Chapter 9
NINE
Sacred Grounds was busier than usual. Apparently, Duke was today's entertainment. He sat across from her, pecking away at his computer like a seagull attacking French fries in a parking lot.
A man in freshly purchased western wear approached and stood at their table, waiting for Duke to recognize his presence.
“Can I help you?” Ferd stared at him. How rude to just stand there?
Duke glanced up from his work and narrowed his eyes at the stranger, then nodded for him to say his piece.
“I’m newer to the area. Kevin is my name.
I wanted to let you know that someone’s been using my back forty, driving across.
I don’t want them there. Trampling all my grass.
My cattle can’t feed on trampled grass.” She wasn’t sure where he’d come from, but the way he spoke wasn’t quite the same as the locals.
New boots. New hat that hadn’t even curled right yet. Something about this didn’t sit well. When was the last time she’d seen a rancher who put on new clothes just to go to town? Not even someplace special, like Cheyenne, just to Piper’s Ridge?
“How long have you lived in the area?” She tilted her head. Can’t be long.
“About a year. Give or take.”
You were new once, too. “Where’s your ranch?” She drummed on the table when he didn’t respond immediately.
“It’s near a few other properties. About three miles from the lake.” He looked away. “Not a big place, but I raise enough beef to sell to the butcher.”
Bailey’s lake. She held in a flinch but must not have done a good job. Duke glanced at her quickly, his eyes narrowing more.
“When did this happen last? Do you have cameras out there or are you just seeing the damage?”
“I don’t have the money to buy cameras. I see my grass flattened by tire tracks that don’t belong there. Do I need to file a report, or can I just tell you about it?” He widened his stance, the new leather of his boots squeaking with the movement.
Ferd laid her hand on her pistol. Concealed, but not far away. His movement felt like a threat, and she wasn’t going to wind up in the same situation she’d been in when she got shot.
“Can I get your information? I’ll fill out a report and give you a call later. I’ll want to come out and see what’s going on, get pictures of the damage. Does that work for you?” Duke went back to his computer.
The newcomer mumbled something, pulled out a business card, then flicked it onto the table. Not a callus or dirt-crusted fingerprint in sight. “That’ll do,” he said. He strode away, his gait awkward and gangly.
Duke watched him walk away, his face calm. “He’s never worn boots before,” Duke began typing again. “I don’t know when he got cattle, but it wasn’t a year ago, and if he did, he’s been ranching in his runners.”
“So, I wasn’t the only one who thought he seemed . . . odd.”
Duke’s mouth quirked slightly. “Not the only one.” He typed for a few seconds. “So, how’s your leg?” He flicked a glance at her.
Despite the growing warmth of the day, she'd worn pants to cover the massive gauze wrap around her knee. “Healing.”
He snorted. “We’re back to one-word answers, huh?”
“Sometimes I don’t have a whole lot to say.” And he didn’t need to know everything about her. “What are you researching?”
“People new to the area and people who have traveled here recently. I asked Doris from the Piper’s Ridge Rest if she’s seen anyone come through more than once in the last six months, but she hasn’t replied yet.”
“If whoever is moving these drugs doesn’t stop anywhere else, knowing will be hard. They could be staying in Cheyenne while using Piper’s Ridge to do their dirty work.”
“I have to eliminate everything before I can move on. Even if it feels unlikely.”
“Want me to go with you when you check out Kevin’s property?” He was new, and something seemed off about him. Maybe this case would be easy to solve, and she could get back to healing. Cody would be calling soon.