Chapter 6
Cal was under no illusions that Dillon would trust him in the near future. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more going on at the ranch that she hadn’t told him about, and the sooner he spoke with Emmett, the better. But for now, his attention was on locating the stallion.
He’d told her that Hank wasn’t involved, but even Cal had to admit that it didn’t look good for his friend.
Cal wanted to talk to Hank and hear what he had to say for himself.
That conversation wouldn’t take place on the phone, though.
It would be a face-to-face so Cal could see Hank’s expressions.
People could say all the right things, but the truth was generally in their eyes and face.
The problem with his plan was that if he told Dillon he wanted to talk to Hank, she would think that Cal was working for him.
And bringing Dillon with him would get Cal nowhere. Hank wouldn’t drop his guard as long as he had someone with him. That put Cal in a precarious position.
His thoughts halted as he lost the tracks.
Cal kicked free of the stirrups and dismounted.
He kept hold of the horse’s reins as he backtracked and scanned the nearby ground, searching for any sign of the stallion.
Whoever had been leading the horse had purposefully taken him over terrain that would be difficult to track.
Cal squatted and moved dead leaves, but there was nothing to see. “We need to retrace our steps to where I last saw the tracks.”
Without hesitation, Dillon turned her mare around and nudged her into a gallop.
Cal quickly mounted and followed suit. In no time, they were back where the horses’ tracks were clear.
The sun beat down on them relentlessly. The heat did little to help his head.
He heard a whistle and looked up in time to see Dillon toss him a bottle of water.
Cal caught it and nodded his thanks before drinking the liquid. He needed about a gallon more. He crumpled the plastic bottle and put it in the saddlebag as he jumped to the ground. When he came around his gelding, Dillon held out another bottle.
“You need this a lot more than I do. Besides, I packed a few since I knew you would need them,” she said.
He tipped his hat to her. “Thank you.”
As he drank the second bottle, slower this time, he surveyed the ground.
Upon first glance, it appeared as if the horses had run right through the space.
But now that he took a closer look, he saw that the animals had circled the small area a few times.
The section of packed earth was one that Dillon and her employees regularly used for the UTV and riding from one pasture to another, causing it to look like a road.
“What’s near here?” he asked.
Dillon shook her head. “Pasture. This section is one of the largest. It allows the cattle to graze freely. Occasionally, we let the horses in here.”
“How far is the creek?”
“Half a mile that way,” she said, pointing to her left.
Cal followed her finger. There were large trees, providing plenty of cover for anyone lying in wait.
The brush was tall, and the ground dense and dry.
The area they stood in was relatively open, the trees about thirty feet away in small clusters.
Cal walked to the nearest tree and studied the space.
He wasn’t surprised to find some cigarette butts on the ground.
Dillon walked up beside him and stared down at the remnants of the smokes. “Someone was waiting.”
“Or the person who steered the stallion here waited for someone. It would explain the area where the horse tracks are so numerous. They stood there long enough to walk around that section several times.”
Her blue eyes met his as she tipped back her head. “Can you find the tracks from here?”
“The horses didn’t just vanish. There are no tire tracks other than your UTV’s, so no one brought a trailer and loaded them up.”
She said nothing more as he went back to the area the horses had been and began to analyze the ground, searching for anything that could show him where they had gone. Then he found it.
“Here,” he called to Dillon.
She rushed to him so he could show her the ground as he pushed some dead leaves out of the way.
Half a hoof print was visible. They had moved off the road and onto the grass.
The breeze had shifted the leaves just enough to cause Cal to miss the transition, but now that he knew their direction, he would be more careful.
Instead of getting back on the horses, Cal tugged his gelding after him by the reins so he could be closer to the ground.
Dillon remained slightly behind him. He wasn’t sure if it was to give him space or study him.
And, honestly, he didn’t care. He would find the stallion and prove that neither he nor Hank had any part in the theft.
But if Hank had . . .
Cal didn’t want to think about that. Hank was a link to his father, and Cal would hate to sever it. But he wouldn’t associate himself with anyone who went to such lengths to acquire property the owner didn’t want to sell.
He glanced up, noticing that the stallion had been led in the opposite direction he had been found. If he were a suspicious person, Cal might think that he had been a decoy to prevent Dillon from seeing where the horses had really been taken. The only way to clear his name was to find the stallion.
