Steers and Stowaways (Cowboy Brand of Justice #6)

Chapter 1 Gone Missing

W here is he?

Mallory Evans hopped on the lower rung of the fence to scan the empty pasture. She could see nothing but dry, dead grass blowing in the November breeze. That, and a few dark mounds that her replacement bull, Tank, had deposited here and there across her oldest bull’s favorite stomping ground.

Just thinking about Old Glory nearly brought her to her knees. He was the meanest, crankiest piece of livestock she’d ever had to deal with, but was a gift from her late father, which gave him a special place in her heart.

Unfortunately, he was missing. Just like his replacement appeared to be. Her gaze latched onto a broken section of fence on the east side of the pasture, making her stomach pitch sickeningly.

Not again!

She jumped down from the fence and jogged to the damaged section that was lying in pieces on the ground.

Her heart thumped harder as she squatted down to take a closer look.

She recognized the deep tire tracks leading away from the broken fence slats all too well.

Their presence in the dirt meant the elusive cattle rustlers plaguing her hometown had struck again.

And like the last time, they’d made off with her bull.

It was another devastating blow to her small ranch, which she couldn’t take many more of. Her insides grew so weak that she had to take a knee.

Without a bull, she couldn’t continue breeding the prize Angus cattle her family had built the reputation of Evans Ranch on, the reputation she was working so hard to maintain after losing her parents.

Her organic, grass-fed, no-hormone-injected brand of beef that came from the happiest cows in Texas. She supported her claim of herding the “happiest cows in Texas” with memes and short videos that often went viral across social media.

Some of the old-timers in the business scoffed at her methods, but her entertaining online presence made it possible for her to compete with the big commercial ranches.

Old Glory had starred in nearly every one of her memes and video clips.

He’d been the face of her business before he’d gone missing last month.

And now she was down another bull. Without them, Evans Ranch was toast.

What am I going to do?

She pushed to her feet, momentarily saw black, and had to reach for the fence to steady herself.

This was bad. It was very, very bad. Tank was the fifth from her herd that had been stolen from her this year—the same year she’d foolishly invested in a new barn, a new hay baler, and a new set of ranch hands to help her run her growing business.

She failed to anticipate the recent uptick in repairs.

Just about everything she owned suddenly needed a replacement part or a tune-up.

And now this.

How in the world was she supposed to continue producing the happiest beef in Texas with no bull and no positive cash flow?

She did a few hasty calculations inside her head, and the numbers weren’t pretty.

At the rate her ranch was bleeding, she would soon run out of funds to continue making payments on the mortgage she’d taken out to cover her parents’ medical expenses.

It was her one dirty little secret that the rest of the town didn’t know about. No one except her banker, that is.

Feeling numb, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed Sheriff Luke Hawling. Since she’d lived in Heart Lake her entire life, she had his cell phone number.

He picked up right away, another perk of living in a small town. Folks actually took each other’s phone calls instead of letting them roll to voicemail.

“Hey, Mallory.” His voice was cautious, probably because folks rarely called guys like him to shoot the breeze.

“Luke…” Her voice broke. She had to clear her throat before continuing. “Another bull has gone missing.” She cleared her throat a second time. I will not cry. “The fence is broken, just like last time.”

He drew a heavy breath and let it out. “I’ll be right over.”

While she waited for Luke to arrive, she dialed one more number. It belonged to the guy who was quickly becoming her least favorite person on the planet.

To her surprise, Private Investigator Tucker Pratt’s impatient baritone grumbled, “Lonestar Security. How may I help you?” He usually ignored her phone calls .

Anger tightened her voice. “Oh, don’t Lonestar Security me like you don’t have caller ID.” She was his client, for pity’s sake! He knew exactly who she was and why she was calling. Not that he’d wanted her case assigned to him. He’d made that clear enough.

“Is there a problem?” His voice was clipped.

“Yes, Tucker. There’s a problem. That’s the whole reason I hired you.

” She blamed her uptick in frustration on his being the crass, unfeeling man that he was.

She’d tried everything but baking the hard-nosed detective a tray of cookies to soften his rough edges, but only because her baking skills were nonexistent.

