, and the pup bounded through the grass and pounced on the cheese. Del’s left knee cracked in protest as he stood with his arms full of wiggly, scrawny, finger-licking dog. “I thought you’d be fuzzier. How’d you get this far from home on such short legs, huh?” The dog seemed a little young, but maybe that was because he was scared and hungry. He rooted around Del’s shirt, struggled to get his nose in Del’s scratching hand. “That’s all I’ve got, boy, sorry. We’ll go get you some more. Lila sure is gonna be happy to see you.”
But she wasn’t.
She petted the pup’s head, but she wouldn’t take him in her arms. “He’s cute enough, but he’s not my dog.”
“What do you mean, he’s not your dog?” Del put the dog on the ground, let him check out the furniture legs on Lila’s front porch. “I found him not three miles from here, nobody else around. He fits your description. He’s— You’re pullin’ my leg, right?” The dog sniffed Lila’s bare toes. “He likes you.”
Then he abandoned bare toes for black boot.
“Hee-yah!” Del ordered, and the dog looked up and cocked his head as though he needed a translation. And, of course, he did. Forgetting himself—more like forgetting his cover—Del had spoken in Lakota, his father’s first language. “No. Don’t you dare.”
The dog wagged and whined.
Lila laughed. “He likes you even more.”
“Only because I fed him. Hell, he loves cheese, just like you said.” He jerked his thumb toward the porch steps and told the dog, “Show her you know where to pee.”
Lila folded her arms imperiously. “He’s not Bingo. He’s too young, and he’s not even a terrier.”
“He’s a little black dog. Bingo?” The wagging speed doubled. Del had to reward such obvious name recognition by picking him up again. “Yeah, Bingo. She’s messin’ with me, ain’t she?”
“He’d wag his tail for you if you called him Stupid. He’s not my dog.”
“Damn.” Del lifted the dog’s muzzle and looked him in the eye. “You sure?”
“I’ve never seen him before. I’ll ask my kids’ parents when they drop them off, but my guess is, you’ve found yourself a dog.”
“What do you mean, myself? I’ve been looking all over hell for your dog.”
“He doesn’t have a collar. Either somebody dropped him off or...” Lila scratched the furry head. “Are you lost? Did you run away? Speak.”
“Ruff!”
“Aw.” Del put the pup down and offered a hand. “Shake.” Paw plopped into hand. Del flashed Lila a grin. “And you can just tell he’s housebroken, too.”
“Lucky for you,” she said. “Because I’m not looking for a dog. I’m looking for my dog. Unless somebody comes looking for him, the finders-keepers rule applies.”
“I like dogs, but there’s no way.”
“Yes, there is. I see the will in your eyes.” She glanced at the dog. “And thirst in his.” She retrieved a pan of water from the other end of the porch and set it down. They watched him go for it. “Bingo... When he comes back, Bingo will let him stay with you, but not with me. So you’ll have to take care of him, and you might as well start now.”
“No, I can’t...” Del slid the pup a sympathetic glance. “Somebody’s been teaching this dog tricks. That somebody’s looking for him as we speak.”
“And if that somebody comes to call, you’re in luck. Or out of it, which would be—” Lila levered an eyebrow and growled “—ruff.”
“I’m bettin’ somewhere there’s a kid crying over this dog.” The eyebrow arched again, and he groaned. “You got some food for him?”
“I have all kinds of stuff you’ll need for him. I’ll drop it off in the bunkhouse. And I have kids coming this afternoon. I promise I’ll ask about him.”
“They’ll love him.” And they’d all play with him, give him a name.
“If nobody comes looking for him, you’ll have to get him vaccinated before he can be around my day care kids.” She patted his arm. “I’m holding out for Bingo.”
“I looked all over, Lila. This little guy needs—”
“All over? You’ve only been here a couple of days. This place is a lot of all over.” She watched the pup for a moment, stepped back and shook her head. “It was an honest mistake. I don’t want to keep you from your job.”
