Chapter Four #2
“She, and yes. She’s engaged to Seth Harrison.”
“Ahh, okay. I didn’t make it to the engagement party. I was out of town on a case.”
“We would have met then,” Skylar said with a smile.
“No doubt.”
“You love your job, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t. Since owning the ranch, it’s been a little hectic, but I have good men working for me.”
“What type of ranch?”
“Cattle ranch. I raise Black Angus.”
“So, why did you buy a ranch if you weren’t going to leave…” She frowned. “What is it again?”
Rawley grinned. “MDOL. I’m sure there’s a division in California.”
“Yes, it’s the CDFA, California Department of Food and Agriculture.”
“Right. I didn’t buy the ranch. My grandfather left it for me. He was my mother’s father, and she told him not to leave it to her because she didn’t want it, so she told him to leave it to me. It didn’t take much convincing since he knew how much I loved the place.”
“That’s nice. I’d love to see it sometime.”
“Sure. You can come out, and we’ll go riding. I have five hundred acres, so plenty of space to ride.”
“I’d love that.”
“Then we’ll do it.”
“So, you were asking me to go to dinner.” She grinned.
Rawley chuckled. “I was, wasn’t I? We got off track. I’d love to take you out to dinner, Skylar.”
“Anytime.”
“How about Friday night? We can go to The Hartland. I’ll see if I can get us in.”
“You need reservations, right?” Skylar tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to appear casual.
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it kind of late for Friday?”
“I’ll call the owner if I can’t get us in. He’s a good friend of mine.”
“Friends in high places.” She smiled.
“Yep.” He took a sip of his water.
“So, what do I wear? I mean is it a fancy place?”
“It is, but there’s no dress code. You can wear whatever you want.” His gaze lingered on her face for a moment.
Connie returned with their food, set it down, and asked if they needed anything else. Both declined. She smiled and walked off.
“Okay.” Skylar traced the condensation ring her water glass had left on the table.
“I’ll try for six o’clock, but I’ll let you know.” The afternoon sunlight streaming through the blinds cast golden stripes across his tanned forearms.
“Sounds good.” As she picked up her fork, Rawley’s phone vibrated, and he reached under his vest to remove it from the pocket on his blue T-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and biceps.
“Damn.” His expression darkened as he glanced at the screen before putting the phone back into his pocket. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”
“Work?” She tried to hide her disappointment.
“Yes, ma’am.” He glanced around at the half-empty diner until he saw Connie and waved her over.
“Something wrong, hon?”
“No, Connie. Could I get this to go?”
“You get called out?”
“Yes, ma’am.” His jaw tightened slightly.
“Sure. I’ll get that for you right away.” Connie picked up his plate, the untouched burger and golden fries still steaming, and carried it into the kitchen.
“I’m really sorry, Skylar, but this can happen anytime.” His apologetic smile made her stomach flip.
“It’s fine. Let me know about Friday.” She fought the urge to reach across and touch his hand.
“I will.” He slid from the booth, the vinyl seat creaking softly. He picked up his Stetson, placed it on his head, and looked at her with those impossibly dark eyes. “Again, I apologize. I’ll be in touch.”
“Okay.” The single word felt inadequate against the rush of her pulse.
She watched as he walked to the cash register, his confident stride drawing glances from other diners.
He gave Connie a credit card, signed the receipt with a quick flick of his wrist, and picked up the white paper bag containing his lunch.
As he strode out the door, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the bright afternoon sun, Skylar couldn’t help but grin. Damn, that was hot.
****
Rawley waited for a break in traffic, then crossed the street, and made his way back to the office. It seemed like Dave had found out some things about the truck. He hoped so because if not, he just left an enjoyable lunch with a beautiful woman for no damn reason.
He entered the courthouse, strode toward the elevator, then pushed the button. The doors slid open, and he stepped inside. He pressed the number for his floor, then opened the bag and removed a few fries and took a bite of them.
The elevator stopped on the second floor, the doors slid open, and in stepped the woman from the other morning. He chewed quickly swallowed and touched the brim of his hat.
“Ma’am.”
“Good afternoon. That food smells good.” She smiled at him.
“If you know the diner, then you know it tastes as good as it smells.” Rawley held the bag out toward her. “Fry?”
She laughed but reached into the bag and took out a fry, then bit into it. She moaned while chewing.