All she ever got for her efforts was the same brand of callous indifference.

He didn’t bother responding to her outburst. He simply waited for her to continue.

“My replacement bull is gone.”

“Details!” If he was anything, he was thorough in his investigating. Too thorough, if you asked her, which was why her case was moving along at such a snail’s pace. She was going to be dead and buried before he got to the bottom of who was stealing her cattle.

“Same broken fence.” She forced herself to take short, shallow breaths. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be bent over bawling her brains out. “Same tire tread marks.” Nausea swirled in her stomach while she waited for his usual unsatisfying grunt or even less satisfying monosyllabic answer.

“Is Luke on his way?” Tucker Pratt possessed many maddening qualities, but assuming she’d forgotten to do something that important wasn’t one of them.

“Of course. Are you?” she demanded.

“Yep.” He disconnected the line before she could say anything else .

Seriously? She held the phone away from her ear so she could glare at it. No professional closing remarks. No goodbye. Just abrupt, infuriating silence. It was as insulting as the slap of a fly swatter eliminating a pesky insect.

Which I am not!

She stood there fuming and asking herself for the umpteenth time why she hadn’t already fired the guy.

As far as she could tell, he’d made zero progress during the few weeks he’d supposedly been working on her case.

Both checks she’d written to the lady at Lonestar Security’s front desk had felt like a waste of money.

At the rate her luck was going, the money she’d invested in a private investigator was yet another reason she’d soon be out of business.

Right after laying off her ranch hands…

The rumble of a motor made her gaze snap toward the gravel driveway leading from the highway to her home. Sheriff Luke Hawling’s police cruiser rolled into view. Though his siren was off, he had his emergency lights flashing.

As he drove up to her and braked, she had the sinking feeling that the lights were only for show.

So far, his department had made zero headway in identifying and arresting the cattle rustlers plaguing Heart Lake.

Maybe he hoped his flashing lights would make her feel like he was doing something other than throwing his hands into the air.

He stepped out of the car, leaving his door ajar and his motor idling. Maybe it was standard procedure, but all she got out of it was that he didn’t plan on sticking around for long. He never did.

He pushed back his Stetson, shaking his dark head at her as he strode her way.

“I’m really sorry about this, Mallory.” He held out a gloved hand to her, keeping the scarred side of his face averted from her.

A few years ago, he’d been horribly disfigured during a house fire.

It was arson. With a job like his, he’d naturally collected a few enemies along the way.

Sadly, whoever had tried to burn him alive in his living room had yet to be brought to justice.

“Nobody’s sorrier than I am.” She shook his hand, wishing he’d quit trying to hide his scars from her.

She didn’t care about stuff like that. What she did care about was catching the cattle rustlers that were picking her herd clean, one cow, steer, and bull at a time.

“If we don’t stop these rustlers soon, I’m gonna be in a heap of trouble, Luke.

” Her voice grew raspy from the effort to hold in her tears.

“So are a bunch of other ranchers around here.”

“I know.” His voice was gruff with sympathy as he glanced toward the broken fence. “Let’s go have a look at those tire tracks.” He was wearing the standard Heart Lake Police Department uniform—jeans, boots, and a dark jacket with the HLPD logo emblazoned across the left breast pocket.

He didn’t say anything else as they strolled together across the achingly empty pasture.

She heard his abrupt inhale and exhale as he noted the familiar dual tire tracks. However, he still didn’t say anything. He simply started taking photos, measurements, and soil samples.

The rumble of a second approaching vehicle alerted her that the bane of her existence had arrived.

There was something about the sight of Tucker’s ice-blue Chevy Colorado that never failed to make her pulse race.

This morning was no exception. Not wanting to appear too eager, she turned her back on him as he parked and made his way over to where she and the sheriff were standing.

She hated the lava-hot waves of awareness that radiated off her the moment his broad shoulders came into view.

She both loved and hated the fact that he was a head taller than her.

When he was giving her a piece of his mile-high attitude, which was most of the time, it made her feel small and inconsequential.

Oddly enough, it also made her feel safer.