They had gone about a mile when Cal halted and looked back at Dillon. He took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve-covered forearm before replacing his hat. He then rolled up his sleeves and pushed them over his elbows to allow his skin to cool.
Sweat dripped down Dillon’s face, and she wiped at it with a cloth. “What is it?”
“They’ve not deviated from the straight path yet. What’s ahead?”
“The fence between my land and Hank’s.”
Cal had been afraid she would say that. He looked in that direction and saw more trees. At least they would get a little shade as they searched. He continued on for about another hundred and fifty feet when the tracks shifted to the right.
“There’s an old hunting cabin ahead,” Dillon told him as they turned. “And a small corral where the horses were put at night.”
“A perfect place to keep a stallion,” he said as he met her gaze.
“I didn’t even think of that.” Dillon shook her head in agitation. “I’ve not been out there since Dolly died.”
“Who else knows about it?”
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Everyone who works for me.”
“They may change directions again. I’d rather follow the tracks than ride straight there.”
“Or we go to the cabin in hopes of getting to them before they move Legacy .”
Cal had to admit that was something to consider. “How close is the cabin to the fence?”
“A ways.”
“So, no one could back up a trailer, cut the fence, and load up a horse?”
She shook her head. “It would take more than that.”
Cal jerked his chin to the horses. “We’ll move faster on them.”
“You’ll see better on foot.”
“The goal is to find the stallion and catch whoever did this. We need to move quickly.”
Dillon turned and mounted. Cal did the same. She stayed behind him as he rode, his gaze moving from the tracks to the distance and back again, constantly looking, constantly searching. And all the while, making sure he didn’t lose the tracks again.
Once more, the tracks headed in a straight line.
They didn’t roam. Didn’t stop to graze. And that proved again that someone had been leading the stallion.
Forty minutes later, Cal spotted a structure through the trees.
He looked back at Dillon, who nodded, letting him know that it was the hunting cabin.
He motioned for her to go around as he went in the other direction.
If anyone was there, either he or Dillon would see them.
Cal kept sight of Dillon until they reached the trees. He decided to stay on his horse in case he needed to chase someone. Suddenly, the gelding’s ears pricked forward.
“You hear something, boy?” Cal whispered.
The horse’s attention remained on the cabin. Cal guided him close, keeping an eye on the windows to see if anyone was inside. There was no vehicle or horse at the front of the house, and as he moved around the side, he spotted the corral—also empty.
Dillon sat atop her black mare, gazing at the empty space, the ground inside churned up by the horses. “They were here. We’re too late.”
“We tracked them this far. We can keep tracking them.”
Cal spun his horse around and returned to the front of the house.
Years of dirt and debris on the porch had been disturbed from someone walking to and from the door.
Cal dismounted and made his way to the entrance.
He turned the knob and pushed open the door.
It banged against the wall, kicking up dust. A quick look inside showed that it was empty.
The only other room was a bathroom, and Cal could see straight inside.
He spun on his heel and grabbed his horse’s reins as he walked to the corral. The ground in the area was damp from the cover of the trees. Algae grew plentifully and showed him exactly which way they’d taken the stallion.
Dillon rode up beside him. “Let’s go.”
“We’re not armed. If we catch up with them, they could be,” Cal cautioned.
“I can’t wait for the sheriff. Cell service out here is spotty at best, and I’m not taking the time to return to the house. Besides, who said I wasn’t armed?”
Cal couldn’t contain his smile. “You are one impressive lady.”
“I know,” she replied with a grin.
He chuckled and mounted before they followed the tracks. Whoever had led the horse no longer seemed to try and hide the hoof marks. When Cal spotted the deepening of the tracks and the spacing that showed the horses in a gallop, he knew they had to move quickly.
Before he could say anything, Dillon clicked to her mare. The horse leapt into a run, and Cal leaned low over his gelding, urging him to match her speed. Quarter horses were known for their quick bursts, beating nearly all other horses in a quarter-mile sprint—hence their name.
He and Dillon kept pace with each other, the ground flying beneath them as the horses ate up the distance—until they came to the fence.
Cal dropped his heels and pulled up on the reins. His gelding jerked up his head and slid on his back haunches as he came to a sudden stop. Cal looked at Dillon, seeing her face filled with fury as they both saw the horse tracks leading from her land right to Ivy Ridge Ranch.