Page 10 of Hell and Gone
“I’d appreciate it if you’d guide me to there, Jackson, and outfit me with a horse from your stable that will do the job.”
Lawrence studied him. He felt the weight of his eyes, felt like his existence was being catalogued, like Lawrence could see through him, see into him, run his gaze over every bone and muscle in his body.
“You really caught killers before, Army?”
“I have. Many times.”
Lawrence nodded as he looked down, his eyes mapping the dirt. “You bring Carson Riley’s killer to justice, we’ll be all right,” he said. “So whatever you need from me to do that, you got.” He beckoned Everett to the barn. “Let’s get you saddled up.”
* * *
Lawrence pulleda mare out of the stables, sweet-talking in her ear as he brushed and saddled her for Everett. She whickered and snorted, but let Everett stroke her neck.
“You’ll need chaps. We’re riding through rough country.” Lawrence handed him a worn and creased pair of leather shotgun chaps. They zipped up the back, and, like Lawrence’s, had no fringe or fancy add-ons. They were working chaps for a working man.
He nodded, shaking them out and adjusting the belt to fit his waist before sliding in his legs and zipping up the backs. He shifted his holster and his pistol forward. He had a backpack he’d pulled from his truck, too, and he hefted it up, snapped the straps over his chest.
Lawrence watched him silently.
“You need the step?” Lawrence finally asked. He held the reins in his hand and stood in front of the mare’s head, stroking her nose and scratching behind her ears.
“No.” He’d learned enough to get in and out of the saddle without needing the steps anymore. It was a delicate act, and half the time he still felt like he was going to tip entirely to the side, fall to his face, or pull the horse down on him. But under Lawrence’s steely gaze, he stepped into the stirrup on the mare’s left and hefted himself up.
He settled in, shifting his weight, adjusting until he felt right. Beneath him, his mare shook her head again, snorting at Lawrence as if complaining about the new rider she carried.
“I know, girl,” Lawrence cooed. “You be good to this man, you hear?” He handed the reins to Everett. “You know how to get goin’?”
Everett nodded.
“Her name is Lantana. She’s a sweetheart. You treat her right, she’ll treat you right.” He stroked Lantana’s neck and then backed off, letting Everett walk Lantana out of the stables.
One mare was left stabled, forlorn and still in her stall. Her hay was full, and her water clean, but there was an emptiness to her eyes. She looked away as Everett rode by.
Lawrence jogged ahead to the corral and whistled for his stallion. “Here, boy.” On command, his stallion trotted to him, whickering and hunting in Lawrence’s outstretched palm for the treats he pulled out of his pocket.
“Where are the other horses?”
“Out on the range. I sent my boys to the line camps in the west and south pastures. They’re goin’ to keep a closer eye on the herd while they graze over summer. We’ll run rotations until we figure out the hell is goin’ on. Can’t afford to lose any more head.”
“How much stock have you lost?” Everett waited as Lawrence swung into his saddle. He moved like he was born to ride, like he and his stallion were extensions of each other.
“At last count, thirty head.”
Everett’s eyes widened. At five thousand a head, that was a loss of one hundred fifty thousand dollars. Hardly a minor problem, and if Lawrence wasn’t the only rancher affected, the total losses—and profits, for the rustlers—could be into the millions.
“What about the last horse in the barn? The mare left behind?”
Lawrence clicked and guided his horse to the corral’s gate. He wouldn’t meet Everett’s gaze as he held the gate for Lantana and Everett to pass through.
He didn’t speak until they were on the trail through the pasture, heading up the sloping hill that climbed toward the tree line and, beyond the woods, Crazy Peak. “That’s Banshee,” Lawrence said, his voice thick. “She was Carson’s horse.”
“I’d like to hear you tell what happened.”
“We got a lot of ridin’ ahead of us. No time for talkin’,” Lawrence growled. He squeezed his knees and called to his horse, and they took off down the trail.
Everett chewed his dust for the next three hours.
Chapter 6
