Page 31 of A Triple C Ranch Christmas Wedding
Chapter 6
Hank called Jack.“We think we see them. White Dodge pickup, white trailer, looks full of horses. Give this location to the sheriff.” He paused, and then rattled off the location.
“Got it, thanks,” Jack said. “I’m less than thirty minutes from there and closing in.”
“Great,” Hank said. “Bad weather ahead and nowhere to land. We’re going to head on back once the situation looks under control. Until then, we’ve got your back.”
“Thanks,” Jack said. “I’ll call the sheriff now.”
Both men hung up, and then Jack called the number George had given him for the sheriff.
“Hello, this is Jack Barr,” he said. “I’m following behind the horse thieves that stole the horses from the Triple C Ranch, and I have their location.”
“Go ahead, Jack,” the dispatcher said. “Give that location.”
He rattled it off, and the dispatcher repeated it back to him.
“That’s it,” he said.
“Thank you for the information,” she said. “Do not engage the subjects. They may be armed and dangerous.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and he grinned and thought,I’m more than a little dangerous myself, armed or unarmed. If she only knew.
* * *
Zeb finally pulledhis truck and trailer to the side of the road. The border was so close he could taste it, smell it, and see it in his imagination.
If it weren’t for this damn snow…
Four state police cars, lights flashing, came up behind him on the road. He could see the lights in his mirrors, but he wasn’t alarmed. They could be coming through for anything. A weather-related accident, icy roads, chasing a criminal, setting up a roadblock.
He was just driving through with his load of animals, and he had his paperwork in the glove box.
The police cars drove up and surrounded him, but he still wasn’t alarmed. After all, he had his paperwork in the glove box, and what did police know about horses and their registrations? They’d never guess they were forgeries. These papers he’d had drawn up were really good. His forgery guy had gotten better over the years.
The officer that stepped up to his window with his hand near his gun didn’t alarm him either. “Sir, I need to see your license and registration.”
“No problem, officer,” he said, and handed them over.
“Sir, will you please step out of the vehicle?” The officer’s tone was all business.
Zeb frowned.
Now, why would he tell me to do that? My license and registration are legal. They’re not forgeries.
He opened the door and stepped out slowly, aware of how nervous the police were.
The police waited while he stepped out.
“Turn around and face the vehicle,” the officer said.
“What seems to be the problem?” Zeb asked, as the officer patted him down.
“Routine stop,” the cop said.
“Okay,” Zeb said. He hadn’t been wearing a gun, and his rifle was still in the truck. “Can I go now?”
“We’ll need to see your horses and their papers,” the policeman said.
