Page 57 of Texas-Sized Secrets

Mona dug in her purse and pulled out the license. “Can you tell me who brought the cattle in?”

He glanced at her license and looked up at her face. “Sure can.” Pushing to his feet, he pulled a clipboard from the wall and flipped through several crinkled pages, stopping at the one with the same lot number on it as the one he’d jotted down on the pad. “Chase Molderhauer.” He pointed at the printed name and the signature. The page also contained an address and phone number.

Mona pulled a pen and paper from her purse and wrote down the information.

“I don’t have any idea how these cattle got past my crew here, but I can tell you, I don’t cotton to cattle rustlin’. You have the word of Charlie Goodman on that.” He looked down at the page, his lips tightening. “Gil Deiner was the man that checked that load of cattle in. I’ll be havin’ a word with him.”

“Mind if I borrow your phone?” Reed asked.

“No, go right ahead.”

As Mona watched, Reed dialed 911. “I’d like to report a crime.” He paused. “Cattle rustling.”

Mona felt a rush of relief. Finally, a real lead.

* * *

TWO HOURS LATER, a sworn statement by Reed, Mona and Charlie Goodman, and they were no closer to finding the man who’d deposited the cattle at the sale barn.

Reed finally took matters in his own hands. “If you’re done with us, we have work to do back at the ranch.” He herded Mona out of the Amarillo police station and over to the truck.

She looked as if she’d blow over at the slightest gust of Texas wind. Once inside the truck, she sat silently staring forward. Even before they hit the road north to Prairie Rock, she’d slid sideways, her head resting against Reed’s shoulder.

The woman didn’t know when to cry uncle. She needed a long bubble bath and an even longer night’s rest to recuperate.

Quietly, so as not to wake her, Reed pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed a friend who was with the Texas Department of Public Safety. “Hey, Jim, could you run a check on a Chase Molderhauer?”

His friend took the information, the sound of a keyboard clicking in the background. “You still with Sheriff Parker Lee out at Prairie Rock?”

Reed inhaled and let the breath out, weighing the consequences of lying or telling the truth. “No, I’m not.”

“Glad to hear you’re not with Parker Lee. He’s a class-A jerk. Why don’t you come on board with the DPS? We always have room for the good guys.”

“Thanks, but I’m working for a pretty amazing outfit right now.” He glanced down at Mona, whose head had found its way to his lap. Her breath warmed his thigh and her hand rested protectively against her belly. She was sound asleep. “If you could get me that information on Molderhauer, I’ll owe you big-time.”

“Not a problem. I’ll do some digging and get right back to you.”

“The sooner the better. And thanks, Jim.”

As he flipped his phone shut, a movement from the right caught his attention. He slammed his foot on the brakes, but his reaction was too late.

A dark gray pickup burst out from behind a clump of mesquite and sagebrush, slamming into the right front fender of the Rancho Linda pickup.

The force of the blow spun the truck around and sent it careening across the road into the opposite ditch.

Mona screamed as the truck tilted sideways on two wheels before bouncing to a stop upright, the engine dying.

“Get down!” Reed grabbed her head and shoved her down. Shots rang out, pinging against the metal sides of the pickup, one shattering the driver’s window.

The sound of tires squealing on blacktop was followed by a revving engine as the truck sped off to the north. Then silence filled the truck except for the sound of blood pounding against Reed’s ears. “Mona? Are you okay?” He sat up and helped Mona sit straight as well.

“Yes, I think so.” She pushed her hair out of her face, her eyes going wide. “You’re bleeding.” She reached up and touched his forehead, her fingers coming away with a bright red stain. “Let me take care of that.” She tugged at the hem of her shirt, ripping a strip of cloth off the tail. When she pressed it to his forehead, her face came within inches of his, her brow creased and worried. “We shouldn’t have come.”

“Who would have guessed visiting a sale barn would illicit such a reaction? We couldn’t have known.”

“But you might have been killed.” Her eyes filled. “All because of some stupid cows.”

He grabbed her hand and held it in front of him. “The cattle aren’t stupid. They’re yours and no one has the right to steal them. It’s my choice to work for you. If I didn’t want to, I would walk away.”

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