“You’re not. I was on my way to find Brad.” The little black dog was right behind Del when he left. He turned, looked down at the wagging tail, the expectancy in a pair of big brown eyes, and he chuckled. “Yeah, you can come along.”
“Wait!” she called after him. “I’m...” He stopped, but he didn’t turn around. “I’ll get you some dog food.”
“Leave it in the bunkhouse.”
Del walked away muttering, “The hell with her,” to the dog. If she was interested, the woman heard him. If she wasn’t, a little curse didn’t matter to her anyway. But he was pretty sure he still had her attention, pretty damn sure he was getting under her skin right now.
“And we both know there’s more’n one way to skin a cat,” he whispered to his new companion. “Ain’t that right?” Then he laughed at himself for conjuring an image of peeling Lila’s T-shirt over her head. “Skin the cat” was one of his dad’s crazy sayings.
“The hell with her” was not.
* * *
Del found Frank cleaning a saddle in the new barn. One wall of the tack room was lined with racks stocked with saddles and hooks heaped with bridles, all in beautiful condition. Frank was a true horseman.
“Brad back yet?”
“Haven’t seen him.” Frank tapped the lid on a can of saddle soap. “He took his pickup. I don’t think he was too serious about checking cows. Not from a pickup.”
“The fence was down about a mile off the highway on the cut-across. All three strands cut.”
Frank dropped the can into a rubber tub. “Could be kids.”
“There were tire tracks. I don’t know why kids would go to all that trouble, though. Not the best place for a party. Nothing left behind. No cans, no bottles, no butts.”
“Did you fix it?”
“For now. Should be replaced.”
“You rode the fence line on horseback?” The older man’s face lit up. “There’s wire out in the shop. We’ll load some up, drive over and do it right.”
“I can take care of it now. Just say the word.”
“I did. It’s we. We’ll go out and stretch some wire.” He slid his stool up against the wall, lifted his John Deere cap, raked his fingers through thinning gray hair and then settled the cap back in place as though they were heading for town. “I think I’m gonna like you, Del. Seems like you’re here to work.”
“I’ve worked for guys who want me to wade right in and do what needs doing and guys who want me to wait for orders. I’m good either way.”
Frank clapped a sturdy hand on Del’s shoulder. “Then you’ll be good loading up the wire in case my wife looks out the window. I’ll bring the pickup around.”
“Guess I’m done waiting.”
The chance to spend quality time with Frank fit nicely into Del’s plan, and considering the way things were working around the Flynn place, it had come sooner than expected. It was a good sign, he thought, and then he dismissed the idea. He was looking to connect the dots. From his perspective they were neither good nor bad. They were just dots. The connections were all that counted.
“I didn’t mean to bother you with this,” he told Frank as they approached the stretch of fence he’d patched earlier. He pointed, and Frank pulled over. “Retirement must be nice.”
“Brad says I’m retired?” Frank chuckled. “Don’t worry. You can answer truthfully. It won’t get back to him.”
“I guess what he said was, he’s trying to get you to take it easy.”
“In my old age?”
“Now, he didn’t say that. You’ve got a real nice place here, Frank. Probably been building it up acre by acre for...”
“Most of my life.” Frank pushed his door open, but he wasn’t in any hurry to get out. He was taking in the view. Grass and sky. “Belonged to my wife’s family, my first wife. I own half the land. Lila’s grandmother left her the other half, along with the home place.” He turned to Del, as though he was about to deliver news that deserved special treatment. “My first wife died.”
“When Lila was twelve.”
Frank raised his brow. “Brad told you?”
“Lila did. My mother died young, too.”
Frank gave a tight-lipped nod. Del read the message in his eyes. Tough break all around.
“Lila’s never forgiven me for getting married again. She should’ve outgrown that by now. A man doesn’t stop living just because his wife dies. Especially not if he has a young child. Your dad remarry?”
Del shook his head. “Never did.”
“Is that some kind of tradition?
“You mean for Indians?” Del shook his head. “My mother was white. My dad was Lakota. I’m sure he had his reasons for not getting married again, but being Lakota wasn’t one of them.”
