Page 59 of Sheriff's City Girl

“And you know what I thought was real weird about it?” John suddenly perked up, scratching his chin.

“What’s that?” I asked, my pen hovering over the notebook.

“There were some teenagers running up and down the road like hooligans yesterday evening,” he grunted, shaking his head. “They was the reason that we didn’t go out and feed till real late.”

The mention of teenagers didn’t really mean anything to me, really. They drove like idiots up and down the dirt roads all the time. Hell, I did it, too, as a teenager. But, I wrote it down, anyway.

“You know who it was?” Ron asked as I wrote.

“Nope, sure don’t. I don’t know any of the young people these days. They’re all just a bunch of lazy fellas though. They wouldn’t know a hard day’s worth of work if it smacked ‘em over the head.”

I chuckled. “You’re probably not wrong about that.”

“Yeah, I know I’m not,” he snapped. “That’s why people go around and steal people’s cattle, too. They’re just a bunch of lazy dumbasses who don’t know how to work hard, buy their own land, and take care of their cattle.”

“They take the easy way out,” I agreed, nodding my head. “They’ve been doing it for years. They don’t wanna work hard, they just want to reap the benefits of someone else’s hard work and money spent.”

“Yeah, that’s the truth,” Ron remarked. “But we’re trying to get to the bottom of it. These guys are good, John. They show up, leave barely any evidence behind, and then I got no clue where they’re taking them. We run the brands with the USDA, and nothing has hit the system.”

“Maybe they’re branding over them,” John said, folding his arms across his chest. “You know that happens anyway sometimes. If they’re as sophisticated as you say, they know how to avoid brand inspections at the sales. They’re probably just rebranding and changing everything. Maybe they got their own brand or ranch name they got ‘em under.”

“Probably, but we gotta find some of the cattle in order to know any of that,” Ron replied, removing his cowboy hat and wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead. “I just don’t know what to do if the USDA ain’t finding them.”

I thought about it for a minute. “Any of your cattle have any specific markings? Other than brands? Everyone else who has been hit runs big operations with too many head to really know. I mean, yeah, they gave me the ear tag numbers, brands, and some of the markings, but they were mostly black Angus. You run a mix.”

“I do,” John said, before pushing himself to his feet. “Let me go get Annie. She knows these cows. They left the bull.”

We waited for him to disappear inside, their voices tense and muffled as they talked about it. I exchanged glances with Ron and Jackson, all of us staying quiet. After a long couple of minutes, John and Annie reappeared on the porch.

“My cow, Bessie,” Annie said, her voice much softer than it was initially. “She was one of them that got stolen. She’s got real unique facial markings. See,” she held out a picture of a red colored cow with a strange white hook right between her eyes.

“Can I take this?” I asked, looking up at her. “I can make a copy and bring this one back to you, if you’d like.”

She nodded. “Whatever it takes to find her.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Emma

My heart pounded out of my chest as I made my way to the front porch of Mason’s house. It was just past seven, but only by a little. I ascended the steps, keeping my breaths steady. I had opted for a loose T-shirt that hid my stomach, though I had to admit that when I was naked, it didn’t seem like I was showing all that much…

I just had to keep reminding myself not to touch my stomach.

“Hiya!” Jess greeted me as she swung the door open. Her dark hair was pulled up into a bun on the top of her head, and she had on an oversized T-shirt and a pair of jean shorts. “I’m glad you came tonight.”

“Well, thanks for having me,” I said, smiling at her. I stepped inside and let her close the door behind us. I pulled my phone out and silenced it, not wanting my mom to call in the middle of the evening. I had reached out to her earlier, but she had been busy, promising to call me when she got a chance.

“Hope you like pork chops,” Mason said to me as I sat my purse down on the entryway table, catching sight of him in the kitchen.

“Dad is actually a good cook,” Jess commented, laughing. “Dara thinks that he’s better than Lily, and that’s hard to beat.”

“You’re not wrong,” I agreed, doing my best to keep my nerves under wraps. Mason and Jess seemed relaxed—both working with smiles on their faces. Jess was setting the table for the three of us, and Mason was busy sauteing vegetables. It was homey and cozy…

The opposite of my empty house.

There had always been a sense of longing in me to have a full house, coming home to smiling faces and the warmth of company. However, it had just never panned out for me.

“Do you wanna watch something while Dad finishes up? Or can I show you my room?” Jess teetered on her white Hanes socks, a look of pleading in her eyes. It was touching, and I glanced back to Mason, who had a soft look on his face.

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