“Now, I want to go to the diner this evening.” She smiled. “Care to join me?”
Rawley grinned. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you were involved with anyone.”
“I just met her, but I like her.”
“Lucky woman.”
“I think it’s the other way around.”
The elevator stopped on his floor, he nodded at the woman, stepped out, and walked across the hall and into the offices.
He set the white paper bag down on his cluttered desk with a soft thud, hung his Stetson on the rack behind his desk, then strode to Dave’s office. He knocked on the door, and Dave waved him inside.
“Here’s the agent’s name in Autumn Falls.
He’s been on the trail of those rustlers, same M.O.
as your case. Eighteen-wheeler tracks, identical tread, and this guy reckons there could be up to ten men running the operation.
” He held the paper up, and Rawley took it from him.
He studied the scrawled name and number under the buzzing light.
“How long has he been on it?”
Dave raked a hand through his thinning hair, frustration tugging at his features. “Six months. The previous agent ground away on it for almost five months and hit a dead end, so they pulled him off. Now Agent Saunders is on it, fresh eyes, all that.”
Rawley nodded. “Got it. I’ll give him a call.”
Dave crossed his arms. “He’s wound tight about it. Convinced it’s a big outfit moving cattle from town to town, Autumn Falls last spring, Helena, now Clifton. They vanish like ghosts. Ranchers are spooked. Saunders said he sent you an email, so go through those files.”
“Any of the cattle ever recovered?”
“Zero. I’m betting they slaughter them, move the meat and hides on the black market.” Dave’s voice dropped. “Worst part is, someone knows exactly where the herds graze.”
Rawley tapped the Post-it again. “This isn’t just a neighbor’s boundary feud. Whoever’s behind this has industry intel, roads, ranch names, every back gate. Beef country for miles.”
“Exactly,” Dave said, tone clipped. “You better keep an eye on your own herd, Rawley. You’re gonna need backup. Talk to Saunders, see how you two can sync up. We need to shut this down.”
“I’ll do my best, boss.”
A grin split Dave’s face. “Never doubted it. Sorry I yanked you back from lunch, but glad to see you could get it to go.”
Rawley smirked. “Couldn’t take the blonde to-go that I was having lunch with, though.”
Dave laughed. “Blonde of the week, huh? You’re hopeless.”
“Come on,” Rawley shot back with a grin, “I’m not that bad.”
“Go eat your lunch. Let me know if you need anything.”
Rawley nodded, stepped from the office, and sauntered to his desk.
He eased his swivel chair back and sank into its cracked vinyl.
The sharp hiss of springs greeted him as he leaned forward.
He plunged a hand into the bag, pulled out the foil-wrapped burger, peeled back the shiny wrapper, and let the steam–scented warmth wash over him.
He tipped the paper boat of fries onto the foil wrapper, grease-slicked, golden sticks piled casually against the burger.
He glanced at the glowing monitor and took a bite, the beefy juices mingling with mustard and melted cheese.
He opened the email, then the attachment and frowned at the screen, photos of cattle that had come up missing in the past six months, the images blurring before his eyes.
Damn, he thought, the last look Skylar gave him still lingered.
He hated doing that to her. He tapped a finger on the desk and closed his eyes, picturing her laugh in the diner.
He hoped they could salvage a dinner date this Friday.
He lifted the burger again, the foil crackling, and bit in. The rich flavor nearly made him groan. If only he’d had more time with Skylar. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then extracted his phone from his pocket. Scrolling through contacts, he found the restaurant’s number and dialed.
No vacancies this Friday. Damn. Then he called Grant.
“Rawley?”
“Grant, can you get me in Friday at six, for two. Any chance?”
Pause. The distant sound of dishes clinking. “Friday? One sec.” The line went silent.
Rawley frowned at schematics of tire treads lined up on his desk. He considered reaching for the desk phone when his friend came back on the line.
“Rawley?”
“Yeah?”
“Friday at six. You’re in.”
“Thanks, man. Really appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it.” The line clicked off.
Rawley set the phone down, picked up the landline receiver, and punched in the Montana Department of Livestock in Autumn Falls. A courteous female voice answered, cool and professional.
“Yes, ma’am, Agent Laramie Saunders, please.”
“He’s out at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?”
“Agent Rawley Bowman, Clifton office. Please have him ring me back.” He recited his direct line and his cellphone number.
“Certainly, Agent Bowman.” The line clicked again.