Page 35 of A Mile of Ocean

“Not so fast. Did you have a ghostly visitor you don’t want to discuss?”

“Drop it, okay? We probably need to swing past the perimeter again just for good measure.”

She made a clucking sound to get Mermaid moving. Side by side, they rode the range away from the tree line.

Looking back, Trent scanned the area they’d just left.

“See anything?” Tate whispered.

“Nothing.”

As nightfall settled in, the siblings kept their guard up, but their conversation earlier seemed to linger in the air. Shadows stretched like the secrets they pondered. As the hours passed, they drank more coffee they didn’t want and continued trying to piece together fragmented memories, hoping to pull back the cover on a mystery.

Every half hour, they kept in radio contact with the other teams. But no one had anything unusual to report, and the uneasy calm seemed unnatural after the chaos of previous nights.

Around two, Tate suggested reaching out to old acquaintances of their parents who might have insights into the long-standing feud that had erupted into violence.

“Did they have friends?” Trent whispered. “Do you know of any? Can you name one?”

“No, I can’t. Dolly might be able to remember one or two. We could ask her.”

After spending all night on the range, the cold seeped in, their breath visible in the crisp night air. When they ran out of anything to talk about, their silence was punctuated only by thehorses’ steady clop-clop of hooves and the occasional rustling of leaves. The stars above provided scant light, generating a silver sheen resembling a frost-covered ground.

It was a night that demanded vigilance, their senses amplified by the pressing need for answers.

They got through Monday night without another incident. But they were both bone-tired by dawn Tuesday morning. The weariness was etched on their faces, a testament to the toll the relentless threat was taking. Yet, a collective resolve kept them going, a shared understanding that they could not afford to rest until they eliminated the enemy.

As the first light of Tuesday morning filtered through the trees, they headed back to the barn. They weren’t the first to arrive. Woody and Monty were already there brushing down their horses. Cecil and Lincoln rode in next, followed by Blake and Brock. That left Hawk, Drum, and Toby still out there in Painted Heart.

Trent volunteered to unsaddle Mermaid so that Tate could start getting ready. After she’d gone, Blake inched up to him. “I don’t like missing the funeral.”

“It can’t be helped. I need you here, getting the chores done, keeping everyone’s spirits up.”

“I know. I know. I just thought Tate could use a shoulder to cry on.”

Trent smiled wearily. “She can do that at the graveside service. How’s that sound?”

“It’ll have to do, I guess. Do you think it’s weird that last night was so quiet? Too quiet.”

Woody overheard that last part. “I agree. He’s planning something big. He’ll probably wait until we’re all standing around over the grave to open fire.”

“Let’s hope not,” Trent uttered, looking at his watch. “I’m beginning to worry about Toby, Hawk, and Drum, though. When did they last check in?”

“About an hour ago,” Lincoln answered. “They were right on time as scheduled.”

Trent shook his head. “Something doesn’t feel right. I wanted to wait for them to arrive before heading home for a hot shower and something to eat.”

“Want us to go back out and look for them?” Cecil asked.

Trent was about to saddle up again when he heard a horse’s neigh coming from outside the barn. He hurried to the courtyard to see Toby, Hawk, and Drum returning, their faces etched with concern.

“We found something out there, Trent,” Hawk said, dismounting his horse. “Tracks were leading away from the ranch, but they were erratic like someone was trying to throw us off.”

“Deliberately throw us off,” Toby emphasized.

“What kind of tracks?”

“Human. And they were fresh, probably no more than twelve hours old,” Drum replied, his voice low.

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