“It’s hard, losing your wife sudden like that. Or your mother. Leaves a big hole right through your chest. The wind—” he gestured with a shivery hand “—whistles right through.”
Del showed Frank the tire tracks, which, interestingly enough, didn’t elicit much reaction. Del had to fish for it.
“Brad said neighbors have been losing cattle.”
“Could be rustlers, I guess. There’s been some rustling now and again lately, but it’s mostly been tribal cattle. I don’t lease any tribal land, so I stay out of their business, but I’ve heard rumors about the tribe being short quite a few cows.” Frank turned his attention to the fence, but he kept talking as he examined Del’s fix. “They say the ranch manager is a suspect. Old fella named Stan Chasing Elk. His daughter and mine were real close.”
“Who’s accusing him?”
“Mostly the tribal police, but I guess the tribal council is getting down on him. Anyway, that’s what I’ve heard. As long as it’s just the tribe’s cattle, it’s none of my business.”
“Could be it’s your business. You callin’ the law on this?”
“If we’re missing cows, you damn betcha. You did a nice job here, but we’ll string up new wire.” His tone shifted, as though he’d been asked to testify. “It ain’t Stan. We go way back. Good man, Stan.” He turned his attention to a passing cloud. “Stan the Man. Remember the baseball player?”
Del glanced at the cloud, half expecting to see a Stan or two up there, acknowledging Frank’s memory with a thumbs-up.
Frank snapped out of his reverie with a chuckle. “Course not. That was a long time ago.”
“Stan the Man Musial. One for the books, and I do read some. Musial said, ‘When the pitcher’s throwing a spitball, just—’”
“‘—hit it on the dry side,’” they quoted in unison, and then they both laughed as Frank clapped a hand on Del’s shoulder.
“I played baseball in high school. First base. Pretty good hitter.” Del read approval in Frank’s face, and he figured the old man had faced more spitballs over the years than he had. “Your sport, too?”
“Was. Never had time to play much, but...” He looked down at the tire tracks and shook his head. “Yeah, I think we might’ve lost some cows. We’ll see what Brad comes up with. I keep my books on paper. He’s got this computer thing going, and we don’t always match up.”
“I’m not much of a computer guy myself.”
“Glad I’m not the only one. Guess we need to get with the program, buddy.” Chuckling, he laid his hand on Del’s shoulder. “They say everybody’s replaceable these days. Even cowboys.”
“Yeah, that horse is out of the barn.”
“Come to think of it, they haven’t made the computer yet that can chase that horse down and run him back in.”
“Or string wire,” Del said. “So I guess I’m not completely replaceable.”
“Brad either chose well or lucked out this time.” Frank smiled. “I admire a man who knows the value of a good horse. Still the best way to herd cows.”
* * *
Del tried two hills before he found a piece of high ground where his phone quit cutting out. Truth be told, he was one hell of a space-age cowboy. While truth telling wasn’t part of his job description, he made an effort to keep mental tabs on it, and taking his smartphone in hand and tapping out a couple of texts allowed him to get in touch with reality even as he was keeping his head in the game. The message that came back was unsatisfying, but at least it was a contact.
Follow Benson. Get a line on Chasing Elk. Move up the line ASAP.
ASAP wasn’t Del’s preferred approach to a job. Space-age aside, a dyed-in-the-hide cowboy didn’t do ASAP. If the question was “Fast or good?” his answer was always “The best you’ve ever had.”
Which made him think of Lila.
“I like her,” he told the dog in the passenger seat. He gave the animal’s head a vigorous scratching, the velvety drop ears a floppy workout. The pup lifted his head, eyes closed in pure bliss. “Okay, so she rejected you for now, but it’s not personal. She can’t give up too soon. It would be like saying out with the old, in with the new. That’s hard for a woman like her. She’s got no ASAP button. Give her time.”
The dog whined.
“No? Sorry, buddy, we got no choice. We gotta let her come to us. Okay?” He patted the dog’s back. “Meanwhile, I’m here for you.”
