Page 15 of A Triple C Ranch Christmas Wedding
Chapter 3
Zeb Boyd moved smoothlythrough the snow, skiing cross country, until he stopped beneath a large tree, far enough away from the Triple C Ranch that no one could see him.
Raising his binoculars, he watched the activity at the ranch for several minutes.
He cursed, his breath forming a puff of air he could see, before the wind whisked that puff away. Gathering a handful of snow, he put it in his mouth to prevent another visible puff of air, which could give him away. He’d learned some things over the years about spying on people and casing a scene before he returned to take what he wanted.
There were delivery vans coming in and extra people moving about. Instead of everything being quiet, like it would have been on the ranch this time of year, it was as busy as if they were having an outdoor summer barbeque.
With their foreman, Buck Harris, in the hospital, everything should have gone according to Zeb’s plan.
He’d been waiting for months to enact his revenge on Buck, ever since Buck had outbid him on two horses from the Rise and Shine Ranch at auction.
Zeb had even had buyers lined up early before the auction. Then Buck thwarted his plans, and that had been the final straw.
He thought back to their old rodeo days when he and Buck had still been teenagers in high school.
That know-it-all, into everybody’s business son of a bitch. I should have taken all his gear, so he couldn’t compete. Should’ve broken his knee.
It still angered him all these years later.
Buck had caught Zeb stealing his pocketknife before Zeb could slip it into the pocket of his jeans, and they’d fought over the knife. Buck had beat the hell out of him and gotten his knife back. Then, feeling like shit, Zeb had given the worst ride of his life and came in near last, a final blow to his pride.
Everybody had known Buck had beaten him up, too, and they’d known he’d tried to steal the knife. After Buck told everyone, the other cowboys had treated him like a pariah. No one wanted to ride with him after that, to share gas or anything else. Buck had ruined his name in the group, and for that, Zeb would never forgive him.
Zeb’s embarrassment had turned into raw anger, which had never left him. Just the mention of Buck’s name would stir it all up again.
Though the knife wasn’t the first thing Zeb had tried to steal, it was the first time he’d ever been caught.
Too bad Buck hadn’t been stomped that time I took his leather bareback riding grip, so he had to ride that bull with a rope. Then he’d have been gone from my life for good.
Tonight, would be payback. Zeb took great satisfaction in that thought, imagining every slight Buck had inflicted on him over the years being remedied in one fell swoop.
There was nothing as sweet as revenge combined with a big wad of cash.
His plan was perfect. Buck had been a thorn in his side for years. At auctions, in Bucks old rodeo days, and now as foreman at the Triple C.
But especially recently, as the old man had been talking to everyone he knew in the ranching community about his suspicions that Zeb was selling horses across the border to the slaughterhouses in Canada. And it was getting harder and harder for Zeb to buy horses now.
Most Americans were not in favor of selling horses for meat. Even a hint that he might unload horses that way could sour a deal.
But in Canada, dealing in horse meat was not against the law, and Zeb was not that far from Canada. Selling them horses was easy. Once he got them across the border.
How the hell Buck knew what Zeb was doing, Zeb had no idea.
But he knew. And he was talking.
It was time to shut him up.
Zeb had been trying to decide the best way to accomplish that when fate had stepped in and helped him.
The old man had had a stroke. Now, he was in the hospital.
Best thing that had happened in years.
Zeb was finally going to get back at the old man and make money doing it. Circumstances should have made things easier. The Triple C now had ten horses. The barn was full. Every stall.
This could not have worked out better.
